sunnyislandbreezes.com

***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling for sending me a review copy.***

The story of Ruth has captivated Christian believers for centuries, not least of all because she is one of only two women with books of the Bible named after them. Now, Diana Wallis Taylor animates this cherished part of the Old Testament, with its unforgettable cast of characters. She describes Ruth’s elation as a young bride— and her grief at finding herself a widow far before her time. Readers will witness the unspeakable relief of Naomi upon hearing her daughter-in-law’s promise never to leave her. And celebrate with Boaz when, after years as a widower, he discovers love again, with a woman he first found gleaning in his field. The story of this remarkable woman to whom Jesus Christ traced His lineage comes to life in the pages of this dramatic and unique retelling.

Ruth sat with her brother, Joash, on a small rug in the neighbors’ courtyard, listening fearfully as the adults discussed what to do with them. Ruth wanted her mama. Why would they not let her see her? Was she still sick? Her papa had tended her for several days and told them not to disturb her. No one baked any bread for their breakfast.She scrunched up her small face, her lower lip trembling. Yesterday, her mama would not wake up, and her papa began weeping and acting strangely. He struggled to stand up, and perspiration ran down his face. She remembered his words, spoken like he was out of breath. “Joash, you must help me. Take Ruth and go to the house of Naaman. Tell him I need his help. Stay there until I call for you.”

Joash grabbed her hand and almost pulled her to the neighbors’ house. She had been holding her mother’s shawl, and she wrapped it around herself that night as they slept in the neighbors’ courtyard. She could hardly breathe for the fear that seemed to rise up from her chest. Why would the neighbors not let them go home? Had Papa not called for them?

Everyone looked at them with sad eyes and whispered to one another. She clutched her mother’s shawl and turned to her brother.

“Why will they not let us go home?”

“I don’t know. Something is wrong.” He looked at a woman standing nearby. “We want to see our mama and papa.”

The woman answered quietly, “Children, your mama and papa are dead. You cannot see them…ever again.”

Ruth heard the word “dead.” A bird fell in their small courtyard one day, and her papa said it was dead. It lay on the dirt, unmoving, its eyes closed. She could not imagine her mama and papa like that bird. She turned to her brother again.

“Mama and Papa are dead?”

Joash nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks. He put an arm around her, and they clung to each other.

Naaman’s wife spoke up. “I have fed them for two days, but I cannot continue to care for them.”

“Do they have family elsewhere?” said another neighbor woman. “I have children of my own to feed.”

Naaman murmured, “Phineas has family near the Plains of Moab, outside Beth-Jeshimoth. He told me before he died.”

“What family? His parents? Are they still alive?”

There was silence. Then, “How would the children get there? They can’t go alone; the boy is only six, the girl almost four. Who would take them?”

“That is something to consider. It is a two days’ journey.”

Teary-eyed, Ruth turned to her brother and whispered, “Where do they want to take us?”

He straightened his shoulders and tried to sound very strong. “I don’t know, but do not be afraid, Sister. I will care for you.”

A couple entered the small courtyard and hurried up to the group that had been talking. The woman spoke. “We just heard about the parents. The mother, Timna, was my friend. Do you know what is to be done with the children?”

Someone said, “Naaman told us they have grandparents, outside Beth-Jeshimoth, but we don’t know how to get them there. They cannot travel alone.”

The man nodded, then said, “I will take them. My wife, Mary, will go with me.”

“But, Gershon, can you leave your shop for that long? It will take at least two days or more, just one way.”

“Ha’Shem will watch over my shop. It is the right thing to do. If they have family, that is where the children should go. I will prepare my cart and donkey.”

The first woman spoke. “May the Almighty bless you for your kindness, Gershon, and your wife also. It is a good thing you do. I will gather food for your journey. The other women in the neighborhood will help.”

Ruth listened to the women click their tongues and murmur among themselves.

“Those poor children were alone in the house with their sick parents for days before Phineas sent them to Naaman and his wife.”

“My husband wondered why Phineas had not come to work in three days.”

“The Lord only knows the last time they had eaten.”

“Both of the children are so thin.”

