Stockholm Hero

by RJ Griffith

She’s not here.

  He slumped against the building and pulled out his cell phone. Brodd and his men were already searching. They’d reach here eventually. He didn’t need to call them.

  Look.

  The compulsion was so great that Archer hesitated. Rather than slipping the phone into his pocket, he held it for a moment.

  Look.

  Archer’s thumb hovered over the cursor. Gently, he pressed to flip through pictures. His grandmother had taken photos when he’d helped to clear her property. He stared at one. He’d tried using a rope to pull a stump, but it had snapped under the sheer weight and pressure. The rope around the boiler, frayed and worn, would never hold it to a dolly or haul it away.

  Yes.

  Archer threw his weight against the door and shoved it open. His pen light shone on the boiler and the rope. He gave the rough cord a tug. Something on the other side hit the boiler. Archer stopped short when a familiar athletic sneaker came into view. “Amy!” He stepped over junk on the floor. Several large spiders skittered across the cement surface.

  Amy’s pale cheek felt cold and lifeless. He ran his fingers down her slender neck. A faint beat pulsed. He cut through the ropes and lifted her. Deep pain penetrated his side, but he ignored it. He had found her. By the grace of God, she lived.

  Amy’s head lolled against his chest, her body icy cold.

  “Please God, let her hold on until the ambulance comes,” he prayed out loud. He carried her into the twilight. Even in the dusk, he could see the blue tinge across her thin eyelids. He pulled her closer. “All right Amy, I found you. You’re safe now. Please wake up.” He walked toward the entrance and pressed his unshaven cheek against hers.

  Her eyes fluttered but didn’t open.

  He dialed Brodd and asked him to send an ambulance.

  “Amy, when I first met you…” he considered his next words. She needed a voice to hear, and her unconscious state emboldened him. “When I first met you, I didn’t know what to think. You wrecked my apartment, ruined my cat, barged into my affairs and made me care for you deeply.” He stopped. Did he mean that? He searched his feelings. Yes, he did care for Amy, and not because she needed his protection.

  God plucked her out of the universe, dropped her into his life and said, ”What do you think of that?”

  “I know God had a lot to do with you coming to Sweden.” He heard the distant siren wail. “Even though Mr. Lundahl didn’t turn out to be your father, I hope you will stay longer.” He felt selfish and silly saying it. He stared down into her unmoving face and wondered if she heard any of it.

  The ambulance crew pulled the gurney out of the vehicle and wheeled it over. He set her down.

  The crew worked to find her heartbeat.

  Thank you, God, for helping me find her. Let it be in time.

  They wrapped a warm blanket around her still frame and wheeled her off to the vehicle.

  Another medic stood in front of him. “Sir, please sit down. Another ambulance is on the way.”

  “I can assure you, I don’t need an ambulance for what ails me.” Archer watched the bright yellow van fade from view, lights and siren blazing.

  “Sir, please sit. You have a knife shoved into your side and you’re bleeding. If you would lie down, we can get some pressure on it.”

  Archer ran his hand down his side. His coat was sticky and warm with blood. A short knife handle protruded from his side and pinned his jacket in place. The Butcher of Sweden must have stabbed him back at the koi pond. Everything had happened so fast, the adrenalin must have kept him going. Archer let the medic help him to the ground. Of course…the pain when he’d picked Amy up. The medic must think I’m worse off than I really am. A new exhaustion hit him and he closed his eyes.

  18

  Amy’s mouth, throat, and lips were a desert. She blinked her eyes open. Where am I? Her muscles protested as she scooted up in the bed. The room dipped and spun. She pulled the blanket tighter and grasped at her thoughts. The man in the woods had taken her somewhere…to a building…and tied her.

  Amy brought her hand up and traced her fingers around the angry marks encircling her wrist. A deep chill had overcome her, followed by warmth. How did she get to the hospital? Amy closed her eyes and struggled to catch hold of the thoughts skimming at the surface of her mind.

