A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

by Amy Vastine

  “Most everyone involved is dead,” Patsy said in a monotone. “You’ll probably never know the truth of what happened.”

  “I’ve gotten this far,” Nathan said. “I’m will uncover the truth. Did you know Evelyn because she had family just down the rode?”

  “What?”

  “Evelyn Williamson. She had her baby here in Broken Bones. The house with the bears on each end. We just drove by it. That will be a link to you. I’m thinking your dad, or some family member, was probably a doctor.”

  “Uncle,” Josie said, earning a dirty look from her mother.

  “It’s time for you to go,” Patsy said. There was no waver in her voice now, no sagging posture, and the rocking chair started moving again.

  “Deidra Gracia was taken forty-five years ago.” Agatha looked at Josie and asked, “How old are you?”

  “Forty-five.” The words were slow, each directed at Patsy and not Agatha.

  “Josie, take the kids and head home,” Patsy ordered.”I’ll call you later.”

  “I’m not leaving you, Mother.” Josie seemed ready to cry. Shainey understood the feeling.

  “Do what I say,” Patsy said firmly. “This has to do with my uncle, and I don’t need you and the kids involved in it.” Turning to Nathan and Rafe, she said, “I’ll tell you about what happened with Ramon Salazar, just leave Josie out of it.”

  “Why? Why should I be left out of it?” Josie insisted.

  “Because you’re a stolen baby, too,” Nathan said simply.

  * * *

  For an hour, Patsy sat behind the gray table of the interrogation room in the Gesippi police station. She refused to talk. Josie had handed the kids over to their parents—turned out she was the grandmother and Patsy the great-grandmother—and sat next to her mother saying, “Give them the truth. I want to hear it, too. I’ve always wondered why there were no pictures of me before the age of three.”

  Nathan didn’t say anything. He was too afraid that he and Shainey would be asked to leave the room. Nothing about this interrogation was usual.

  The deputy, Terry Fletcher, clearly wanted Rafe to take the lead.

  “We can do this another time,” Rafe said. “We’ll take the case to Phoenix, so we’ve an unbiased—”

  “No,” Josie said, “my mother’s going to talk now, or I’ll never call her my mother again.”

  Patsy keened.

  Nathan’s throat closed. When this was all over, he knew what his new career was going to be. He’d work to retrieve stolen children. Surely he’d be allowed to do that.

  “Mother, I love you, but it’s time for the truth.” Josie reached across the table and held out her hand for Shainey’s cell. Shainey handed it over, the photo of Debby up on the screen.

  “Who is this? Better you tell me than anyone else.”

  “Her name is Deborah Garcia. She is your sister.”

  She started to talk then. Over a period of fifty years, she and her uncle had guided a few babies into the hands of parents willing to bypass the system and pay cash for newborns.

  “We were careful,” Patsy insisted. “All the babies went to loving homes. And all the mothers signed away their rights.”

  “Or their parents did the signing,” Shainey said, thinking of Agatha. Her aunt had fallen asleep on the drive back from Broken Bones and was now at home.

  “But the Salazars didn’t. Neither did the Garcias.”

  Patsy tried to shrug, hiccuped and reached across for Josie. “We’d promised someone a baby but the baby died.”

  Josie deserved a humanitarian award. She clutched Patsy’s hand.

  “The parents threatened to expose us if we didn’t deliver.” No one smiled at the play on words.

  Patsy continued, “I knew that the Garcias had a new baby delivered at home on their farm. It was easy. Middle of the night, in and out, no one heard or saw a thing.”

  “The Garcias hired a private detective,” Nathan said. “How could he not have investigated you?”

  “He probably did,” Patsy said. “But, remember, the doctor and I took Josie to another family.”

  “And?” Josie said,

  “When you turned three, they had a biological child. Then they no longer wanted you.”

  Nathan would never understand the mind of a criminal, and Patsy was a criminal. Still, as the words “They no longer wanted you” silenced the room, Patsy leaned forward and said firmly, “But I did.”

  Shainey’s pressed her hand into Nathan’s. He felt the pain from her heart, and he squeezed.

