A Family to Come Home To (Saddle Falls) by Sharon De Vita

was clearly the tallest of all four of Jock’s sons. He possessed Tommy’s own twinkling blue eyes, eyes the same color as the Irish Sea shortly after a storm. But most importantly, he had his brothers’ features. All of his brothers, mixed together in a face that was undeniably a Ryan.
    The young man started walking up the driveway, then paused. “Tommy Ryan?” The voice was deep, husky with suppressed emotion and still familiar to Tommy, in spite of the Texas twang and seemed to reverberate in the air between them, closing the distance. The young lad’s voice had the same deep resonance of his brothers’. Tommy wanted to kick up his heels in glee.
    “My God,” Tommy whispered, pressing his hand tighter against his chest, as if to ease the ache in his heart. “Jesse. ’Tis you.” It could have been a hundred years since he’d last seen the lad, but he’d recognize him anywhere; it was like recognizing his own soul. His own kin.
    Joy bubbled within him like champagne and Tommy fervently wished for a good hip, for he’d have done an Irish jig right there on the front porch, a jig to make the Ryan clan proud.
    It was Jesse; his Jesse.
    Standing on Ryan land once again.
    As it should be; as it was meant to be.
    “Aye, Jock,” Tommy whispered with a smile and a slow shake of his head as he glanced heavenward for a brief moment. “He’s come home.”
    With a silent, heartfelt prayer of thanks, Tommy let his breath out slowly, and with it all the fear, loneliness, guilt and pain he’d held inside for twenty long years.
    Then the tears he’d banished came, unbidden, as if flushing away the lonely years and the unbearable fears, and Tommy could do nothing to stop them or the memories that washed over him like a warm, welcome wave.
    Tommy closed his eyes for a moment, and then he opened them to watch the young lad walk across the expansive front yard toward him. Time seemed to still, then reel backward until Tommy saw not the grownup adult version of his beloved grandson approaching him, but the little lad as he’d been the last time he’d seen him twenty years ago.
    Tommy remembered he’d been coming around the front of the house from doing one chore or another late that afternoon when he’d heard the lad’s happy squeals.
    “Gwanpop.” Jesse’s laughter always brought a smile as the little lad scrambled across the front lawn on chubby legs that were not quite steady, racing from one misadventure to another. “Gwanpop, save me,” he’d plead, trying to contain his bubbling laughter.
    “Come here, lad,” Tommy would call, arms outstretched and a twinkle in his eye. Jesse would race to a stop, throw his chubby little arms up so his grandfather could lift him high in the air and out of harm’s way.
    “They’re gonna get me.” Jesse would giggle, snuggling closer to the safety and security of his grandfather’s arms. “Save me, Gwanpop. Save me!”
    They were his older brothers, Jesse’s consorts in crime, but aye, Jesse always knew where to go for reinforcements, always knew that his grandfather would rescue him, save him, protect him.
    Except for that one night when even his grandfather couldn’t save him.
    Tommy’s eyes opened and he blinked away his tears, blinking himself back to the present. Dear God, the nightmare was finally, blissfully, over.
    With legs not quite steady, Tommy slowly started down the porch stairs, leaning heavily on his cane, never taking his eyes off the lad, fearing he might disappear in a puff of smoke.
    Jesse watched Tommy approach, his heart pounding in a way that had nerves skimming just across his skin. He hadn’t remembered his grandfather, hadn’t remembered the ranch, his brothers, hadn’t remembered anything.
    At least not consciously.
    Until his gaze met Tommy’s.
    The moment he’d stepped out of the rented SUV and seen Tommy Ryan standing on the porch, shadowed by the late-afternoon sun, silhouetted by the beautiful blue sky, Jesse knew in his