Rachel Running on Empty Pt. 04

Rachel Running on Empty Part Four

by G. Lawrence

New friends and unsuspected enemies

This is not an erotic story, though it does have romance. It features family drama along with adventure, elements of fantasy, and science fiction (very understated, for this is not a science fiction book). And, as her family has discovered, Rachel can be frustrating, willing to go to any lengths once she sets her heart on a course. Life for our hero is never easy. This is part 4 of 8.

Recap: In order to avoid a scandal, Rachel is secretly living in a small mountain village calling herself Katie Smith, pregnant and working at the local diner.

* * * * * *

Chapter Seven

DANIEL'S GHOST

"You should be in Los Angeles. Or Palmdale, at least," Dr. Meadows advised as Rachel sat on the examination table.

"I know you're right, but I can't," Rachel refused.

"If it's money you're worried about, we can get help. You're WHD registered, aren't you?"

"Not exactly."

"They offer financial support. All we need to do is activate your profile."

"No, don't do that," Rachel insisted. "Isn't my baby okay?"

"Your baby is fine. It's you I'm worried about. We don't have the best facilities if it's necessary to perform a cesarean."

"I still have a few weeks."

Rachel walked the quarter mile back to her trailer slowly. Moving had been getting harder every day. Sadie was letting her supervise the new cooks but wouldn't let her work.

Her home among the oak trees was improving. The plumbing was working, allowing her to take long baths. A satellite dish allowed good internet access. Necessary for the long hours she spent on her Level 14 designs. Sadly, the old plywood cabinets needed more work, and the carpeting wasn't much to speak of. The porch was unfinished. Someday, she hoped to have a garden. Maybe a white picket fence.

From time to time, Rachel was still sending messages home. They were necessarily short and vague, and she always felt guilty afterwards. The process didn't allow her to receive messages as they could be traced. She wondered when she might see Pamela again. And Rory. And William. She wondered if Tom had found another girl, as he had a right to. She hadn't treated him fairly.

Something felt wrong. There had been kicks for months, but this was different. Suddenly she doubled over, falling on the sidewalk outside her trailer. She wanted to call out, but couldn't. She could barely breathe.

"Katie! Katie, what's wrong?" Big Willy said, rushing to her side.

"The baby," Rachel moaned. And then she passed out.

An hour later, she woke up in the clinic. There was an oxygen mask over her face. Dr. Birmingham was watching readings on a bedside monitor. They looked erratic.

"She's awake," Birmingham alerted. Sixty years old and feeling older, he called for more nurses.

Meadows rushed in, using a stethoscope to check her heart.

"Can you hear me? Katie? Can you hear me?"

Rachel nodded. She couldn't speak.

"The baby's coming early. There are complications," Meadows said. "It's not too late to change your instructions."

Rachel shook her head.

"Instructions?" Birmingham asked.

"If only one of them is going to make it, we're to save the baby," Meadows replied.

"Let's not have to make that decision," Birmingham said with a worried frown.

A crowd was gathering outside the clinic. It was close to sunset. Many had brought chairs and blankets, making it clear they weren't going anywhere. Most were holding Bibles. Big Willy started a bonfire.

"I think it's bad," Manuel said, an arm wrapped around his wife.

"She won't die, will she, Papa?" Manny asked.

"We will pray for her," his mother said.

A gray pick-up truck parked across the highway and a tall black man climbed out. Ketchum was on his list. He wondered what the commotion was.

"What's going on?" McLane asked.

"It's Katie. The baby is premature," Big Willy said, close to tears.

"She's awful sick," Manny added.

An old man was hugging an elderly collie. He was crying.

"When my Jenny was dying of cancer, she gave me my Goldie. Her last gift," Mr. Hammer said. "Katie saved her from the fire."

"The fire?" McLane asked.

"Katie was at Camp 21," Captain Hasselhoff said. "It was her warning that saved us. Half the men in this town are alive because of her."

"The Little Hurricane? Five feet tall. Long brown hair. Sexy as sin?" McLane asked.

"Blonde hair," Hasselhoff said.

"Bleach blonde. Real hair is brown," Big Willy said.

McLane pushed through the crowd into the clinic, finding the front desk empty. He went in the back, looking in the rooms. The surgery had two doctors, two nurses, and a young woman in distress, mumbling and thrashing around. McLane almost blurted out her name.

"How bad is it?" McLane asked.

Everyone was startled.

"Please leave. You can't be in here," a nurse said.

"I'm an old friend. How bad is it? What are you doing for her?"

Meadows took McLane by the arm to lead him out.

"Do you know her family?" she asked.

"I'm authorized to speak for her family."

"She's developed serious complications. We need a specialist, but the closest one is in L. A. They'll never get here in time."

"Where in L. A.?"

"Cedars-Sinai."

"Tell me everything she needs. Everything. Can you do that?" McLane pressed, staring grimly.

"Yes."

McLane retreated to the lobby and took out his phone.

"Sheila Marbury, please," McLane said. "And I don't give a fuck if she's busy. Tell her Big Bob McLane is on the line and that Rachel Marbury needs her."

* * * * * *

The helicopter roared across the sky as the last faint glows of the sun were fading. The crowd outside the clinic saw it wasn't an ordinary helicopter. It was an H-155, capable of tremendous speeds. There was a red cross insignia on the tail.

As the helicopter set down on the fire station landing pad, the local fire crew rushed to unload the equipment. Half a dozen doctors and nurses poured from the hatches, guided to the clinic by a score of townspeople. Meadows met them at the door, leading them to Rachel. McLane paced in the lobby, getting Sheila on the phone.

"Yeah, it's bad. The doctors are doing everything they can," McLane reported.

"I had no idea about any of this," Sheila said. "Rory thinks she's on a secret government project."

"Whatever the secret is, it belongs to Rachel. Let's not betray her trust."

"I understand. Any word on--"

"Mr. McLane?" a nurse summoned.

"Yes?"

"It's a boy. A healthy boy. Seven pounds, ten ounces."

"Sounds like a monster," McLane remarked.

"It explains why Mrs. Smith is having such a hard time, her being so small."

"How is Mrs. Smith?"

"You should talk to the doctor about that."

The nurse went back inside. McLane heard a lot of noise. A lot of discussion. None of it happy.

"Did you hear?" McLane asked.

"Yes. If the worst happens, we'll need to tell Pamela," Sheila answered.

"I won't be leaving her side," McLane promised.

"It's a miracle you found her when you did. You know money's not a problem, right? Whatever it costs, whatever it takes. I can have an entire hospital built there overnight if I have to."

"You've sent good people. The town could use a hotel, though. Nearest one is ten miles away."

"I have crews who build disaster relief camps," Sheila said. "Inflatable shelters with all the amenities. Twenty of them will be there in the morning."

"Three will be plenty," McLane said.

"Should I come? I can be there in a few hours."

"And when the town wants to know why the most powerful CEO in America is in Ketchum, what do we say?"

"I'm not the most powerful. Barely in the top ten. But I see your point."

"It's going to be a long night, Miss Marbury. I'll call with any new developments."

"Mr. McLane? I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Sheba. You're Rachel's family, and that makes you my family."

