by Meryl Sawyer
"My mother hated me and turned me over to Zoe." He groaned, but she couldn't tell if it was the pain from his arm or a painful memory. "She was worse than you can possibly imagine. But at the end of the day, Amanda McCord is still my mother. She wouldn't fit in anywhere else. I can't throw her to the wolves."
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Chapter 34
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"I understand," Kelly told Logan.
But what she meant was that she appreciated his loyalty to his mother and his sensitivity to her inability to fit in elsewhere after so many years in the camp. She'd seen hints of his sensitivity with Pop and Uma and the blind man in Elorza. It was another facet of his personality that she admired.
For the life of her, Kelly could not understand the way his mother had behaved. How could any woman literally sell her own baby? Granted, she'd heard numerous horror stories about the way some children were mistreated, but she never comprehended what made some mothers abuse their children. Why had Amanda McCord turned Logan over to Zoe?
"Tell me about Zoe."
"What's to tell?" he responded with more than just a trace of irony. "I remember her walking down the dirt lane into camp one hot summer day with nothing but a tattered, Christmas shopping bag with the word MACY'S on it. At that point the camp was full. Since we raised our own food, Jake insisted every person—no matter how young—worked after they finished their daily military drills."
Kelly stifled a gasp, unable to imagine forcing young children to drill or to work. "What did you do?"
"Fed the chickens, cleaned up after them, gathered eggs. Most of the easy jobs like that were taken by the children or the women who couldn't work the fields or hunt. There was nothing for Zoe to do, so she volunteered to teach the children. There were only five of us then, but Jake let Zoe stay."
Logan stopped abruptly and gazed up at the stars overhead, then back at her. Oh, please, Kelly prayed. Don't let him clam up now.
"Zoe hated kids. She taught us the basics, but not without slapping us around for any little thing."
"Obviously, she had a psychological problem."
Logan's brittle laugh took her by surprise. "You don't know the half of it. When class was over she would make us kiss her good-bye. A peck on the cheek wouldn't do. Zoe insisted on a kiss right on the lips."
"That's perverted."
She tried to imagine a little boy never feeling loved or wanted by the adults around him, then being subjected to this disgusting woman. Now she understood his aversion to kissing. It was nothing short of a miracle that he wasn't totally screwed-up.
"Perverted? Absolutely," he replied. "The older I got, the worse she became…"
She was almost afraid to ask, "What do you mean?"
He looked away. She could tell he didn't want to talk about this, but she had to know. Understanding him was terribly important to her even though they would soon be parted.
"The old bat would grab my butt when I kissed her. One day when Amy was gone, Zoe touched my penis. I told her I would kill her if she ever did it again."
Oh, God. This was worse than she had imagined. "How old were you?"
"Thirteen. I would never have gone back to class, but I couldn't leave Amy alone with Zoe. She always tormented Amy, ridiculing her because she was so slow. Zoe never touched me again, but the way she would look at me made me sick."
His concern for another at such an early age touched Kelly, and she had to open her eyes very wide to keep back the tears. The last thing Logan wanted was pity, but it deeply disturbed her that Logan could care so much for another person when no one there gave a hoot about him.
"I thought about running away, but Amy was afraid. Her father was at the camp, and she adored him. I suspect Amy may have been slightly retarded. She didn't realize her father lived to clean the arsenal of guns. If he'd been any kind of a father, he would have stopped Zoe from tormenting Amy."
"Didn't your uncle do anything?"
"Not one damn thing. Jake ran the camp like the military, with a chain of command. Zoe was in charge of the classroom. No one questioned her, probably because she didn't seriously injure any of us."
He turned, his eyes on Rafi. The boy was snuggled against Kelly's side, dozing. "Always remember, psychological abuse is as devastating as physical abuse—sometimes even more so. The body heals more quickly than the mind."
She held her breath for a second to keep from bursting into tears. Logan was physically strong, but he'd been psychologically damaged. Time and love could heal the scars left on his psyche by life at the camp. She would help him heal—if only she could have the chance.
