Time to Heal (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Karen Young

  She jerked open a lower cabinet door and pulled out a skillet. “Does anybody want breakfast?”

  When there was no answer from either Jake or Michael, she looked up. Jake glanced at his son.

  “How about breakfast, Mike?”

  Michael shrugged. “Well, sure. I guess so. If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Rachel said, struggling not to bite their heads off. “Does bacon and scrambled eggs and toast suit everyone?”

  “Fine.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She put the cereal into the cabinet and went to the refrigerator for eggs and bacon. Without looking at Jake, she said, “It’ll be ready in a few minutes. You’ve got time to shower and shave if you want to.”

  Jake hesitated, looking at Michael before nodding. “Good idea. Mike, you can make your bed and neaten up your room while I’m gone. Then we’ll be all set to hit the road after we finish breakfast.”

  Rachel snapped open a carton of eggs. “He’s already cleaned his room,” she said quietly. After a moment of silence, she met Jake’s gaze. “He’ll be okay. He can help me here.”

  With Jake gone, she directed Michael to the bread to fix the toast, a task he accomplished quickly and with no awkwardness. With a sick grandmother, he had probably been forced often to make his own meals, she decided. While she microwaved the bacon and whipped eggs, her thoughts turned to Jake. He’d obviously been reluctant to leave Michael alone with her. She wondered irritably what he’d thought. That she’d say something cruel or spiteful? Surely he knew her better than to think she’d be unkind to a child. Even a child thrust into her life under these bizarre circumstances.

  “Do you want me to put out some jelly?”

  Startled, she turned quickly and found Michael standing just behind her. “Oh. Um, yes.” She waved a hand toward the refrigerator. “There’s strawberry and peach. Get them both out.”

  But not grape. The grape jelly was for Scotty.

  BREAKFAST WAS a little more relaxed than dinner had been the night before. After Jake showered, shaved and dressed for work, he stopped at the door of the kitchen where Rachel and Michael were setting the table. They worked well together, he decided after observing them a few minutes. Unlike Scotty, Michael responded quickly and obediently to Rachel’s soft directions. Even at six, Scotty had challenged her every command. It was because he sensed her reluctance to refuse him anything, as Jake had pointed out more than once. She adored Scotty, and he had blatantly exploited her love. Jake’s mouth twisted wryly. That shouldn’t prove a problem with Michael.

  They were just finishing breakfast when the phone rang. Jake answered, and before he’d said half a dozen words, Rachel knew it was something out of the ordinary. She got to her feet and began stacking plates.

  “It’s an accident with injuries on the interstate,” Jake said, replacing the receiver. “Maybe a fatality. The dispatcher wasn’t sure. Three units are on the scene, and an ambulance is on the way.” A possible fatality definitely canceled any plan to take Michael.

  She dried her hands on a towel. “You’d better go, then.”

  Jake turned to Michael. “Mike, I’m sorry. From what the dispatcher said, this one could take a while to clear away. I don’t know when—”

  “Don’t worry,” Rachel told him. “I’ll take him shopping and then, if you’re still tied up, I’ll go with him to school to see about enrolling.”

  Jake sent her a quick, grateful look. “I’ll wrap it up as soon as I can,” he promised. For a second, he hesitated, wanting to kiss her or, failing that, just to touch her. But she’d already turned to the sink. Instead, he squeezed Mike’s shoulder. “Lend a hand with these dishes, son.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jake grabbed his keys from the counter. With one final look at Rachel, he left.

  Wishing for his own unmarked Ford, Jake got in the big police car that he’d driven home the night before. He’d taken it because he’d seen the look on Mike’s face when he’d spotted it parked in front of the station. It was juiced up and loaded with every available piece of modern police paraphernalia known to man and, to Jake, unwieldy as a tank. Now, gunning the unfamiliar vehicle to a speed that would get him to the interstate as fast as possible, he wished again for his own car. He was a man who liked the familiar. He also preferred driving an unmarked vehicle. He wasn’t quite sure why. To most of the criminal element of Kinard County, Jake McAdam’s face was as familiar as the president’s, so it didn’t really make much difference.