"Thanks, Sheba. It means a lot," McLane said.

* * * * * *

Rachel knew things were going badly. She'd gambled and lost. It wasn't the first time. But her baby would be okay. She knew that.

Maybe it's for the best, she thought. What kind of mother would I have been? Crazy? Cold? Preoccupied? In a haze? Pamela will take good care of him. The responsibility will be good for Rory. Yes, she thought. I've done my part.

She tried to breathe, but there was no air. She couldn't feel any sensations. There had always been a close connection with her body. As a swimmer. Hiking. Long hours before the computers. During sex. She never had to reach for it; it all came naturally, making her strong. And now that was gone. She was sorry not to have spoken with Pamela one last time.

"No, girl, this isn't the end," someone said.

It wasn't a person, just a voice.

"Who is that?" Rachel asked.

"Don't you recognize me?"

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"Daniel? It can't be. You're dead."

"Am I?"

"I felt you die."

"I'm alive in your heart. If I'd lived, you would be having my son. Now I'm alive in my grandson."

"Can I be with you?"

"No. That was never meant to be."

"I don't understand."

"In my time, I did everything I could to possess you. Nothing else mattered. I loved you so much. But I did things that hurt you, too."

"I loved you, didn't I?"

"You love everyone. You can't help yourself. You see the numbers."

"Are the numbers God? Was Sister Louise right all those years ago?"

"Do you know God's heart?" the voice asked.

"No."

"Have you felt it?"

"I don't know."

"Then you are still mortal."

"I'm afraid. I'm always afraid," Rachel said, starting to cry.

"Your greatest fear is that no one will love you. And the fear is false. I loved you. Your children will love you. So do many others. You have a wonderful life ahead, not that there won't be challenges. You never take the easy path."

"I don't know what to do. I feel lost," Rachel pleaded.

"Keep your faith close."

The voice seemed to linger for a moment, and then it was gone, as if everything had been resolved.

"Goodbye, Danny. I love you," Rachel said, shutting her eyes. It was the only time she had ever called him Danny.

* * * * * *

"It was touch and go, Mr. McLane, but she's rallying," Meadows said. "If you hadn't arrived when you did, it might be a different story."

"Prognosis?"

"She won't be on her feet for a few weeks. After that? We don't really know, but she's a strong woman."

"Don't tell her I was here. I'll make arrangements for her care."

"This is all very mysterious."

"How far does doctor-patient confidentiality go?"

"For Katie? As far as it needs to."

McLane took her outside. The night was clear. The moon full.

"In Los Angeles, I was her bodyguard. We became very close. She's like a daughter to me."

"Bodyguard?"

"The woman you call Katie Smith is Rachel Montgomery."

"The hell you say? The inventor of WHD?"

"The same."

"WHD supplements our patients. The ones the county skimps on."

"Those services are gradually spreading all over the world," McLane said. "Because of her."

"Why is she ...? No, that's none of my business. But I understand now where our new equipment has been coming from."

"Rachel is hiding here for a reason. Until yesterday, I didn't know what that reason was. And I'm not convinced she made the best decision, but it's her life. If she knows I've found her, she might run again. We can't have that. She's safe here. She has friends."

"Devoted friends," Meadows emphasized.

"I'll arrange a private account for her care. Money is not an issue."

"Want me to hire a nurse for her? And the baby?"

"I have someone who can help until she's back on her feet."

"Who would that be?" Meadows asked.

"My mother."

* * * * * *

Three weeks laying in a hospital bed was not fun. Rachel got to see her baby each day, but only for a few minutes at a time. Nurses kept watch on her 24/7, which Rachel found annoying.

"Ready to go home?" Dr. Meadows asked one morning.

"I am so ready. I never want to be here again."

"I'll be checking on you every day," Meadows warned.

"You are a very mean doctor," Rachel said with a pout, which made Meadows laugh.

"It's good to see your spirits coming back. Many were worried about you."

"I'm okay."

"You are the most honest person I know, except when you say, 'I'm okay.' Then I know something's wrong."

"I will be okay."

"That's better."

Rachel was put in a wheelchair and taken outside. A crowd waited for her, clapping. Sadie was holding the baby. Captain Hasselhoff pushed the chair. Big Willy held an umbrella over her for shade. Mr. Hammer walked next to her, Goldie at his side.

"Such a fuss," Rachel said, beginning to tear up. Manny handed her a tissue.

Though they could have used a car for the short trip to the trailer park, they knew Rachel would enjoy the early fall day. Friends had paved the path so the wheelchair had a smoother ride.

"Catherine, did you find someone to help with D. J.?" Rachel timidly asked.

"Your new neighbor volunteered," Meadows said. "She's a nice lady. Mrs. Carter started taking care of him a few days after he was born."

"I must thank her."

"You'll get the chance."

They reached the village, going down the lane toward the lake. Rachel gasped.

Her trailer had been painted light green with red trim, her favorite colors. The porch had been expanded, with wicker chairs and screens to keep out flies. They had planted a garden and built a white picket fence.

"It's beautiful. Like a dream," Rachel said.

An older black lady with an auburn wig emerged from the trailer, coming down the steps. She had a warm smile.

"Rachel, this is Mrs. Marie Carter," Meadows introduced. "She bought the trailer right across from you."

"Perfect timing. I've got everything ready," Jackie McLane announced, shaking Rachel's hand.

"I'm told you've been taking care of my baby. Thank you so much," Rachel said.

"My children are all grown. My grandchildren are grown. Having a new one is a gift," Jackie replied.

Someone had built a ramp at the end of the porch, allowing Willy to push the wheelchair up. Sadie held the door open.

"My gosh. More?" Rachel said.

There was a lush gold carpet. The cabinets had been sanded and stained. A lovely kitchen table sat next to the window with four chairs. A bassinet was hung with blue blankets. Rachel struggled not to cry.

"Thank you all so much," Rachel said, reaching for their hands.

"Everyone pitched in," Hasselhoff boasted. "Old Mr. Hammer built most of that porch himself. Guys at the fire station restored the furniture. Your refrigerator is full, and you have a freezer out back."

Now Rachel was crying. Manny kept handing her tissues.

"You're welcome, honey," Sadie said. "Now it's time for us folks to clear out of here and let Katie rest up. We'll be along from time to time to visit."

Rachel nodded, unable to speak, seeing that only Mrs. Carter and the baby remained. Jackie put the child down for a nap and fetched tea for Rachel.

"I didn't want to bother you none while you were in the hospital," Jackie said. "So many hovering around you, I could tell you didn't like it. Now that you're home, how do you want to do this?"

"How should we do it?"

"That's up to you."

"I have a confession, Mrs. Carter. I don't know a darn thing about babies. Except for what I've seen in movies."

"Most new mothers don't. Nothing strange about that."

"Will you teach me?"

"Be happy to. Now you've got a spare room that Sadie fixed up for me. I'll stay here for now, and as you get stronger, start giving you extra space. In time, I'll be living back at my place, but only a few steps away. You need help, you need cooking, you need babysitting, I'll be here."

"That's so wonderful, but I feel like I'm imposing on you. Can I pay you? Do you have expenses I can help with?"

