Time to Heal (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Karen Young

  RACHEL’S HANDS were tight on the steering wheel to keep Todd from seeing how scared she was. It was her dream all over again. The swamp, endless dark water, trees draped with Spanish moss looking like ancient gray ghosts. Long ago swamp vegetation had threatened to swallow up the miserable excuse for a road. She could well believe that no one used it anymore.

  “Todd, are you sure you know where the house is from here?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I know it doesn’t look it, but it’s no more than a few hundred feet around that curve. We can’t drive the car. They’re sure to hear it.”

  They’d doused the headlights two miles back. If the road hadn’t once been overlaid with crushed white shells, it would have been impossible to drive without going off into the marsh. As it was, Rachel had worried every inch of the way. Now she had to force herself to press onward. She wasn’t sure what she could do if things didn’t go well for Jake and Frank, but with the lives of her sons at stake, she simply had to be there.

  She took a deep breath and looked at Todd. “You can’t go any farther, you know that, don’t you, Todd?”

  “I know.”

  She was surprised. She’d expected him to want to stay with her all the way. “Okay, then, I’m out of here,” she said, borrowing a phrase she’d heard from Mike. She reached for the door handle, hoping she wouldn’t step on a snake.

  The moment she stepped out of the car, a heavy splash sounded not thirty feet away. She swallowed a scream and closed her eyes, trying to calm her heartbeat. A hopeless endeavor. She’d already had one miracle today. Expecting no wildlife in a swamp would constitute two in one day.

  She leaned down and focused on Todd’s shape in the pitch blackness. “Don’t leave the car for anything, Todd. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “No sweat,” he said, sounding no more concerned by the prospect of being abandoned in the middle of a swamp than at being dropped off at the movies.

  Two steps away from the car and Rachel knew that traveling the dark trail alone in the swamp would forever rank as the most harrowing experience of her life. She was suffocatingly aware of every sound, every hoot and call, every splash and plunk. If slithering had a sound, she was convinced she heard it. She was not brave and fearless like her sisters. She was only a mother going to her sons. And only her love for Scotty and Michael gave her the courage to keep moving ahead into the very jaws of her nightmare.

  She stopped, trembling, and listened. From somewhere, she heard country music. She had to be close. Rounding the bend finally, she nearly cried out with relief as she spotted the outline of a house.

  At the same moment, she caught the brief flash of Jake’s penlight behind a shed situated close—too close!—to the house. Frank was with him. Keeping well back, Rachel watched, holding her breath as they worked to loosen the boards of the building. Her heart leaped as she sensed their haste. Was Scotty inside? Michael? Was their search almost over?

  A burst of male laughter drew her gaze toward the house. From her vantage point it was difficult to tell who was inside or how many, but it seemed that most were men. Then she spotted two children. Her hand went to her throat. Please, please, don’t let anything go wrong. Fear and anxiety made her teeth chatter as she stood watching like a spectator at a horror show. Her mouth dry, she glanced from the house to the shed, where Jake’s movements had taken on a frantic urgency. She chewed her lip, debating whether to let them know she was there. And then she froze with terror when she heard a sound behind her.

  “Don’t yell, it’s just me.”

  She almost fainted as Todd materialized out of the swamp. Because she was afraid to make a sound, she gave him a fierce look in lieu of a sound thrashing. Recognizing it, he grinned and shrugged with the charm that he would probably use with devastating success when he got a little older.

  When a dog barked, they both turned. To Rachel’s horror, a man opened the door and stepped onto the porch. She heard him call out.

  “It’s Willard,” Todd murmured. “He heard them. Shoot! He’s goin’ out there.”

  Rachel’s eyes flew to Jake and Frank, who stood frozen in the dark shadow of the shed. She reached out helplessly to touch Todd, but she only brushed his arm. He was already half a dozen steps in front of her when she realized what he intended. With a sense of impending doom, she watched Todd step boldly from the haven of the shadows and begin jogging straight toward Willard Biggs.