  “I took you in, made you my own, and loved you every minute, every day, from then on. I was a good mother.”

  “Yes, you were, are. Excuse me.” Josie’s chair scraped across the floor as she stood. “I need a drink, water, a moment.”

  “I’ll get one of our female officers to help,” Rafe offered.

  Shainey immediately stood. “I’ll go with you.”

  Josie hesitated, then nodded. Together, Shainey’s arm around Josie’s shoulders, they left the room.

  “How did I wind up with the Williamsons?” Nathan asked softly.

  Patsy looked at the ceiling as if searching for the words. Finally, she began, “Evelyn’s family owned the cabin just down from my uncle. “In case you’re wondering, she really was pregnant and at the exact same time as Lucille Salazar.”

  Nathan and Rafe looked at each other.

  “When Evelyn came to Broken Bones, nine months pregnant, Josie had been living with me for all of three weeks. My uncle loved children. He watched Josie while I was at work. I was in love with being a mommy. I wanted to quit the hospital and just help my uncle, but I needed more of a nest egg if I was going to be able to keep this place for us.”

  “So you stole babies. Were both doctors involved?” Rafe asked.

  “No, just Hemingway. He delivered the babies. The other doctor we called The Bone Guy. Dr. Hemingway, in his own way, thought what we were doing was helping. After all, these were girls who either couldn’t take care of the baby or whose family didn’t want the world to know. In most cases we were doing good.”

  “And your uncle was involved too?” Rafe queried.

  “Sometimes we’d need a place for the babies to stay before we gave them over to their new parents. My uncle’s house, now mine, was perfect, and he needed the money. My aunt wasn’t well.”

  Nathan couldn’t say what he was really thinking. His years as a cop helped him rein in his temper and he calmly said, “So, what happened with Evelyn?”

  “Your mom, I mean Evelyn, and your father came here to have their baby. It was their first baby, and Evelyn was so happy. I was jealous, I’ll tell you that. She had everything I wanted. And your father loved her. I’ve never seen a man love a woman so much.”

  Nathan’s stomach tightened. Thomas Williamson had been a doting husband, it was true. He’d been a good dad, too, but always a little distant. Now Nathan understood why.

  “Evelyn’s baby died about twenty minutes after he was born,” Patsy continued. “Evelyn never saw him, but she heard his cry. I had to tell Thomas while my uncle took care of the baby. Thomas went to his knees crying, ‘No, no.’”

  The room was silent. It was like there was no air in the room. If not for needing the end of the story, Nathan would have run, run as far as he could, trying to block out the words he was hearing.

  “My uncle,” Patsy continued, “made your dad an offer.”

  “Me?” Nathan queried.

  “You were just two days old and in Gesippi, a short drive away. Everyone knew that Evelyn was pregnant so no one would question her coming home with a baby.”

  “You disguised yourself as a nurse?” Nathan said.

  “At the very hospital I worked at. I ducked out of surgery, put on a wig and walked you right out of the hospital. I knew all the nooks and crannies. No one suspected.”

  “Until I, forty some years later, donated blood for Nate.” Rafael stood, ending the interrogation. He gesture
d for his deputy to book Patsy.

  * * *

  “It’s a heck of a story,” Rafe said, walking them from the police station to Nathan’s car. The sun, a syrupy ball of orange descending in a blue/gray sky, matched their mood.

  “A moment in time,” Nathan said. “If Patsy hadn’t told Thomas Williamson that she knew of a baby, then I wouldn’t have been taken.”

  “A moment in time,” Rafe agreed.

  “And Evelyn knew?” Agatha asked.

  “I don’t think so. She was probably heavily drugged,” said Shainey. “By the way, what will happen to Patsy?”

  “Josie’s talking to her lawyer,” Rafe answered. “I’ll do my best to make sure she’s not exploited by the press like we were.”

  “Thanks,” Nathan said.

  “You can thank me next week when you come home for Thanksgiving. I’m thinking I should tell mom to set the table for two more besides you?”