"Pop was wonderful with me," she told him in a shaky voice. "He corrected me when I needed it, but he made me feel special. Loved. That's how I'm going to raise Rafi."
"You'll be great. His life won't be like mine." He sucked in a deep breath, and she knew the bullet wound was eroding his strength.
"Did you ever say anything to your mother?"
"It wouldn't have done any good. She belted me whenever I came near her. It didn't matter. I could take Zoe, but Amy couldn't. Once Zoe screamed so much at her that Amy wet her pants. Zoe made her stand outside in the snow until her wet clothes froze. It's a wonder she didn't get pneumonia or freeze to death."
"Oh, Logan, I'm sorry. I can't imagine—"
"Don't feel sorry for me. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. That's what Jake always told everyone. I came through it like tempered steel. Feel sorry for Amy. She wasn't a fighter, so she paid the price with her life."
Even though he had told her earlier about Amy's death, Kelly's throat thickened with an upwelling of emotion, and hot, salty tears pricked at her eyes. Logan didn't fool her, not for a second. He'd survived the old biddy's abuse, but it had scarred him in ways she saw, and in many ways she did not yet see.
"Did you have any fun when you were growing up?" She desperately wanted to think of him, laughing and happy, at least some of the time.
"It was mostly hard work. We didn't buy anything we could make. Jake rejected creature comforts like mirrors and hot water. He refused to allow radios or television. We entertained each other by putting on plays at night."
This is why Logan had the ability to switch roles with amazing speed. She'd noticed the morning when he'd appeared in her office. She hesitated, afraid he would be unwilling to answer, then asked, "Zoe is the reason you never kissed women, isn't she?"
"Yes, but I didn't know you well enough to tell you about her until now."
"I understand," she whispered. His tragic childhood had turned him into an insular man. Sharing as much as he had with her had been difficult. And she loved him all the more for it.
"We should rest," he said. "I want to hold you until they come for you."
She knew he didn't want to discuss the past any longer. His good arm was outstretched, waiting for her. She snuggled against his chest and hoped he didn't hear her troubled sigh.
"I need to explain a few things about the rescue operation," he said, his breath warm against her cheek. He explained about the rope ladder she would have to climb to reach the helicopter. It sounded easy, but she knew better.
"Is your passport and the adoption papers still in your money belt?" he asked and she nodded. "You won't be able to carry your bag and Rafi, too. Is there anything in it you must have?"
She thought a moment, then said, "No."
"Give me that gold wedding band. I'm likely to run into Indians who will want to trade. Let's see what else you have."
They sorted through her tote, and he took several small items like the comb with a mirror on one side and the sterling silver key ring that Pop had given her last Christmas as well as the Scotch and Levis.
"I guess that's it," he said, placing her bag under his head like a pillow.
She wanted to enjoy her final hour with him. The few weeks that they'd been together might be all she would ever have, when there should have been so much … more.
These last precious
minutes would have to last a lifetime. In her mind, the years stretched ahead, brightened by Rafi's sweet smile, but she would always miss Logan. The knowledge brought a raw ache just beneath her breastbone.
She placed one hand on his chest and was reassured by a solid, steady heartbeat beneath her palm. Under her breath, she prayed this brave heart wouldn't be silenced forever by another bullet. Realistically, she knew his chances were next to nil. If a bullet didn't kill him, something in the jungle would.
"Don't feel sorry for me," he whispered.
Where would he get such an idea? The light dawned. His tremendous pride had somehow been threatened by telling her about his youth.
"I'm missing you already. That's what I'm thinking." The truth out, her throat tightened, making it difficult to breathe. She blinked hard to keep the tears at bay.
She wanted to tell him how much she loved him. Her whole life she'd been waiting for him—yet she hadn't known it. Well, she probably suspected the first night they were married. By the time they flew to Venezuela, she'd known. But she hadn't wanted to admit it to herself.
