Time to Heal (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Karen Young

  With a quick knock, Mavis stuck her head around the door. “Excuse me, Jake, but there’s a call from Rick Streeter in Miami. Do you want to take it?”

  Streeter was a DEA connection from the old days and had phoned Jake a couple of weeks before to alert him to some suspicious activity in a nearby county. The entire coastline along the Gulf of Mexico was notoriously convenient for illicit drug activity, but because it encompassed thousands of miles, it was virtually impossible to police it all. He’d had these calls from Streeter before, and most of the time nothing came of them. Still, he couldn’t afford to disregard even the most remote possibility that Kinard County might be involved, especially with new drugs turning up at the high school.

  “Yeah, I’ll take it,” he told Mavis. Then he gently pushed Michael toward her. “Take Michael to the Coke machine and get him something to drink, will you, Mavis? You can bring him back in here as soon as I get off the phone with Streeter.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Mavis gave Michael a friendly look. “How about it, Mike?”

  Michael’s smile was shy but genuine. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

  Jake stretched to reach over his desk. “And take this up to Dan, Mavis. It’s a tape of a 911 call sent to us from our friends at City Hall. Have Dan listen to it and see if there’s anything we can use on it. A possible new source has surfaced at THS.”

  “I’ll tell him.” Mavis took the tape, motioning Michael ahead of her, and together they left Jake’s office.

  His call from Streeter was brief. To his relief, nothing had materialized from the suspicious activity a couple of weeks before. They exchanged a few words, made a bet on the next major-league baseball game, then Jake leaned back in his chair.

  “Rick, do you remember a woman a few years back named Anne-Marie D’Angelo?”

  “Give me a hint, man. When, where and which phase of my life are we talking here?”

  “DEA, about fifteen years ago. Miami.”

  “Fifteen years, huh? You were here then, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah. Can you recall anything?”

  “Hmm…Anne-Marie D’Angelo.” His chair creaked as he leaned back. “D’Angelo. D’Angelo. National Trucking. Dispatcher, right?”

  “I think so. You remember anything else?”

  “It’s coming, it’s coming. Tall, curvaceous brunette. Dynamite, as I recall.”

  His head bent, Jake massaged the bridge of his nose. “I mean, do you remember anything about her personally?”

  “Her looks and the company she worked for aren’t personal?”

  “What else?”

  “Smart, she was. And cool as a cucumber under pressure, if I recall. Yeah, yeah, the Colombian Connection. I’m getting total recall now, man. We nailed Jaco Ramirez. Got him hauling the goods. Sweet Anne-Marie had to get out of town fast.” He paused a minute. “Hey, wait a minute, Jake. That case isn’t likely to fade away on you. You almost bought the farm when we charged that warehouse.”

  “Yeah.” Absently Jake rubbed the ridged scar below his collarbone.

  “So, what’s going on? Has Anne-Marie turned up in Tidewater?” He chuckled. “No offense, man, but I don’t think Tidewater has enough action to keep that lady entertained.” He paused again. “Wait, wait, something else. Leon Morrison. Yeah, Leon Morrison. She was really hung up on Leon, you remember that?”

  “I remember.”

  “I could never see why. He was one mean dude.”

  Yeah. One mean dude. Rick launched into an anecdote featuring Leon Morrison and ending with his apprehension a few years back, but Jake barely heard. By then Anne-Marie had already died. Apparently Leon was even worse than he’d known. Jake thanked Rick and replaced the receiver softly. Mama Dee was right. Anne-Marie had bad taste in men.

  So what did that make him?

  He groaned, closing his eyes. It was all coming back now. It had been a bad time for him and Rachel. One night they’d had the granddaddy of all arguments. The subject, as usual, had been his job. Rachel hated it. DEA undercover work did not conform to her idea of what was a suitable career for a family man. She was a basket case whenever he was on assignment. She was scared for him, she said. And with good reason, as it turned out. She had told him she was going home to Tidewater to do some thinking. And that she wasn’t sure she would ever be back.