  Flattened against the shed, both Jake and Frank were motionless. Biggs was striding across the porch. Beside him, the dog barked eagerly. Jake searched the outlying yard frantically for something, anything, that might distract Biggs. He just needed a few more minutes to free the boys. Without a tool, that chain was a problem. He didn’t want to confront Biggs and his cohorts if he could avoid it. Rick Streeter wouldn’t appreciate any complications that threatened the success of his coup. As he weighed his options—all of them poor—he heard another voice.

  “Hey, Will! It’s me, Todd.”

  Jake felt a moment of blank shock. Todd Stewart. What was Todd doing here? As though echoing Jake’s thought, he heard Biggs demand, “What the hell are you doing out here, kid?”

  Easing to the edge of the smokehouse, Jake watched the dog dart ahead past Biggs, making a beeline for the shed. His body went taut, but Todd darted sideways in a deceptively casual move and caught the animal by the collar.

  “It’s Hazel’s kid!” Biggs yelled loud enough to carry inside. To Todd, he said, “You better have a good excuse to be out here, kid.”

  “I’m just bummin’ around,” Todd told Biggs. Then, holding the dog firmly by the collar, he went forward to meet him.

  Beside Jake, Frank Cordoba released a pent-up breath as Todd jogged up the steps, obviously bent on keeping Biggs on the porch. Both were now too far away for much of their conversation to be heard.

  “Jeez,” Frank said with feeling, his admiration for Todd’s spunk plain.

  “Yeah.” Jake turned and slipped through the space they’d cleared in the shed wall. “Let’s free Mike and Scotty. After that—”

  “After that, I’ll take care of Todd,” Frank said in a tone that told Jake an argument would get him nowhere.

  “How’ll you get him out if I’m gone in the car?”

  “You let me worry about that.”

  “Daddy—”

  Jake drew in a shaky breath and bent down and pulled Scotty into his arms. “Shh, I’m here, son. Everything’s going to be fine, now. We’re going home.” Even as he embraced Scotty, he reached for Mike, who threw his arms around Jake with a choked sob.

  “Jake—”

  Jake looked up at Frank’s urgent whisper and nodded. The real danger still lay in front of them: getting the boys—and that included Todd—safely away. Still holding Scotty, whose arms were locked around Jake’s neck, Jake stood still while Frank examined the chain anchored to the wall.

  “Any ideas?”

  Frank leaned back on his heels and spoke softly. “We could place the crowbar just right, and using the steel rod as a hammer, one solid hit to that bolt would do the job, I think.”

  “I think you’re right. Now, if they’ll only turn the radio back on.”

  “Dad…”

  Both men looked at Michael.

  “Scotty’s chained to me. We can’t run until the chain’s cut.”

  “I see that, son.” Shifting Scotty slightly, Jake lifted the little boy’s foot and grimly examined the shackles.

  “They used regular handcuffs on Scotty because his ankles were small,” Mike stated, keeping his voice down but unable to disguise the tremor. “Then they chained me to him, wrapping the chains around both of us. I couldn’t jimmy the cuffs open, Dad, no matter how hard I tried.” He cast a desperate look around the dark shed, giving both men a glimpse of the torture he’d undergone. “There wasn’t anything in here to use. I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about, son.” Jake’s throat threatened to close with the power of
the emotion that rose inside him. “Just hold still for another minute or two and we’ll have you free. Then we’ll slip out of here as slick as you please.”

  Scotty stirred, obviously wanting to speak. Jake touched his finger to the little boy’s mouth. “Shh, hush, son. Soon as we get back to the car, I promise you can tell me everything.”

  Scotty nodded solemnly, his eyes fixed on Jake’s. Then he mouthed the words, “Mike’s my big brother, did you know?”

  Clamping his jaw, Jake nodded.

  Still whispering, Scotty added, “He came to get me.”

  “I know.”

  “Even if we have to go into the swamp, we aren’t scared.”

  Jake hugged him wordlessly, sending Mike a look that made the older boy squirm and duck his head.

  “Jake, we’ve gotta get out of here,” Frank reminded him.

  Jake set Scotty on his feet and stood up. Taking the crowbar from Frank, he felt around the bolt, looking for the best place to set it for the blow. Right on cue, someone turned the radio on in the middle of a loud used-car commercial.