No matter how much she loved him, he wouldn't want to hear about it. Danger was his best friend. If some miracle occurred and he made it out of this mess, Logan would go right back to the Cobras.
And risk his life all over again.
The glowing hands on his Breitling moved faster and faster, the minutes they had left together, silently ticking away. Chances were she would never see him again. What did she have to lose by telling him what was in her heart?
"I know how you feel about being a Cobra," she began, "but I want you to know how much I love you. I'll—we'll be waiting for you, should you want us."
"Kelly, I'm no good with words. I don't know what to say."
Say you love me, too.
"I want to spend a snowy night in front of the fire, the way we discussed … sipping wine and making love," she continued, anxious for him to understand how much she loved him. "I want to walk with you next fall when the aspens turn bright gold. We'll have a picnic beside a mountain creek. We'll…"
Do all the things you've never done.
"Aw, Kelly … Jesus."
"I love you. Nothing you've done, nothing about your past will change my mind. I want you at my side always. Nothing would make me happier than to have you with me, holding my hand, telling me not to cry when I send Rafi off to school."
"Kelly, please—"
"We could go to his Little League games together and yell like all the other parents. It would be such fun. I can't imagine doing it alone. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. It just took me a while to realize it. If you don't love me, I'll understand, but you can't make me stop loving you."
The arm around her waist squeezed tight. "Don't do this to me."
She ran her hand up his chest to the curve of his neck. Her fingertips brushed his jaw, and his whiskers prickled at her touch. "Is it so hard to have someone tell you that they love you?"
He heaved a sigh, his chest shuddering with pain or emotion, she couldn't tell which. "I've never been comfortable with women. At the camp, they hated me. Later, it was just sex. You're different … special."
He'd stopped short of saying he loved her, but "special" was a very good start, considering.
"We have to face the truth. There's a damn good chance that I won't make it back."
His statement set off a chain reaction of emotion. She had been frightened before, knowing his chances were slim, but now panic seized her. If Logan, who thrived on danger, believed he wasn't going to survive—it must be a lost cause.
He was putting up a brave front because his entire life he had been forced to face the world alone. Dying didn't terrify him the way it did most people. He had already accepted his fate.
Logan pulled her closer and gazed into her eyes. "You're the only woman I've ever known who was worth dying for."
Oh, my God. Suddenly everything crystallized and she damned herself for being such a fool. Logan had risked his life to save Rafi, and now he was ready to die to help her. She had been too willing to psychoanalyze him and say the Haas Factor compelled him to risk his life, but that wasn't true.
Despite the hell he'd endured, Logan had a noble side to him, a willingness to protect and help those who needed it. He cared about Rafi, about her. He didn't know how to express it in any other way except to make the ultimate sacrifice.
She opened her mouth to tell him that he had to make it back to her, but the alarm on his watch rang. He struggled to his feet, nearly doubled over with pain. How could she leave him when he was in this condition?
"Mami," Rafi cried, then muttered something she couldn't understand.
Logan was all business now, instructing Kelly to slash the Kevlar into strips with his knife. Following directions, she knotted the pieces together like a rope.
"Rafi," Logan said in a no-nonsense tone that silenced the child. Speaking in Spanish he gave the boy instructions then Kelly kneeled down. Rafi swung his arms and legs around her piggy-back style. Grimacing with pain, Logan secured the little boy with the rope.
"Will the Kevlar hold him?" she asked.
"Don't worry. Not only is it waterproof, it's bulletproof. It's the strongest material around." Logan stepped aside and pulled along antenna out of a hidden compartment in his watch. "This is an emergency positioning beacon. The chopper will zero in on it."
In the distance, she heard the helicopter approach, it's wings beating the air like some prehistoric bird. "I loaded the Glock for you, and put the extra ammunition with it. I tried to put everything back just as I found it—in case you need it in a hurry."
Why, oh, why were they talking about such trivial things when there was so much to be said?