  Archer. Archer came for her. She vaguely recalled being lifted into the air and hearing his voice. What did he say? Something about ruining his cat and apartment…. She batted at the words in her mind, deeper, deep…deeply. She recalled the rumble of his chest as he said the words, “…made me care for you deeply.” Had she fantasized all this? She had to get away, somehow. She started to call for a nurse, but she stopped at the sight on her television screen.

  Mr. Lundahl stood behind a podium and made an announcement in Swedish.

  A subtitle bar ran across the bottom.

  Amy gasped as she read it.

  “It has been confirmed that the American who came to my house making claims, then allegedly abducted and found, is not my biological daughter. It has come to light that the abductor had a personal vendetta against my head of security. This has nothing to do with myself or Archipelago Industries.”

  Tears rolled down Amy’s cheeks. This whole trip, everything had been a huge mistake. She placed her feet against the smooth tile flooring and headed to the nurses’ station. If she could be released soon, she could still catch her flight out and return home. Even a double shift at the Coffee Cabin seemed like a walk in the park compared to this mess.

  19

  “God morgon, Mr. Stock.”

  “English please. I’m still a little groggy from the anesthetic.”

  “Very well, I am Dr. Joens. It seems to me you have Someone watching out for you up there. The knife in your side missed your left kidney. The bleeding came when you bumped it and tore a larger hole. It will take some time to heal, but I expect you to make a full recovery.”

  “Thanks, Doctor. Do you have any news on the woman who came in with me? She has long, blonde hair, mid-twenties, tiny build.”

  “You’ll have to check with the nurses about that. For now, I think you will be able to get out of the hospital in a couple of days. You lost a lot of blood and the cut went deeper than I would like. We need to watch you for infection, but I don’t see any reason to prolong your stay, as long as you check back with your regular doctor in about a week’s time. You need plenty of rest. The nurse will show you how to clean your wound and change your bandages. Do you have any questions for me?”

  “No, I think you covered it all.” Archer leaned forward and shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you.”

  The doctor gave a nod and headed back out the door.

  He scooted to the edge of his bed and felt a pull in his side. He placed his hands against the bandage and marveled at how this stab wound could hurt so much more than the one on his shoulder. He had coped with bruises, broken bones, and bleeding noses, but this stab wound, and the one from a few months ago, he could live without. He stood up, only to sit back down. The pain resonated through his torso. He raised the bed to an upright position and flipped on the TV.

  Mr. Lundahl was on the news show describing the kidnapping and accusing Amy of using it as a ploy to get at his money. “She came into my house claiming to be my daughter. When she found out I required a paternity test,” Mr. Lundahl gripped the podium, “she disappeared. The speculation from authorities led me to believe her kidnapping retained some legitimacy. I’m grateful it’s over. I have it on good authority that she returned to America this morning.”

  Amy had left.

  Could he blame her? Oh, Father in heaven, guide Amy to You in all this. Help her to see You as her true father.

  Archer used the next few days to consider his security company and his goals. The business came with prestige, honor, and a huge paycheck. He had saved most of his earnings and could retire part time on it in the States.

  He barely heard the nurse’s instr
uctions as he contemplated his future.

  “You’ll want to watch for infection. If it gets hot, or swollen, or oozes anything other than clear plasma, come back in right away.”

  Archer nodded, even as he acknowledged he had some serious decisions to pray over.

  20

  “Here’s your drink.” Amy pushed a half-caff mocha with chocolate sprinkles across the counter without looking up.

  “This drink is too cold.” A familiar voice said.

  “Oh, hi, Mere.” Amy smiled.

  “Oh, hi? You don’t call me back for a week and all I get is ‘oh, hi.’” Mere tapped a freshly manicured nail against the counter. “I got promoted, had a party…and the worst part is my best friend is too busy feeling sorry for herself to congratulate me.” Hurt seeped into her friend’s voice.

  “Let me take a break, Mere. Bob will understand.” Amy hung her apron against the hook and snagged a large black tea. “Let’s walk. I’m sorry, Mere. I know it’s not good enough but it’s a start.”