  Today the demands of his job weighed heavy on him. He hadn’t wanted to leave Michael. Not so much because Mike would be disappointed, but Jake didn’t want Rachel to feel he’d shifted the responsibility for Michael onto her. God, it was such a mess! He felt like a man torn. He wanted his wife, wanted the chance to put together the pieces of their life that had nearly shattered when Scotty disappeared. But he wanted Michael, too. The almost instant affinity he’d felt with the boy grew stronger by the minute.

  Please don’t make me have to choose.

  He rounded a curve, and the accident scene was before him. In a sea of flashing red and blue lights, a jackknifed eighteen-wheeler dwarfed two midsize cars locked in a tangle of metal and glass. He counted three ambulances. On the side of the road two bodies were draped with white sheets. There were two of his own Kinard County black-and-whites and two units from the state highway patrol. Off to the side, with little apparent damage, was a run-down pickup. The driver stood slouched against the mud-splattered fender. A small child was being wheeled into one of the ambulances. Close by, a medic gently supported a dazed woman whose head was bleeding through a white bandage. When the child was in place, the woman was coaxed to lie down on a second gurney, then whisked into the ambulance.

  Jake got out of his car, taking it all in. One look and his stomach was in a knot. No matter how many years he put in as a lawman, he would never be able to witness the carnage at the scene of an accident and remain detached.

  Frank Cordoba walked over to him. “Morning, Jake. Hell of a wake-up call, huh?”

  Jake grunted, his eyes on the two cars. “What happened?”

  Frank followed his gaze, his notebook open. “Two fatalities, both female. Driver of the Toyota and one of the passengers in the BMW. See the lady they’re settling in the ambulance? She was driving the BMW. They’re all related. Traveling together, heading to Orlando for a few days at Disney World, according to what I could get out of her. She’s pretty upset.”

  “Where’s the driver of the rig?”

  Cordoba nodded to his right. “Over on the side of the road behind his rig being sick. I hate to say it, but it looks as if the women were at fault. They were traveling together, the Toyota in the lead. They came up behind the eighteen-wheeler, then changed lanes to pass him. Doesn’t appear anybody was speeding, either. Anyway, once the Toyota cleared the big rig, she pulled into the right lane in front of the truck. The BMW followed without waiting to clear the rig.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if she misjudged or was just careless. I couldn’t get a coherent statement from her. Looks like she’s in shock. The truck driver slammed on his brakes and went into a jackknife, but it was too late. He hit the BMW, which rear-ended the Toyota. They both went out of control.”

  Cordoba looked up as two of the ambulances started to move out. “The EMTs patched up two more passengers. I guess they’re taking them out now.”

  Jake glanced at the pickup. The driver was still propped against the fender. “What about him?”

  “He’s been drinking,” Cordoba replied, “but he wasn’t the cause. He was behind the big rig and slammed on his brakes when he realized it was all going to hell. He rammed into the truck, but both of them had managed to slow down enough that there wasn’t much damage. We’re citing him for DUI.”

  “Is he local?”

  “Yeah. Lives out in the boonies, beyond those fishing camps at Cross Corners.”

  “Any priors?”


  “Not for DUI, but he’s an ex-con. Poaching and illegal possession of a firearm. Small-time stuff. He’s mean, though. He gave the boys some lip when they didn’t want to let him drive away.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Willard Biggs.”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, I remember him.” Again his gaze swept the scene, lingering on the draped bodies, the twisted remains of the two cars. There was an overpowering smell of gasoline and burned rubber. The driver of the big rig appeared around the front of the truck’s cab. He was pale but seemed to be steady on his feet.

  “Did you get the name of the rig driver?”

  “Walter Hammond.”

  Relegating the ex-convict to the back of his mind, Jake drew in a deep breath and started toward Hammond. “Thanks, Frank,” he said. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “HOW ABOUT A COLD DRINK?”