"Honey, I'm richer than a frog in a flytrap. What I need is a friend, and a baby to take care of. Can you help me with that?"

"Yes," Rachel tearily replied.

"That's good. Now I got a bottle warming for little Danny, unless you want to feed him yourself. How's your breastfeeding?"

"They were letting me breastfeed him in the clinic, as long as I didn't get too tired."

"You look a little peaked, so we'll do the bottle for now. I have soup for you. Clam chowder."

"I love clam chowder."

"I know, dear. I've been studying on you. There's not a person in this whole town that don't have a story."

"Mrs. Carter, may I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Have we met before? Something about you is very familiar."

* * * * * *

Rachel's shift ended at noon. Just late enough to help José get lunch started. Sadie caught up with her behind the diner while Rachel was dumping trash.

"Another good week," Sadie said, handing Rachel an envelope. "I added a little extra."

"You don't need to do that, Mrs. Johnson," Rachel said.

"This isn't much for the business you bring in. But it would be easier to write you a payroll check instead of cash."

"I don't have a bank account," Rachel said, tucking the money in her pocket.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"I need to be careful. It's just a matter of time until I'll need to move on, and saying goodbye is too hard."

"You're not running from the law, are you? A husband? An ex-husband?"

"Something like that," Rachel said, closing the dumpster. "Thank you for letting me work here. The focus is important for me."

"Yeah. I still don't understand what that means."

"It's not a happy story."

"If there's anything you ever need from me, just holler."

"Thank you," Rachel said.

Rachel brushed down her work clothes before putting them in the trailer's bedroom closet, took a quick shower, and checked the email on her laptop. Harvard hadn't responded to her latest thesis yet. As it extended her previous theories, she understood the professors needed time to evaluate it. As long as they kept her name confidential, she didn't mind.

It was a short walk across the driveway to Mrs. Carter's trailer nestled under a tall pine tree.

"How was work, Little Hurricane?" Mrs. Carter asked, wearing a gingham dress with an apron.

"Busier every day," Rachel answered, going to the playpen. "How was Danny?"

"Getting bigger every day."

"I can't say how much I appreciate you caring for him," Rachel said, lifting the one-year-old up. "You're a godsend."

"It's my joy, sweetheart. Did the clinic get that new X-ray machine?"

"They were unpacking it this morning. You should have seen the look on Dr. Birmingham's face. He looked like a little boy opening a Christmas present."

"He doesn't know you donated it, does he?"

"If anyone knew I could afford an X-ray machine, they'd want to know why I'm working in a tiny café for $15 an hour."

"No one is going to take your baby away from you."

"His father's family will, if they ever find me."

"This family?" Mrs. Carter said, showing a sealed envelope in her dresser drawer.

"The day may come that I can't take care of Danny anymore. Then he'll need his grandmother."

"The headaches again?"

"They aren't exactly headaches, but yes, they're becoming a problem. It makes me sad. I was okay for so long. Ever since I discovered myself pregnant. And now they're coming back."

"What does your doctor say?"

"What he always says. Come to his office and be examined."

"Why don't you?"

"His office is in Switzerland."

Rachel sat on the couch, bouncing her child on her knee and enjoying his smile.

"He has his grandfather's eyes," Rachel said.

"I'm here for as long as you need me. But I'm getting old. You need a plan."

"I've never been good at planning. Not for myself. As long as Danny is healthy and happy, I'll need to take it a day at a time."

* * * * * *

Her private phone rang just after midnight. Alone in her Beverly Hills penthouse, Sheila decided to answer it.

"Sheba?"

"Mick?"

"Can you come down here?"

"Now? It's late."

"It's important."

Sheila quickly got dressed. In fifteen years of acquaintance, Micky Conran had only called her at home once before. The morning he learned Danny Benson had died. She took her private elevator down to the basement garage, starting her Mercedes. There was no point in driving a Jaguar to Santa Monica in the middle of the night.

O'Casey's Tavern was near the waterfront, a saloon popular with business executives. She found the bar deserted, which was rare even on a Wednesday night. On any given evening, there were usually a few stragglers hanging around before closing.

"Mick, what's this all about?" she asked.

The ancient Irish bartender held a finger to his lips, made a final check to make sure all the patrons were gone, and locked the door.

"Over here," he mysteriously whispered.

He led her toward a familiar booth in the corner. The one where Danny Benson had held court before his sudden death five years before. Someone was waiting for her.

"I'll get drinks for you," Mick said.

"It's late for that," Sheila hesitated.

"I'll get drinks."

Sheila went forward, seeing a woman sitting in the dim light. She was wearing a wide brim hat and a high collar. Sheila paused, trying to figure out who it was.

"Hello, Sheba."

"My God. Rachel?" Sheila said, quickly taking a seat. "My God. How are you? Where have you been?"

"It's a long story. Do you have some time?"

"I have all the time in the world for you."

Rachel took the hat off. She looked thin. The eyes careworn. Her hair was dyed blonde, cut short and curly. But when she smiled, the shy charm was still there.

"How have you been?" Rachel asked.

"Busy. Really great, but busy. WHD keeps doubling in size every two quarters."

"Are you able to help people? The way we hoped?"

"Millions of people. It's not just about the money. Not that we're not making a lot of it."

"I'm glad. Any boyfriends? Or girlfriends?"

"No boyfriends right now. That doesn't mean I'm not dating."

Mick returned with two Long Island Ice Teas, buffalo wings, and hot cinnamon rolls. He left without speaking.

"Rach, where have you been? Everyone is sick with worry."

"I'm in contact from time to time," Rachel defended.

"Sending vague messages is not being in contact."

"I'm sorry. It's been difficult."

"Did you get sick? Fall into a haze?"

"No. Well, yes. But that came later, after I had the baby."

Sheila resisted the temptation to blurt anything out.

"Healthy, I hope?"

"Yes, he's doing well."

"This is such a surprise."

"Sheba, you don't need to pretend you don't know. A million dollars of medical care doesn't drop out of the sky by magic."

"I was sworn to secrecy."

"By Mr. McLane?"

"A secret is a secret."

"Thank you. That makes this easier. I need you to set up a trust fund for my son. I still have some money, don't I?"

"Better than two billion dollars."

"He won't need that much."

"Does Pam know? Or Rory? About the baby?"

"I couldn't tell them. It would destroy their family, and I can't do that."

Sheila waited, giving Rachel time to form her thoughts. Rachel nibbled on a roll.

"I did something very stupid," Rachel finally explained. "I can't call it a mistake, because my baby isn't a mistake. He's a gift. But it caused difficult problems."

"Tell me whatever you can, sweetheart. I won't tell a soul," Sheila promised, reaching to take her hand.

"It's John's baby."

"John? Johnny Benson?"

Rachel nodded.

"He cheated on Allie?"

"The night I graduated from Harvard, I drank too much. John had broken up with Alicia a few weeks before. There was no cheating, but I should have known better. The next morning, I realized John and I didn't belong together. He belonged with Alicia. I didn't discover the pregnancy until after I got home. After they were already married."

"You poor thing. Is that why you ran off? So Alicia wouldn't find out?"

