Rachel Running on Empty Pt. 08

Rachel Running on Empty Part Eight

by G. Lawrence

Tom and the Bensons rally to rescue Rachel

This is not an erotic story, though it does have romance. It has featured family drama, adventure, elements of fantasy, and science fiction (understated, for this is not a science fiction book). 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 8 of 8.

Recap: Rachel has been shot while learning the location of Joanna's kidnapped baby. Tom and the Benson family arrived just in time to help, but the odds in this small frontier town are stacked against them. It's good guys vs the outlaws to the finish.

* * * * * *

Chapter Fifteen

The Juniper Massacre

The sun had come up when they pulled into the casino parking lot. Tom had the AR-15 ready. They found a group of people waiting for them, including Mr. Beggs, Jesse, Bartender Sam, Maisie, Flo, and the Reverend Jaime. And two of the town's medical professionals.

"My name is Miles Rogers. I'm an EMT," Miles said through the driver window. "This is my wife, Patty. She's a nurse. Peter Cassell called. Told us Katie's been shot, and that Mason's on the way. We need to get her inside."

"LeRoy Beggs," Beggs said through the other window. "Katie worked for me. My casino is like a fort, but we've got to move."

They had a stretcher ready. Covered with a blanket, Rachel was gently moved from the car and rushed inside. The front doors were instantly barred. Four men and two women stood guard inside holding guns.

"Get her into the kitchen. She'll be warm there," Beggs urged.

"We moved a bed and supplies from the clinic," Patty added. "Katie's type O. We brought all we had."

Patty helped Rory and Tom put Rachel on the bed. She groaned, which they took as a good sign. Miles quickly attached IVs.

"Full disclosure," Patty confessed, trying to make Rachel comfortable. "My husband and I have taken money from Mason, but we were never part of this dirty business. And we love Katie. What they did to Joanna was horrible. We're here for whatever you need."

"I'm Rory Benson. If you've heard of me, yes, I'm that Rory Benson. But I'm a nurse now, not a playgirl. This is my brother, Bill Benson. The tall, good-looking man over there is Lt. Commander Thomas Harper, U. S. Navy. And this woman's name isn't Katie. You know her as Rachel Montgomery."

"Rachel Montgomery? Who invented WHD?" Patty said.

"One and the same. She's been missing for a month. From a hospital," Rory related.

"That explains a lot. Katie--that is, Rachel came here with amnesia," Patty recalled. Miles peeled back the blanket.

"Jesus Christ," he exclaimed.

They found Rachel caked in blood-soaked sand. She'd been beaten, her face swollen. There were abrasions on her knees and elbows.

"The gunshot is serious," Miles decided. "It's a miracle she didn't bleed out."

Rory and Patty gently cut away Rachel's clothes, sponging off the worst of the sand. Miles probed the wound, trying to swab out the dirt.

"It's not a through and through," he surmised, searching for an exit wound. "Wish we had the x-ray machine."

"Wish we were in the ER," Patty said, rinsing a bloody towel in soapy water.

Miles continued to probe, reaching around until feeling a lump in her back.

"I found it," he announced. "The bullet hit a rib and deflected downward. It's right here, just below the surface. Feel that bump?" He stepped aside, letting Rory examine the area.

"Have you treated a lot of wounds like this?" she asked.

"Enough to know that nothing good happens by leaving the bullet in her," Miles said.

"What are you suggesting?" Rory asked.

"We can remove it with a shallow incision," Miles replied. "It will relieve pressure and let us clean the damaged tissue."

"Okay, let's get her prepped," Rory agreed.

"I've got the camera. We'll make this quick," Patty said, getting ready to take photos.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tom asked, blocking her, for Rachel was only covered by a scrap of bloody sheet.

"Katie is a crime victim," Patty said. "This is evidence. Evidence that will put her attackers in prison."

"Tom, she's right," Rory said. "I don't like it, either. But at the clinic where Ashley and I volunteer, it's necessary. Rachel deserves justice."

"The moment she's stabilized, we're getting her out of here," Tom said, reluctantly stepping aside.

"That's going to be tough," Beggs warned, sticking his head in the door. "We've got company."

With Rachel in capable hands, Tom and William went to the front of the building. Eight cars had formed a barrier across the driveway. Twenty men, looking well-armed, were standing behind them. Two were wearing sheriff's uniforms.

"How much ammunition do we have?" Tom asked.

"Enough to hold them off for a while," Beggs said. "But if that army gets any bigger, we're in trouble."

"They're the ones who are in trouble," William said, holding a borrowed hunting rifle.

"You know how to use that, boy?" Beggs asked.

"I've sailed my yacht into waters we weren't supposed to go," William answered. "I've shot at pirates when I needed to."

"Ever hit one?" Beggs inquired.

"Not yet," William admitted.

"Navy?" Beggs said, turning to Tom.

"Special Operations," Tom answered. "And yes, I've shot people."

"Let's hope you don't need to this time," Beggs said.

In the kitchen, Rory and Miles finished removing the bullet. Temporary sutures were used until the wound could be closed properly. Patty was trying to wash the blood out of Rachel's hair. Their patient was lying still but did not seem in distress.

Rory paused, taking a deep breath, her heart full to find Rachel again even in such circumstances. Weeks of fear could be put aside. She leaned over, giving a gentle kiss on the cheek. Rachel's eyes opened.

"Rory?"

"Yes, sweetie, it's me," Rory said with relief, taking her hand.

"Am I dead?" Rachel asked.

"You aren't dead," Rory assured her.

"It must be a dream," Rachel whispered, looking confused.

"No, I'm really here, and you're going to be fine. We've got this under control."

"Patty? Miles?" Rachel asked. Patty leaned over so she wouldn't have to talk too loudly.

"Peter called us. He told us what happened. We're so sorry," she said.

"Oh my God! I shot Peter! Why did I do that? Is he--" she shouted, trying to sit up. Patty used both hands to keep her down.

"He's fine. Already at a hospital. He's worried about you," Patty responded.

"I killed his father," Rachel remembered.

"The son of a bitch had it coming," Miles grunted. "Is it true? Joanna is dead?"

Rachel nodded, unable to say it.

"You take it easy," Patty said. "We won't let anyone hurt you."

"Call Mr. Silverhawk. Hurry. Tell him," Rachel muttered.

"Tell him what?" Miles asked.

"Little Bear is alive. In the woods. Above the Cassell cabin. She needs help."

Rachel wanted to say more, but lacked the strength. She rested back, closing her eyes. Miles left the room to make the call.

"You're her sister?" Patty asked.

"It's a long story," Rory replied. "Rachel was engaged to my father. After he died, my mother adopted her."