  “Perfect,” Jake muttered as Frank struck once, hard, with the steel rod. The chain fell away from the wall.

  “Now for the easy part,” Jake murmured. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a key and quickly slipped it into the handcuffs. One touch and they fell away, freeing Scotty’s ankles.

  The links binding the boys took a little more time, but with Jake and Frank working together, both were soon rid of the steel that had shackled them to the wall for three days. Jake didn’t ask, but he wondered whether the boys were hungry and how they’d been forced to relieve themselves. He sent a cold look toward Biggs’s house, wondering how much time over the past six months Scotty had spent alone in the shed.

  He swallowed the violence simmering in his chest, knowing the first priority was getting the boys out of there. But nothing would prevent him from personally seeing that Biggs paid for the agony his family had suffered.

  They were slipping through the boards to head back to Jake’s car when they heard the shots.

  “What the—”

  A frenzy of shouts and commotion came from the cabin, and light suddenly flooded the grounds. Men spilled out of the door and down the steps, pulling on shirts and stumbling in drunken confusion. No one spared a glance for the shed or the two boys supposedly chained inside for the night. A footpath, unnoticed by Jake earlier, led away from the house on the opposite side. Within moments, the men had disappeared in that direction, and all sound was soon swallowed up in the dense growth. Only the dog, barking wildly, went in a different direction. Cheated of his quarry earlier, he headed directly for the rear of the shed.

  Jake stepped protectively in front of his sons, his revolver drawn, and braced himself. Rounding the corner, the dog stopped, confused when Mike and Scotty both lunged for him.

  “I’ll chain him up!” Mike said.

  Nodding, Jake holstered his weapon and swept Scotty up in his arms. Obviously the dog recognized the boys.

  “Don’t forget Todd.”

  Everyone turned, gaping as Rachel stepped out of the shadows into the light.

  “Rachel—”

  “Mommy!”

  “Wow, it’s Miss Rachel.”

  Frank grinned. “I’ll go rescue Todd. By my reckoning, he’s the only one left in the house except the two kids.”

  “Bring them, too, just to be safe,” Rachel told him, then holding out her arms, she burst into tears as Jake handed Scotty over. Crushing him to her, whispering his name over and over, she buried her face in his grubby, precious little neck.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  RACHEL WAS NOT SLEEPING. She lay quietly on her side, snuggled against Jake in their bed as the clock solemnly chimed the hour, and watched the intermittent flicker of lightning outside.

  Three o’clock.

  A second storm front had followed on the heels of the first, and now more rain and wind lashed at the windows. Strong gusts whipped the palms just outside, sending leaves and loose debris flying. She squirmed a little, fitting her back to Jake’s front, smiling at the warm bulk of him. He groaned sleepily, tightening his arms around her, then relaxed again almost immediately.

  How could he sleep? she wondered. Her thoughts were chasing around in her brain like the wind-tossed debris outside. Her children were home!

  Scotty. She closed her eyes in fervent thanksgiving.

  Michael. Her throat tightened.

  Thank you, God.

  The facts surrounding Scotty’s kidnapping were still murky, but Michael had given them a pretty good idea of what happened. It had been so uncomplicated. On the day of his disappearance, there had been a moving van in the next block. In the original investigation, Jake had questioned the driver, but there seemed nothing to connect him to the kidnapping. There was nothing irregular about the job, nothing to arouse his suspicion. The company was a large national one, the driver bonded and reputable, the laborers local. That was the connection. Willard Biggs was one of the laborers.

  For a long time Biggs had nursed a grudge against the law in Kinard County, where he’d served time for a crime he still claimed he didn’t commit. When Biggs realized one of the children watching the van loading up that day was the son of Sheriff Jake McAdam, he had seized his chance to retaliate against the whole system and the sheriff in particular. He had hidden Scotty, bound and gagged, in the back of the eighteen-wheeler without the driver’s knowledge, then taken him to his property in the swamp, where he’d turned him loose to survive as best he could with his own neglected children. It was an act of meanness and sheer spite. If he’d been older, Scotty might have had a chance to get away, but he’d been intimidated by the swampy surroundings and Biggs’s frequent threats. In six months, Scotty had not traveled more than twenty yards from Biggs’s back porch.