One of the other men spoke up. “What if you get there and find that the children’s grandparents are dead?”

“We will just have to trust the Almighty to guide us; we will pray that they live and that these orphaned children will be welcomed.”

Joash clutched Ruth’s hand tighter. “See? We will go to Abba’s family. They will take us there.”

Ruth, too frightened to speak again, could only nod, dried tears still on her cheeks.

Early the next morning, they were fed some lentil soup and fresh bread, and then Gershon and Mary took their hands and led them home, telling them they would now gather a few things to take with them. Mary clicked her tongue and sighed as she and her husband looked around the small house. “There is little of value here,” Gershon said. “The girl seems determined to hold on to her mother’s shawl.”

Mary glanced at Ruth. “It is a comfort to her. We must not take the bedding, because of their sickness. I will bring bedding from our house. Oh, Gershon, they were so poor. How did they live?”

“Evidently he made just enough to survive.”

Ruth, with her mother’s shawl still wrapped around her shoulders, clutched a doll made of rags that her mother had sewn for her. She looked around. There was no sign of her mama or papa anywhere. She watched her brother slip a small leather box out of a cupboard when the man and his wife were not looking. He put a finger to his lips and hid the box in his clothes.

When the cart was loaded, Ruth climbed in after Joash and settled in as the journey began. Never having ventured beyond her street, she looked about, wide-eyed, as they passed through the town.

“What is our town called?” Joash asked.

“It is Medeba,” the man answered.

His wife turned around in her seat at the front of the cart. “Have you not been in the town before?”

Joash shook his head.

“It is large. Your father made many fine bricks to build houses with.”

Ruth looked up at her. “I miss my mama.”

Mary sighed. “I know, child. Your mama and papa were so sick from the fever. They just didn’t get better, like so many others. But soon you will be with your grandparents.”

“Will they let us stay with them?” Joash asked.

There was a pause, and Mary looked at her husband. “Oh, of course. I’m sure they will be glad to see you.” She turned around again. “Have you ever met them?”

Ruth looked at her brother, and both children shook their heads.

They spent the night with some other families that were traveling. Gershon said something about it being safer to stay with a group.

Mary made sure Ruth and Joash were settled for the night and then lay down next to her husband. The two adults whispered to themselves, probably thinking that Ruth was asleep. She kept her eyes closed and listened in.

“Oh, Gershon, I pray that the grandparents are still there. What will we do if they are not?”

“We must trust the Almighty, Mary. I feel we are doing the right thing.”

“Then we will do our best, and know the outcome soon.”

“Timna was never well, from what I understand.”

Mary murmured, “If the parents of Phineas had a farm, why did he leave? Would he not work the farm with his father?”

“A disagreement of some kind. I don’t think the parents approved of the marriage. Medeba is a larger town. He probably thought he had a better chance of finding work there.”

She sighed. “Then the grandparents may not even know about the children?”

“It’s likely they don’t. Let us get some rest. We have many miles to cover tomorrow.”

Ruth yawned. What did it all mean? She was so tired. It was too much for her to understand. Moving closer to Joash, she settled down and, despite missing her parents, allowed sleep to draw her into its embrace.

Pelican Ventures Book Group-White Rose Publishing (March 14, 2013)

***Special thanks to Dora Hiers for sending me a review copy.***

“You can stop screaming now, Kibbles. We’re home.”Teal Benning downshifted and coasted into the gravel driveway, the wail of country music drowning the cicadas’ chatter coming through the sports car’s open windows. But the tunes did nothing to tame her cat’s occasional ear-piercing screech.Home? Not technically, but close enough. She’d grown up in this tiny house tucked in the Blue Ridge Mountains around Promise Lake.

For the last five years, home was in Atlanta, where she was Teal Benning, best-selling romance author and pro-basketball superstar Ian Hartsuk’s fiancée.

In Promise Lake, she was just Teal Benning.

Teal sighed and closed the windows. Jerking the keys from the ignition, the silence settled over her, and in the darkness, a glint sparkled from her finger, the remnant of her two-year-long relationship. Teal stared at the single diamond and clamped her lips together.

Correction. Ian Hartsuk’s ex-fiancée.