"I hadn't heard about that."

"Rach doesn't like publicity. She never has."

After the besiegers had their lines set, a sheriff's deputy came forward waving a white handkerchief. Beggs opened the door and prepared to meet him.

"I've got this," Tom said, handing his rifle to Sam but keeping a pistol in his belt.

"I'm going, too," William said.

"Best to wait," Tom cautioned.

"I have as much right to fight for Rach as you do," William insisted.

Tom and William only took one step out, waiting under the portico. The deputy stopped a few paces away.

"I'm Deputy Sheriff Rafael Manning," the officer said. "Sheriff Cassell has been murdered. A source says Katie Smith was with him. I suggest you stand aside while we take her in for questioning."

"My name is Lt. Commander Thomas Harper, United States Naval Reserve. I suggest you head for the border while you still can."

"I represent the law here."

"We've seen your law," William said. "My family has crooked lawyers, too. Much crookeder than yours."

"And who would you be?" Manning asked.

"William Daniel Benson. My mother is Pamela Benson. My great-aunt is Hattie Marbury."

"Marbury?" Manning said, taking a step back.

"That's right, you son of a bitch," William said. "You're coming after the most powerful family in America, and it's not going to end well for you."

The deputy retreated to the siege line, conversing with a large middle-aged man in an expensive blue suit. He wore a black cowboy hat and was puffing a cigar. William wondered if it was the infamous Mason that Sheila had told them about. The deputy returned.

"There's a report that Miss Smith has evidence concerning the disappearance of Joanna Silverhawk. If we could have this evidence, to enhance our investigation, we'll interview Miss Smith another time. Though she won't be allowed to leave our jurisdiction."

"You can go--" William started to say.

"Thank you, deputy. We'll consider your demands," Tom said, pulling William back inside and blocking the door. He briefly advised Beggs to keep watch on the windows and went to the kitchen. Rachel was conscious, though weak, covered by a wool blanket.

"Rach? Rach, can you hear me?" he whispered, leaning close. Rachel opened her eyes, surprised. It didn't seem possible.

"Tom?"

"I'm right here, sweetheart. Everything is going to be okay," he assured her.

"Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry," she said, trying to reach out.

"Don't worry about that now," he replied, squeezing her hand. "What's this evidence that has Mason so worried?"

"Evidence?"

"Proof about a kidnapping."

"Oh, that. I made it up," Rachel said.

"Made it up?" he questioned.

"I wanted to push them into making a mistake."

"Is this how your plan was supposed to go?" Tom asked, checking the IVs.

"Actually, it's an improvement," Rachel explained.

"If this Mason guy thinks Rach has dirt on him, he won't let it go," Rory warned.

"Yeah, they've made that clear," Tom acknowledged. Rachel read their expressions and knew what it meant.

"It's me they want," she said, struggling to sit up. Rory kept her still.

"It doesn't matter what they want," William said, appearing at her bedside still holding the hunting rifle. "They're not coming anywhere near you."

"William? You're here, too? Are all of you in danger because of me?" Rachel asked.

"There's no place else in the world we'd rather be," William insisted.

"He's got that right," Rory agreed.

"Save your strength, sweet stuff," Tom said. "We'll talk later."

"Tom? What I did. When I ran--"

"Rachel, you may be really smart, but I'm more than a dumb sailor," he interrupted. "I get this. I get all of it. Now stay calm and let us take care of this."

He bent over, kissed her on the forehead, and then kissed her slowly on the lips. They heard gunshots, causing the men to run for the front.

"This is all my fault," Rachel lamented.

"None of this is your fault, honey," Rory disagreed. "Mr. Barnes told us the whole story. About forgetting so much. Now you need to rest. You've fought for us so many times. It's our turn to fight for you."

Rachel wanted to say more, but she'd run out of energy. Patty tucked another blanket around her, keeping their patient warm.

"You guys have this. I'm going to find a gun," Miles said.

The gunfire stopped after just a few moments. There was a disturbance in the parking lot.

"Who's that?" William asked.

"It's Grubby Barnes," Beggs said, seeing the old prospector riding a long-eared mule through enemy lines. No one was stopping him. He dismounted and knocked on the door. Both man and mule entered.

"You youngsters sure gots yourselves in a pickle, don't ya?" Grubby said. "Don't worry none. I got this all fixed."

"How is it fixed?" Beggs asked.

"I told Manning I'd get y'all to surrender peaceable," Grubby replied.

"We're not surrendering," Tom said.

"You ain't? Are ya sure?" Grubby pressed.

"We're sure," Sam replied from behind the bar.

"Well, reckon I done my darndest. Best find a stall for ole' Hank here and git me a scatter gun. How's the little girl doing?"

"Worried about you," Beggs said.

Grubby parked his mule in Beggs' office and went to check on Rachel. It was worse than he thought. Rachel was getting blood transfusions. There was a morphine drip. Rory was administering oxygen. Patty was still trying to wash the gore out of her hair.

"Well, Pebble, looks like you gots the trouble you was after," Grubby said, pulling up a chair and taking out a flask. "Care for a snort? Kentucky's best."

"Maybe later," Rachel answered, relieved to see him. "Grubby, I figured it out. I know why Mason wants the land."

"And how would that be?" he asked. She motioned for him to lean over so she could whisper.

"The hot springs. Juniper's hot springs. They didn't dry up. Mining operations pushed them underground. With the right equipment, they can be restored. People will come from all over to see them. They'll need a hotel. Restaurants. Casinos. The land will be worth a fortune."

"That's right interestin', but don't worry your pretty little head about that now. Soon as you git well, we'll saddle Sarah up for ya and go lookin' for them springs. Sound good?"

"Yes, sir," Rachel said. "Grubby? Something very important. There's a list of numbers in your cookie jar. Don't lose them."

As Grubby went to confer with Beggs, the Reverend Jaime entered.

"Not to worry, ladies. Our brave boys haven't fired a shot yet," he said. "I don't believe we've been introduced, Miss Benson."

Rory found the tall, quirky man in the stovepipe hat interesting. A showman of some sort, though she had no clue what he was selling.

"Thank you for helping my sister," Rory said.

"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10."

Now Rory knew what he was selling.

"Does anyone have a plan?" Rory asked.

"We're holding a war council," Jaime replied, leaning over Rachel with a smile. "So, I was out-Bibled by Rachel Montgomery? The most brilliant woman in the world?"

"Katie Smith could have kicked your ass, too," Rachel bragged.

Jaime held up his Bible in one hand, and lightly set the other on Rachel's arm, whispering a prayer. Then he returned to the battle. There were several more shots out front, and then another lull. Rory took out her phone.

"Who are you calling?" Patty asked.

