Freefall. RaeAnne Thayne

and back gardens, a long flight of wooden steps led down the steep slope to a small private beach. The sound seemed to have come from there. Clouds obscured the half moon but she thought she could just make out something huddled on the steps. A crouched silhouette.

      The clouds shifted slightly and her gaze sharpened. It was a man out there wearing blue-striped pajamas, his shock of silver hair gleaming a pale, spectral white in the moonlight.

      William! He must have wandered out of his apartment! Fear spurted through her. He could easily tumble down the steps, disoriented in the darkness. She paused for just an instant, then without another thought she hurried down the spiral ironwork stairs of the terrace and rushed across the wet grass, heedless of her bare feet.

      When she reached him, William looked at her out of dazed eyes the same silver-blue as his son. The agonized grief on his face filled her with pity. The bitterness she had nurtured for so many years against this poor shell of a man seemed foolish now, so much wasted energy.

      “I saw him,” he mumbled. “Peter came to my room. Where’s my son?”

      He clutched at her T-shirt. “Shelly, where’s my boy? They said he was dead but I know he’s not.”

      Despite the shiver down her spine, she managed to gently disengage his hands. The poor man was delusional. He had mistaken her for Shelly—not so unusual since they were identical twins. “It’s cold out here, Mr. Canfield. Let’s get you back to bed.”

      After a moment he let her take his hand and lead him back to the house like a child. Just as they reached the door, Thomas burst through it, his hair messy and wild panic blazing in his eyes. He jerked to a stop when he saw them.

      “What the hell are you doing out here with my father?”

      Sophie bristled at his suspicious tone, his narrowed gaze, and slipped her hand from William’s grasp. “I saw him at the top of the steps leading to the beach. I was afraid he would tumble down. But I suppose if you don’t mind your father wandering around in the dark by himself, next time I see him I’ll mind my own business.”

      “That’s impossible! There’s no way in hell he could unlock the doors without tripping the alarm.”

      “You’re right,” she snapped. “I’m lying, you caught me. The truth is, I decided to wake up a frail old man and take him for a stroll around the garden at midnight, just for kicks.”

      “Stop fighting,” William said suddenly, his voice sharp and clear. “Peter, I’m tired. I’m not in the mood for any more of your nonsense. I’m going to bed.”

      He walked into the house, leaving them gaping after him. Tom raked a hand through his dark hair, messing it even more. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. It’s just been a hell of a day. I fell asleep in the study and when I woke up, I went to check on him before going to bed and panicked when I found him gone.”

      “Don’t worry about it.”

      “Look, I need to make sure he’s settled back in bed. Will you wait here for me?”

      She studied him. “No. My feet are freezing. But I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”

      She was heating milk on the stove when he came in ten minutes later looking tired and dispirited.

      “Would you like some hot cocoa?” she asked.

      He leaned against the work island. “I haven’t had hot cocoa made the old-fashioned way since my mother died.”

      “It’s much better this way.” It had always been her and Shelly’s comfort treat, something they shared on the nights when Sharon forgot to come home. She had been touched to find all the ingredients in a cupboard by the stove, as if Shelly used them often.

      “It should only take a moment for the milk to heat. Is everything okay with your father?”

      “Yes. He fell asleep as soon as I tucked him back in his bed. I can’t for the life of me figure out how he got out. His room has a double lock and an alarm that’s supposed to go off whenever the door is opened. He managed to work both locks and disengage the alarm. I suppose I’ll have to figure out a better system.”

      “Does he do this often?”

      “Not so much anymore. After he was first diagnosed, Peter and Shelly used to have to hide all the car keys or he would just take off and drive around all night. They wouldn’t have the first idea where to find him. That’s when we hired Maura to look after him.”

      “It must be terrible for him.”

      His shrug rippled the soft navy cotton of his shirt. “Strange as it seems, it’s been a little easier the more his disease progresses. The first few years were tough but he doesn’t really have an awareness anymore about what’s happening to him.”

      He paused and turned his attention to her. “Look, I am sorry about snapping at you out there. I was acting on raw fear. I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t gone to his rescue. Thank you. It was lucky you happened to see him out there.”

      “I heard him first. He was weeping, Tom. Horrible, wrenching sobs. He thought I was Shelly and he said something about seeing Peter in his room. He was out looking for him.”

      “He thinks I’m Peter half the time. You heard him. Maura and I tried to explain about the accident but I don’t know how much is getting through. Maybe it’s better this way.”

      How terrible it must be for Thomas to lose a little more of his father each day. With Peter’s death, the responsibility of caring for his father now fell completely on his shoulders.

      She longed to comfort him but didn’t know how—and she wasn’t sure if he would welcome her efforts anyway—so she busied herself with beating the cocoa to a froth.

      When it was finished, she poured a mug for him and one for herself and the two of them sipped their hot drinks in silence for a few moments.

      Thomas finally broke the silence. “I saw your work on Costa Rica in Go! magazine this month. You really brought the country and the people to life with your photos.”

      A compliment? From Thomas? Pleased and embarrassed—and unsure how to react to the unexpected comment—she focused on the murky cocoa in her mug with its swirls of lighter froth. “Thank you,” she murmured. “It’s a beautiful place. One of my favorites.”

      “I imagine you have many favorites.”

      She glanced up and found him watching her out of those silvery blue eyes. She managed to smile despite the little tug of awareness in her stomach. “It changes all the time. Usually, wherever I’m hanging my gear is my favorite.”

      “Do you ever get tired of the wandering life?”

      Once more she wasn’t sure how to answer him. She had found incredible success at her chosen field and she did love the thrill and adventure of discovering new places.

      She enjoyed her life but she had never been able to imagine herself spending the rest of it constantly moving around like Sharon, never content to spend more than a week or two in one zip code.

      If she thought about the future at all, eventually she saw herself settling down, maybe working for a newspaper or teaching photography at a liberal arts college somewhere.

      All that had changed with Thomas’s late-night phone call to her hotel in Morocco. Now she had three children to think about.

      “I’ve never known anything else,” she finally answered his question. “But I’m going to learn for the children’s sake.”

      Thomas wanted to argue with her again about her complete conviction that she was staying here to care for Ali and the twins but he bit back the words. Not now, when they had achieved this tentative, fragile peace here in the stillness of the night.

      She had rescued his father and it seemed churlish to pay her back by more bickering.