t was starting to get dark, so Cal tucked Chip under his arm and hauled him like a sack of potatoes up the steps onto the deck. "You're getting too good with that football, buddy. You wore me out."

Chip giggled as Cal gave him a couple of extra bounces. Cal had hoped playing with the boy would take his own mind off what had happened a few hours earlier with his mother, but it wasn't working.

He looked up and saw Jane standing inside the French doors with Rosie in her arms, and he felt a jolt right in the middle of his chest. Sometimes it hit him that way—hard—the sight of these two females he loved more than anything in the world. There had been a time in his life when he hadn't wanted either one of them, and he never let himself forget that. The memory kept him humble.

Rosie was clutching that god-awful stuffed rabbit, and she started to kick and squeal as she caught sight of Chip. As soon as they were inside the French doors, Cal let the boy down, brushed Jane's lips with a quick kiss, and took Rosie from her.

The baby gave him a big grin, then blew a noisy raspberry, her newest trick. He smiled and wiped his face on her already damp T-shirt. Only then did he notice that Jane looked harried.

He lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. "I haven't been outside more than fifteen minutes."

She sighed. "Wait till you see our bathroom."

"The toilet paper again?"

"And the toothpaste. You didn't put the cap back on, and I wasn't fast enough."

As if she knew they were talking about her, Rosie gave him another drooly grin and clapped her hands in delight. For the first time he noticed that she smelled like Crest Tartar Control.

"Rosie's got a lot of mischief," Chip said with all the solemnity of an adult. "She's a handful."

Cal and Jane exchanged amused glances.

Rosie kicked again and held her arms out toward Chip, dropping the rabbit in the process. Cal set her on the floor, and she immediately threw herself at the boy's legs. He crouched and tickled her tummy, then looked up at Cal, his forehead puckered with worry.

"When's my mommy coming to get me?"

Cal stuck his hand in the pocket of his slacks and jingled the change. "Tell you what, buddy. How'd you like to have a sleepover right here?"

Jane looked at him with surprise, but he avoided her eyes.

"Is it okay with my mommy?"

"Sure it is. You can sleep in the room right next to Rosie's. Would you like that?"

"I guess." The worry marks didn't disappear from his forehead. "If Mommy says I can."

"It's fine with her."

Cal still hadn't figured out how he was going to break the news to the boy that his mother was in jail. He'd planned on having Ethan's help, but when he called the hotel in Knoxville where his brother was supposed to be staying, the desk said he wasn't registered. He'd asked for Kristy and heard the same thing, so they must have changed their plans. He'd ended up putting a message on his brother's home answering machine and hoping he'd' check it.

He still needed to explain things to Jane, who was giving him one of those looks that said she knew something was going on, and he'd better come up with a few answers, especially since he'd led her to believe he was just bringing Chip by for a quick visit before they put Rosie to bed.

Cal leaned down to ruffle the boy's hair. "Keep an eye on Rosie for a few minutes, will you, buddy?"

"Sure."

The family room was gated off and childproofed, but they still couldn't leave her for long, and he didn't steer Jane any farther than the kitchen. He procrastinated by pulling her into his arms and nibbling her neck. She snuggled closer. It wouldn't take much to distract her, but he'd only be postponing the inevitable.

"Chip's spending the night with us," he said.

"I heard. What's going on?"

"Now don't get upset, but… We need to watch him for a while because Rachel's in jail."

"In jail!" Her head shot up, conking him in the chin. "My God, Cal, we have to do something." She tore herself out of his arms and raced for her purse, "I'm going to her right now. I can't believe—"

"Honey…" He caught her arm, stroked it. "Stop for a minute. Rachel trashed the drive-in. She belongs in jail."

Jane stared at him. "What do you mean she trashed it?"

"Destroyed the kitchen, smashed some equipment, graffiti on the screen. The whole nine yards. Near as I can gather, she wanted Gabe to marry her, and, since he wouldn't do it, she decided to get even with him before she left town."

"Rachel wouldn't do that."