  Jake turned in his chair and looked out the window. They had had other problems then, too. Rachel had wanted a baby more than anything in the world. So much that Jake had begun to wonder whether having a baby wasn’t more important to Rachel than he was. He had begun to wonder if she hadn’t married him just for that purpose. For some reason, whenever she did manage to conceive, inevitably she miscarried. The effect on their sex life had been devastating. The effect on Jake’s ego had been devastating.

  That was how the thing with Anne-Marie D’Angelo had happened.

  For two weeks he’d waited for Rachel to come home. Finally, one night he’d called her and demanded that she come back. They’d argued fiercely but settled nothing. Hanging up, he’d slammed out of their apartment and gone straight to a bar. Anne-Marie had been there, quietly getting drunk because Leon Morrison had just run out on her. It was a familiar scenario. Both feeling rejected, they’d drunk too much. Then they’d spent the night together consoling each other. The funny thing was, he’d known it was a mistake almost before they’d gone to bed.

  None of which excused his behavior. Jake stood up and went to the window, staring out at the row of palms gracing the front of the building. A child had resulted from that impulsive, dishonorable episode. He raked a hand through his hair. Now there was a price to be paid. He would have to take Michael into his home. With the boy’s grandmother gone, there was no other option.

  He watched a young mother cross the street holding on to the hand of a small boy. The scene wrenched at his heart and he thought of Michael’s face as he’d held out his birth certificate. His eyes had been dark with uncertainty. He’d looked so earnest, braced for outright rejection. Scared, too. Jake felt something twist inside him. He didn’t want any other option, he realized suddenly. Scotty had been taken from him, but now, for some reason, he’d been offered this chance to rescue and care for his firstborn son, and he wanted it. He hoped it wouldn’t be more than Rachel could bear.

  Turning from the window, he picked up the phone to call her. He wasn’t certain she’d been serious about applying for a job. If she was still at home, Michael could wait here while he went to her. He couldn’t just spring this on her without first trying to explain. He punched out the number and waited. After several rings, he knew she wasn’t there. He could try her cell, but he didn’t want to risk interrupting her if she was speaking to someone at the bank. He’d have to wait, keep Michael here with him. Settling in his chair, he decided it was probably best. Maybe by the end of the day he would’ve come up with some way to break the news to Rachel without destroying his marriage.

  STANDING BEFORE the closed door of Ron Campbell’s office, Rachel fluffed the ends of her hair and moistened her lips. She was being interviewed for a job, not marching to the guillotine, she reminded herself. Ron’s secretary had given her a curious look when she’d asked to see him. Any other time, as president of the hospital auxiliary, Rachel would have been assured of her welcome by the administrator. As the man responsible for the management of the hospital, he was well aware of the dollar value of service performed by volunteers. Deeply appreciative, as well.

  But she wasn’t here in her capacity as a volunteer. She was here to get a job, a real job. A job where she would earn a paycheck. A job she hoped would keep her thoughts fixed on something—anything—besides Scotty.

  Her fingers clenched and unclenched on the strap of her bag. She wondered if she looked right. Glancing down the hall at the double glass doors separating the business offices from the rest of the hospital, she gave herself another keen inspection. Straight cinnamon-colored linen skirt, cream silk blouse, midheel cinnamon pumps and no jewelr
y except for her watch and small pearl-and-gold earrings. She’d dressed in the outfit Suzy suggested, and Suzy ought to know, she reassured herself.

  She was acting like a teenager on a first date. With an impatient toss of her tawny hair, she pushed the door open.

  “Rachel!” Ron Campbell stood, his face lighting up. “This is a pleasure. Come in, come in.” He started around his desk toward her.

  “Hello, Ron.” Rachel closed the door softly behind her, putting her hand in his outstretched palm.

  “How are you, Rachel? You haven’t been by in so long that we wondered if you’d forgotten about us.”

  “No, it’s just—” Her smile collapsed.