She tugged off the ring and smashed it deep into her laptop bag.

Why hadn’t she flung it at Ian’s head? She would have relished his expression as he watched several thousand dollars sink to the bottom of the hot tub. Wouldn’t that have been priceless? Nah. What was a few thousand to him? She’d figure out what to do with it later.

Teal stepped out on stiff legs, giving the short black dress a yank south and tugging her sweater tighter. She heaved the laptop bag over a shoulder and reached in for Kibbles’s carrier. Dried leaves crunched under high-heeled sandals as she wobbled around to the back of the car in the loose gravel.

The blackness settled around Teal’s throat like a noose. Her eyes burned, but she refused to give in to self-pity. What had she expected? Ian was no different from any other man she knew. Including her father. Cheating and lying, that was the name of their game.

Teal lifted her chin and pushed back her shoulders. All she needed was three months of disconnecting from the world and the constant paparazzi who hounded her in Atlanta. Without anyone traipsing around after her vying for the most obnoxious camera shot, and with Internet service more off than on, she’d forget all about Ian and the looming wedding date. The wedding that wouldn’t happen.

She had three months to pound out the words to the book that had already eluded her for eight weeks. Ninety days to create a heart-racing romance.

With a broken heart.

Teal clenched her jaw.

One look at the eye-popping price tag on the long white dress hanging in her closet in Atlanta would fix that.

Teal set the cat carrier and laptop bag on the ground and pressed her fingers against the tense muscles along the back of her neck, rolled her shoulders, and stretched. She reached into the trunk for her suitcase.

“Took you forever and a day to get home, Teal.”

Her head jerked up and banged against the trunk lid, breaking the expensive clip holding her hair in an elaborate twist. Hair fell over her eyes, and she lost her hold on the over-stuffed suitcase. It landed with a thud on the cat carrier, the contents spilling out onto the damp ground.

Kibbles screeched and clawed through the opening, then scampered away to cower in the bushes next to the house.

The voice in the darkness sounded deeper, richer, bolder, than she remembered. But comfortable.

And definitely amused.

“Make yourself useful, Hunter, and give a girl a hand.” She didn’t bother turning around, just knelt down and reached for the undies first. She scooped up the bras next and stuffed them in the suitcase pocket.

Yeah, she’d been angry and hurt. But was that an excuse to fling every stitch of clothing she owned into a suitcase for just a three-month stay? It wasn’t as if her mother didn’t own a washer and dryer. Sheesh!

“I’ll get this, Teal. You get that ferocious tiger of a cat.” Heavy footsteps ground into the gravel, and Hunter Miciver squatted next to her.

“Ha! That ferocious tiger weighs about seven pounds. All meow, no bite. Kibbles isn’t used to being outside. She’ll be lurking somewhere near the front door.” She snatched a stray bra off the ground and dangled it behind her back.

Hunter stuffed the rest of the clothes into the case and glanced at her, waiting, holding the lid open.

She rolled her eyes and crammed the bra into the case.

He closed the suitcase and unfolded to his full height, all six feet of him.

She stood, the top of her head reaching Hunter’s neck. Unlike Ian, where she’d barely reached his chest and always felt like such a minuscule person in the midst of his giant friends.

But then, they hadn’t turned out to be her friends, had they? Only Ian’s. Including her best friend, Kate.

Some best friend.

Not Hunter. He was a true friend, a lifelong ally. Had he known, Hunter would have warned her about Ian. Hunter couldn’t lie if his life depended on it.

Teal smiled. “Thanks, Hunter. It’s good to see you.”

A cool breeze caressed her face, along with Hunter’s scent. Different than what she remembered. Distinctly masculine with a hint of…she sniffed. Peppermint?

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re home. Crazy loud feline, and all.” Hunter closed the trunk lid and turned to face her. Even in the darkness, she made out the sympathy in his expression. Lacking his trademark smile and the crease lines around his eyes, both arms opened wide and reached out for her. “I’m sorry, Teal.”

She lifted her chin.

She. Would. Not. Cry.

Not over a jerk like Ian. And not even for two wasted years.

But, Kate? The first friend she’d made in Atlanta?