"I saw the drive-in and believe me, you're wrong. Odell found a pair of Greyhound bus tickets stuck in her purse. I guess this was her good-bye present to Gabe."

Jane sank down on one of the counter stools, then reached out and stroked her hand along his forearm. She liked to touch him. Even when they were arguing, she'd sometimes stroke him. "But it just doesn't add up. Why would she do something like that? She loves Gabe."

"She loves his bank account."

"That's not true. She cares for him. All you have to do is see the way she looks at him. You and Ethan are so protective of Gabe that you're blind where she's concerned."

"So are you, sweetheart, or you'd realize she's a money-grabbing opportunist."

Her soft stroking continued. "Don't you find it strange that a money-grabbing opportunist could be raising such a kindhearted little boy?"

"I didn't say she was a bad mother. The two don't necessarily go together."

He glanced into the family room to check on Rosie, but also to keep from meeting Jane's eyes because she'd managed to hit the nail right on the head about what was bothering him. A child didn't come any better than that little boy of hers, and Cal wasn't so blind he couldn't see how much she cared about him. He remembered the expression on her face when she'd cried out to him to take care of Chip. All the fight had gone right out of her, and she hadn't seemed to pose much of a danger to anyone.

Jane shook her beautiful brainy head. "This just doesn't seem right to me. How do you know she's guilty?"

Cal told her what they'd found in the Escort. As she listened, she got a stricken look around her eyes, and Cal's heart once again hardened against the Widow Snopes. He kissed Jane's fingertips. He didn't like it when anybody other than himself upset his wife.

"But how could I be so wrong about her? Gabe must be devastated. Still, I can't believe he'd have her thrown into jail."

Cal and Jane didn't keep secrets from each other, and he had to tell her what he'd done, but he wanted to wait until the kids were settled for the night. He was fairly certain they were going to have an argument about it, and from experience, he knew his best defense when his wife got upset was to get her naked as quickly as possible, something that would be a lot easier without a baby and five-year-old looking on.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's go rescue Chip before Rosie wears him out."

The jail was small, with no separate quarters for men and women, and the loud complaints of a drunk echoed off the barren walls. Rachel paced the tiny confines of her cell and fought to suppress her panic, but it overwhelmed her. Fear for Edward. For herself. And fear that Gabe had fled again, just as he'd done after Cherry and Jamie died.

Gabe… She'd expected him to show up long before now. Surely he'd come back. At the very least, he wouldn't leave without saying good-bye to his brothers, and, when he discovered what had happened to her, he'd get her out of jail.

Maybe it was the night or the fact that she felt so alone, but she couldn't quite convince herself it would be that easy. The proof against her was damning, and there was no guarantee he'd believe her. She certainly had no explanation for how those things had ended up in the Escort.

It might be different if he loved her. Then he'd have to know in his heart she was innocent, wouldn't he? But he didn't love her, and now he might end up thinking as badly of her as everyone else in Salvation.

She bit her lip and concentrated on Edward, only to feel her heart race. His sense of security was so fragile, and once again, it was being destroyed. She wanted to believe that Cal would keep him safe, but she wasn't sure of anything anymore. For the first few hours she'd even let herself hope that Jane might intercede, but that hadn't happened.

She hugged herself against her fear and wondered how her life had come to this. She had no defense against Cal Bonner. He had money, reputation, the town's respect, and he'd let her rot in here if he thought it would protect his brother.

The outer door clanged, and she jumped as a man entered. She stiffened, expecting Jake Armstrong, who was on duty tonight. But the man wasn't Jake, and it took her a few moments to recognize Russ Scudder.

He had a cigarette hanging from his fingers as he came to a stop in front of her cell. It was nearly midnight, much too late for jailhouse visitors, and his presence gave her a chill.

"I asked Jake to let me in." He didn't meet her eyes. "Him and me… We go way back."

"What do you want?" She reminded herself that the cell was locked, but she still felt uneasy.

"It's—" He cleared his throat, took a drag from the cigarette. "I know I owe you, but your bail's high, and I'm a little short right now. That check you gave Lisa has to go into a special fund."

