Hummingbird Lake Part 32

"Dad-dy!"

Mac grinned, then pulled her into his embrace and hugged her hard. "Seriously, though, do be careful. Listen to your instincts. Go to cla.s.s. Make smart decisions."

"I will, Daddy."

He kissed her forehead, then said, "I'm so proud of you, Caitlin. I'm going to miss you so much."

"I'll miss you, too, Daddy, and I'll be home for Thanksgiving before you know it. Shoot, with the hours you've been working, you won't even notice I'm gone."

"Finally, something good to come out of all of those hours." He gave her one more kiss, one more hug, then opened the door for her. "Buckle your seat belt. If you're driving, don't talk on the cellphone, and especially don't text."

Caitlin rolled her eyes as she slid into her seat. "Good-bye, Daddy."

"Bye, baby." He shut the pa.s.senger door behind her, then walked around to the driver's side, where Ali was fitting the key into the ignition. "Alison, you drive carefully. Call me when you stop for the night."

"I will." Ali lifted her face for his quick kiss. "You guys be safe, too, and have a wonderful time. I hope you catch dozens of fish."

She started the car, and she and her daughter drove off for their grand adventure.

As road trips went, it proved to be one of the most pleasurable Ali had ever experienced. She and Caitlin shared a similar traveling style. They agreed on what music and audiobooks to listen to. They both wanted to stop every two hours, and they liked driving late into the night and sleeping in the next morning-just the opposite of Mac's preferences. What Ali enjoyed most were the hours on end spent in conversation with her only daughter. They talked about everything under the sun-family, friends, old memories, new dreams, wishes, and desires. Ali knew that she'd remember and treasure for the rest of her life this time spent with Caitlin.

Eventually the conversations ended. The trip ended. Four days after leaving Denver, in a slightly different version of the scene Caitlin had had with her father, Ali told her daughter good-bye in the parking lot outside her dorm. They hugged, they kissed, and they declared their love for each other, but Ali could tell her daughter was distracted. Her suitemates were waiting for her to go shopping for their coordinating bathroom accessories.

Ali made it three whole blocks before she burst into tears. She pulled into a convenience store parking lot and buried her face in her arms against the steering wheel. She cried long, hard tears, pouring out her sadness and her grief, sobbing out her sadness and her sorrow.

Finally, when she'd drained her tears and used all the tissues in the box, she went into the store and used the facilities, then picked up a new box of tissues and a packaged brownie. For a long moment she eyed the selection of tall-boy beers. Sighing, she chose a c.o.ke instead, paid for her selections, then resumed the long drive home.

An hour into her trip, she tried to call Mac, but of course his phone went to voice mail. Her men were out in the wilds of Alaska, where cell phone coverage wasn't exactly grizzly-to-grizzly. She tried to call her father, but his phone, too, went to voice mail, and she recalled that he had a golf vacation this week. Charles Cavanaugh didn't carry a cell phone in his golf bag.

She drove another fifty miles, then dialed one of her friends in Eternity Springs. She had a nice long conversation with Sage Anderson, recently engaged and planning a Christmas wedding. Afterward, Ali tried Mac again.

Silly of her, really. Mac wasn't there. Mac was rarely there anymore.

"Don't be snotty," she scolded herself. Mac had an important job that kept him extremely busy. Hadn't she known from the very first that this was what she could expect if she shared her life with Mackenzie S. Timberlake?

When she'd met Mac her freshman year at Notre Dame, he'd had a well-defined plan for his future. He'd not deviated from his plan in all the years since-well, except for the surprise they had named Stephen. Following his undergrad years, Mac had gone to Stanford for law school, then on to private practice at her father's law firm. While the family connection had landed him the job, he'd earned his partnership all on his own with hard work, a brilliant mind, and excellent instincts. He'd achieved his goal of a federal court judgeship three full years ahead of the timeline he'd outlined to her on their second date. A man didn't accomplish so much at such a relatively young age without a full share and more of discipline.

Of course, she'd had a plan for her future, too, but the surprise currently attending law school had altered her plan permanently. She'd graduated from college with a degree in business she didn't want, the dream of culinary school in mothb.a.l.l.s because of the baby already on the way. While Mac built his resume, she'd wiped snotty noses, organized PTA fund-raisers, and spent a good portion of her day in a minivan toting kids from one event to another.

She'd loved it. She might never have fulfilled her own workday dreams, but she'd settled comfortably into her role as a stay-at-home mom, and the entire Timberlake family had thrived.

And, eventually, outgrown her.

That's okay, she told herself. It wasn't like she didn't have a life of her own separate from the kids. She'd still keep busy. She had her volunteer work. Her cla.s.ses at the gym. She thoroughly enjoyed her occasional trips up into the mountains to Eternity Springs. She'd find plenty to do to fill the hours now empty of baseball games or debate matches or dance recitals.

