Michael's Discovery - By Sherryl Woods Page 0,28

also why he wasn’t going to back out on this visit to see his folks. He wasn’t going to give Kelly one more reason to think of him as a coward.

Given his state of emotional turmoil, he shouldn’t have been surprised by his reaction to seeing the home in which he’d grown up, but he was. It was as if a hard knot he hadn’t even known was there, deep inside, finally eased.

The house, an unimpressive, two-story brick Colonial on a quiet street, looked exactly the way it had since the first day he’d walked through the door. There was ivy climbing up one side, despite his father’s frequent attempts to destroy it. The shutters, despite his mother’s avowed intention to paint them red, were still the glossy black his father preferred, as was the front door with its gleaming brass knocker. His gaze drifted along the front walk, then froze at the sight of the steps. There were so blasted many of them. How had he forgotten?

Apparently Kelly saw his dilemma at the same instant, but she was quicker to adjust. “You can go in through the garage,” she said swiftly. “It opens directly into the kitchen, doesn’t it?”

Michael didn’t bother asking how she knew that. She had been in the house from time to time. If the visits hadn’t been especially memorable to him, apparently they had been to her. He was grateful for that at the moment.

“That’ll work,” he said at once. “The garage door’s not locked and it’s not automatic. Think you can lift it?”

She grinned and feigned flexing a muscle. “I may be little, but I’m mighty.”

She went on ahead as Michael tried to navigate the driveway. It seemed to take forever. He was surprised that no one glanced outside and caught a glimpse of him struggling up the slight incline. What if no one was home? Granted it was Saturday afternoon and his mother had always baked on Saturdays, but maybe things had changed.

As he considered that, he realized that Kelly had the garage door open. His mother’s car, the same dull gray sedan she’d driven for far too many years now, was right where it had always been. He bit back a sigh as he thought of how many times he’d offered her money to buy herself something newer, and how many times she’d told him to save his money for a rainy day.

Just then the door from the kitchen was flung open and there she was, her cheeks rosy from the heat of the oven, wisps of graying curls framing her face and an expression of pure delight on her face.

“Oh, my,” his mother whispered. “I heard the garage door, but I never imagined…Oh, my.” She was down the driveway, her arms around him before Michael could even blink away the tears that threatened.

“Mom, you have to stop crying,” he said as he held her tightly. “I’m okay, and any second now you’re going to have me blubbering. How will that look?”

“I don’t care how it looks,” she said, still not releasing him. She shook him just a little. “There’s nothing wrong with a man showing emotion. I thought I’d taught you that.”

Michael laughed. “You certainly tried.”

His mother stood up at last, then surveyed him thoroughly. “Oh, Michael, you look wonderful. Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?”

“I didn’t want you to make a fuss,” he said, knowing now how futile that had been. Surprise or no surprise, there would eventually be a fuss. He took her hand and gestured toward the garage. “There’s someone here you’ve been ignoring. Do you remember Kelly Andrews?”

His mother spun around, and her eyes lit up. “Bryan’s little sister,” she said at once, then grinned. “The one who always had a crush on you.”

Michael winced. “Mom, don’t embarrass her.”

But Kelly was laughing. “And I thought I’d hidden it so well.”

“A mother always knows,” his mother told her. “It’s wonderful to see you again. But how…?” Understanding obviously dawned, and she whirled on him. “Michael Devaney, how long have you been back in Boston?”

“Not long,” he said evasively.

She turned to Kelly. “How long?”

Kelly looked straight at him and didn’t even hesitate. “I believe it’s been about six weeks now, hasn’t it, Michael?”

“Traitor,” he said.

“Honesty should be prized,” his mother scolded. “What on earth am I thinking keeping the two of you out here when it’s bitter cold? Come inside where it’s warm, so I won’t feel guilty making you listen to me tell you just