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But it was the sleek, small jet with the blue-and-green stripe and the Sinclair logo that caught Trent’s attention. “That’s it,” he said. He tapped on the window. “C’mon, Dad.”
Bryn walked on shaky legs, Trent and Mac at her side. This was more than just a normal visit. A new Sinclair was about to step foot onto the land of his heritage. And if he wasn’t a Sinclair by blood, he was still Jesse’s son.
She waited impatiently in the small concourse. Another jet had landed moment’s before, and Bryn had to clench her fists and bide her time as the stream of tourists meandered inside from the tarmac.
At last Bryn saw the familiar outline of Aunt Beverly’s gray head, with its short, tight curls. Her heart leaped in her chest. An unfamiliar woman in a white uniform walked at Beverly’s side, but it was the third member of the entourage who spotted Bryn first and shouted at the top of his lungs.
Allen broke free of Beverly’s hold and, despite her admonitions to go slowly, raced forward. “Mommy, Mommy!” His face was aglow.
She ran to meet him, scooping him up in a tight hug as she went to her knees. “Hello, my little sweetheart. I’ve missed you so much.” He smelled of sweat and peanut butter and little boy.
He suffered through a moment of Bryn scattering kisses on his freckled cheeks, but then pulled away impatiently, already asserting his manly independence even in the middle of a reunion . His skin was pale. Dark smudges beneath his eyes emphasized his pallor, but he had certainly recovered his high spirits.
“Who are they, Mommy?” He tugged her to her feet and looked past her with curiosity.
Tears clogged her throat and she had to try twice to speak. “That’s Trent and his father, Mr. Sinclair.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Remember how I taught you to shake hands.”
Allen grinned at the two strange males, his head cocked slightly to one side as he held out his tiny palm. “Very nice to meetcha.”
Trent stood silent, unmoving, his features carved in stone.
Mac rubbed a hand across his face. “Oh, my God.” He took Allen’s outstretched hand and pumped it. “Welcome to Wyoming, son.”
Eleven
After that, chaos reigned. They all made their way outside. Aunt Beverly and Allen were installed in the backseat with Bryn. Trent hadn’t missed a trick. The booster seat he had purchased for Allen was exactly the correct size and model.
The nurse rode behind in a rental car with a hired driver. All the bags went with her, as well.
By the time the caravan got back to the ranch, Bryn was frazzled. Allen was hyperexcited, Aunt Beverly was exhausted and Trent had yet to say more than a couple of terse words to anybody.
Mac was the one to show the new arrivals to their quarters and to help Bryn get everyone settled in. She was pleased that Allen’s room was so close to hers. Even with two other caregivers watching out for him—one highly trained—she liked knowing that her son was where she could check on him during the night.
Lunch was quick and simple, sandwiches and fruit. Allen begged to explore the ranch, but the three women who controlled his fate insisted on a nap.
Mac took pity on the boy. He smiled down at him, his eyes misty. “How about I tell you a couple of stories about your—” He stopped short, sending Bryn a visual SOS. His face creased in distress.
She ruffled her son’s blond hair, automatically trying to smooth the eternal cowlick. “Mac raised four sons on this ranch, Allen. Trent was one of them. I’ll bet Mac can tell you lots of great stories about the trouble they got into.”
That seemed to convince Allen, and the old man and the young boy wandered down the hall to Allen’s new bedroom.
Which left Bryn and Aunt Beverly alone in the kitchen. Trent had disappeared, and the nurse was taking a much-deserved hour for herself.
Beverly hugged Bryn for the dozenth time. “I missed you, honey. The house was empty without you.”
“I missed you, too. Did Allen really do okay…until he got sick?”
“He was a sweetheart.” Beverly eased into a chair at the table. “I’m stiff from the plane ride, even if it was the equivalent of being treated like a queen. Good grief, Bryn. These folks have some serious money. They should have been helping you all these years.”
