Finding His Way Home. Barbara Gale

       “Hello, Valetta.”

      She turned so slowly, her fear so palpable, that Lincoln was pained. He should have warned her, called ahead, not appeared so suddenly as to cause her the unpleasant shock of his unexpected arrival.

      The way she stared, her long fingers curling on her daughter’s shoulder… Was her recollection of him all that painful?

      Lincoln. Valetta mouthed his name, but no sound came forth. The rush of years fell to the wayside, back to a time when she was young…and helplessly in love.

      Not that he had ever known. So much older than she, Lincoln Cameron had never looked her way. He had been more brother than lover. Her heart had paid no attention then.

      She prayed it would be more co-operative now.

      For Carly

      Are we not like the two volumes of one book? —Marceline Desbordes-Valmore

       BARBARA GALE

      is a native New Yorker. Married for thirty-five years, she and her husband divide their time between Brooklyn and Hobart, New York.

      She loves to hear from readers and responds to all letters. Write to her at PO Box 150792, Brooklyn, NY 11215-0792, USA or visit her website at www.BarbaraGale.com.

      Dear Reader,

      Owning a cabin in rural New York, I spend many weekends walking country roads. From the dust of summer to the snowdrifts of winter, they never fail me with their beauty. I am often asked if I will ever move upstate permanently, a conversation I frequently have with my husband because the main focus of our lives is bounded by the concrete pavements of New York City. Talk about two ends of a spectrum!

      I realise that people move all the time, that America is a Ferris wheel of change, our highways dotted with moving vans. But no matter the state, the city or town, moving from one place to another not only involves a change of venue, but can entail enormous sacrifice and loss. Writing about a wealthy, professional sophisticate who is asked to make this choice was the inevitable outcome of my own thoughtful walks in the woods.

      Finding His Way Home is the story of one man’s voyage of discovery. I hope the book gives you pause for thought, and helps in your own discovery that change can be painful, but not without its rewards.

      Sincerely,

       Barbara Gale

      Finding His Way Home

      BARBARA GALE

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Prologue

      Valetta emerged from the bathroom, swiping at her mouth with a terry cloth towel as she fell down onto the bed, not caring one jot if she woke her sleeping husband.

      “Feeling better?” Jack asked with a drowsy smile, not bothering to open his eyes as he snaked a hand around his wife’s thickened waist. Pulling Valetta close, he nuzzled her neck while she drew the covers to her chest and sighed.

      “Do you think it’s possible to be nauseous for the next nine months? I’ve heard that it happens.”

      “Val.” He laughed, burrowing deeper into her side, his brown hair a shaggy swag across his handsome brow. “You’re almost done with the second trimester, so it isn’t going to be nine more months. Three more, actually, from what I remember learning in med school. Yeah, I’m pretty sure you only have three more months to go.”

      “What do you know?” she grumbled. “You’re just a doctor.”

      “Yeah, but a good one.” He smiled as he sent sleepy, warm kisses over her smooth, bare shoulder.

      “And running late, Doctor Faraday,” she said with a quick glance at the clock, “so don’t get too involved.”

      “I already am involved,” he murmured as he wrapped his legs around her thighs. “Feel that? That’s involved.”

      Valetta smiled against his mouth as he tried to coax her to return his kisses. “Your patients will be lining up at the clinic in about an hour. Don’t you think you should be there to greet them?”

      “I can be a few minutes late. Everyone will understand if I say I got sidetracked!”

      “You wouldn’t!”

      “Ten minutes should do it,” he whispered wickedly against her ear.

      “Ten minutes?” Valetta shrieked. “As in slam, bam, thank you ma’am?” But her hands were already sliding round his neck.

      “Fifteen?” her husband asked, seeing how his mouthy kisses were beginning to take effect. “God, how I love you, Val,” he breathed against her soft, downy cheek. “Shoot, honey, you can take twenty minutes, if you like.”

      The rest of Jack’s words were lost as he tunneled his fingers through Valetta’s copper curls and pressed his mouth to hers. The swish of linen sheets was the only sound in their bedroom for some time until the sighs of their mutual pleasure surfaced and they collapsed in a giggling heap. Too soon, Valetta felt her husband give her bottom a playful pat, felt cool air hit her as he pulled back the covers and scooted from bed.

      “Mrs. Faraday, that was the best slam dunk I’ve had in…um…a day.” Jack winked as he leaned across the bed to give his wife a quick kiss. “You can play basketball with me anytime.”

      “I’ll file that invitation for future reference,” she promised as she snuggled beneath the covers. “Meanwhile, should I make you some coffee?”

      “Gee, would you?” he teased as he headed for the bathroom, knowing full well she wasn’t going anywhere.

      Valetta smiled as she heard the shower begin to run, knowing she would be in for a song. Moments later, she heard her husband begin to sing his favorite aria, “Il Pagliacci.” Feeling the baby kick, she wondered whether it was a sign of enjoyment, or a complaint at the disturbance.

      “Holy cow, look how late I am!” Jack laughed as he emerged minutes later, toweling his wet hair in a rush of steam.

      Valetta peeked from the comfort of her toasty-warm blankets. It was pure theater to watch him rummage through the bureau drawer for a clean T-shirt, shove his long legs into a pair of gray cords, then knot a tie that had nothing to do with his outfit. Today he chose the one of Miss Piggy dancing with Kermit, because it was children’s day at the clinic, and Jack knew it would make the kids laugh.

      “Hey there, sleepyhead, are we still meeting the Carmichaels for dinner tonight?”

      Sliding up against the pillows, Valetta stretched. “If you can manage it.”

      “I can manage it. I have a staff meeting around three, so unless there’s an emergency, I should easily make it there by seven,” he said, bending to give her a goodbye kiss.

      The way her eyes twinkled, Jack knew that Valetta was thinking about the last time they made plans to meet. The night little Terry Muldrow interrupted their plans when he decided to sneak a ride on his dad’s new chestnut, at the cost of a broken collarbone. “Kids do the darndest things.” He grinned with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

      “I can’t wait to see.”

      “Well, at least you’ll have a doctor in the house.”

      “What a relief to know! I would throw a pillow at you, but I’m too comfy to move.”

      “And I would crawl back into bed with you,” Jack replied, his eyes warm as they lingered over his pretty wife, “but someone