Chapter 8

Epilogue (continued)

They invited Timothy Sykes to stay. They talked. They ate dinner together and talked more about Timothy and his life, the home he was adopted from and the home he was raised in. Even if they all knew there was no way to prove it with absolute certainty, every sentence that went by, every little snippet of information, every smile, every inflection in Timothy's voice, every movement and way he carried himself, convinced them more that yes, Timothy was Nick's long lost son. Heath's sons came in and listened carefully as everyone talked, but they were young and didn't quite get the notion that they had a new full-grown cousin. Heath and Suzanne took them aside to explain after dinner, while Nick, Nancy and Victoria settled in with Timothy, sharing brandy in the library.

The first thing Timothy saw was the portrait of Tom Barkley over the mantle. "Who is that?"

"Your grandfather, Tom Barkley," Victoria said as she sat down on the sofa with her new grandson.

"He has a statue in Stockton," Timothy said.

"Yes!" Victoria said. "He was one of the men who built this valley, many years ago now. He died fighting the railroad, defending the local farmers and ranchers."

Timothy saw the collection of law books and straightened up excitedly. "Is somebody a lawyer?" he asked.

"Your Uncle Jarrod," Nick announced. "A very well-known lawyer, actually, even in San Francisco when he was practicing there but he moved to Arizona about ten years ago, before you'd ever have known about him."

"He should get in touch with my firm!" Timothy said. "Everybody there has been there longer than I have. Wouldn't it be something if they actually knew him?"

As Timothy got up and went to look at the law books, Nick paused for a moment, remembering the night his older brother made the decision to go. Jarrod was really suffering that night, fighting yet another bout with pneumonia, having a lot of trouble breathing. Nobody was sure he was going to survive this one. Nick was remembering holding his brother's hand. He remembered being afraid this would be the last time. He remembered Jarrod was afraid, too. He remembered something particular they talked about.

"Nick, I'm sorry I couldn't help you find your son," Jarrod said.

"That's nothing to worry about anymore," Nick said. "I'm sorry I've been so touchy about it all these years. You did what you thought was right, and you were right. We never could have found him anyway."

Jarrod coughed, fighting for breath. "Heath had a point though. The boy may find you yet."

"Well, if he does, I'll bet you had a point too. I'll bet he's been raised by people who love him and took good care of him."

"Jarrod moved to Arizona for his health," Nick explained. "He helped put together the system that got you that good home you were raised in."

Timothy nodded. "I wish he was here. I'd like to meet him."

"Oh, you'll be meeting him, all right," Nick said, smiling to think of the sparkle that was going to appear in his older brother's blue eyes when he found out about Timothy. Then he decided to ask something head on. "I wonder, Timothy – you had a good home but you had to have had a lot of – well, you had to have wondered why your mother let you go. You had to have wondered where I was. You had to have wondered how you ended up with parents you weren't born to and Timothy – you gotta be angry about that."

Timothy nodded. "I did wonder, and sometimes I was angry about it. Especially when my mother and father died and I was left alone. When I saw your picture in the paper, I was ready to come knock your block right off. I always did have a temper, but I learned to wait a bit. Usually, when I get mad, I get mad fast but then it goes away and I start thinking my way through it. That's what I did when I saw your picture. I calmed down – I remembered my parents and how good they were to me. I realized I didn't have much to be angry about."

Victoria and Nancy both smiled, seeing yet another echo of Nick in this boy's temper and the way he handled it. "Were you their only child, Timothy?"

"Yes," Timothy said with a big smile. "They couldn't have any of their own and they didn't hide it from me that they had adopted me. My father owned a dry goods store and my mother worked there with him. So did I when I got old enough and when I had time, but they were really set on me getting an education. When I got out of school and told them I wanted to go into law – " His smile grew. His eyes sparkled, then it faded a little. "They both died of the influenza last year. I'm just glad they knew I was reading law. You shoulda seen how happy it made them." Then his smile faded more. "Can you tell me who my mother is – the woman who bore me?"

Nick and Victoria exchanged looks before Nick said, "Her name was Belinda Limpert." He tried to figure out how to explain this without sounding like he was bitter. "She left me when she found out she was having you, and I didn't even know you were born until you were about six years old. She and her husband died in a train accident eight years ago. I wasn't in touch with her. I just read about it in the papers."

"Did you ever try to find me once you found out about me?"

Nick had been wondering when that question was going to come. "I wanted to. But it wasn't possible. We didn't have enough information about when you were born and when you were left."

"I found that out myself," Timothy said. "After my parents died, I went to the place they told me they'd gotten me from, that Catholic home for unwed mothers. They told me they didn't even know who might have left me or when, plus the records would have been sealed anyway. They did things in strict anonymity, to protect the children. Considering some of the things I had thought about when I was growing up, I figured that was probably a good idea. I didn't press anything."

"Your Uncle Jarrod knew the way the system worked pretty well because he had helped the Sisters of Mercy and the home that placed you with the people who raised you," Nick said. "I wasn't so sure when I found out you existed that he'd done the right thing. I wanted him to pull every string he knew to find you, but he wouldn't go against the people he'd helped all those years, putting together a way that lost children could find good homes. He kept telling me that he wouldn't shake up half a dozen families and even yours to find you. And your Uncle Heath convinced me from his point of view, being raised without a father himself – he convinced me Jarrod was right."

"Uncle Heath didn't have a father?" Timothy asked.

"Your grandfather, Tom Barkley," Victoria said and nodded to the portrait of her husband over the mantle, "was Heath's father but I'm not his mother. Heath grew up with his mother in another town. Your grandfather didn't know about him, just as your father didn't know about you. Heath first came to us almost twenty years ago now. So you see, you're not the only lost Barkley to come home."

Timothy said, "Well, maybe my Uncle Jarrod was right. For me, he definitely was right. I'm awfully glad to meet you and I'm anxious to come to know you – all of you Barkleys – but I've had a good start in life with a great family and a great future and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I guess I have Uncle Jarrod to thank in part for that."

"Now you're part of our family," Nick said. "And you're gonna be the newest lawyer in the Barkley family. I think your old Uncle Jarrod will be happy to know you inherited something from him. He'll probably come flying up here from Arizona when he gets the wire I'll send him."

"I'll try to be a lawyer who'll make him proud," Timothy said. He approached Nick with a smile that was both gentle and self-assured. "And I'll try to make you proud too."

"Timothy, I want to take a little trip with you before too long," Nick said. "I want to go to San Francisco. I want to visit your parents' graves. I want to thank them."

Timothy beamed again. "I'd like that. I'd like to introduce my father to my parents."

Father. Nick sighed and beamed too. Now, he knew what he'd always wanted to know – that his son was all right, that his son had grown up safe and loved. And now, just like Heath predicted years ago, his son had found him.

"Father. I actually found you." Timothy echoed Nick's thoughts exactly. "I think I must be the luckiest man in the world right now."

Nick shook his head, smiling.

Timothy asked, "No?"

Nick smiled as he reached to put his arms around someone he'd waited 18 years to embrace. "No. I am."

The End