"I know." How could she tell him the check wouldn't be good if she didn't get on that bus on Monday?

"It was nice of you to give us that money."

She didn't know what to say or why he was here, so she kept silent.

"Emily's—She's doing better. Her white-cell count is way down. Nobody expected it." He finally looked at her. "Lisa's mom thinks you faith-healed her."

"I didn't."

"She's been getting better every day since you saw her."

"I'm glad. But it doesn't have anything to do with me."

"That's what I thought at first. But now I'm not so sure." His forehead puckered and he drew nervously on the cigarette. "It's happened so fast, and none of the doctors can explain why. She keeps saying you closed your eyes and your hands were hot when you touched her."

"The room was warm."

"I guess. Still…" He threw down the cigarette and ground it out. "I don't feel right about some things. My little girl…" He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "I'm not the best father in the world, but she means a lot to me, and you helped her." He pulled the cigarette pack from his shirt pocket and looked down at it. "I talked Jake into letting me come in here tonight because I wanted you to know that I'm sorry for some things, and that I owe you. Maybe there's somebody I can call who'll help you. All you have to do is let me know."

"There's nobody."

"If I had the money…" He put the cigarettes back into his pocket.

"It's all right. I don't expect you to bail me out."

"I mean, I would, but…"

"Thanks. I'm really glad about Emily."

He gave a stiff nod.

She had the sense he wanted to say more because he hesitated, but then he moved toward the door. As soon as he got there, however, he turned back to her. "I got something to tell you." He walked to her cell. "I did a couple of things I'm not proud of."

She listened as he told her that he was responsible for the burning cross, the slashed tires and graffiti on the front of the house, her stolen wallet. "I always liked Dwayne, and I liked the job I had at the Temple. It was the best work I ever had, and nothing's gone right for me since then." Once again, he reached for his cigarettes. "I worked for Bonner for a couple of weeks out at the drive-in, but he let me go. Then you showed up here, and when he hired you, a lot of stuff came together in my head that made me start resenting you. I guess I kind of thought that maybe I still owed something to Dwayne, too. But for whatever reasons, what I did wasn't right." He finally lit the cigarette, drawing the smoke deeply into his lungs.

"Are you the one who destroyed the drive-in?"

"No." He shook his head emphatically. "No. I don't know who did that."

"Why have you told me all this?"

He shrugged. "Lisa and Fran don't think too much of me anymore. But I still love my little girl, and I know I owe you."

She tried to take it in. If he'd made his confession at any other time, she'd be furious, but right now she didn't have energy to spare on Russ Scudder.

"All right. You've told me."

He didn't seem to expect any words of forgiveness, and she didn't utter them.

Later, as she sat in the dark on the small metal cot with her knees drawn up in front of her, she gave in to despair. Despite her tarnished reputation, despite all the evidence, Gabe had to believe her.

He had to.

The digital clock next to his bed read 4:28. Cal looked across the pillow at Jane curled up against him and knew that guilt had awakened him, along with worry about Gabe. Where was he?

Right after they'd tucked the children into bed, Cal had driven up to the cottage, even checked his parents' house in town, but he couldn't find any sign of his brother.

Cal still hadn't told Jane he was the one who'd pressed charges against Rachel. He'd kept finding excuses to postpone it, mainly because he hated her to be unhappy. Then they'd started to make love, and afterward they'd both drifted off. Still, keeping this from her wasn't right, and he resigned himself to breaking the news as soon as she woke up. No more excuses. No more postponements. He'd simply have to make her understand.

It wouldn't be easy. Jane didn't have any family, so she couldn't fully comprehend the bond he shared with his brothers. And she hadn't known Gabe long enough to realize what a soft touch he was. But Cal knew. And he'd guarded his brother as zealously as he guarded everyone he loved.

He thought of Rachel all alone in her jail cell and wondered if she was awake, too, worrying about her little boy.

Why hadn't she considered that little boy before she'd struck out against Gabe?

