Time to Heal (Harlequin Heartwarming) (6 page)

Jake got reluctantly to his feet. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

She looked at him. “Does it really matter?”

“Of course, it matters, Rachel! I don’t want this to destroy us.” The look he gave her was bleak. “We’ve already lost so much. We can work this out, but we both have to make the effort.”

At the door, she stopped with her hand on the knob. “That’s just it, Jake. I’m not sure there is anything left.” She opened the door. “I’m sorry, but right now that’s the way I feel.”

W
HEN
R
ACHEL WENT
into the kitchen the next morning, the smell of coffee was strong, but there was no sign of Jake or Michael. Going to the cabinet, she took down a cup, glancing at the clock. Six forty-five. Jake sometimes went in to work early, but hardly ever at this hour.

Her gaze strayed toward the hall and Michael’s room, where the door stood open. Taking her coffee, she headed that way. Except for a slightly rumpled look to the spread, his bed was empty. No discarded socks lay on the floor, no articles from emptied pockets littered any surface. There was no sign that anyone had spent the night there. Was he gone? Had Jake changed his mind, decided to take him someplace else? Feeling faintly anxious, she pulled the top drawer open. Inside, neatly arranged, were his meager belongings. She straightened thoughtfully. So he hadn’t gone away like a bad dream with the coming of daylight.

And Scotty was still gone.

Lying alone in bed last night, one thing had suddenly become clear to Rachel. She had believed
that nothing could hurt her again, that nothing could touch her emotions, because with Scotty’s disappearance, her ability to feel anything had simply gone away. Wrong. So wrong.

Jake’s infidelity hurt.

The fact that it had happened fifteen years ago and that they’d been having some really tough times meant nothing. All night long she’d wrestled with her tangled emotions. Underneath the anger, the betrayal, the seething need to pay him back in some way lurked the inescapable truth: she was hurt. She was crushed to discover that her mate had been unfaithful. Now all that remained was to decide what to do about it.

She turned on her heel and walked quickly to the kitchen. Opening a cabinet, she stared blindly at the array of breakfast food, telling herself that it didn’t matter that Jake and Michael had left without a word to her. This was the way she wanted it. She was reaching for a box of cereal when the back door opened with a clatter and Jake and Michael came in.

They were laughing but sobered quickly when they spotted Rachel. Both of them. She plunked the cereal box on the counter and jerked a drawer open in search of a spoon. What was she, she thought with irritation, the Wicked Witch of the West? She stalked to the refrigerator.

“Would anybody like some juice?” she asked,
taking out the carton. So far, except for that one quick glance, she’d avoided looking at either of them.

“Good morning,” Jake said quietly.

“Morning,” she replied, focusing just beyond his shoulder. Against her will, her gaze settled on Michael, who gave her a quick, shy smile. He wore the same tattered jeans from yesterday and the same worn-out sneakers. Only his T-shirt was different. It had probably once been navy blue, but was now faded to a soft, almost gray hue, the shade of his eyes. The shade of Jake’s eyes. She slammed the refrigerator door.

“We’ve been at the boathouse,” Jake told her, “checking the
Pelican
’s battery and gas level. Mike and I might take her out today if I can manage to get away from work at a reasonable hour.”

Rachel gave him a sharp look. For the past three months, Jake’s workdays had stretched to twelve and fourteen hours. On top of his regular responsibilities, he’d devoted a lot of time to the search for Scotty. In spite of his efforts, not a single substantial lead had surfaced. It was as though Scotty had just dropped off the face of the earth.

“If something surfaces that I should know about, they can contact me,” Jake said, reading her thoughts.

“Are you still planning to shop for clothes?” she asked.

“Yeah. I thought I’d take Mike in to the office with me and then when the mall opens, we’ll run over and get what he needs.” The look he and Michael exchanged expressed the universal male reluctance for shopping. “After that, enrolling in a strange school will be a piece of cake, huh, Mike?”

Michael just grinned.

“What time does the mall open, Rachel?”

“Nine,” she said curtly, resentful of the quick camaraderie that was developing between them without knowing quite why. As though removed from the scene and watching her own behavior, Rachel knew she was acting horrible, but she didn’t seem to be able to control herself. Spending the night apart from Jake had done nothing to cool her anger or to reduce her sense of betrayal. It had only given her time to recognize her hurt.

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.

B
REAKFAST 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.”

“H
OW 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.”