  Nathan looked at Shainey. “Can you and Agatha handle the whole Salazar family?”

  “The whole family at last.” Shainey nodded. “I can hardly wait.”

  The two men shook hands.

  “Rafe’s a pretty good guy,” Shainey said as he walked away.

  “Yes, he is,” Nathan agreed, helping her into the truck. “I’m looking forward to getting to know him.”

  “Me, too,” Shainey said.

  “Really?” Nathan said, his tone teasing. “You want to get to know my brother?”

  “And your mother, and your sister-in-law, and your next boss.”

  “My next boss?”

  “Sure,” Shainey said, “now that you’ve figured out what happened, you’ll be ready to move on, to get a real job. And it better be real close by, because I’ve decided to move to Gesippi for good. I’m hoping Doc Thomas will let me buy his practice.”

  A few minutes later, they were inside Agatha’s house.

  “I’ve got history here,” Nathan said slowly. “It might not be the best—

  “Both good and bad history,” Agatha interrupted. Nathan hadn’t even heard her come in the kitchen. She sat at the table, looked him straight in the eve, and advised, “Keep the good and work through the bad. It will make you stronger.”

  “What’s even better,” Shainey said, “is making history.”

  “Together?” Nathan said slowly.

  “Together,” Shainey quickly agreed.

  “Wait a minute,” Agatha suddenly interrupted, “just how long have you two known each other?”

  “Don’t worry, Aunt Agatha,” Shainey soothed. “Our attempt at making history is going on a first date that doesn’t involve getting stitches, making you cry, reading through old newspaper articles, chasing down baby snatchers—-”

  Agatha held up her hand for them to stop. “It’s a start,” Agatha said. “At least you two should never run out of things to talk about.”

  It was true. Shainey had a feeling that she’d never be alone during her new life in Gesippi. She and Nathan already had a history of doing things together.

  And, really, she’d already decided.

  The End

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed Heart of a Hero, don’t miss Pamela Tracy’s emotional and compelling romance, The Missing Twin. Available from Harlequin Heartwarming in paperback and digitally for order online at Harlequin.com and through online retailers everywhere.

  Sloppy Joes by Pamela Tracy

  I don’t cook. LOL.

  I really don’t cook.

  Don’t laugh.

  Here goes.

  Ingredients

  2 pounds ground beef, thawed if frozen.

  1 can Manwich Original Sloppy Joe Sauce

  ⅔ of a small can of tomato paste

  ⅓ cup of ketchup

  ½ small white onion, diced (optional)

  Seasoned salt

  Directions

  1. Turn burner to medium heat and brown ground beef in a large skillet approximately five minutes. Drain and return to stove.

  2. Stir in 1 can of Manwich Original Sloppy Joe Sauce. Add tomato paste, ketchup and onion, if using. Add about 6 shakes of seasoned salt.

  3. Continue with medium heat, stir and heat until bubbles form.

  4. Taste with spoon. Maybe add more onions or seasoned salt.

  Thankful for You

  By Karen Rock

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Recipe: Dinner Rolls

  CHAPTER ONE

  Eric Langley shoved through the dense smoke of a disintegrating foster home, his breath harsh inside his helmet. Two children still missing.

  Where were they?

  A flaming section of ceiling crashed to his left and he ducked, his pulse throbbing in his neck. He ignored his screeching headset and the blistering, acrid air.

  Dean, a newbie in Eric’s fire company, jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Back out! Back out!”

  “No. We’ll find them!” Eric hollered.

  “CHAOS. Chief’s pulling the hook!” Dean nodded at the retreating pipemen who hauled back the line.

  “I’m making the grab.”

  Eric ignored Dean’s shout and sprinted upstairs. The metal banister twisted beneath his gloved hand. Taking the steps two at a time, he felt his air tank thudding against his back, solid and reassuring. How much did he have left?

  As if on cue, his SCBA shrieked. Eric swore. 20% oxygen and his world engulfed in smoke and flames. He silenced the pinging alarm and leapt off the crumbling staircase onto the second floor.

  No going back now.