"The cavalry," Rory replied. "Mom? Mom?"

There was background noise on the line, making it hard to hear at first. The signal boosted.

"Rory, thank God. Are you all right?" Pamela asked.

"We're hanging on in this casino place. The Shovel, just like Mr. Barnes said. There are dozens of men with guns outside. They've started shooting."

"Keep your heads down, we're almost there."

"We?"

"I'm coming, too," Pamela said.

"Mom, you shouldn't--"

"We're all in this together, dear. I love you."

Pamela hung up, looking worried.

"Bad?" Big Bob asked, sitting next to her.

"The shooting has started," Pamela said. "When we get there, find the kids. Stay with the medics."

"Can't do that, Mrs. Benson."

"You have your girls to think of."

"And another laying shot in some godforsaken hellhole," Bob said, checking the magazine on his automatic rifle.

"Be careful," Pamela urged.

"Probably more careful than you're going to be."

Pamela adjusted her Kevlar vest and checked the chamber of her Glock 43.

"Those gangsters hurt my daughter," Pamela said. "They're the ones who better be careful."

* * * * * *

"Mom says to hold on, they're coming," Rory reported.

Beggs had everyone not needed at the windows gathered around the bar. The drinks were free.

"Getting help will be tough," Beggs said. "The nearest airport is in Wells. They can block the road coming up."

"There's a small runway at Jackpot, but that road can be blocked, too," Sam said, serving water and whiskey. The big bartender looked fitted for battle, wearing a gold vest, a white cowboy hat, and Colt revolvers holstered on both hips.

"Don't worry about that," Tom said. "My Navy buddies don't let little things like roadblocks get in their way."

The standoff outside the casino grew quiet. Tom had the impression they were waiting for something. Maybe explosives to knock down the walls. Then he saw a commotion. A tall, broad-shouldered man had emerged from a crowd of spectators watching the confrontation from across the highway.

"That's Jay Silverhawk," Beggs said. "It was his wife Katie was trying to save."

They saw Deputy Manning stand in Silverhawk's way, only to be pushed aside. He strode boldly through the parking lot daring the besiegers to shoot him in the back. Beggs pulled the door open for him.

"I saw the video. I need to see Katie," Silverhawk announced.

"Video?" Beggs said.

Silverhawk took out his cell phone. It was the video from the drone showing Rachel being kidnapped by Gus and Bradwell.

Led back into the kitchen, Silverhawk was shocked. Rachel lay on the cot getting transfusions. Her breathing was weak, Patty Rogers administering oxygen. She looked pale. Bloody towels were everywhere. He knelt next to her.

"Katie?" he whispered.

"Mr. Silverhawk?"

"My brother and I found Little Bear. She's safe now, with her aunt. And we found where they buried Jo. We'll be bringing her home. Thank you. I am forever in your debt."

"Joanna was my friend when I desperately needed one. All debts are paid," Rachel answered. "I'm sorry I couldn't find her in time."

Silverhawk saw the surgical instruments. The IV tree. The grim expressions of her attendants.

"No debt is paid so easily," Silverhawk disagreed. "Is your name really Rachel Montgomery?"

"For a time, I was Rachel Marbury," Rachel recalled, looking up at Rory. "I don't know who I am now."

"You're my sister, whatever name you use," Rory insisted.

"Little Bear's white name was Grace, but I never cared for that," Silverhawk declared. "From now on, she will be Rachel. Rachel Little Bear. You get well now. The Spirits will protect you."

Tom and William were watching from the door as Silverhawk straightened up.

"I'm here to fight for Katie," Silverhawk said. "My brothers and cousins are on the way. I'll want a gun."

"Any military experience?" Tom asked.

"U. S. Army Ranger. 3rd Battalion," Silverhawk replied.

"SEAL," Tom said, shaking his hand.

"Let's do this," Silverhawk urged.

Tom led Silverhawk to the front, seeking advice on their defense. William lingered in the kitchen as Rachel fell asleep. Rory and Patty had their phones out.

"Videos?" William asked.

"Yeah, we're watching it now," Rory said.

"It's gone viral. The whole world is watching," Patty confirmed. She held the phone up, using the fast forward. The kidnapping. The drive to the desert. The threats. The confessions. Digging her own grave. They caught their breath when they saw Gus put his gun to Rachel's head.

"What does it mean?" William asked.

"I don't know," Rory said. "But someone's not going to want Rachel testifying against them in court, that's for sure."

A barrage opened out front. They heard windows shattering. William noticed the backdoor was secured but not guarded and went to warn Tom.

"Do you have a gun?" Patty asked.

"No. I'm a nurse," Rory replied.

"I'm a nurse, too."

"And you carry a gun?"

"This is rural Nevada, honey," Patty said, handing Rory a Smith and Wesson revolver. "We all have guns."

William raced back to the lounge, finding everyone hunkered down.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"They've got a bulldozer from the construction yard," Miles said. "Looks like they're going to ram the doors."

"What can we do?" William said.

"We'll hold them off as best we can, then retreat to the counting room," Beggs said. "Get ready to move Katie if we need to."

"This could get bad," Tom said. "If anyone wants to evacuate, I'll ask for a truce."

"You hear that, neighbors?" Jaime said. "These young people say you can go, if you want. No one will blame you. Except Jesus."

"That's not fair," Tom protested.

"Life isn't fair, Commander," Jaime replied. "Anybody want to skedaddle?"

There were many frightened faces, but no cowards. Silverhawk took the position closest to the door, Miles by his side. Beggs began overturning tables to use as cover. Sam stood behind the bar, both pistols drawn. Jaime had open boxes of ammunition ready.

"Someone needs to watch the backdoor," William whispered.

"That's your job," Tom instructed.

"My job is here," William demanded.

"Mr. Beggs, we need someone to guard the backdoor," Tom suggested.

Beggs nodded, sending Maisie, Flo and Jesse.

"Here they come," William alerted, daring to look out the window.

There were at least twenty men, most in long coats and carrying sidearms. The two deputies held back, observing. Mason stood at a distance, directing the attack. The bulldozer began revving its motor and moved forward.

Then there was a noise, distant at first. The sound rapidly grew louder. Rotors. Turbine engines. The faint sounds grew to a roar.

"Helicopters!" Beggs shouted.

"Told you my Navy buddies weren't ones for roadblocks," Tom boasted.

Three helicopters appeared from the southwest traveling at high speed. Heads rose to look out the windows as a dust storm suddenly swirled across the parking lot. One was a medical helicopter with a red cross insignia on the tail. The other two were Bell UH-1 combat copters with their national guard markings removed.