  His face sobered suddenly. “Of course. I’m so sorry. It’s unbelievable that something like that can happen right here in Tidewater.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He smiled at her again. “Here, sit down. Can I get you anything? Coffee? A soft drink?”

  “No, nothing, thanks.” She sat down, holding tight to her bag.

  Ron didn’t go to his chair. Instead, he leaned against his desk, crossing his legs at the ankles. Gray argyle socks, she noted, just right with his loafers and his horn-rimmed glasses.

  “How’s Jake?”

  “Fine.” She cleared her throat. “He’s fine.” Jake and Ron had never particularly liked each other. Rachel suspected it was because they were so different. Jake was so straightforward and up-front, a what-you-see-is-what-you-get sort of man. He was direct and uncompromising, excellent qualities for a lawman.

  Ron, on the other hand, with his ready smile and feel for people, seemed to have more patience in… The word manipulation came to mind, but she rejected it quickly. It seemed unfair to Ron, and she liked him. He was an adept politician, more so than Jake. It was an asset in his dealings with the board and the physicians on staff and in managing the employees of the hospital. She knew he could be tough when the situation called for it, and that was why she knew getting a job wouldn’t be the piece of cake Suzy thought it would be.

  “What can I do for you, Rachel?”

  She laughed uncertainly. “This is turning out to be every bit as difficult as I imagined.”

  He frowned slightly while still smiling. “What is?”

  She drew in a breath. “I’m here for a job, Ron.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment or two. Then he moved away from the desk and went around to his chair. Strangely enough, it made Rachel feel more comfortable. She relaxed slightly.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I wish I knew. I don’t feel particularly qualified for anything, Ron, but I’ve spent years volunteering here. I’m familiar with all the services and facilities of the hospital. I even know most of the employees. I’ve decided to go to work, and I’d like it to be here.” She laughed nervously. “I’m trying the banks next.”

  “Is that blackmail?”

  “No! I don’t have enough to offer for that.”

  “Suppose you let me be the judge.”

  There was something in his expression that she couldn’t quite decipher. He was eyeing her thoughtfully while fingering a gold pen, tapping it on one end and then reversing it. Over and over.

  “Can you type?”

  “Actually, yes, I can. And I’m familiar with the public health database you use here at the hospital, too. I guess I should have mentioned that, but I thought you’d suggest something like public relations or patient liaison—or manning the information desk.”

  “Glorified candy striper, you mean.”

  “Well, it seemed logical.”

  “I think you’d be bored in two weeks. Besides, it would be a waste. Don’t you have a degree?”

  “I have a BA in psychology.”

  Ron looked interested. “How would you like to work in Emergency?”

  “I’m willing to work anywhere. What would I do?”

  “The clerical duties would be no challenge, but there’s more to it than that. I should warn you that Emergency is not like a doctor’s office. We get a lot of accidents, drug overdoses, indigents and the like. But with your training, you should be good at handling scared, sick people. And occasionally,” he added, “freaked-out ones.”

  For the first time since Scotty disappeared, Rachel felt a stirring of interest in something other than her loss, her pain. She’d grasped at the idea of a job for one reason only, to distract herself. What if she should actually like it, actually do something?

  “Well, would you like to think about it?” Ron asked.

  “I don’t need to think about it, Ron. I’ll take it.”

  MICHAEL HOPED he wouldn’t throw up. He was so nervous about what would happen in the next few minutes that he felt sick. He’d already thrown up lunch, but he hadn’t told anybody. It had been a Big Mac, too. He hadn’t been able to afford a Big Mac in so long that he used to dream about them when he was hitching down to Florida. His dad had sent one of the deputies out to get lunch. That was nice. Having his lunch bought by his dad. And that was how he thought of Jake, even if he wasn’t sure Jake quite believed he was who he said he was.