"It wasn't fair to her. It wasn't fair to the family if they had to choose sides. And if the press learned, it was going to be awful. Can you imagine the headline? Danny Benson's slave girl has Johnny Benson's love child. It was my fault. I needed to deal with it."

"It was John's fault, too. What did he say?"

"I never told him."

"Johnny doesn't know?"

"My son's name is Daniel Jefferson Marbury. In public, I call him D. J. so no one will make the connection."

"Are you still living in that little town? What can I do for you? I'll do anything."

"Thank you. Thank you for always being such a good friend," Rachel said, starting to tear up. Sheila handed her a napkin. "Ketchum is high in the mountains. The people are very nice. They think my name is Katie Smith. My boss, Mrs. Johnson, suspects that's not true. She thinks I'm hiding from an abusive husband."

"Your boss?"

"I'm working in a diner."

"That can't pay very much."

"Money hasn't been a problem. I set up private accounts before disappearing. But I need to know Danny will be cared for when-- That is, if something happens to me. I have a wonderful neighbor who's been helping. Mrs. Carter. I'm leaving a letter with her making Mom his guardian. Or Rory."

"Setting up a trust won't be hard. He must be a year old by now."

"His birthday was last week. If I can keep him until he's two, it will be a blessing."

"Why can't you always keep him? He's your baby."

"The numbers are coming back."

Sheila needed to put that in perspective. As well as anyone, she knew how dangerous Rachel's disassociated states could be.

"You have enough money to hire nurses. And nannies. Doctors can treat your condition. There's no reason to give him up."

"I don't want to. Not ever. But the math isn't good," Rachel replied.

"If you tell Pamela, she'll understand. She'll help you."

"How can I? After running off like that? I must have hurt her so much. Rory, too. There was even a man I liked, and I ran out on him without hardly saying a word."

"Tom Harper?"

"How do you know Thomas?"

"Billy talks about him. Rory, too. They're good friends. Were you falling in love with him?"

"I think so, but that doesn't matter now. Those bridges are burned. All of my bridges are burned."

"Rachel, they are your family. Just like I am. They love you. They will always love you, no matter what. Do you want me to make contact for you?"

"Not yet. I need a little more time. My world, the world I've been living in, isn't always easy, but it's predictable. I understand the math. The numbers haven't been able to hurt me yet. I want to treasure it as long as I can."

"Thank you for trusting me in this," Sheila said, taking her hand.

"I've always trusted you, just like Daniel did. Is WHD really doing that well?"

"It's everything we thought it would be. Entire countries are seeking contracts. People are being treated in areas that never dreamed of the resources we offer."

"There are professors at Harvard you need to speak with," Rachel said.

"A new health program?"

"No, I've done everything I can on the Level 12 extension. The kids coming into the field have better skills than mine."

"I've noticed some of the young smart-alecks making fun of Dr. Cummings."

"Those young smart-alecks will take the program farther than I ever could. They are the future."

"What's this about Harvard?"

"I'm working with them on Level 14."

"Another matrix? What does it do?"

"If it works, it will be amazing," Rachel said.

* * * * * *

"Thomas Harper?"

"Yes, this is Tom Harper. Who is this?"

"My name is Sheila Marbury."

Tom was in his garage working on his boat, sanding the plywood hull. He'd been spending a lot of time the last two years working on projects while getting his certificate.

"Sheila Marbury? Of WHD?"

"Yes. We met once. At a party."

"Is this a joke?"

"Why would it be a joke?"

"Why would the head of the world's biggest corporation call me?"

"It's not the biggest."

"It's big enough. What's this about?"

"Are you still in love with my cousin?"

"Rory and I are just friends. And she's gay."

"Not Rory."

"Rachel? Have you heard from Rachel? Is she okay?"

"Yes, I saw her last night. But is she okay? That's harder to say."

"Where is she?" Tom asked.

"I can't say, but I'm trying to bring her home. She's afraid. She's afraid that the people she hurt won't forgive her."

"She doesn't have to be afraid of me," he insisted.

"You and Billy still get together, don't you?"

"Every few weeks. We go out on his boat, or he comes over here to work on mine."

"Don't tell him more than necessary," Sheila urged. "We don't want to scare Rachel off."

"I understand. Did Rachel mention me?"

"Mr. Harper--"

"Tom."

"Tom, she didn't say it in so many words, but Rachel is in love with you. She always has been. You have a right to know that."

"But she ran off without saying anything."

"Rachel isn't good at goodbyes. They're too painful for her, and to be honest, her psyche is too fragile. Her mother and I have tried to protect her, but Rachel can be a handful."

"What can I do?"

"That's up to you. I think we'll be able to bring her home in the next few weeks. If you want to be part of her life, you can be. But if life with a complicated and challenging woman isn't what you want, it's best you walk away."

"I understand."

"I'm leaving my number. If--"

"You call me," Tom responded. "Any day, anytime. I'll be there."

* * * * * *

Chapter Eight

MISTAKEN HOPES

After two years of searching, Pamela had finally found her lost daughter in a small mountain town. Now she had to bring her home.

"Nice and easy, Sam," Pamela said to her chauffeur as they drove down the steep road. "We're in no hurry now."

Pamela, Rachel and the baby rode in the back. In the van behind them, McLane was driving his mother. Unless traffic was bad, the trip would take less than three hours.

"I was thinking," Pamela said. "If going directly to Canby Place is too much, we can stop by my place in Brentwood. Rest up. Even spend the night."

"That's thoughtful, but it's best to get this over with," Rachel decided. "Growing up, I was always moving from place to place. I never thought I'd have a home. Anywhere. But Daniel gave me Canby Place, because he knew it's what I needed. Now I need to accept it."

"But you're afraid."

"Terribly afraid," Rachel confessed.

"Honey, you've challenged those horrible matrix systems. You took on the Dumbass Duo in their home studio, and dove in the ocean to save that little girl. You even charged into a fire to rescue Mr. Hammer's dog. None of those things scared you."

"I knew what I was doing then," Rachel explained. "I had plans, or I could do the math. I don't have a plan for this. There isn't any math."

"I know you think everyone is mad at you. They aren't, they're just confused. Those who know about Danny will understand. The rest don't matter."

They reached the Palos Verdes Peninsula and started up the hill toward the twelve-acre estate at the top. Isolated by ivy-covered rock walls, it was surrounded by sophisticated security systems. Their identities were verified at the entry arch before the heavy steel gate started to open.

"Calm down, dear. Calm down," Pamela said, seeing Rachel was anxious.

"The first time Daniel brought me here, I stayed the night. It was nice. He always treated me so well. And the next morning, I squeezed through the side gate and ran. Ran and ran. I don't even know what I was running from."

"I do," Pamela said. "It took me time to figure out, but it became obvious."

Rachel looked at her with curiosity. Pamela gazed into those big brown frightened eyes and couldn't resist giving her a hug.

"Let me try to explain what I see," Pamela said. "When Daniel first saw you, he wanted to have sex with you. That's the kind of man he was."

"It's the kind of man most men are," Rachel said.

"Yes. But then he learned how smart you are, and how much you could contribute to his company. You weren't just desirable; you were a corporate asset. A valuable corporate asset. Daniel must have thought he'd struck gold.

