Chapter 4
Nick scanned the crowd for his mother. He heard her before he saw her.
Ivy ran (she can walk in my story) towards her youngest son, wailing his name. She enfolded him in a generous hug.
Nick stood stiffly as she hugged him, not wanting to show any emotion, but the smell of her familiar perfume, and sound of her voice brought back the memories of when he was a boy. Nick hugged his mother back fiercely, while trying to choke back the sobs in his throat.
Ivy pulled away first. She framed his face with her hands, "Oh, my baby boy! I love you so much, don't ever go away again." Tears streamed freely down Ivy's face.
Nick looked up at the ceiling and blinked back his own tears. He would NOT cry. "I've returned, mother."
Ivy detected the distance in his voice and collected herself. "Well, come along dear. Johnson is waiting with the car."
****
Charity closed her locker door and sighed. She leaned against it. Soon she would be gone. Charity was leaving Harmony. Her father had been found in L.A. He had been searching for her and now he wanted her to come live with him. How could she say no to the only parent she had left.
A tear slipped down her cheek at the thought of leaving this beautiful place she had called home these past years. Things were just starting to get better for her and now this. Charity sniffed and wiped her face. She tossed her hair out of her face and headed towards Business Lab. She could make it in L.A. and she'd come over for visits. She wouldn't forget Harmony.
****
The limo pulled up to a stop in front of the sprawling mansion, but Nick Crane made no movement to exit the limo.
Ivy chided him, "Don't be so melodramatic. Come on."
Nick sighed and followed his mother in the house. Johnson, the butler, followed with his bags. Nick stopped at the entrance and looked around in amazement. What the hell had happened to the place? Gone were all the elegant trimmings his mother had once helped pick out, in their place were gaudy ugly things. The place looked like a cheap whorehouse.
Then he heard Rebecca's shrill voice. "Nicky Crane?? Oh my God!" She pressed against him and practically purred, "So how old are you these days, Nicky?"
Nick winced and tried to pull away from the overly friendly red-head. Ivy glared at her, "Get your meat-hooks off of my son. He's not a new toy for you. And for your information, he just 21. Too young for you!"
Rebecca pouted and went back upstairs. Ivy smoothed the lapels of Nick's coat. "Sorry about that, Nicky dear. She's a little crazy."
Nick frowned, "Mom, I don't like being called 'Nicky' anymore. I'm not a child."
Ivy raised her eyebrows, "Not you're not. I'm sorry, dear. What would you like to be called?"
Nick sighed, "Nicholas, Nick, Fox, anything but Nicky."
Ivy realized he probably wanted to nap after his long flight and left him alone.
Nick picked up his bags and looked around. Shaking his head, he climbed the steps to find his room. He hoped that it was still his. Nick reached the door that had once been his. Inside, it had been updated from the last time he had been home. Jesus, that was when he was 17? 18? He couldn't remember.
His room looked as if anyone could have occupied it. There were no band posters, photos, or half naked girls on the walls or anything in the room that would tell an outside a young boy lived there.
Nick put his stuff on the bed and looked in the closet. That's were all of his things were. He pulled down the box of picture frames that held memories of old girlfriends, old buddies, vacations, and the Crane family at happier times. Then he spotted his old year books. They could have spoken for a passport. Almost each one was from another state and some even another country. He had been bounced from school to school.
Nicholas pushed the book and photos back in the closet and ran a hand through his dark hair. He collapsed on the bed and willed his racing thoughts to stop so he could sleep.
That's how Ivy found him. Laid out, belly down, on his bed. She sat next to him and brushed his dark hair off his forehead. She was softly humming a lullaby she used to sing to him. Ivy studied her long lost son. He favored her in many ways, making him a handsome man. He had impossibly long dark eyelashes and an aristocratic nose followed by a full mouth. He was her. Part of her. How could she have sent him away? Well, he was back now, and she would see to it that she made it up to him.