  Rachel didn’t know about Michael, but she was more than ready for something cold after two hours of serious shopping.

  “Will you let me buy?”

  She turned quickly to look at him. “Have you got any money?”

  He nodded. “My dad gave me some.”

  My dad. A day and a half and he spoke as familiarly as if he’d been in Jake’s life forever. “No problem,” she told him. “You treat this time, and next time I’ll buy.”

  In the food court they got soft drinks, found a table and sat down opposite each other. For a while, Michael was busy drinking root beer. Then, his thirst quenched, he began toying with the straw. Obviously something was on his mind.

  “Can I ask you something, Miss Rachel?”

  “Sure. Ask away.” She sounded offhand, but she tensed a little. Michael’s questions, she knew, could pack a wallop.

  “Do I have any grandparents or cousins or…or any relatives? From my dad’s family, I mean.”

  “I’m afraid there’s no one, Michael. Jake’s parents died when he was very young. He grew up as a ward of the state, in foster homes.”

  He gave her a startled look. “No kidding?”

  “No kidding.”

  A few moments passed as he considered that. “They were going to do the same thing to me after Mama Dee died, but I thought it over and decided I could probably manage okay on my own.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly done that.”

  “I’m lucky I knew who my dad was and where he lived.” He fiddled with his drink, then looked directly into her eyes. “It’s funny that the same thing happened to my dad, isn’t it?”

  “It is odd,” Rachel agreed. She’d been thinking the same thing. And more. It was a strange twist of fate, and it made the bond between Jake and Michael even stronger.

  “But my dad didn’t let it get him down, did he?” Michael’s eyes shone with pride and admiration for Jake. “He’s a real important man in this town. Respected. I could tell when I was at his office. Those people jumped whenever he said the word. If I manage as well as that, I’ll do okay, won’t I?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Tell me some more about my dad. Please,” he added, seeing her hesitate.

  “Well…” She drew a deep breath. “Jake didn’t have a lot of opportunities when he was growing up, but as you noticed, it didn’t seem to hamper him. As soon as he was old enough, he broke away and managed on his own. Then he joined the army. After he got out, he went to college. He has a degree in history, of all things.”

  He nodded his head. “I like history, too.”

  “It must run in the family,” she said dryly.

  “I don’t know about that,” he said seriously, “but I bet I know why he chose it.”

  “Oh, really? Why?”

  He closed both hands around the big plastic cup, frowning thoughtfully at his root beer. “Because when you don’t have much family, you sometimes feel you don’t have a…a place in things. You know? But understanding the people who lived in the past sort of gives you something to fasten on to.” He gave her an intense look. “You’ve got to be related to some of those people, right? I mean, we all came from something even if we don’t know who and where and why.”

  Oh, Lord, she didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want this kid tugging at her heartstrings. She didn’t want to hear adult philosophy from a boy whose thoughts should be taken up with things like passing geometry and sports and video games.

  She reached blindly for the packages that lay on the bench beside her. “We’d better get back out there and finish this up, Michael. It’s getting late and we still need to get to the high school.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He gathered up his share of the packages and fell into step beside her, hurrying a little, since she seemed to be picking up their pace. “But I don’t need anything else, do I?” He thought of the stuff they’d already bought. “I’ve never had half this much to choose from. And everything’s so expensive. I don’t want to be a pain.”

  “You have to have new sneakers.”

  He gave his beat-up, no-name shoes a considering look. “Well…”

  “You have to have new sneakers, Michael.”

  Michael recognized that tone and clammed up. He hadn’t been around Rachel McAdam a whole day yet, but he knew better than to argue. If she wanted him to have new sneakers, then he would have new sneakers.

  “Is there a special brand you prefer?” she asked briskly.

  “Well, not really, I guess.” He cleared his throat, trying to decide just how much of an opinion he should express. “Whatever’s cheapest.”