The besiegers began pulling back in confusion, abandoning the bulldozer. Then one dared to shoot at the medical helicopter. He fired again. Several others on the ground began shooting. The co-pilot was hit, grabbing his arm. Bullets tore through the cabin.

"What the fuck?" Pamela exclaimed. "Return fire! Return fire!"

"You heard the lady," McLane said over the radio. "Light 'em up, boys!"

One of the UH-1's swept over the parking lot with two men sitting in the side hatch. They opened fire with a mounted.45 caliber machine gun, raking the area where the shots came from. The other UH-1 swung wide, also firing at the besiegers. A general battle erupted, though Mason's thugs soon realized they lacked the firepower to hold their positions. The UH-1s circled looking for more enemies, the props blowing thick clouds of sand.

The medical helicopter set down right outside the casino door. Six soldiers in tactical gear jumped out, firing into the ring of vehicles with fully automatic weapons. The cars along the highway were suddenly cut to pieces. The crowd of spectators on the far side of the highway ran for their lives.

"Pour it on!" McLane ordered.

Gangsters and deputies fled in every direction, some pausing to shoot back, only to get hit by return fire. Two fell, then three more, desperately crawling for safety. Several cars burst into flames, and another exploded. Smoke engulfed the roadway. One of McLane's men fell wounded. Two others took shots to their armor vests.

The second helicopter landed on the road to the north, the third to the south. Each spilled out more teams in black uniforms. They were not firing randomly, but didn't hesitate to shoot anyone posing a threat.

Deputy Manning became a casualty, wandering from bellowing smoke with a gun in his hand, only to be wounded in the shoulder. Four heavily armed mobsters jumped in a van and tried to ram through the team on the south road. The vehicle was hit two dozen times and caught fire, crashing into a tree. The rest of Mason's army retreated east, through the town and into the desert.

Tom opened the casino doors and rushed out, followed by most of the defenders. Pamela was helped down from her helicopter, happy to see William uninjured. She wasn't pleased to see the casino all shot to pieces.

"Mr. McLane, take the medical team. Find Rachel," Pamela ordered. "Mr. Harper, are you well?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tom said.

"Injuries?"

"You got here in the nick of time."

"I believe you know most of these men?" she said, pointing to her teams. Tom recognized former SEALS and members of McLane's security team.

"Yes. I know them all," Tom replied.

"Please take command. Provide an assessment," Pamela said. "Everyone, we're wheels up the moment Rachel can be moved. You know what to do."

The squad closest to her jumped into action, setting a perimeter around the casino. Others probed into the smokey battlefield disarming wounded foes. As Mason's cohorts were fleeing, a deputy came forward waving a white T-shirt.

"I'm Deputy Anderson DePaul. I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but you're all under arrest."

"For defending ourselves from an unprovoked attack?" Pamela answered.

"We didn't attack you."

"My helicopter was fired upon. My employee was wounded."

"It was an overreaction by the posse," DePaul said.

"I have family in that casino. Why were you shooting at them?"

"We came to apprehend a suspect in the murder of Sheriff Cassell, and we're taking her into custody."

"I'm her lawyer. Let me see your arrest warrant," Pamela said.

"We didn't have time to get one," DePaul admitted.

"Let me see your search warrant for this building."

"We don't have a search warrant, either."

"Mr. DePaul, you don't seem very good at your job. I suggest you obtain a copy of the U. S. Constitution," Pamela recommended, taking out her cell phone. "Let's see what Nevada's governor has to say about this. He should be off the phone with the Attorney General by now."

"Attorney General?" the deputy sputtered.

"The Attorney General of the United States. She'll want to know why you're taking orders from the petty criminal who had my daughter kidnapped and forced to dig her own grave."

"Your daughter?" DePaul said.

"The woman you call Katie Smith is my daughter, Rachel Montgomery. And before I'm done, every goddamn bastard who came after my family today will be doing hard time in a Federal prison."

"Who are you?" DePaul asked.

"I am Pamela Benson."

The deputy pulled back, taking out his phone to consult with his superiors. All Pamela could hear was "get the hell out of there." The deputy disappeared as fast as he could.

"That should give us a few minutes," Pamela said with satisfaction. "Mr. Harper, let's not be oblivious to the legal ramifications of invading a small town with a privately funded army. Draw our teams back. Have everyone ready to move."

"On it," Tom said, hurrying to give the instructions.

Pamela took William's arm, making sure he wasn't injured.

"Rachel?" she asked.

"She's hurt bad, Mom," William said. "One of them shot her."

They hurried into the casino, stepping over broken glass. Rachel was in the kitchen with Rory and Patty. McLane and Grubby were guarding the door. A surgeon and two medics were prepping their patient for evac.

"Honey?" Pamela said, taking Rachel's hands.

Rachel opened her eyes, staring in disbelief.

"Mrs. Benson?"

"Let's not start from the beginning, dear."

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," Rachel said.

"I spoke to Mr. Barnes," Pamela told her. "This was my fault. We should have taken better care of you."

"Do you forgive me?" Rachel pleaded.

"Of course, dear. With all my heart."

"Thank you. I can die happy now."

"You're not going to die. I won't let you."

"It's a bad wound. Even I know that."

"Am I your mother?"

"Yes."

"Will you do as I say?"

"Yes."

"Then as your mother, I order you not to die."

"Yes, Mother," Rachel said.

"Can she be moved?" Pamela asked.

"Two more minutes, Mrs. Benson," the medic replied.

"Where are we going, Mom?" Rory wondered.

"Out of Nevada, dear. As fast as we can. Once we have Rachel on home ground, no one can touch her."

"Touch her from what?"

"We'll talk about that later," Pamela replied.

* * * * * *

Epilogue

WAS THOMAS WOLFE WRONG?

Rachel was bored. It wasn't just being confined to a hospital room for five weeks, but the lack of information. No one would tell her anything about the outside world for fear she would go crazy again.

"How is the medication working, Miss Marbury?" her nurse asked.

"Not many numbers, Miss Luna. Nothing that can't be set aside," Rachel answered.

"That's good. Everyone has been worried about you."

Rachel remained quiet. Discussing the numbers with those who didn't understand never turned out well.

"What is that you're working on?" Luna asked, pointing at Rachel's tablet.

"I'm translating Sense and Sensibility into Latin."

"Is there a market for that?"

"No. It's recreational."

"You're doing that for fun?"

"It is fun," Rachel replied.

"Your little boy sure is cute. And he talks a lot, too."

"More than I remember," Rachel said. "He just turned two last week."

"They grow up so fast. I saw your brother here again. And that tall hunk of good stuff. Is he your guy?"

"I don't know," Rachel answered.

A moment later, Pamela appeared in the doorway. The nurse disappeared.