"He didn't bring you to Canby Place just to get you into his bed. He wanted you to be part of his world. A very important part. And that's what scared you. That's why you ran. It's why you always run. Because you don't feel deserving of that kind of love. But you are, dear. You are."

"I'm sorry to be so much trouble," Rachel said with a sniffle.

"We know you're trying. When it gets hard, ask for help. That's what family is for."

The gate was nearly open. Rachel gathered her courage.

"When we first met, you were very mean to me," she mentioned.

"Dearest, we've moved past--"

"No, listen. You were mean. You said no outsider was going to take things away from your children. You'd go to any lengths to protect them, and all I could think, was that I wished I'd had a mother like that. One who loved me that much. One who would fight for me. And then you started taking care of me, and protecting me. And said you wanted to be my mother."

Pamela saw tears pouring down Rachel's cheeks. She found tissues for her. Several tissues.

"You gave me hope when I had none, and I am so grateful," Rachel said. "Please know, I'll never run away from you again. Whatever happens. I promise."

"Thank you, dear. You're so special to me, too," Pamela answered. "You make the world fun to live in."

They drove up the narrow road to the parking circle. The long white Spanish-style house with a red tile roof loomed above beds of rose bushes. A bell tower at the end offered a spectacular view of the ocean. Sam jumped out to open the car door, but Rory beat him to it.

"Rach! Thank God. I've missed you so much," Rory said.

Rachel got out slowly, letting Pamela hold Danny.

"I missed you, too, Ro. I'm sorry I was gone so long."

"Is that your baby?" Rory asked. Rachel leaned forward to whisper.

"That is your nephew," Rachel confided.

Rory looked confused for a moment, then added up the dates.

"Johnny?"

Rachel nodded.

"We'll talk later," Rory whispered.

As Pamela helped Sam with the bags, Rory took the baby.

"He's cute. What's his name?" she asked.

"Daniel Jefferson Marbury," Rachel replied.

"After Dad? That is so great," Rory said. "By the way, I invited a friend for your homecoming."

Rachel turned toward the house and froze. A tall handsome man was standing in the shadows just inside the atrium.

"Tom?" Rachel mumbled.

Tom was surprised by Rachel's appearance. She looked strong, physically. But her shoulders drooped. Her eyes were filled with cares. She looked startled. Unsure. It was as Rory warned. For a moment, he wasn't sure what to do. And then he didn't care. He charged forward, lifting her up to cradle her in his arms. She weighed close to nothing.

"Welcome home, Rachel. I've missed you," he said.

"I'm sorry, Tom. I'm sorry for what I did."

"It doesn't matter. Nothing matters now that you're back."

Rachel sighed with relief, hugging his shoulders as he twirled her around. And then he paused, staring into her eyes, hoping for a kiss. He wasn't disappointed. It was long, and passionate, and desperate.

"You can put my sister down now, sailor," Rory finally interrupted, tapping him on the arm.

"Never again," Tom answered.

The gathering was kept small. Rory decided to wait before introducing Rachel to her new fiancée. Oliver said hello, then went up to the dining area to give the family space, sitting with McLane. Pamela gave Jackie a tour of the house. Martha fussed over the baby.

"We need to talk," Rachel said, taking Tom out on the patio.

It was early afternoon. The mid-March day was cold. She wanted to sit on the lawn, but it was too damp. They found a bench under a peach tree.

"The baby must be a surprise," Rachel said. "If you don't want to see me again, I understand. But you deserve an explanation."

"I take it the baby isn't mine," Tom said.

"No. John Benson's. When I finished my classes at Harvard, John took me out on the town. He had broken up with Alicia. You and I hadn't been talking. We slept together, and the next morning, I realized it was a terrible mistake. I didn't discover I was pregnant until January, after we had gotten back together. I'm very sorry."

"But you just ran off."

"Alicia and John had just gotten married. I couldn't tell them about this. And what would happen if the bloggers found out? Do you remember what they were saying after Daniel died?"

"Yes. It was bad," Tom admitted.

"This would have been even worse. For everybody. I needed to get away and sort things out. And then I lost the courage to come home."

Rachel paused, having no idea what he was thinking.

"I wanted to be there when you graduated. My unit was called up for a special mission, and we weren't allowed to communicate. If I had been with you, this wouldn't have happened."

"No, Tom, this is all my fault," Rachel said, starting to get up. "This is all on me. All of it. You've never been anything but wonderful."

Tom pulled her back down. He'd never seen her so unsure. So vulnerable.

"Danny's a cute baby," he said.

"I think so," Rachel agreed. "If you want to leave, that's okay. If you need time to think, I'll wait. For my part, I've spent the last two years thinking about you. But I'm ...."

"You're what?"

"I was afraid you'd hate me for sleeping with John. I allowed myself to be weak."

"We didn't have an understanding. You were free to sleep with whoever you wanted."

"No. I had a special place for you in my heart. I think there was a special place for me in yours."

"There still is. It will never go away," Tom promised.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Tom turned Rachel to look directly at her, then straightened his shoulders and stared deeply into her eyes.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked.

"I'm scanning you."

"You can scan people?"

"Yes."

"What do you see?"

"I see the woman I love."

Rachel burst into a smile, crawling into his lap for a kiss. For the first time that day, Tom saw the old Rachel. Happy. Feisty. And incredibly cute.

"What are your plans, now that you're back?" Tom asked.

"I'm completely clueless. When mother found me, I was working in a diner. Mostly cooking, but I also cleaned the kitchen and took out the trash. I don't know if any of the local coffee shops are hiring."

"I hope you're being funny."

"Just a little, but there is bad news."

"I'm ready."

"I didn't have much trouble with the numbers at Harvard. The constant activity and my medication were working. And the numbers disappeared when I was pregnant, which I still don't understand. But lately, they've started coming back. From time to time, I may slip into a haze."

"Don't worry, we'll keep those numbers under control. And if you have rough days, I'll be here with you."

"Will you be my boyfriend?" Rachel asked.

"I've been your boyfriend since the day Rory introduced us. And one day, I'm going to be more than your boyfriend. Does that scare you?"

"It doesn't scare me at all," Rachel said.

* * * * * *

Pamela wasn't taking any chances. She spent several nights a week at Canby Place. She had Rory and Ashley spend time there, and William and Samantha. Dr. Belcher was summoned to resume Rachel's therapy sessions. New medicines were ordered from Dr. Keller at the Swiss Institute. Sheila had Rachel come down to WHD on the premise of doing consulting work, though the youngsters had taken up the slack in her absence.

"We're going to keep her engaged," Pamela explained to her conspirators on a rainy April morning. "These last three weeks have gone wonderfully. She's swimming, playing tennis, golfing, and laughing when she plays with Danny. She's had a few hazes, but no bad ones. I need to thank everyone. I realize this has taken a lot of your time."

Rory and William, their girlfriends, and Tom were gathered around the picnic table while Rachel was taking a nap.

"Mom, speaking for Ash and me, we love helping Rachel," Rory said. "It's not like Canby is a rotten place to hang out."

"Helping Rachel is special for me," Samantha said, holding William's hand. "She's not just a friend. She saves people. Her new project might save the world. Just being here is an honor."