  She made a sharp turn into the shoe store and he almost stumbled following her. “You can try them all on, then we’ll see what fits best.”

  Boy, if Mama Dee could only see him now!

  BY THURSDAY, Rachel was more than ready to begin her job. At home the tension was almost unbearable. She wondered sometimes if the wall between her and Jake could ever be taken down. Michael was a constant reminder of Jake’s infidelity and, for Rachel, of her loss. Her only child might be gone forever. But, she reminded herself bitterly, Jake would always have Michael to fill the void. And so resentment and anger seethed within her. Feeling it, Jake walked around like a man picking his way through a mine field.

  She probably would have been more nervous about starting a career this late in her life had her problems at home been less consuming. As it was, there was little time left to work herself into a state. So, at eight o’clock she was at the hospital eager to begin.

  Immediately after completing the paperwork in the personnel office, she was sent around to Helen Falco, the head nurse in the emergency room, where she received a brief familiarization of the computer and emergency-room routine. Helen showed her the desk she’d occupy, along with other essentials such as the location of the coffeepot and the employee lounge. It was only a few minutes past ten when a commotion at the entrance sent everyone into a state of alert.

  Outside, instead of an ambulance, a police car shrieked to a stop and two uniformed officers jumped out. Rachel recognized both as sheriff’s deputies. One was Leon White, big and burly and black, a veteran of at least ten years. She’d always liked him. The other, the driver, was Ed Sims, younger, but sharp. A good lawman, she’d heard Jake say. While White dealt with the people in the backseat, his partner hurried through the hospital’s automatic entrance. “We need some help here!” Sims yelled. Then, without waiting, he turned and headed toward the vehicle at a jog.

  Through the car window, Rachel could see a girl, a teenager, she thought. She was not unconscious, but there was clearly something wrong. She was weaving slightly, her gaze fixed. Beside her was a teenage boy. He was pale and subdued. At a gesture from White, he climbed out of the car and stood watching as Ed Sims dealt with the girl. There was no response when he called her name. Sims looked relieved when he spotted the trauma team headed his way. With well-rehearsed efficiency, the gurney was wheeled to the police car. The deputy pulled back to allow the medics access. When he did, the girl slowly keeled over.

  Within half a m
inute, it seemed to Rachel, the girl was on the gurney, being rushed through the doors. Gesturing for the deputies to follow, the medics snapped out questions.

  Did they suspect a drug overdose?

  Did they know what she’d taken?

  How long ago?

  Rachel watched everything with a feeling of helplessness. She went to her small desk and sat down, mostly because she was afraid her trembling legs would buckle beneath her. It was supposed to be her job to take patient information, she reminded herself, looking at her shaking fingers. She wasn’t certain she could type even if she could remember what she was supposed to ask. Someone touched her shoulder.

  “I’ll take this one, Rachel.”

  She looked up into Helen Falco’s blue eyes. Only fifteen minutes before, Helen had explained what she was expected to do when a patient checked in. She glanced at the file separators where all the forms were kept. Caving in at the first emergency wasn’t the way she wanted to begin her job. She was in the emergency room, for Pete’s sake. What had she expected? Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself together.

  “Thanks, Helen, but I think I can do it.”

  Helen’s eyebrows lifted. “Sure?”

  Rachel reached for the admissions form. “Not really, but I may as well give it a try. Stand by, if you will. I may need help.”

  The girl’s name was Regina Melrose. She carried no identification. What meager information they did get came from the boy who’d been picked up with her. His name, he told Rachel, was Jerry Purdy. Regina was fifteen. Address unknown. Parents unknown. She was a student at Tidewater High. Jerry, too, was fifteen years old. This from Ed Sims, who stood at the boy’s side while Rachel coaxed information from him. She’d noticed Sims’s surprised look when he recognized her. Her job coming so close on the heels of Michael’s arrival would probably generate a lot of speculation. She’d already thought of that and dreaded it. Unlike her sisters, she had always avoided anything that drew attention to herself.