  “Amy…”

  Amy held up her hand. “No, you have to hear me out. I’ve been a horrible friend the last two weeks. I suppose some of it is working out everything that happened in Sweden, but mostly I’ve needed some space to re-evaluate where I stand…with God. I’ve been praying about it, and I’m done searching for a dad. I have closure through Jesus. It sounds weird, but I’ve decided He’s the only father I need.”

  “Amy, that’s not weird at all.” Mere hugged her tightly.

  “Tea, Mere!” The liquid in Amy’s cup wobbled.

  “Amy, I’m so happy. I don’t care that you’ve been ignoring me…OK, so I do care, but I forgive you.”

  “The other thing I’ve been figuring out is Archer. I think I have feelings for him.”

  “Think?”

  “I know. But I don’t know what to do about it. He’s in Sweden working for…anyway, and I’m here in the States. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. The crazy thing is, I kind of remember him telling me he had feelings for me when he carried me out of that building, but it could also be the two weeks I’ve had to re-live it all.”

  “It’s seriously romantic—falling in love with your rescuer. He’s super attractive too.”

  Amy smiled and this time she felt it inside her heart. “How are things going for you, Mere? I am truly sorry I’ve been absent.”

  “Ah, all better now. We aren’t best friends if we don’t have a few disagreements every so often.” Miranda put her hand on Amy’s arm. “Linda offered me the shop!”

  “Really? Really? I knew you would get the shop someday. Wow. When do you take over?” Amy set her tea down and hugged her friend.

  “It’s gradual. One of those rent-to-own things, but I ordered the spring line by myself and a few winter pieces.” She spread her arms wide and twirled. “This is one of them.” A dimple creased her cheek.

  “I’m so happy for you, Mere.” She grabbed Mere’s hands, twirled with her, and then held out her smallest finger. “This is so wonderful. We’ll do lots of fun stuff, I promise. I should get back to work. How about we get together Tuesday for dinner and more catch up?”

  “Deal.” Mere reached out her own pinky and they giggled like school girls as they shook on it.

  Later that afternoon, Amy agreed to cover for another employee and take a double shift. She had a savings account to grow again. She decided to mop the floor and pray. She tipped the chairs upside down and set them against the table tops. She had been doing a lot more praying lately. Soul searching, her mom called it. The floor shone as she sloshed the pine-scented disinfectant underneath the tables.

  Lord, wherever Archer is, please help him to know…what exactly did she want him to know? That she liked him, that she couldn’t stop thinking about how he found her and saved her life, how he helped her to see Christ with new eyes.

  Amy chuckled. The bell on the door sounded as she bent low to mop under the table. “I’ll be right with you,” she grunted. “Be careful walking on the floor. Its slick.” She stood. Her flat-bottom shoes slipped. Strong arms caught her before she crashed against the tiles. Archer’s arms.

  “Archer?” She felt his grip loosen and she turned to face him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t miss that birthday hint you made the first time I met you.” A smile flittered across his features and disappeared into a hard line. “Amy, I’m so sorry for all that happened. I never got to see you after, and an e-mail wouldn’t do it.”

  “So you flew here?” Amy gaped, one hand still clinging to the grungy mop.

  “Some birthday presents are better delivered in person.” He held out a silver box wrapped with a deep green ribbon.

  Her hands shook as she unlaced the silk bow and cracked open the little box. “My bracelet. Archer, how did you find it? How did you know?”

  “When I saw it lying in the woods, I knew something had happened to you. I put it in my pocket, and when I carried you out of the building I forgot I had it.”

  Amy pulled it from the box and noticed the clasp had been replaced. “Archer, this means so much to me.”

  “It will never make up for all the things you endured. I can’t…Amy, I’m so sorry.”

  “Archer, I know why I went to Sweden. It took me two weeks to grapple with it, but God brought me there for a reason. I went to find my father, and in a sense, I did. I found that God has always been there for me, and I never wanted to see it.” She waved a hand in the air dismissing all the thoughts crowding her mind. “Anyway, let’s call us even. I did crash your party.”

