A Time to Remember

He couldn’t pray. God had betrayed him with the two things entrusted to him. How could he trust again? Now it was time for him to take control. It was his job to take care of his wife and son, and he’d do it, no matter what.

At the far side of the church parking lot a small crowd had gathered. Gray raced across the pavement, pushed his way through, his mind screaming his son’s name. He jerked to a halt at the heart-stopping sight of his boy seated in Miss Winifred’s lap, munching on a cookie he held in one hand. The fingers of the other were closed around the small glass figurine that had disappeared with him, a gift from the grandfather he’d barely known.

“Cody?”

At his whisper, the boy glanced up, grinned and jumped to his feet. Gray scooped the beloved wriggling body into his arms and held on as hard as he could. Tears obscured the landscape, blurred his vision, but it didn’t matter that the whole town would see him bawling. Cody was home. Cody was safe. For now he’d let himself revel in that.

“Gray?” Luc Lawrence stood at his elbow, his eyes dark with concern. “Can you give him to Dani? Just for a moment? We need to talk.”

Gray’s fingers tightened. He pressed Cody away just enough to stare into his tear-filled eyes, glimpsed the receding terror. Scrapes, bruises—yes, he had lots of those. But he looked fine. He looked wonderful.

“There’ll be time to talk later,” he told Luc, speaking past the lump lodged in his throat. “For now just let me hold my son.” He hugged the little boy close, wallowing in the feel of those precious pudgy fingers against his face. “Are you okay, Cody? Are you all right?” He tilted back, searched the eyes Marissa claimed were mirror copies of his own.

“Where’s Mommy, Cody? What happened to Mommy?”

Big fat tears coursed down Cody’s dirty cheeks as he stared at his dad.

“You can tell me, son. I just want to help. I won’t be mad. Honest. Tell Daddy where Mommy is.”

“Gray, please, will you just listen to me?” Luc dragged at his arm, but Gray jerked away.

“Leave us alone, Luc,” he snarled. “This is my son, my only son. If he has any idea where Marissa is, he’s got to tell us.” He smoothed a hand over Cody’s head. “Where’s Mommy, son?”

“Gray, he can’t tell you that.”

“What?” Gray stared at the town’s newest doctor, then glanced over at Joshua and Nicole Darling, seeking answers to questions he didn’t want to ask. His fingers tightened around the precious body pressed to his chest. “What are you talking about? Why can’t he tell me? Has something—”

“We don’t know where Marissa is yet. We’re still looking. Once the sheriff came, did his thing, the whole town showed up. They’re searching the ravine right now.” Dr. Nicole Darling’s eyes warned him to follow her lead. She stepped forward, placed her hand on Cody’s arm. “Cody, can you stay with Miss Winifred while I talk to your daddy for a minute? I promise it won’t take long. You can stand right here beside her and watch us, if you like. Okay?”

Misty silver eyes, too serious for a child his age, studied Gray for interminable minutes. Finally Cody nodded, pressed himself away from his father, struggled to get down, fingers white as he squeezed the horse he held. Gray let him go, barely stemming his need to grab him and hang on for all he was worth. Cody walked over beside Miss Winifred and thrust his hand into hers, but he kept his eyes on his father.

“Okay, something’s going on. What is it?” He glanced at the three doctors in turn and knew the news wouldn’t be good. “Spill it. Did something happen to Cody? Is he sick?”

“He won’t speak, Gray. We don’t know what happened to him, but we think something traumatized him badly enough to stop his speech.” Joshua Darling, the senior partner in Blessing’s medical practice, put a hand on his shoulder and kept it there, his voice low but firm. “There’s a technical name for this, which I know you don’t care about. The gist of the diagnosis is that Cody’s problem doesn’t seem to be medical—there’s no sign of injury. Though we don’t know why, we think he’s unconsciously decided that he’s not going to speak. Not yet, anyway.”

“Can you accept that?” Luc demanded.

“I—I don’t know.” Not speak? For how long? Cody, the boy who had always brimmed with giggles just begging to be free—that beloved voice silent?