"Don't tell Rachel that," Tom warned. "She's already self-conscious about all the attention. If there was a computer program that could erase her image off the internet, she'd be using it."

"Speaking of attention, the news media still knows nothing about D. J.," Rory said. "That won't last forever. One day Rachel will want to take him to the park, or the beach. People will take pictures."

"That's been worrying her," Pamela mentioned.

"Let's tell them Danny is my son," Tom suggested.

"We can't ask you to do that," Pamela said.

"No one is asking. I'd be proud to be Danny's father, and it would take a lot of pressure off Rachel," he insisted.

"It would solve the problem," Pamela agreed.

"What will Rachel think?" William asked. "She's good at keeping secrets, but she's a terrible liar. I don't think she even knows how to lie."

"I'll do the lying," Tom said. "Rachel won't have to say a word."

"You'd do that for her?" Pamela asked.

"Mrs. Benson, I'll do anything for her. And no one here should be surprised. You all love her. I just love her more."

"Because she's pretty?" Rory said, making everyone laugh. Tom looked embarrassed.

"I'll approach Rachel about Tom's proposal," Pamela said. "She's been in and out of hazes the last two days. Mild, but noticeable."

"Is it Level 14?" Ashley inquired. "Mrs. McLane says it was stressing her out in Ketchum, and now she works on it every day."

"I'll get her to back off," Rory said. "Sheba and I will schedule a girl's night at O'Casey's. Billy can take her out on the yacht. Mom can take her to the shooting range. Tom can ... well, we all know what Tom can do."

Everyone laughed. Tom was even more embarrassed than before.

"We'll be having my 60th birthday party next weekend at my place in Brentwood," Pamela reminded. "Johnny and Allie are flying in. Aunt Hattie is coming, too. Parking is limited, so you may wish to get a town car or carpool."

* * * * * *

"Everyone is keeping me so busy," Rachel said, lining up her putt on the 18th green. Rory, Samantha and Ashley were with her. Beyond them rose an impressive three-story ivy-covered mansion built in the 1920s by a movie mogul. Now it was a country club.

"Mom got you a birthday present," Rory said. "A membership at the Royal Titans."

"Here?" Rachel said in surprise. "But my birthday isn't until July."

"It's Mom's birthday and getting you to the club regularly is her present to herself," Rory explained.

"Golf is fun, even if I'm not very good," Rachel said.

"You're no worse than I am," Samantha said. "Billy's still teaching me, and he's not very good, either."

They turned to look at Ashley. Tall and thin with long red hair and freckles.

"I'm a doctor," Ashley said. "We play every Wednesday afternoon. We all play great."

"Then you're buying the drinks," Samantha said.

"I can buy the drinks," Rachel offered.

"You're our guest," Ashley disagreed.

"I'm the guest too often. I need to start paying my own way," Rachel insisted.

"In that case, you can buy dinner," Rory said.

* * * * * *

April 12th was Pamela's birthday celebration. Her Brentwood mansion was decked out for the party, a live band had been hired, and scores of guests invited. Oliver was hoping Pamela would finally commit to a wedding date.

At Canby Place, Rachel was getting ready. Rory and Ashley had taken her shopping for a new dress. Her first non-maternity dress since leaving for Harvard. Martha was helping while Jackie watched the baby in the living room. There was a knock on the door.

"Hello, are you Mrs. McLane?" John said.

"Yes," Jackie answered.

"I'm John Benson. This is my wife, Allie. We're hoping to leave our car here and carpool to the party."

Jackie was caught off-guard but opened the door for them.

"I haven't been here for a while," John said. "How's Rachel? Is she home?"

"She's doing her makeup. My son will be back in a few minutes."

"Is that Rachel's baby?" Alicia said, rushing down into the living room. Not really a baby anymore, twenty-month-old Daniel Marbury was standing up in his playpen. He had curly auburn hair, hazel eyes, and a ready smile.

"He's so cute," Alicia complimented. "Our twins are fourteen months old now. Lisa and Gabriel. Gabe still doesn't talk much. Lisa never shuts up. This is the first time I've been away from them since they were born. Mom and Dad are taking care of them in Beacon Hill."

"They've been a handful," John said, also admiring Rachel's son. "How is D. J.? Smart like his mother? How many languages does he speak?"

"Only English and Spanish so far," Jackie said. "Talkative little tyke, but I haven't heard him spout any of Einstein's theories yet."

"It's coming. I heard Rachel was quoting the Bible when she was four," John said.

"Wouldn't surprise me none," Jackie replied.

Rachel heard the voices and emerged from the hallway, unhappily surprised but trying not to show it.

"Hello John. Allie. What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Getting a ride. No parking around Mom's house on a party night. You'll give us a lift, won't you?" John asked. "It will give us a chance to catch up."

"Of course. It will be fun. You'll need to fill me in on the twins," Rachel said. "Mrs. McLane, will you take the baby to the nursery?"

Jackie got the hint and hustled him off. Alicia was watching. Something about that baby seemed very familiar.

Pamela's birthday was a lavish affair, and the first time many had seen Rachel since her return a month before. Stories about her mysterious disappearance were whispered, but none were confirmed. Rory arrived with Ashley and a bevy of Marbury cousins, all formally dressed. Rachel's outfit was more modest. Tom looked handsome in a dark blue suit.

"Having a good time?" Alicia asked Rachel, standing near the pool where blue and gold streamers decorated the trees.

"It's crowded," Rachel said, sipping champagne.

"So, you and Tom are together again? Like you were before you left for Harvard?"

"Yes. He's very nice."

"John and I always liked him. Did he know about the baby? When you left?" Alicia asked.

Rachel seemed startled by the question.

"Excuse me," she said, departing quickly.

John arrived with refills, handing a champagne glass to Alicia.

"Have you noticed Rachel's baby doesn't look anything like Tom?" Alicia said.

"No. Why?"

"You saw Rachel often in Boston, didn't you?"

"We had lunch every week or two."

"Nothing more?"

"Why are you asking?" John guardedly said.

"Tom has sandy blond hair. Rachel is a brunette. D. J.'s hair is dark red. D. J.'s eyes are hazel. Tom has blue eyes. Rachel has brown eyes."

"It's really none of our business," John said.

"You need to be honest. Were you having an affair with Rachel? Is that why you wanted to break up with me?"

"No, that's not what happened."

"What did happen?" Alicia pressed.

"It's old history now. I married you."

"Johnny, D. J. has hazel eyes and auburn hair, like your father. He has your dimpled cheeks. D. J. is a Benson baby. Either you or Billy is the father. I'm sure of it."

John took a seat near the pool, playing with his drink and doing the arithmetic.

"My God," he muttered. Alicia sat next to him, angry.

"I want an explanation," she demanded.

"We had one night together. Only one," he explained. "Weeks after you and I broke up. The next morning, Rachel said it was a mistake. She said I should call you and patch things up."

Alicia remembered Rachel meeting her for lunch that day. Convincing her to get back together. Suddenly it all made sense.

"So D. J. is your son? And you never told me?"

"I don't know that D. J. is my son. Rachel has never said anything like that. Never even hinted it."

"But it's possible?"

"It's possible."

"You should have told me what happened. You should have been honest. Rachel should have been honest."