He wanted to believe that she'd acted impulsively, without considering the effect her cruelty would have on a man who had finally been able to start a new life, but that didn't excuse her. She was one of those self-focused people who couldn't see any farther than her own needs and frustrations, and now she had to suffer the consequences. Satisfied that he was doing the right thing, Cal finally drifted off.

An hour later, he was jarred awake by the sound of door chimes, along with a furious pounding. Jane bolted upright next to him. "What's that?"

"Stay here." Cal was already out of bed. Grabbing a robe to cover his nakedness, he thrust his arms in the sleeves as he rushed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When he reached the front door, he looked through the peephole. Relief rushed through him as he saw Gabe on the other side.

He threw open the door. "Where the hell have you been?"

Gabe looked terrible, red-eyed and exhausted, with stubble covering his jaw. "I can't find Rachel."

Cal stepped back to let him in. "You have a key. Why didn't you let yourself in?"

"I forgot. And I needed to talk to you." He shoved his hand through his hair. "Have you seen Rachel? She was supposed to be staying at Kristy's condo, but nobody was there. I drove to the cottage. It's empty. Jesus, Cal, I can't find her anywhere. I'm afraid she's taken off."

"Cal, what's going on?"

Both of them looked up to see Jane coming down the stairs. She'd pulled on her pink nightshirt with a picture of Tinker Bell on the front. The fact that one of the most brilliant female physicists in the world had a fondness for cartoon nightwear usually made Cal smile, but not now. He wanted to keep her out of this.

Cal's uneasiness grew as Gabe rushed to the bottom of the stairs. His brother had always been a man who moved slowly—an easy walk, contained gestures. Now his movements were frantic. "I can't find Rachel. Like a fool, I walked out on her at the drive-in, and I haven't seen her since."

Jane looked confused. "She's in jail."

Gabe stared at her. "Jail?"

Jane touched his arm, her expression mirroring her concern. "I don't understand. Cal told me how Rachel vandalized the drive-in, and that you had her put in jail."

Seconds ticked by, then Gabe and Jane both turned to him, the motion so synchronized they might have been attached at the head.

He shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't actually say that it was Gabe, sweetheart. You just assumed…"

She was getting her squinty-eyed look, and he quickly turned to Gabe, keeping his voice calm and comforting as he spoke. "Rachel's the one who destroyed the drive-in, Gabe. I'm sorry. We found the money from the register, along with some other things, hidden in the Escort. I knew you'd want Odell to press charges, so I did it for you."

Gabe's voice sounded as if it had been dragged over sandpaper. "You had Rachel thrown in jail?"

Cal pointed out the truth as gently as he could. "She broke the law."

The next thing he knew, he was flying across the foyer. As the back of his leg hit the rim of the Las Vegas fountain, he lost his balance and fell, ass-first, into the water.

Gabe watched the water splash over the edge of the fountain while he tried to suck enough air into his chest to breathe. Once he could do that, he was going to kill his brother.

Cal struggled to sit upright, his robe swimming around him. "She trashed your drive-in! She belongs in jail!"

Gabe erupted and shot toward the fountain, but before he could get there, Jane threw herself between them. "Stop it! This doesn't help Rachel."

"Help Rachel, my ass!" Cal exclaimed, wiping the water from his eyes. "Gabe's the one who needs help!"

Gabe shot around Jane and reached down to grab his brother by the collar of his robe. "It's my drive-in, you son of a bitch, not yours! And you didn't have any right!" He shoved him back into the water.

God… He'd broken out in a sweat. Rachel was in jail, and that might be Cal's fault, but it was his fault, too, because he'd run. At the time, all he could think about was getting away. He'd been too much of a coward to stay right there and deal with what had happened.

He had to get to her, and he spun toward the door only to freeze in his tracks at the sound of a small, familiar voice coming from the top of the stairs.

"Gabe?"

He looked up and saw Chip standing there in his Macho Man T-shirt and little white cotton briefs. A rooster tail of light-brown hair stuck up from the back of his head, and silvery tear streaks glistened on his cheeks.

"Gabe?" he whispered. "Where's my mommy?"