  Suddenly needing to see him, to touch him, Rachel slipped quietly from the bed, trying not to disturb Jake. She still trembled thinking of everything that could have gone wrong in the rescue. When the shooting started, her heart had stopped. Biggs and his cohorts as well as Ramirez’s men had scattered in the chaos that followed. Jake and Frank had not wasted the opportunity. Jake had swept up his family, using Rachel’s car to get away. Frank had returned to rescue Todd and the two Biggs children. Both were now in Jacky Kendall’s custody at Juvenile Hall. Frank took Todd home with him. Jake had been startled when Rachel suggested that Frank Cordoba would be an excellent foster parent for Todd. She still thought it was a great idea. Frank was already half-convinced. He had bragged to everyone who would listen about Todd’s role in the rescue.

  She donned a robe quickly, then left the bedroom. The hall was lit with a dim glow, probably Scotty’s night-light. He’d been a little anxious when she’d finally settled him in his bed, and she would have taken him in with her and Jake, but he refused when he found out Mike wasn’t going. He already had a world-class case of hero worship for his big brother.

  She went into his room and stopped short. It was empty. Her heart thumping, she started to tell Jake when she noticed the greenish glow from the door of Michael’s room. The aquarium, of course. Looking inside, she relaxed against the doorframe. Scotty lay curled up beside Michael.

  Moving silently, she went to the bed. Both boys were sleeping, lulled by the bubble and gurgle of the fish tank. With a faint smile, she saw that Michael had given up his cherished spot closest to the aquarium to make room for Scotty. Her eyes stinging, Rachel bent and gently moved his small outflung leg and sat down. Already the covers were kicked away. She smoothed the tangled sheet, touched him on his cheek, brushed his bangs aside. He’d have to have a haircut, she thought, rejoicing quietly that she had that small motherly task to handle once again. He stirred and mumbled something. She bent closer and with a catch in her chest made out the words.

  “Mike… Go home…”

  His new big brother dominated even his dreams, she thought with a soft smile. Then, sifting the silky blond hair
through her fingers, she wondered about his dreams. Were they about his captivity? Michael’s arrival to save him? The chaotic rescue? Would he be tormented forever by his ordeal? According to Michael, Scotty had been hungry and cold sometimes. A few times, he’d been callously shut in the shed, but only when Michael appeared had he been chained. Leaning close, she kissed his baby-soft cheek, thankful that he hadn’t suffered other abuse, the kind that might have destroyed his life or left him with deep-seated problems he could never overcome.

  Stroking the small hand thrown innocently above his head, she vowed that, as a family, they’d overcome the nightmare that had nearly destroyed them. She was so thankful her family was whole again. She felt a new faith in herself, in her marriage, a new joy in her life. With one last caress of Scotty’s silky blond head, she stood up. Then she tiptoed to the other side of the bed and sat down.

  Michael wore the T-shirt Jake had given him that first night. Unable to resist, she touched his dark hair. Studying him in the shadowy glow, she realized she no longer thought of Michael’s resemblance to Jake. The likeness was still there, but now he was just…Michael.

  He stirred and she realized he was awake.

  “Hi, Miss Rachel.” His voice was soft and sleep-husky.

  “I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “That’s okay. I guess you were worried about Scotty.”

  “Only until I found him.”

  “He was still a little scared. The swamp and all. He’ll get over it in a little while—you’ll see.”

  She smiled. “You’re probably right. In the meantime, do you mind?”

  “Nah. He’s fine. He was out like a light once he started watching the fish.”

  She laughed softly. “We certainly understand that, don’t we?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She touched his jaw, cradling it in her palm. “You should be asleep, too, you know.”

  At her touch, his eyes fell. “I guess all the excitement and everything…” Without seeming aware of it, he lifted his shoulder as though to capture her caress and hold it. She reached for his hand, and when their fingers met, both squeezed tight.