Over the Fence (43 page)

Grant closed the file he’d been reviewing. He was quiet for a minute. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, Nathan.” He rapped the top of the file folder.

I nodded. “We have.”

“It’s risky, especially these days, opening your own business.”

“I agree. That’s why I’m starting small. I’ve spoken with some of my current clients and they’ve agreed to hire me. I’m going to work from home for the next few months until I’ve built up a big enough client base. I’m only hiring one other person right now, but once I’m confident things are working I’ll lease office space and hire more staff.”

Grant looked at Kourtney. “You support him on this?”

“One hundred percent.”

He leaned back, taking a long sip of his coffee. “And you’re sure you want to sell?”

“Yeah. Absolutely. Kourtney is my home now, Grant. Where she is, I am.”

He smiled. “Look at the two of you.”

“What do you think? Nathan trusts you. Your opinion means a lot to him,” Kourtney asked.

“It’s a good, solid plan.”

“You think I should do this?”

“I think you should. Kourtney’s right—it’s the right time to try.”

I felt better knowing Grant felt the same. “It’s not what I had planned, but things have changed.”

Grant regarded us seriously. “I’d say your life is heading exactly where it should be, Nathan. You have a new career to look forward to and an amazing woman at your side.” He paused, drumming his fingers on the file. “Claire and I want to help you if you need it. We’ll co-sign a loan, or loan you the money ourselves if the bank says no. It’s very difficult to get a loan right now, even without your past.”

He held up his hand before I could protest. “Nathan. We think of you as a son. Let us be a part of your new life. Your future. We want that.” His voice softened as he looked at Kourtney. “All we ask is you work hard and keep making us proud.”

I flushed at his words.

“Claire wants a visit—soon. She wants to meet the amazing lady who means so much to you.”

“I’d like to meet her, as well,” Kourtney responded with a shy smile.

Grant returned her smile. “It will be nice not having to worry about you anymore, Nathan. You’ve moved ahead and started living. Really living.”

I picked up Kourtney’s hand and kissed it, knowing he was right. “Amazing isn’t a big enough word, Grant.”

He laughed. “Amen to that, Nathan.”

Kourtney cleared her throat. “There was something else I wanted to ask, Grant.”

I looked over, surprised. I thought we had covered everything.

Grant tilted his head. “Sure, Kourtney. What is it?”

Her fingers fiddled with the edge of the paper napkin in front of her, shredding it into tiny fragments. She didn’t look at me, but kept her gaze on Grant.

“Nathan told me you offered to help him find his sister. Is that offer still open?”

I gaped at her, caught off guard by her question.

Grant looked over at me. “Is that something you want, Nathan?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t something I’d been thinking about.”

Kourtney turned to me, with cautious eyes. “I think you need to put the past behind you, once and for all, in order to really move forward, Nathan. You miss Sophie. Whether you’ll admit it or not, you miss your mom. You need to find out if that door is truly closed or not.”

“Kourtney,” I whispered, my voice tight. “What if it is?”

“Then we deal with it—together.” She picked up my hand, holding it tight. “But what if it’s not? What if you can forge a relationship with one or both of them? I know what it’s like not to have any family who care, Nathan. Don’t throw away a chance.”

Grant spoke up. “I agree with Kourtney, Nathan. So much time has passed. You’re starting a whole new journey. Reach out this one last time. If you fail, then you know you tried.” He gazed at me, encouragement in his eyes. “You give me the word and I’ll ask my contacts to help.”

My mind raced. My initial reaction was to say no. The thought of their rejection made my heart ache. But Kourtney’s words rang in my head. Since falling in love with her, I found myself more open to feelings—ones I had cut off long ago. And the thought of reconnecting with my sister, and perhaps my mother, was a desire I kept hidden for far too long.

Kourtney’s eyes pleaded with me: both to accept and to understand why she had asked Grant. I brushed my lips across her cheek, letting her know I wasn’t angry or upset. If anything, I was grateful—my girl loved me enough to suggest something she knew I longed for, deep in my heart, but was too afraid to express.

“I’ll think about it, Grant.”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting.”

I drummed my fingers restlessly on my desk, my stomach in knots. I looked down at the slip of paper in front of me for the hundredth time since Grant had handed it to me. I didn’t have to look at the numbers anymore. I had worn the edges of the paper so thin they curled up, the corners fraying from my fingers worrying them, and the numbers were embedded in my memory.

Ten digits. Ten innocent digits that could possibly change my life—or, as Grant pointed out stoically, confirm my fears and I could shut the door on my past once and for all, knowing I’d done everything I could.

My gaze drifted to the picture on my desk of Kourtney and me, taken last week. We were both smiling; her with a shy glance at the camera while I beamed down at her, my feelings clearly written on my face.

When she had surprised me by asking Grant to try and find my sister, I didn’t know what to think or feel. Grant admitted he felt the same way—that I needed to reach out one last time. After examining my feelings, I knew they were right and finally I agreed to let Grant help me. Thanks to his contacts, it didn’t take long to find Sophie.

It turned out she lived in Ontario, a mere hour away from me.

And now, I held her number in my hand.

Kourtney’s gentle voice startled me. “You don’t have to do this, Nathan.”