"Sweetheart?" Pamela said.

"I'm awake," Rachel replied.

Unlike her previous visits, Pamela wasn't bringing flowers or cupcakes. It made Rachel curious. Pamela helped Rachel sit up, fluffing her pillows, and sat on the bed.

"You're looking good today," Pamela started.

"I've been good for the last week, but Mr. McLane has an armed guard at my door stopping me from leaving."

"There are four guards."

"Am I under arrest?"

"No, dear. Those are my guards."

"That's excessive."

"I swore to protect you and failed. I will never fail you again."

"I'm a grown woman. I don't make excuses."

"And I'm not taking any chances. Are we communicating?"

"Yes, Mother," Rachel agreed.

"That's good. Now that we have that understood, it's time we bring you up to speed."

"That's okay. I know everything that's going on," Rachel replied with an eager expression. Pamela was surprised by the sudden energy.

"You do? How? How could you know anything?" Pamela doubted. "All of your visitors were sworn to secrecy. Did Rory say something? Billy? That handsome sailor?"

"I've been reading their minds."

"Reading minds?"

"Yes, ever since I got shot, I've been able to read minds. I can read yours. You're thinking I'm going crazy again, or that my medication is off. You want to call Dr. Keller to check my prescription."

"Rachel, how could you possibly ...?"

Pamela paused. There was a pixyish gleam in Rachel's big brown eyes.

"Are you messing with me?" Pamela questioned. "You are. You're messing with me."

"Just a little," Rachel confessed, shyly dipping her head.

Pamela smiled with relief. Not just that Rachel wasn't crazy, but that her sense of humor was returning. Two operations and weeks of semi-consciousness had been draining.

"Do you know what's been going on?" Pamela asked.

"Not a clue," Rachel confirmed.

"First, let me assure you that all of your legal issues are settled. You don't need to worry about what happened in Nevada."

"Where I murdered three men?"

Pamela glanced around, making sure they were unobserved.

"Murder is a legal definition. We have lawyers for that," Pamela counseled. "Between that drone's video, the photos Patty took of your battered body, and the testimony Peter Cassell gave before the grand jury, you've been completely absolved."

"Only God can do that," Rachel said.

"Sweetheart, you need to get over this idea that everything is your fault. You may be ferociously intelligent, but you're still mortal like the rest of us."

"I initiated the events with my fake call to the FBI. Joanna's kidnappers were drawn into a trap that I set. I tricked them into revealing where Joanna was, and then I killed them."

"If they'd taken you anyplace other than that one spot, your body would have been buried in a desert grave."

"The math is never perfect," Rachel replied.

"We need to work harder on your math," Pamela insisted.

"What did Peter say?" Rachel wondered.

"He testified that his father was killed trying to save you from the kidnappers, then Gus shot him, and then they shot each other fighting over you, where you were hit by a stray bullet. Is any of that true?"

"No," Rachel answered. "But no one has asked me, so it's none of my business."

"I've spoken at length with Grubby. Who is a delightful old codger, by the way. He explained everything over tortillas and whiskey. Your amnesia. Reprogramming the drone. Allowing them to grab you."

"I shot Peter."

"Yes, you did. And missed him about five times at close range."

"I shouldn't have shot him."

"He shouldn't have left you with his father to be murdered."

"That was disappointing," Rachel confessed. "There is one good thing that came out of it."

"Which is?" Pamela inquired. Rachel motioned her to lean closer so she could whisper.

"The numbers told me to kill Peter. So there wouldn't be any witnesses. But I resisted them," Rachel confided. "They'll come back from time to time, but I don't think they'll ever dominate me again. I can fight them now."

"That's wonderful, sweetheart. It's the breakthrough Dr. Belcher has been working so hard for."

"What about that Mason person? Is he causing trouble?" Rachel asked.

"Someone stabbed him outside the casino. No one knows who," Pamela reported.

"Leviticus 24:20."

"Sweetheart, the world might be less grim if you quoted the New Testament once in a while."

"2 Peter 3:9."

"You are incorrigible," Pamela laughed. "Just out of curiosity, would you know what happened to the Commission's financial accounts?"

"What do you mean?"

"It appears ninety-six million dollars in cash assets are missing."

"I don't think the money is missing," Rachel explained. "The funds are just under different account numbers."

"Would you know what those account numbers are?"

"Numbers are such confusing things. I must have written them down somewhere," Rachel answered, wondering if Grubby had looked in his cookie jar.

"We'll work on that. In the meantime, I've arranged for you to be released today. You're going home."

"Home?"

"Yes. And this is what we're going to get straight, for now and for all time. We are a family. Me and Rory. William and Samantha. Marburys and Bensons. We are your family. Regardless of how tough things get."

"I don't want to be trouble," Rachel said, starting to tear up.

"Family is trouble. It's always trouble. We deal with it."

Pamela moved up, taking both of Rachel's hands and looking her in the eyes.

"I grew up in a strong family with deep roots. It's caused me to take things for granted. You grew up without a family's love. You were shamefully abused. Shuffled from one foster home to the next. Abandoned. It's made you feel like an outsider. But those days are over. We're going to prove it to you."

"I'm scared," Rachel admitted.

"I know you are, honey. But everything is going to be all right."

* * * * * *

"Pam texted. They're getting ready to leave the hospital," Sheila announced.

"The kitchen is filled with her favorites," Martha said.

"I have an advance copy of the new Pride and Prejudice movie," William boasted.

"Her bedroom is all set," Ashley reported, wearing her doctor's frock. "We've got ribbons and bows on the monitoring equipment so it doesn't look like a medical center."

"We're doing good, but we need to talk," Rory said. "Everybody, gather 'round."

The crowd assembled at Canby Place filtered down into the living room, taking seats on the long leather sofas and chairs. The group included the Benson family, spouses, girlfriends, and Thomas Harper. In the nursery, Jackie McLane was watching over three rambunctious children.

"Let's not fool ourselves, Rach is going to be so nervous," Rory started. "It doesn't matter that running away wasn't her fault. Or the trouble in Nevada. Rachel put it all on the line to help her friend. It's who she is, and that's never going to change."

"She's the bravest woman of all time," William said.

"Is the government taking responsibility for what they did to her?" Martha asked.

"Level 13 is classified, and it's going to stay classified," Oliver warned.

"How have the numbers been? Has she been drifting?" John asked.

"Dr. Belcher says to keep her calm," Rory cautioned.

"What about our proposal?" Alicia asked.

"We'll need to approach it delicately," Rory replied.

"Maybe we should postpone it?" John suggested.

"No, we can't do that," William disagreed. "If we don't tell her right away, she'll suspect something's wrong and start to panic."