"If this is true, Rachel should have told me."

"We need to know, John. We can't have this hanging over us."

"You're right," he agreed. "And if D. J. really is my son, he belongs with us. Not a mentally ill woman who runs away every time there are problems."

* * * * * *

"Are you all right, honey? You've been quiet these last few weeks," Sheila said as they stood outside WHD headquarters. It was a blue April day. Bob McLane stood nearby, keeping watch.

"A little preoccupied," Rachel admitted.

"Still laying out your plans for Level 14?"

"No, I've set Level 14 aside for now."

"But you were so excited."

"The numbers have been bothering me. Something is wrong."

"Let's have lunch," Sheila suggested. "Whatever it is, we can talk it out."

A man in a rumpled brown suit approached. McLane momentarily blocked him, but the man showed his hands only held an envelope.

"Miss Rachel Marbury?" the intruder asked.

"Yes?" Rachel said.

"You have been served," the man informed.

He put the envelope in Rachel's hand and quickly departed. Rachel opened it as Sheila looked over her shoulder.

"That fucker," Sheila cursed.

Rachel dropped the document and ran into the park, sitting under a tree with her knees drawn up. Sheila picked the notice up.

"What is it?" McLane asked.

"John is claiming D. J. is his son. He's suing for custody."

"How did he find out?" McLane wondered.

"I don't know. But this is going to be bad," Sheila said, seeing Rachel crying. "And just when she was finally getting her life back together."

"What are you going to do?" McLane inquired.

"John may be a good lawyer, but I've got good lawyers, too. The best. If he doesn't back off, I'll go after him with everything I have. I love Rachel. No one is screwing her over while I can help it, Benson or no Benson."

"I'll get her back to Canby Place," McLane decided. "You should call Pam. She needs to know this right away."

* * * * * *

Pamela didn't wait for her chauffeur, speeding her BMW to Canby Place and stopping haphazardly in the parking circle. She rushed in the house, finding Jackie tending Danny in the sunken living room. Martha was in the kitchen making tea. McLane was sitting at the dining table reading reports. Everyone looked grim.

"Where's Rachel?" Pamela asked.

"Out back. Up on the hill," Jackie said. "She doesn't want the baby seeing her like this."

Pamela ran out on the patio and looked around. The grounds rose in three gradual terraces to the crest of the hill, filled with gardens, an orchard, and oak trees.

"Oh my God," she said, seeing Rachel sitting in the grass on the second terrace. It was the same spot where her ex-husband had died, while Rachel lay trapped underneath him. She had almost died of exposure that night, rescued the next morning when the gardeners unexpectedly arrived to finish trimming trees.

Pamela didn't hear any crying as she walked up the brick path and out on the lawn. Rachel was sitting still. Pamela sat next to her.

"I heard what happened," Pamela said, taking her hand.

Rachel didn't respond. Pamela checked to see if she was in a haze. There were mild symptoms, but she seemed reasonably alert.

"I'm so sorry. I brought you back from Ketchum. I told you everything would be okay."

"This isn't your fault," Rachel said without looking at her.

"I feel like it is."

"I couldn't hide in Ketchum forever. I always knew that. Danny needs to have a family. A family who loves him. Not like the family I had. D. J. isn't even a real name. I gave him initials so strangers wouldn't know his name was Daniel."

"What do you want to do? Sheila and Oliver are reviewing the court filing. We won't let them take Danny away from you."

"The scandal is going to be awful. Danny will be known as the slave girl's love child. How could I do that to him?"

Rachel rolled over in the grass, curled in a ball. She still wasn't crying, which had Pamela worried.

"It won't be so bad. You'll see," Pamela said. Though she suspected Rachel might be right. "I almost didn't expect to find you here."

"Did you think I'd run off again?"

"It was a fear."

"I promised never to run away from you again. No matter what. You're my mother. I love you."

Pamela lay down next to her, holding her shoulders.

"We'll get through this, sweetheart," Pamela promised.

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked.

"Dearest, you're not only the daughter I love; you're the mother of my first grandchild. He is a wonderful little boy, and I am so proud of him. And of you."

* * * * * *

The confrontation in the courthouse hallway was uncomfortable. And not private. When Rory saw John and Alicia standing with their lawyers, she went after them.

"You are a despicable piece of shit. You know that, don't you?" Rory said, her fists clenched.

"This isn't any of your business, Ro," John answered, trying to avoid her.

"The hell it isn't. You and Allie wouldn't even be together if not for Rach. You dumped her scrawny bitch ass. Remember?"

One of John's lawyers moved in front of her as John and Alicia retreated. The corridor was crowded with attorneys, court personnel, witnesses, and reporters.

"Where are you going?" Rory called after him. "Running? You coward! You goddamn coward!"

"Let's not do this here, Miss Benson," John's lawyer cautioned, guarding his client.

"But you're doing it in the press, aren't you? Calling Rachel crazy? Saying she's an unfit mother? Isn't that what your paid-off media whores are saying?"

John turned his back to walk away.

"How did you get Rachel pregnant, Johnny? Did you get her drunk and rape her?" Rory shouted.

John turned around in shock. Alicia pulled him back. Pamela and Oliver rushed forward to get Rory.

"Come on, Ro, this isn't helping," Oliver urged, drawing Rory away.

Pamela remained. Staring. John had never seen his mother so cold. So unforgiving. Alicia took John to a quiet corner where they could talk.

"I'm sorry, John. I was so mad about you and Rachel. I had no idea anything like this would happen," Alicia quietly said.

"Did I?" John pondered.

"Did you what?"

"Did I rape her?"

"John, what are you saying?"

"Rachel wasn't asking for more alcohol that night. I was the one who kept ordering the drinks. When she got wet falling on the ice, I took her to a hotel instead of taking her home. Then instead of going to my room, I went into hers. And ordered champagne. I gave Rachel's clothes to room service, so all she had to wear was a robe."

"Was she resisting you? Did she say no?"

"No, she seemed okay. But sometimes Rachel goes into a haze. You've seen it. And we'd had a lot to drink. Did I take advantage of her?"

"Have you ever asked her about it?"

"We got up early the next morning and never talked about it again."

"We have a life, John. Children. You need to have your lawyer on top of this before it ruins everything," Alicia said, suddenly afraid.

"Yeah, I guess that's the world we live in, isn't it?"

At the far end of the hallway, Rachel was sitting in a conference room with William and Samantha. Bob McLane's security detail occupied the hall. McLane and Tom guarded the door. When a reporter tried to push his way in, McLane shoved him back.

"They'll call our case soon. It won't be much longer," William said. "A few hours from now this will all be over."

Rachel nodded but didn't respond. She mostly stared at the floor. Pamela, Rory and Oliver entered.

"We're prepared," Oliver said, carrying a stack of legal briefs. "The DNA evidence they used to identify D. J. as John's son was illegally obtained. We think Alicia stole one of his pacifiers when they were at Canby Place."

"We'll add theft to the other charges we're filing," Pamela said.

* * * * * *

The courtroom was full, mostly with spectators. Rachel sat at the defendant's table with Oliver, Pamela and Rory. Sitting directly behind her was Tom, William, Samantha, and a dozen Marbury relations. Most prominent among them was 83-year-old Hattie Marbury, the family patriarch. Gray-haired, plump, and formidable.