I looked up, shaking my head, grateful for her presence. I had almost not told her what I was planning, thinking I would somehow spare her my pain if Sophie rejected my olive branch.

Thank God I listened to Grant, who reminded me of the last time I tried to hide something from Kourtney. Needless to say, he was right, and now she was beside me; her support given without hesitation.

She’d been at my side every minute of the nerve-racking opening of my company. She held my hand when my loan was rejected, then handed me a money order the next day, telling me another one was on its way from Grant and Claire. All three of them celebrated with me when the business took off.

They were all my family now, but she knew how much I missed Sophie. She had encouraged me, making me listen the way no one else could. She reminded me of the love I still carried for my sister; that in all of this she was the one I missed the most and in all likelihood, had been the one caught in the middle of the entire situation. “She was fifteen when this happened, Nathan. What power did she have about seeing you? She lost both you and Trevor that day.”

As usual, she made a good point. But I was still nervous—because of me Sophie had been hurt as well. Had she forgiven me for that? A lot of time—years—had passed and I had no idea how either of us were going to feel about me making contact.

“I want to,” I responded. “I’m—”

“Nervous,” she finished for me.

“Yes.”

“You were nervous when you told me you loved me, and look how that turned out.”

Smiling, I stood up, leaning over the desk to kiss her. She was right. I took a chance then, and I had to take another one now.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered, although somewhat different, still achingly familiar.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Only a rush of air which I exhaled into the phone.

“Hello?” she repeated; impatience evident in her tone.

I swallowed, trying to clear the dryness in my throat. “I—ah—”

“Listen, asshole, I have call display and I’m in no mood for some creep to call and breathe heavy on the end of the phone. I’m calling the cops, shithead.”

For a second, I gaped at the phone. Sophie never swore. At least the Sophie from my memories didn’t. Finally, I found my voice.

“Sophie? Sophie Fraser?”

“Who wants to know?” she demanded.

“Um, I . . . I’m looking for Sophie Fraser.”

“Sophie Johnson,” she corrected tersely.

“But you were Sophie Fraser?”

“Who is this?” Her speech was slow and cautious.

I cleared my throat and reached out for Kourtney’s outstretched hand, holding it like a lifeline.

“Sophie, it’s Nathan . . . your brother.”

I paced the room, my nerves taut, my anxiety at an all-time high.

Kourtney watched me with concerned eyes, not speaking, but allowing me the space I needed.

After telling Sophie it was me, all I heard was a gasp, followed by sobbing and the sound of the phone hitting the floor. When a man’s voice picked up the receiver, demanding to know who it was, I explained the best I could, given my nervousness. Silence greeted me, then he informed me he was Sophie’s husband and asked for my information to call me back. I hung up, dazed and looked at Kourtney, unsure what to say.

“You shocked her. I doubt she expected a call like that out of the blue,” she soothed me. “I’m sure she’ll call back.”

I didn’t know what to think or say until the phone rang again and Sophie’s husband, Ian, asked me if they could come and see me in person. I gave him the information and now we were waiting for them to appear. We stayed at the office, thinking it would be good neutral ground. I had no idea what to think, or how I should be feeling.

Was it a good thing Sophie was coming to see me?

Would she recognize me?

Would I recognize her?

The door to the office opened and in an instant, all my questions were answered.

My baby sister stood in front of me—I’d know her anywhere.

The long blonde curls were replaced with a shorter, darker version of waves and her face had matured, but her eyes, the same ones that stared back at me in the mirror every day, hadn’t changed. Nor had her sweet smile, which was genuine and wide, even as tears ran down her face. She was dressed like my memories of her; in a gypsy skirt with a ruffled blouse—an older, not-too-different version of my little sister. One second she was hesitating by the door and the next she was in my arms, both of us crying. We shared mumbled incoherent words, neither of us caring what they were, happy to hear each other’s voice.

Finally, I drew back, staring down at my sister. “Sophie,” I whispered through my tears.

“I tried to find you, Nathan . . . I tried so hard,” she whispered back, her voice thick with her own emotion.

That was all I had to know. “We’ll figure it out, Gypsy-girl.” Her smile grew as I called her by her old nickname. I kissed her forehead and wrapped my arm around her. “I have someone I want you to meet. Sophie, this is my Kourtney.” I drew in some much needed oxygen. “Kourtney, this is Sophie”—my voice caught as I gazed at my girl—“my sister.”

Kourtney smiled shyly at Sophie. “I’m happy to meet you, Sophie.”

Sophie grinned; the dimple I remembered on her left cheek as prominent as ever. She held out her hand. “Good to meet you, too.”

I met Kourtney’s gaze, the emotion in her eyes warming my chest. She always expressed her love so intensely through her eyes. The emotion soaked into my soul, easing whatever troubled me, calming my frazzled nerves. She let me know she was beside me, no matter what. She was the nucleus of my world, and everything else revolved around her.

She looked around at our strange, apprehensive group. “Why don’t we sit down? I have coffee.”

Sophie’s husband, Ian, spoke up. “Are those cookies?”

Our laughter broke the ice, and I grinned. “Kourtney makes the best cookies in the world. Let’s sit down and talk.”