Maybe she'd leap headlong into the whole quilting thing. She could join a guild in Denver. Meet a whole new group of friends. Except Ali already had lots of friends. She didn't want more friends. She wanted her family.

She was a stay-at-home mom who'd completed her job. Lost her job. A thundercloud of self-pity built in her emotional sky, but she fled from it, tried to outrun it, by lecturing herself aloud. "You haven't lost your family. They just don't live with you anymore. In lots of ways, that's a good thing."

She'd no longer have sweaty gym socks stinking up the boys' rooms or a clutter of makeup spread all across the upstairs bathroom vanity. Those were good things. She wouldn't have to lie awake in bed worrying until her kids made it home by curfew-or not. Another good thing. And one of her friends had told her that the best thing about having an empty nest was that now she and her husband could have s.e.x on the staircase if they wanted. Personally, Ali couldn't imagine that being too comfortable, but hey, she was willing to try anything once.

"I'll just put that on the calendar," she decided, feeling marginally better.

So she'd finished the stay-at-home mom years of her life. Big deal. She hadn't lost her family. She still had Mac. Maybe they could use this time to reinvigorate their relationship. Enjoy an empty-nest honeymoon of sorts. Spend time and energy on each other instead of the kids. Why, this could be the best time of her life. Of their lives.

Thank goodness she still had Mac.

"The Desai case?" Mac repeated, one week after his return to work following his Alaskan vacation. Desai was a high-profile case of attempted domestic terrorism. "I thought that went to Judge Harrison."

The court clerk nodded. "It did, but Judge Harrison had a heart attack this morning on his way in. We heard fifteen minutes ago."

"Oh, no. How's he doing?"

"It's serious. His son took my call and said he's not out of the woods entirely, but they do expect him to survive."

"That's good news."

"Yes, but the son also said the doctors are talking about retirement."

Mac hated to hear it. Harrison was a brilliant jurist and an affable colleague. He'd be missed.

"The case has been rea.s.signed to you, Judge Timberlake. You have a hearing that starts in twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes! What sort of hearing?"

"The U.S. attorney wants a search warrant executed today. We have FBI, DEA, and the Denver police headed in." The clerk handed over a file. "It's a good thing you had your vacation. This thing is liable to have you tied up for months."

Mac stared down at the bulging file and sighed. He should call Ali and warn her that he might be late. He was pretty sure she'd dropped the word special when she'd referenced dinner tonight.

As he headed for his office to make the call, his secretary, Louise, stopped him with a problem. From that moment on, the Desai case consumed him, and he didn't leave the courthouse until well after 10:00 P.M. It wasn't until he walked into his dark house and smelled the faded aroma of his favorite, veal parmigiana, that he remembered that he'd never made that phone call, and his stomach dipped.

Next he recalled that she'd mentioned something about special plans for the evening, and his stomach dropped even more.

Sure enough, when he peeked into the dining room, he saw the table set for two with her mother's china. Oh, h.e.l.l.

Mac rubbed the back of his neck and inwardly groaned. He'd screwed up. Big time. He knew this was a difficult time for his wife, and he'd been trying to be extra sensitive to her wishes and desires. Luckily, she'd appeared to be happier since he returned from Alaska and she returned from Tennessee. He had hoped that Ali would find the antic.i.p.ation of Caitlin's departure for college more upsetting than dealing with the actual aftereffects of it, and so far, it appeared that would be the case.

But letting her down like this tonight sure didn't help the situation. "Timberlake," he murmured, "you're an a.s.s."

He slipped off his jacket and loosened his tie as he climbed the stairs to their bedroom. The room was dark, the figure in the bed unmoving. Attempting to be as quiet as possible, Mac readied for bed, then slipped between the sheets.

He breathed in the familiar lavender scent of the lotion she habitually smoothed over her skin before bed and edged closer to her warmth, trying not to wake her as he put his arm around her, seeking, and finding, that sense of homecoming she offered him even after all these years.

"You're home," she said.

Mac closed his eyes. d.a.m.n. "Sorry I woke you. I'm sorry I'm so late. I know I should have called."

"Where were you?"

She said it like a question, not an accusation, so he breathed a little easier. "I had a hearing. A new case. We ended up ordering in dinner."

"Oh. Okay."

She sounded tired-very tired-so he decided to wait until the morning to offer any further details. He kissed her shoulder and spooned her tight against him. "Goodnight, babe. Sleep well."

"You too."

Mac waited for her to continue their usual nighttime ritual, but her regular breathing told him she'd fallen back asleep. Disquieted, he drifted off plagued with a sense of foreboding.

When was the last time they'd gone to sleep together without exchanging the words "I love you"?

ALSO BY EMILY MARCH.

Angel's Rest.