And so little time to say it.
"I love—"
"Kelly, kiss me one last time." In his eyes she saw that he truly believed this was their last kiss, their final good-bye.
Their lips met as he crushed her against his chest in a one-armed bear hug. His mouth opened and his tongue brushed hers. How many times had they kissed—and she'd taken it for granted? Now, in this dismal jungle, she kissed him good-bye, every beat of her heart praying for his safety.
Even if she never saw him again, she could live with it—if she knew he was alive somewhere on earth. She wanted to be able to look up at a harvest moon in Sedona and know that somewhere, anywhere Logan was alive and gazing at the same moon. During the day, she would be comforted, knowing the sun warming Red Rock country was blazing down on Logan … somewhere.
It wouldn't matter if he returned to the Cobras, not her. Logan had suffered so much. He deserved to live, to enjoy life.
Like a tornado, wind created by the chopper whipped through the small clearing, slinging her hair across their faces. Logan pulled back, and said something to Rafi. His tone calmed the boy as the rope ladder dangled from the sky coming closer and closer.
Too soon it was directly in front of her nose. Logan grabbed it with his good arm. She put her foot in the first rung and it wobbled. She hung on with both hands and climbed.
"I love you, Logan. Come back to me. I swear, I'll make you happy."
His hand was on the small of her back, steadying her as the ladder swayed. "I meant what I said. You're the only woman I've ever known worth dying for."
"Don't say that—please," she cried to be heard above the noise of the helicopter. "You're going to make it. You have to. You have to."
She was above his head now, out of his reach. The ladder gyrated wildly, swinging from side to side, driven by the air turbulence from the helicopter. She blinked hard to clear her tear-blurred vision.
"Hang on," she told herself. "Don't fall."
The ladder pirouetted and Rafi grabbed her throat, clinging, obviously terrified. She could hardly draw a breath, but she couldn't spare a hand to remove Rafi's little fingers from her windpipe.
Somehow she made it to the next rung. Above her, half hanging out the side
door of the helicopter was a soldier, extending his arms. The rope ladder lurched and she lost her grip. But he had both his hands on her shoulders.
He hoisted her upward with incredible strength and managed to pull her torso into the helicopter. Gasping for air, she lunged forward, kicking madly with her legs to propel herself through the opening.
Face on the floor, she peered downward, trying to catch a last glance of Logan. He was below, seeming terribly small from such a height, but she could see his hand in the air, thumb up. He yelled something, but the helicopter was making too much noise for her to hear.
"Good-bye, darling," she screamed as the soldier tugged on the door to shut it. "I'll always love you." From here until eternity.
The door was almost shut when she heard the noise below. Tat-tat, tat-tat, tat-tat. Machinegun fire.
"Help him," she yelled at the man, hardly noticing he'd cut Rafi free and the child was huddled nearby. "All he has is a Glock, and he's injured."
The soldier hurled a small canister out the door. It hit the ground with a flash of blinding light, then a deafening noise rocked the helicopter. Slamming the door shut, the soldier screamed something in Spanish to the pilot.
The helicopter vaulted skyward out of the range of fire from the men on the ground. Bullets zinged off its underbelly, but it whipped away from the clearing in less than a second.
"Ma'am, we are under orders not to fire. All we are allowed to do is pick up passengers and create a diversion."
It was no use arguing. Through the bubble-dome of the jet helicopter all she could see was the tops of trees. They were too far from the clearing to help—even if they had been permitted.
Sitting on the floor, she gathered Rafi into her arms, knowing he needed comforting. She kissed the top of his head and whispered, "Please, God, help Logan. He deserves a chance … a life. Someone to truly love him."
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Chapter 35
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Dawn edged upward, stealing its way between the crevices in the red rocks, backlighting the formidable bluffs and sugar-loaf mesas with the pale amber glow of dawn in the fall. He peered out her bedroom door, knowing he should leave before the servants began bustling through the house.