  Michael climbed into the front seat of the squad car, fumbling to buckle his seat belt while Jake buckled his. He hunched forward a little, his fingers clutching the strap of his knapsack. He couldn’t quite relax enough to lean back. This was it. They were going home. At least, Jake’s home. He closed his eyes for a second or two. Everything hung on whether or not they believed him. If they didn’t, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

  He felt the thrust of power as the car pulled out of the spot marked Sheriff. Any other time he would have flipped out at the chance to ride in a squad car. He fixed his gaze on the dash. He’d always wondered about the radio equipment in police cars, the radar stuff used to nab speeders, the lights and the siren. If he got to stay, he would ask his dad to show him how it all worked. If he got to stay.

  He glanced at Jake. His dad seemed okay, but Michael sensed he wasn’t a man who showed everything on his face. Like when he’d responded to Michael’s question about the picture of the lady and little boy on his desk. The boy was his son. Scotty. Michael didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on Jake’s face when he’d said Scotty’s name. Blank, sort of. As if he would never smile again. He understood why. It was too bad about the kidnapping. It must be awful to wonder whether Scotty was okay or…not okay. He drifted off into a dream where he was instrumental in finding Scotty and bringing him safely home. For a few moments, he basked in the fantasy of having Jake and Rachel lavishing smiles and goodwill on him, delighted by his part in restoring their son to them.

  “There’s the high school,” Jake said. The sound of his voice startled Michael. He looked at the low, sprawling white stucco walls. Everything seemed so white around here. So bright.

  “It’s already the end of May—you missed most of this term.” Jake stopped for a red light and looked at Michael. “Let’s see, fourteen…. Are you in eighth or ninth grade?”

  “I’m in the ninth. I started school early because my birthday’s in October.”

  “Then you’re almost fifteen.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jake nodded toward the white building. “Rachel does some substituting at the high school, now and then.”

  Rachel. Michael repeated the name a couple of times in his head. He liked the sound. It was…soft, sort of. He hoped she would be a nice person, like her name. She was pretty, too. Especially her hair. It was exactly the color of corn silk. He ought to know because he’d seen a lot of corn in Iowa. As they turned into a residential area, he scanned the clipped green lawns, his eyes troubled as he thought of Rachel. He could just imagine how she was going to feel when Jake introduced him. His stomach churned at the thought, and he held his knapsack tight against his middle. Sometimes that helped when his stomach got this way.

  Jake slowed and turned into a street divided by palm trees in the middle. Two boys wheeled by on ten-speeds and waved. His dad wave
d back. They were probably getting close. He forced himself to think of his brother. He was filled with a sort of wonderment mixed with sadness. All these years he’d had a little brother and he hadn’t even known it. He refused to think he would never get to know Scotty. Miracles did happen sometimes. Just look at him today. Where he was. Who he was with.

  He stared absently at the houses as they passed, preoccupied with his thoughts. He used to imagine being part of a real family, having brothers and sisters, living in a neighborhood like this. He’d never dreamed it might really happen. His eyes started to get wet and blurry. He looked down, fixing his gaze on his hands. His knuckles were white as they gripped the strap of his knapsack. He’d better go easy dreaming that kind of stuff, because it still might not happen.

  “Here we are.” Jake braked suddenly and turned into a long driveway. The whole side of the yard was covered with bushes loaded with bright pink flowers. At the edge of the house there was a wood fence, which separated the front from the back.

  “Do you have a dog?” Michael asked, thinking a fenced yard would be a good place for a dog. He could hear one barking.

  Jake got out of the car. “No, but our next-door neighbors have a Labrador retriever. That’s him making all that racket now.” Straightening, he waited until Michael had gotten out of the car. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly. He just senses a stranger in his territory. He’ll soon get to know you.”

  Michael slammed the car door and hefted his knapsack onto one shoulder, then came around the front of the car where his dad waited. He wasn’t worried about making friends with the dog next door. He liked animals and they liked him. What worried him was making friends with the lady who was married to Jake.

  “Michael—”

  He looked into his dad’s face.

  “Look, son…” Jake put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to my wife yet. I think it would be a good idea to give me a few minutes with her before I introduce you. Do you understand?”

  Michael nodded. “Sure. Do you want me to walk around the block or something?”