Judge Michael Nedrow entered, sitting on the high bench. He looked surprised by the large crowd.

"The case of Benson v Marbury for the custody of Daniel Jefferson Marbury," the bailiff announced. "This court is now in session."

"Opening remarks?" Judge Nedrow requested.

"Your honor, Raymond Shelford for the plaintiff," a heavyset middle-aged attorney said. "We will show that the birth of my client's son was concealed from him by an unfit mother too mentally unstable to be trusted with the child's upbringing."

Oliver stood to object, but Pamela pulled him down, rising to take his place.

"Your honor, Pamela Benson, assisting my daughter's defense," Pamela announced. "We will show this is a vindictive persecution by my own son, whose lack of integrity and weak moral character make him unfit to be a father." Then she looked at John with daggers, making it clear the price that was going to be paid.

"Call the first witness," Judge Nedrow ordered.

"We call Mrs. Livia Dombrowski," Shelford said, waiting as an elderly lady in a black widow dress took the stand.

"Mrs. Dombrowski, are you familiar with Rachel Montgomery?" Shelford asked.

"Why sure. I knows her real good. Me and my late husband, God rest his soul, fostered her for a time."

"How old was Miss Montgomery when in your care?"

"Oh, I'd say fourteen or thereabouts."

"Would you describe her as mentally stable?"

"Heavens no, sir. That little bitty is mad as a March hare. Always screamin' or kickin', or staring off into space for hours at a time. Not movin' a 'tal, you understand. Just starin'."

"Did you ever learn an explanation for this strange behavior?" Shelford persisted. The witness leaned forward, as if wishing to speak confidentially, but her voice was loud enough.

"Story had it she was attacked by the Wilkins' boy. They was foster parents, too. But you know how it is with these pretty little things. They's always claimin' rape."

"Your honor! Objection!" Oliver shouted.

"Objection sustained. The witness will confine herself to facts," Judge Nedrow said.

"What happened to this so-called attacker?" Shelford persisted.

"That poor boy. He was in the army, you know. Well, the little bitty there broke his jaw with a claw hammer. Then the army sent him to Afghanistan where he got killed. Very sad."

"Broke his jaw? With a hammer?" Shelford emphasized.

"Broke it in three places, and knocked out some teeth. That poor boy had to get all wired up," Mrs. Dombrowski confirmed.

"No more questions, your honor," Shelford said. Oliver was quickly on his feet.

"Mrs. Dombrowski, isn't it true that the Wilkins' son had been raping my client for months? And that after finally defending herself, he beat her so badly she ended up in the hospital? In a coma?"

"Don't know nothin' 'bout that," the witness replied. "Just knows what I know."

"No more questions," Oliver said.

"They sent that girl to the insane asylum," Mrs. Dombrowski suddenly blurted. "Mad as a March hare, that one."

It was too late to object. Oliver let it drop.

The testimony didn't get any better. A nurse from the Lancaster Medical Center told of the night Rachel's father had been brought in with his ear sliced open. According to Rachel's mother, her daughter had cut him with a broken vodka bottle for no reason.

An intern who treated Rachel at the Palmdale County mental facility described her as belligerent, often strapped to a table and fed drugs to keep her wild mood swings under control. It lasted for three months.

A former co-worker from Marbury & Benson testified that Rachel was rude and uncompromising, sometimes walking away from a conversation without notice.

"Mother, this has to stop," Rory whispered.

"We'll get our turn at bat," Pamela said. "And when we do, people are going to get hurt a lot worse than this."

She glanced at the plaintiff's table, seeing John looking uncomfortable. She didn't care. He was going to be a lot more uncomfortable by the time she got through with him.

The day grew late as one witness after another testified to Rachel's emotional issues over the years. A rather caustic witness, a patron of O'Casey's Tavern, began to tell a story he'd overheard while sitting in a booth behind Daniel Benson. The story began with Benson tying Rachel up and was about to get worse.

"Your honor, my I speak with counsel for a moment?" John requested. The judge agreed. John drew Shelford aside.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Dragging my father into this," John whispered.

"This is a good witness. He'll testify that Montgomery kicked your father in the face and broke his nose."

"I don't give a damn what he'll say. Shut it down. Shut it down now or you'll be back in night court."

The witness was excused.

"Your honor," Shelford said. "Our last witness is Mr. Gresley Faulkner, the respected journalist, who will show that Rachel Montgomery's concealment of her illicit child was not based on the child's welfare, but her urgent desire to avoid alienating wealthy family members. We have seen in these proceedings one witness after another referring to her as Montgomery, when in fact, her legal name was changed to Marbury. But no effort to employ false identities can shield her from this shameful scheme."

Gresley Faulkner, who had lost his daytime television show several years before when Rachel exposed his snickering misogyny, rose to take the stand.

Suddenly, an elderly woman stood up and pushed her way out to the aisle.

"Who is that?" someone in the back asked.

"It's Hattie Marbury," a reporter said. "Some say she's the third richest woman in America. Some say she's the richest, if all her assets were known."

Hattie paused for dramatic effect, well-accustomed to public performances, and then approached the defendant's table.

"Aunt Hattie?" Pamela said.

"Rory, give me your seat," Hattie said, hurrying her out of the way.

Then Hattie sat down next to Rachel, took her hand, and gazed defiantly at John's lawyer.

"Were you about to say something about my family, Mr. Shelford?" Hattie growled.

Shelford went back to confer with John. Faulkner was excused from testifying.

"As the day is late, this court will reconvene tomorrow at 10 a. m.," the judge announced, pounding his gavel. The courtroom burst into commentary.

"Rachel, dear, how are you doing?" Hattie asked, brushing her hair back.

"I'm okay," Rachel replied.

"That may not be true," Hattie observed, thinking Rachel looked dazed. "I want you to know that the family understands all of this. We know what you sacrificed to avoid a scandal. I am behind you. We are all behind you. Aunt May, Stacy-Jean, Uncle Sherbet. Everybody. Today may not have gone well, but my great-nephew is going to learn what it's like to feel the full wrath of the Marbury family."

"This isn't what I wanted, Aunt Hattie. This is so awful."

"Please know that we have loved you since that first Christmas morning in Aspen, when you showed the family how sweet, and caring, and honest you are. Even though you were calling us out for our snobbery. I love you like a granddaughter, and we Marburys always stand by our own. Don't give up hope."

"I'll try not to. Thank you, Aunt Hattie," Rachel said. Hattie gave her a hug.

Hattie's remarks were not private, nor were they intended to be. Half a dozen reporters were texting their editors.

"Pammy, you take care of this girl. Whatever she needs, you let me know," Hattie insisted.

"This is so appreciated, Auntie," Pamela replied.

"Everything you told us that morning at Marbury House has proven true," Hattie said. "Nothing that happens in this courtroom will ever change that."

* * * * * * *

The judge has declared that the case will resume at 10 o'clock the next morning. The battle lines are drawn for a long and vicious fight. That's not going to happen. No one realizes it yet, but in a matter of hours, everything is going to change.