Gabe felt as if his heart were cracking open, but this time it didn't spill bile. This time it spilled fresh red blood, full of life and need and love. He took the stairs two at a time and swept the child up in his arms. "It's okay, buddy. I'm going to get her right now."

Brown eyes stared into his own. "I want my mommy."

"I know you do, son. I know."

He felt Chip trembling beneath his palms and knew he'd started to cry. To protect his privacy, he carried him into the guest room. There wasn't a comfortable chair, so he sat on the side of the bed and cradled him in his lap.

The little boy's tears were mostly silent ones. Gabe held him against his chest and stroked his hair. As much as he needed to get to Rachel, he had to take care of this first.

"Something bad's happened to my mommy, hasn't it?"

"There's been a misunderstanding, a big mix-up. Your mom's safe, but I think she might be scared, and I have to go get her."

"I'm scared, too."

"I know you are, son, but I'm going to bring your mom back to you real soon."

"Is she going to die?"

Gabe pressed his lips to the top of the child's head. "No, she's not going to die. She's going to be fine. Just scared, is all. And probably mad, too. Your mom can get real mad."

Chip nestled closer, and Gabe stroked the curve of his arm. It felt so good he wanted to cry himself.

"Why was Rosie's dad sitting in the fountain?"

"He… uh… slipped."

"Gabe?",

"Yes?"

The child's soft deep breath was a whisper in the night-quiet room. "I forgive you."

Tears stung Gabe's eyes. Chip had offered his forgiveness much too easily. The child wanted stability so badly he'd do anything to get it, even put aside the wrong Gabe had done to him.

"You don't have to. What I did was pretty bad. Maybe you need to think about it some more."

"Okay."

Gabe took the child's hand in his own and stroked the palm with his thumb.

The solid weight of the boy's head sank against his chest. "I thought about it," he whispered. "And I forgive you."

Gabe kissed his hair again, blinked, then eased back just far enough to gaze down into Chip's small face. "I have to go find your mom now. I know you're going to be scared until she gets back, so why don't we sneak into Rosie's room with some blankets and make a bed for you on the floor next to her crib. Would that make you feel better?"

Chip nodded, then wriggled out of Gabe's lap and grabbed his pillow. "I used to sleep in Rosie's room when I was a baby. Did you know that?"

Gabe smiled at him and picked up the comforter. "You don't say."

"Uh-huh. We have to be real quiet so we don't wake her up."

"Real quiet." With the comforter tucked under one arm, he took Chip's hand and walked out into the hallway.

"Gabe?"

"Yes?"

Chip stopped walking and gazed up at him, wide-eyed and earnest. "I wish Jamie could sleep in Rosie's room, too."

"Me too, son," Gabe whispered. "Me too."

Gabe would have torn Salvation apart to get Rachel out of jail, but, fortunately, as soon as he started pounding on the front door of Odell's house, the police chief woke up, so it wasn't necessary.

By seven o'clock, Gabe was pacing the floor of the main room of the police station, his eyes glued to the metal door that led to the jail. As soon as he got the chance, he was going to tear his brother apart.

But he knew he was shifting the blame away from where it belonged. If he hadn't run away, none of this would have happened.

When he'd left the drive-in, he'd driven across the county line and ended up at an all-night truck stop drinking lethal coffee and facing his demons. The hours had ticked by, and it was nearly dawn before he'd figured out that Rachel had been right all along. He'd been using the Pride of Carolina to hide out. Although he'd been existing, he hadn't really been living. He didn't have the guts.

The door opened, and Rachel appeared. She froze as she caught sight of him.

Her face was pale, her hair tangled, and her calico dress a mass of wrinkles. The big black shoes plunked down at the ends of her slender legs looked like concrete blocks, one more burden weighing her down. But it was her eyes that tore a hole in his chest. Big, sad, uncertain.

He shot across the room and gathered her into his arms. She shuddered, and, as she trembled against him, he thought of Chip, who'd done the same thing earlier. And then he didn't think of anything but holding tight to this feisty, stubborn sweetheart of a woman who'd pulled him back from the grave.