What could have happened to do this to my child?

Gray wanted to hit something. Images he’d seen on the street when he was not much older than Cody rifled through his mind. What horror had his child observed? If he didn’t talk about them, didn’t let Gray help, how would they ever be able to erase those pictures? Then Gray remembered—he hadn’t yet forgotten the images from his own childhood, and he was a lot older than Cody.

Fear loomed large in Gray’s mind.

“How long will this not speaking last?”

“We don’t know. Tomorrow morning I’ll phone a specialist and Cody can see him. We’ll find out exactly what’s going on. But tonight I’ve told the police I think it’s best if you just let him get used to being back home. Don’t ask questions, don’t push him, don’t press for more than he’s ready to give. Most of all, don’t ask him about Marissa. Apparently it scares him.” Joshua frowned. “Can you do it? Because if you can’t let go of all the questions and just let him relax, I’m going to check him in to the hospital.”

“What’s wrong—”

Joshua shook his head.

“I checked him over. So did Luc. We can’t find anything wrong. The damage seems to be psychological, and even that may only be temporary.”

“The thing is, Gray,” Luc murmured, laying one hand on his arm, “he’s obviously gone through some sort of ordeal. But right now the details aren’t important.”

Gray snorted. “Of course they’re important. Marissa could be holed up somewhere against her will. We’ve got to find her.”

“Listen to me.” Luc lowered his voice, his look intent as he focused on Gray. “We don’t know about Marissa. You have to face it. We don’t know if she’s alive or dead. Not yet. But we know Cody is here. He needs you. You must focus on his needs right now. The police will find your wife and the perpetrator, but at this moment your place is with your son.”

“Marissa would never have let him go without a fight.” Gray’s confidence would not be shaken. “If it was possible, she would have followed him.”

“I know. We all believe she’s out there somewhere.” Nicole tried to soften the pain with her sympathetic words. “But maybe she’s hurt. A thousand things could have happened to her. There’s no point in conjecturing. Right now you’ve got to focus on Cody.”

She was right. Though his heart ached with loss for Marissa, though he wanted to tear up the countryside, find her and never let her go—right now one thing took precedence. Cody. Marissa would want him to concentrate on their son, to do what she couldn’t. Maybe never would.

No! He wouldn’t think like that. She was all right. She had to be.

All Gray knew right now was that he couldn’t lose this second chance to be the kind of father he knew he could be.

God wouldn’t fault him a second time.

He stood in the shade of the pine tree and stared down at her, scared by the trail of blood that trickled from her head. Blood was bad.

“You shouldn’t have run,” he whispered, angry that she hadn’t obeyed. “I told you not to run. That was very bad. Now you’re hurt and there’s no one to make you better.” He put his knife back in the leather holder strapped to his belt and waited for her to tell him what she’d done with Brett.

But she didn’t wake up. Not for a long time.

And then there were voices, people calling.

They were looking for her. If she woke up now, she’d run away again. Maybe she wouldn’t wake up, maybe they wouldn’t find her and he would learn where she’d taken Brett. He glanced down, saw the dirty shoes. If she couldn’t run, she couldn’t get away. He slipped them off her feet, tucked them into his belt.

The voices were coming closer.

He shimmied up the nearest tree, hid himself among the thick branches and waited. After a while some people saw her and rushed over to help her. Still she didn’t wake up.

“Look at this! Someone hit her with it.” A man in a police uniform held up a branch with blood on it. “Don’t move her. I’ll radio for a stretcher. Maybe one of the doctors will want to look at her first.”

He was scared now. He hadn’t hit her. He wasn’t bad. He wanted to tell them that. But they wouldn’t understand. Nobody understood about Brett. That’s why he’d run away.

So he sat in his tree and waited some more.

After a while he grew tired of sitting above them, watching in the tree. But there was no way to get down without being seen. Besides, maybe these people knew where she’d taken Brett. He’d have to stay still and listen.

So he waited some more.

“At least she got the boy to safety. Now he’s with his father, he’ll be okay.”