"Billy's right. We've got to be honest with her," Rory said.

"Take it from me," Oliver warned. "If she gets suspicious, she'll scan you."

Everyone laughed.

"Rachel knows what's in your heart," Sheila said. "Just be yourselves. That's all she needs."

"What about this mob scene? Not too many people?" Samantha asked, holding William's hand. She was wearing her engagement ring.

"Mom and I talked about this," Rory said. "Once Rachel is home, she's going to wonder what each of us is thinking. And worry. And fret. Like she always does. So we're showing her from the moment she comes through that door that we're all here for her. No judgements. No reservations."

"We are all here for her," Alicia said. "We're going to make this work."

"What about you, Tom?" William asked.

"I'll be having a private talk with Rachel later," he replied.

* * * * * *

The nurses put Rachel in a wheelchair to take her downstairs. She was wearing pink pajamas, a thick blue bathrobe, and fluffy high-top puppy slippers. Ruth Sparrow arrived, superbly dressed in a conservative blue suit and pillbox hat. The seventy-year-old journalist was well known to Rachel, ever since Ruth had defended her in her popular newspaper columns.

"Here in the nick of time," Ruth said.

"Hello, Mrs. Sparrow," Rachel said, her eyes questioning.

"Pam asked me to help with the media," Ruth explained.

"Media? What media?" Rachel wondered.

"You didn't tell her?" Ruth inquired.

"Our agenda was full already," Pamela explained.

"Rachel, hold on to your chair," Ruth said. "You've been the subject of non-stop press coverage since the photos of your bloody body lying in that grave were broadcast around the world. Between the Juniper standoff and the video of you being kidnapped, the public can't get enough of it. You're a national sensation."

"That's not right. I only wanted to help Joanna."

"Honey, Grubby Barnes has been on the late-night circuit telling the whole story," Ruth persisted. "Rumor has it he's gotten a book deal. You deliberately got yourself kidnapped to find out where your friend and her baby were. That baby is alive because of you. Jay Silverhawk has been on the networks singing your praises. The Te-Moak tribe wants to make you an honorary member. And everybody saw what those monsters were about to do to you. Making you dig your own grave. Putting a gun to your head. But you never lost your nerve. You stayed steady. Got them to confess. You are every journalist's dream."

"What's going to happen?" Rachel asked.

"We've agreed to a brief press conference. It will be quick," Ruth promised.

"What do you think?" Pamela asked.

"Is my makeup okay? I must look awful," Rachel answered.

"You look perfect," Pamela assured her.

Bob McLane was in the hall with his security detail. Doctors, nurses and patients moved aside as they passed, wishing Rachel well.

"Good morning, Mr. McLane," Rachel greeted. "Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Why do you ask that, Missy?" McLane replied.

"Because you seem to be working twenty-four hours a day."

"Watching out for you isn't work. It never has been."

Rachel thought there were thousands of reporters in the lobby, though the actual number was closer to forty. A platform had been erected. There were scores of cameras. Pamela kept hold of Rachel's hand as Ruth took center stage.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen. As you know, I am Ruth Sparrow. I'm not here as Rachel Montgomery's press secretary, but as her dear friend. The doctors say Miss Montgomery's condition is stable, the infections are under control, and the disorientation she suffered has subsided. She's looking forward to spending time with her family. Questions?"

Dozens of hands went up. There was a great deal of jostling.

"Were the kidnappers fighting over you when they killed each other?" a tall female reporter said.

"What happened after the video was interrupted?" another asked.

"Which of them shot you?" a grim older man shouted.

All attention focused on Rachel, who simply stared. So much curiosity. So many expectations. She didn't know what to say. She'd pushed the terror of that night aside, keeping her focus, doing what needed to be done. Suddenly it became real. Tears ran down her cheeks. The room grew quiet.

"Those are enough questions," Ruth grimly decided.

"No, please. I need to say something," Rachel said, straightening up to look at the cameras. "I need to thank my friends in Juniper. Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Beggs. Maize. Flo. Sam. Jesse. My friend Patty. Reverend Jaime. All of you. Thank you so much. I wouldn't be here if not for you."

"Miss Montgomery, were you ever in Sheriff Cassell's car?" someone asked.

"That's enough for today," Pamela declared, drawing Rachel's wheelchair back.

McLane's team went into action, using elbows to open a path for their departure. Rachel was rolled to Pamela's limousine and lifted in. The car pulled out a moment later.

"How are you doing?" Pamela asked once they were on their way.

"I'm okay."

"You always say that."

Rachel looked out the window without answering.

* * * * * *

Sunday morning traffic on the 405 Freeway moved quickly. Rachel gazed at the city like it was another planet. She sighed, her mind wandering.

"You were reading Thomas Wolfe. Just because he wrote you can't go home again doesn't make it true," Pamela said.

"George Webber left his home, and when he tried to go back, everything had changed. The life he once knew wasn't there anymore."

"You aren't George Webber, and your family isn't walking away from you. I am never walking away from you. Do you understand?"

"You are so good to me," Rachel said, putting her head on Pamela's shoulder. "What did I do to deserve you?"

Pamela pulled her close, almost in tears.

"The doctors say you should be well in another month," Pamela mentioned. "Have you thought about what you want to do?"

"Do?"

"About your future?"

"I don't know."

"What do you want to do?"

"Staying out of trouble would be nice."

"You? Stay out of trouble? That may be asking for too much."

"Being an anonymous lab girl was so much easier," Rachel admitted.

The car reached the Palos Verdes Peninsula, going up a steep hill and waiting for the heavy gate to open.

"The last time we were here, I promised never to run away from you again. And then I did," Rachel recalled.

"That government machine melted your brain, honey. And you still have lingering damage," Pamela replied.

"Rewiring."

"What?"

"It's not damage. It's a new way of looking at problems."

"I don't know what you mean," Pamela said.

"Time will tell," Rachel answered.

They stopped in the parking circle at Canby Place close to the front door.

McLane put Rachel in her wheelchair even though she preferred to walk. Pamela knelt next to her. It was a warm September day with scattered clouds. Rachel noticed lots of cars.

"Honey, the family is here to welcome you home. You don't need to be concerned. When you get tired, give me a wave and I'll get you to bed."

"I've been in bed for a month. I'd rather go swimming."

Pamela pushed the wheelchair through the atrium. Rachel was glad to see her herb garden thriving. When the big oak doors opened, Rory was the first to greet them.

"Welcome home, Rach," Rory said. "You don't need to be worried. Only family and friends here."

"Can we talk for a moment? Would that be okay?" Rachel asked.

Pamela continued into the house. Rory sat down on a decorative boulder, taking Rachel's hand.