  He caught her hand and turned it to reveal the fading scar from her burn. He ran his thumb across it, making Amy shiver.

  “There’s something else I came back for, Amy. I quit my job. I couldn’t work for someone who treated the woman I care for with such disdain.”

  “You do care? I couldn’t tell if all the things I heard were in my imagination.” Pink crept into her cheeks. She brushed his hand with her fingertips.

  Archer slid his other hand beneath Amy’s jaw and tipped her face to meet his gaze. She closed her eyes leaned into his touch. He bent low so that their faces were inches apart. “Where you go, I will go, Amy Bath.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, soft at first, then intense and powerful.

  She leaned into his kiss and let herself be held safe in his broad arms.

  The bell at the top of the door jingled.

  Amy stepped back from Archer’s embrace and pressed the back of her hand against her cheek, hot and flushed. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” she called over her shoulder. “I’m not done with you, Archer Stock, so don’t go anywhere.”

  “I’m not going to.” He took one of the chairs from the table, set it on the floor, and sat down.

  “I’m so sorry for the delay.” Amy straitened her apron and turned, “Mom? Aren’t you supposed to be in Utah this week?”

  Her mother’s face was drawn and pale. She held a cardboard box in her paint-stained hands.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Amy took the box from her mother. “Here, sit down.”

  “No, Amelia. If I sit down, I’ll cry more, and who knows when I would stop.” Her mother hugged herself, her face pinched in pain.

  “Mom…”

  “No, let me finish. I don’t want to ruin your birthday entirely. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the past, about your,” she coughed back a sob, “father.”

  Amy reached toward her mother and brushed an errant tear away. “Mom, I’m OK not knowing. It’s been hard over the years and I still want to know, but not until you’re ready to tell me.” She wrapped her arms around her mother.

  Abigail stepped back. “No, Amy, you don’t understand. All those years I didn’t tell you, even when you asked, I couldn’t bring myself to talk about how I drove him away and the mistakes I made. Oh, I’m making a mess of this.” She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with her embroidered handkerchief. “There’s a note inside the bo
x explaining everything. I have to go or else I will be late for my flight. Happy birthday, kiddo.” She embraced Amy tightly and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, Amelia, don’t you ever forget that.”

  “I love you too. Have a safe trip to Utah.”

  Her mother walked outside and down the street.

  Amy placed her hand against the rough surface of the box. A heavy layer of dust impregnated the surface, and it reeked of old books and mildew.

  “Amy? Is everything all right?”

  Amy jumped. “Oh, Archer I forgot you were here.” She brushed her fingers across the top of the box. “My mom brought me this. I don’t know if I want to open it.”

  “Is it about your father?” he moved closer to her.

  Amy nodded her head.

  “Do you want to be alone?” Archer cupped her cheek with his hand.

  Amy leaned into his touch. “No. I need to open this now. It’s nearly closing time, I’ve finished all the clean-up, if a customer comes in I can make his order and come back. Will you stay with me?”

  Archer nodded.

  Amy peeled back the folded box-top to reveal a goldenrod, paisley photo album and a yellowed envelope labeled with her mother’s name.

  21

  Chicory, an overweight Ragdoll cat, perched on the table. His tail swished back and forth. Usually Ragdoll cats were the most amiable, but not Chicory. He held grudges. He was sitting right on a piece of paper with Amy’s name emblazoned across the top.

  Amy could make out the first line, but that was all. She’d already put fresh food out and changed the three litter boxes. “Come on Chicory. Don’t you want some nice, tasty tuna?” She waved the opened can near his nose.

  He lifted a heavy paw and batted at it. A bored yawn exposed his razor-sharp teeth.

  “Come on Chicory, I need to meet Archer in town. I don’t have time for this.” Amy set the can on the counter.

  Something bumped against her leg. “Violet. Just the cat I need.” She lifted the delicate Russian blue into her arms and stroked her short gray fur. “If you get Chicory off the table, I’ll give you the can of tuna.” She set Violet on the table.