  Grey ash swirled and visibility lurked near zero. A door bulged to his right. Electricity jittered through him. Just as he dove past, it exploded into the hall, an incinerating fireball.

  He shoved to his feet, running. “Taylor! Hannah!” he hollered above the fire’s roar, using the names a hysterical staff member had shared. He squinted down the hallway. Marked doorways swam into focus. What had they missed?

  Then Eric spotted it.

  A half door just above the baseboard, nearly obscured by the large sideboard rising above it.

  A crawl space? Could a kid fit in there?

  A desperate one?

  Heck, yeah.

  Adrenalin surged. Scraping his ax against the wall to keep his bearings, he stumbled to a halt beside the set of drawers. His brain listed inside his skull, spots appeared on the edge of his vision. Grabbing the spindle legs, he squatted and peered at the small door.

  “Hannah! Taylor!” he shouted.

  “Here,” was followed by a faint gasp.

  “I’m Lt. Langley. I’m going to save you.”

  Crying erupted and he swallowed, his throat burning as though someone had poured acid down it.

  Wrenching open the door, he groped through the dark and touched a small hand. A pair of green eyes blinked up at him. A girl. Ten or so. “Don’t be scared, Hannah.”

  “I’m not scared,” she said, nodding over her shoulder. “Taylor’s the one who’s crying.”

  Eric bowed his head. Relieved. “You’re together. Good. Now listen. When I pull you out, cover your nose with your shirt and stay close until I grab Taylor, too.”

  “I won’t leave him,” came her furious voice. “Why do you think I’m still here?”

  Fair enough.

  Brave girl.

  Beams whined overhead and plunged. One careened into the opposite wall in a shower of sparks. Eric doggedly kept his focus. They would make it out. Alive.

  When he reached for Hannah’s hands, she jerked back. “NO! Get Taylor first.”

  A small boy appeared, his eyes wide with fright.

  “Taylor?”

  At his name, the boy nodded and his mouth trembled. Tears streaked his grimy cheeks.

  “Give me your hands, bud.”

  Eric gently freed the pre-school aged c
hild. Hannah joined them, coughing.

  Eric considered his options. Any of the rooms had windows, but what condition were they in? They might enter and never come out.

  As for the staircase, there wasn’t a chance it still stood.

  Come on, think.

  “Is there another way out of here?” His voice sounded as strangled as he felt.

  “The back stairs to the kitchen.” Hannah pointed to a distant, empty doorway. It looked dark and full of smoke…but no flames.

  They had a chance. One he couldn’t afford to waste.

  Go time.

  “Hannah. Hold on to my jacket.” He swung Taylor into his arms. “Don’t let go, bud. And breathe through your shirt.”

  In a flash, they sped down the stairs and burst out into the night.

  EMTs grabbed the kids and Eric crashed to his knees and ripped off his helmet. He pressed his burning cheek to the light snow that’d fallen this morning.

  “Lieutenant? Can you hear me?”

  Eric looked up at another medic and the last of his breath caught in his throat; he couldn’t speak. After some water and oxygen, he refused a ride to the hospital and joined the chief.

  “What’s your problem, Langley?” his boss growled.

  Eric straightened his spine. “Saving lives, sir. Guess it’s become a habit.”

  Chief Redmond blew out a breath and his irritated expression eased. “Runs in the family, too. Your father would be proud.”

  Eric’s last memory of his confident father roared to life. That final wave goodbye across a little league field when he’d been called to an “all hands” fire. Eric’s team won the game, but he’d lost his dad that day. It was an unhealed wound that still burned, driving Eric and his brothers, Arizona Hotshot firefighters Ethan and Evan, to take risks. Continue the distinguished, generations-old Langley firefighter legacy.

  Eric ducked his head. “Thank you, sir.”

  The chief’s bushy eyebrows knitted together beneath his hat brim. “But I’m temporarily suspending you for ignoring a direct order.”

  “But sir—”

  His boss swatted his protest aside. “We both know you’re lucky that’s all I’m doing. Plus, I’ve got another job for you.”