"I know it's been tough," Rory said. "Those operations were touch and go. But you're going to be fine now, you just need to take it easy."

"I'm not worried about that. The math is good. How are you? How are you and Ash? Billy and Sam? Gosh, I feel so out of touch."

"We visited you all the time in the hospital."

"I know. Everyone was nice. But they were afraid to say too much. I feel like such a burden. I shouldn't be. I'm okay. Really."

"No PTSD?"

"Maybe a little."

"The numbers?"

"I'll want to talk to you about that later."

"How's your memory?"

"Pretty good. I think."

Rory took a deep look into Rachel's eyes.

"Are you scanning me?" Rachel asked with a smile.

"Yes, I'm scanning you."

"What do you see?"

"I see a woman who is very strong, and brave, and full of love. I am so proud to be your sister. I always have been. I always will be."

"Five years ago, when I had pneumonia and wanted to die, you refused to leave me alone. Even though I was being mean and tried to make you go away. If I'm brave, and strong, and full of love, it's because of you."

"You really are better, aren't you?"

"I think so. I may struggle a bit, but I can fight back when I have to. And if I ever forget, I have a sister to remind me."

Rachel opened her arms for a hug. Rory didn't waste a second. Despite weeks in a hospital, Rachel felt strong. Full of life and energy. Rory gave a gentle squeeze.

"You're the best friend a girl could ever have," Rachel whispered. "I love you so much." Rory wanted to say something but discovered herself choking up. Rachel found a tissue for her.

"Now that you're home, what are your plans?" Rory finally asked.

"Everyone keeps asking that."

"What's your answer?"

"I really don't know for sure. Maybe take a few days off, and then get back to work."

"Only a few days?"

"I'm getting old, Ro. I'm almost thirty."

"Are you ready to see your family?"

"As ready as I'm going to be."

"You want out of that wheelchair, don't you?"

"In the worst way," Rachel admitted.

"Okay, then. Ash and I are going to support you. Take it slow," Rory instructed, calling for Ashley's help.

"Hi, Rachel. Want to get on your feet?" Ashley asked, emerging with an encouraging smile.

"Yes, Dr. Wilkerson. But no golf today," Rachel replied. "Are you guys getting married yet?"

Rory and Ashley exchanged a glance, unsure how to respond. Rachel scowled impatiently.

"Come on, guys, don't make me scan you," Rachel prodded.

"So, you admit it?" Rory said.

"Admit what?"

"That you can scan people."

"I don't know what you mean," Rachel innocently replied.

"Yes, you do. You scan people."

"That's silly, Ro. No one can scan people," Rachel insisted.

Rory frowned. Ashley laughed, realizing Rachel was just teasing. They helped Rachel to the door one short step at a time. Jackie was waiting.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Danny, Mrs. McLane," Rachel said, reaching for a hug. "I would be so lost without you."

"Have to admit, child, Canby Place is a step up from my trailer in Ketchum," Jackie said.

"You are always welcome to live here, regardless of what else happens," Rachel gratefully offered.

When they reached the foyer, Rachel found the house full of guests. She was surprised to see John and Alicia up in the dining area with Oliver, watching from a distance.

"What are they doing here?" Rachel whispered. "Are they here to take Danny?"

"It's okay. We're going to explain all of this," Rory said.

"They'll be good parents, won't they?" Rachel asked. "I know they will, it's just that--"

"Danny is a happy baby, Rach. You raised him to be happy. That's not going to change," Rory assured her.

Rachel was helped down into the sunken living room. Pillows were laid before the hearth so she could rest on the floor without putting stress on her wounds. Tom was the first to join her.

"You're looking beautiful today," he said, making her comfortable.

"You say that every day, Mr. Harper," Rachel replied.

"That's because it's true every day," he insisted.

"I haven't thanked you properly. For what you did. For what you, Ro, and William did in Nevada. That was so brave."

"Rory and Bill will appreciate your gratitude," Tom said. And then he leaned forward to whisper. "For myself, the moment you're healthy again, we'll see about improving on that thank you."

Rachel's face turned red as she dipped her head. She smiled.

"Samantha and I have set a date," William announced, sitting on the floor close by.

"I want you to be a bridesmaid," Samantha added, snuggling next to him. "It's going to be a big wedding."

"The biggest ever," William said. "On Maui. More flowers than you ever saw before."

"Will you be a bridesmaid?" Samantha asked.

"Do I have to wear one of those horrible outfits?" Rachel inquired.

"Yes," Samantha replied.

Rachel crinkled her nose. "Okay," she agreed.

"I'm building a new lab for you," Sheila said. "You'll be able to develop Level 14 at your own pace. No interference, and no pressure."

"That will be fine, Sheba," Rachel approved. "Unless I decide to give up science."

"Give up science?" Sheila questioned.

"I might open a restaurant instead," Rachel answered. "How is our other project going?"

"Better than expected. Flo, Sam, and Mr. Beggs are all onboard. Thanks for letting me in on the ground floor," Sheila appreciated.

"Other project?" Pamela said, rushing to butt in.

"Something Rachel initiated in Juniper Springs," Sheila elusively replied. "A real estate venture."

"Real estate?" Pamela pressed.

"My friends in Juniper are buying up all of Mason's forfeited properties," Rachel explained. "I'm doing the financing."

"You're buying a ghost town?" Pamela asked.

"It's an investment," Rachel replied.

She looked up to the dining area again, still wondering why John and Alicia weren't in Boston. The talk subsided, everyone sensing Rachel's apprehension.

"I think it's time," Rory hinted.

"I think you're right," Pamela agreed, waving to John.

"Time for what?" Rachel asked, trying to scoot back. Tom kept an arm wrapped around her seeking to keep her calm.

John came down to the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Rachel. Alicia followed. The room remained still as everyone watched.

"Rachel, I apologize for everything that's happened. This was all my fault," John said. "What I did is unforgivable, but I hope you'll forgive me anyway."

"Only if you forgive me," Rachel responded. "I should have told you about Danny. I was embarrassed, and ashamed, and didn't know how to say anything. Keeping that secret from you was a terrible thing."

"We share a child, Rach. A wonderful little boy who is happy and strong because of you. And we're friends. We've been friends for a long time. From now on, that's the only thing that matters."

"Ashely, I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you," Rachel apologized. "I don't know what I would have said, but I should have said something."

"You risked your life to save Lisa and Gabe, and for that we can't ever be thankful enough," Alicia responded. "I accept blame for what happened, too. This isn't all on you and John."

They were holding hands. Rachel was glad to see their marriage surviving.

"It's not as if I'm an innocent bystander," Rachel said.

"Actually, we think you are," Alicia disagreed. "John and I were having problems, and we put you in the middle. If you can forgive us, we'll try to do better."

