The house grew larger as he approached it. The six-thousand-square-foot structure had sat on five hundred acres for over a century. The other five hundred that comprised the original property boundary was sold during the Depression, but the majority was still intact. Jace remembered times when all six bedrooms had been filled with guests, when the ballroom was bright with music and he couldn’t wait to get to the horses in the back stables.
The road ended in a semicircle in front of the house. For a moment Jace only looked at it. Age didn’t show on the old homestead. The pristine white color he remembered was as fresh and new as if the paint job had been completed yesterday. The five-bar fence he’d climb over as a boy was as strong as it had been when he sat atop a horse and raced the wind. The giant lawn, manicured and welcoming even in the darkness, led to the front door.
He let out a relieved breath. Looking over his shoulder, Jace checked on Ari, his four-year-old son sleeping in the backseat. Jace smiled, thinking Ari could sleep through a war. It was because of him that Jace was here. Ari needed a quiet, private place and better medical care than he was getting in South America. So Jace was back on American soil.
He got out of the car. Instead of climbing the front stairs, he stood looking at the house, oblivious of the water drenching him. He could smell freshly cut grass with the faint hint of horseflesh over the rain. He hadn’t ridden in years, but he remembered sitting in the saddle and racing across the grounds with Sheldon shouting at him to slow down. Not that his half brother was concerned about him. He didn’t want the horse to suffer a fall.
A smile came easily to Jace. Yet he never thought he’d miss the Kendall. But he had. It wasn’t his brother or father that he missed, but the grooms, the horses, the races and the few people he’d become friends with in town. He missed riding, challenging the wind as he edged the horses faster and faster. He missed jumping fences and even the splash of dirty water and flying debris that hit him in the face. He missed the silent rush of exhilaration for that tiny space of time when both he and his steed were airborne. Knowing there would be a reprimand at the end of the ride didn’t stop Jace.
Rain smacked his head and shoulders, soaking through his clothes, breaking the memory that held him in place. Quickly, he moved around the car and lifted the still-sleeping Ari onto his shoulder. Taking the wide steps up to the porch, he carried the boy and stopped in front of the century-old door. Jace reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring he hadn’t done more than glance at in ages. He pushed a gold-colored key into the lock. It resisted his effort to turn.
Shifting Ari, Jace tried again, and again the key would not line up with the inside tumblers and release the lock. “Well, it’s been five years,” he said aloud. He supposed Sheldon had changed the locks in that time. Stepping back, he rang the doorbell. Inside he heard the soft sound of it chiming. Behind him thunder and lightning cut the sky in quick succession.
Peering through the side windows, he noted that other things had changed, too. The runner that led from the door through to the kitchen at the back was gone. A new floor of polished oak gleamed in the semidarkness.
Jace waited several seconds before ringing the bell again. Ari weighed about forty pounds, but he was getting heavy. It was well after midnight and maybe Sheldon and Laura were asleep. If his brother was following their father’s method of housekeeping, any help they had would have left hours ago.
Suddenly, a light went on inside the foyer. Jace squinted as the one above his head illuminated at virtually the same moment. Ari squirmed, turning his face toward Jace’s neck. Resettling himself, he was asleep without even opening his eyes.
“May I help you?” a voice said through the heavy door.
“You could open the door.” Jace peered through the beveled glass trying to see whether it was Laura or someone else.
“Who are you?” she asked. “And what do you want?”
“I’m Jason Kendall and I live here.”
There was a long pause before Jace heard the door locks clicking and finally the oval-glass door was pulled open. The light from both the porch and the foyer fell on the woman standing before him. Jace gasped.
“Laura,” he whispered, taking a step backward. He thought he was prepared to see her again, but he wasn’t.
“I’m not Laura.”
Jace stared at her face. He frowned. She wasn’t Laura. He blinked several times. This woman only looked slightly like her. Her hair was red with unkempt tendrils that had come loose from the braid that disappeared down her back. Laura, on the other hand, never had a lock of hair out of place.