"Colossians 3:13," Rachel replied.

"Rach, after all these years, you're still the only one who knows what all those quotes mean," William said.

"Not the only one," Tom corrected. "Bear with each other, and forgive one another. If any of you has a grievance against someone, forgive them as the Lord forgives you."

"You've been studying the Bible?" Rachel asked.

"I need to stay up with you," Tom answered. "The Bible is easier than Euclidian vector space."

John looked at his mother with the unspoken question. She nodded. Rory, William, and Samantha all moved closer. Rachel wondered what the mystery was.

"I'm opening a new law practice in Los Angeles," John said. "Allie will be coaching softball at UCLA."

"You'll be living in California?" Rachel said, trying to understand what that meant.

"We're hoping we can live here. At Canby Place," Alicia revealed. "We'll share custody of Danny. Gabe and Lisa will be here, too. Our children will grow up together, as brothers and sisters."

Rachel was stunned. She looked confused. Pamela took her hand.

"It's what you think," Pamela said. "You and Danny will be together. Here, in your own home. Rory, Billy and I will be close by, visiting all the time."

"We'll play tennis, and shoot hoops," William encouraged.

"Mr. Garcia can build us a putting green," Samantha suggested.

"There are plenty of rooms," Rory said. "Ash and I will stayover from time to time, when the parents need a break."

"Allie and I are going to be busy establishing our new careers," John mentioned. "We'll need all the help we can get."

"Rachel, this would be so good," Alicia said, leaning forward to take her hands. "Good for the children. Good for all of us. But I need to warn you, three children are going to be a handful. You might have to help me with the twins. If you don't mind?"

Everyone paused. Waiting. Hardly breathing. Rachel noticed Oliver and McLane observing from the dining area. Jackie and Martha watched from the foyer. Pamela seemed nervous but was trying not to show it. Rory was nervous, too. Alicia offered a hopeful smile.

"I don't mind," Rachel said, causing everyone to breathe sighs of relief. Then Rachel looked at Tom. Worried.

"We'll be back in a minute," Tom said, carrying her out to the patio.

Pamela reached to give Rory a hug.

"That went better than expected," Pamela sighed.

"I told you it would," Rory replied. "And it's about to get better, if I know my sailors."

* * * * * *

Rachel took a deep breath of the late summer air blowing in from the ocean. It was a pleasant afternoon. She saw the gardens were well-tended, as always. Children's toys lay scattered in the grass, and a child-proof fence had been erected around the pool. The vast Pacific Ocean was visible in the distance. Soon squirrels would be gathering nuts for winter.

"I spoke out of turn. In the house," Rachel said. "I should have asked how this will affect you. How it will affect us."

"How do you want it to affect us?" he asked.

"I've been unfair to you so many times. You should decide. The whole world shouldn't be about me."

"Please tell me what you're feeling."

"Do you want me to give up my research? Leave Level 14 to someone else?"

"Why would I want that?"

"It's always going to make me crazy."

"Will Level 14 really restore the planet's ecology?"

Rachel looked around, as if she didn't want to be spied on. Then she leaned close to whisper, "Yes, but it will take many years, and it won't be easy."

"Then it needs to be your decision."

"No. It needs to be our decision. I love you so much, and I've treated you terribly so many times. I don't know how you put up with me, but I'm so glad you do."

"Rach, if you want to save the world, then I'll help. And if you want to do something else, I'm onboard with that, too."

"I don't want to lose you. Not ever again."

"Then everything is okay, because you're not going to lose me."

"Is there something I can help you with? Do you want to open an office? Start a practice? Use your psychology degree? You can help crazy people get better."

"I'm already helping a crazy person get better, and I'm totally in love with her," he replied, drawing her closer.

"What about this thing with John and Allie?" Rachel asked.

"They spoke with me about it a few weeks ago. So did Rory, and your mother. We all agreed this is a good thing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. What about you?"

"The house is going to be very crowded, but I would like it to work," she confessed.

"Rach, it's an awful big house," Tom observed.

"Bigger than my apartment on 14th Street," she remembered.

"I was thinking," he mentioned.

"Thinking what?"

Tom paused. Rachel could see he was nervous.

"Rach, we've been coming and going for three years. Maybe it's time I move in? That is ...? Unless ...?"

"I get the right side of the bed."

"We can work with that. If the house feels too crowded, we can always tear down that old barn at the top of the hill and build a cottage. Just for us."

"That would be nice. I wouldn't want the children to see me go into a haze and think I'm crazy."

"The children will always love you, haze or no haze. Just like I do. You're going to have nothing but love from now on."

Rachel grew quiet. Contemplating.

"You're not going to scan me again, are you?" he asked with a smile. "You know, I've never asked. Can you really do that?"

"Thomas!" she exclaimed.

"Come on, Rory has been saying it for years. And I remember that time--"

"It's not a real thing. Not exactly," she interrupted.

"What do you mean, not exactly a real thing?"

"There's no math for it. Sometimes, I just look at people. It's not on purpose. And I don't see their souls or anything like that. I don't think. It's just impressions. But I love teasing Rory. She thinks it's some kind of magic."

Rachel laughed, her eyes lighting up. Tom thought she looked so cute. If she wasn't still recovering from the surgeries, he'd have carried her off to the bedroom.

"So, I'm safe?" he asked.

"Don't ever expect to be safe around me, Mr. Harper. Not ever again," she answered, pushing deeper into his arms. "It's my turn to ask a question."

"Ask away," he replied with a grin.

"Will you marry me?"

Tom was stunned, but not for long.

"Yes, I'll marry you. The sooner the better," he said, pulling her close.

"Can we have babies?"

"All the babies you want."

* * * * * *

Pamela brought two glasses of wine out on the patio. Rachel was resting with her feet in the pool. Inside the house, Martha was making dinner while Jackie and Alicia changed diapers. Three children were keeping them busy. Sheila and the men were gathered in the saloon toasting Tom's engagement.

"You've got everyone in a frenzy," Pamela said, taking a seat next to her.

"Me?"

"No one was sure if you'd want this. You surprised them."

"I have a lovely home. I have help with Danny. I'm going to have a wonderful husband. I have a mother who loves me. And friends who forgive my strange ways. It's all so perfect," Rachel sighed.

"I'm so happy for you, dear," Pamela said. "We've come a long way, haven't we? Since that day we first met in my office."

"When you fired me."

"I lost an employee, but I gained a daughter."

"And I gained a family," Rachel said, starting to tear up.

Pamela gave her a tissue.

* * * * * *

We've reached the end of the second Rachel novel. Thank you to Literotica and the readers for the chance to review and improve the text.