Teal couldn’t stop the single sob that crawled from the back of her throat. She took a step forward, and Hunter’s arms tightened around her.

She closed her eyes. A hug never felt so warm, so comforting, so…like coming home.

From Hunter Miciver?

Was that because she had known Hunter since elementary school? Hunter and his sister, Kelli, who lived across the street and were the only other kids in their neighborhood, played together after school every day. They spent the summers hanging out at the lake, and winter weekends skiing, tubing, or snowboarding.

Or was it because he acted like her big brother, too? He never complained about tagging along with her and Kelli on their first few dates. Crushing six teenagers into a car made for four didn’t even bug the guy.

Somewhere along their journey, Hunter had evolved into a friend with open arms, always willing to share a hug when her relationships soured and disintegrated.

Which they always did.

But a dear friend was all Hunter would ever be. Not quite marriage material. Or dating for that matter.

Not that she was looking. Because she was definitely not in the market.

She disengaged herself from his arms with a gentle step back. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

A rush of cool air whispered by. She shivered and tugged her sweater tighter, rubbing her hands against the thin material covering her upper arms. “How did you know?”

He leaned against the car and crossed his arms. One brow lifted. “Your breakup is plastered all over the Internet, Teal.” He made the quotation symbol with his fingers. “Best-selling romance author suffers heartbreak—”

Sheesh! Was it an unspoken rule that the girlfriend was always the last to know her boyfriend was cheating on her?

“OK, Hunter. I get the message.” Teal sucked in a deep, shaky breath, the crisp mountain air soothing her battered spirit a little. “When did you get in?”

“Just drove into the driveway myself. Followed you in. Didn’t you see me behind you?”

No, she hadn’t. She had been…distracted.

By the image of Ian’s teeth nibbling a trail along some brunette’s neck, his hands blazing a different path. And the click before a camera flashed, the exact moment when she realized who the brunette hair belonged to.

Defeat and weariness weighed heavy against Teal’s shoulders. She sighed, sliding a gaze over Hunter, from the baseball cap hanging low over his head, past the black leather jacket and the snug-fitting jeans down to the tennis shoes. “You look great, Hunter. I like the whiskers.”

And the longish, curly hair. Not like his teen, geeky years when he always wore it short. And he had bulked out. He wasn’t so scrawny anymore. Not that she would share that little tidbit with him.

One side of his lips curved at her appraisal, and he hoisted himself away from the car. “Come on. Let’s get your stuff and your screaming cat, inside. Maybe I can talk you into throwing on a pot of coffee. That was a long drive.” Hunter grabbed the handle of her suitcase and heaved the laptop bag over a shoulder.

“Coffee?” She scooped up the cat carrier. “It’s after midnight. It’ll have to be decaf, because I don’t plan on staying awake all night.”

He gave his head a little jerk, the smile crinkles around his eyes more obvious. “Decaf? What’s up with that, Teal? You’re not even in your thirties, and you’re drinking decaf?”

She shrugged and slid the key into the front door. He didn’t need to know that she hadn’t slept a full night since…it didn’t matter. “So, what’s it feel like, Hunter? The big three-oh?”

“Just another blessed day in the big scheme of things, Teally.”

Hunter, ever the eternal optimist.

She understood a little of that now. Thanks to the military chaplain she’d interviewed for her last book. But lately, questions ping-ponged in her brain, growing more agitated the moment her head hit the pillow at night.

She pushed the door open and flipped on the light switch to the great room. Fur rubbed against her ankles as Kibbles darted inside.

“Wow! Your mom made a few changes,” he whispered.

The previous furnishings of worn recliners and a flea market sofa had been replaced with a couple new leather couches. Dark. Rich. Expensive. Definitely not her mom’s usual decorating touch.

Teal stared, gulped. “Yeah. I guess so. That’s what I get for not making it home in a while.”

“Too long, Teal.”

The sadness in his voice made her look at him. Some unreadable emotion lingered around his eyes, compressed his lips.

“Maybe, but how would you know? How many times have you been home in the last year?”

His face cracked into a giant grin. “Probably about as many times as you. But Kelli keeps me up-to-date with any changes on the home front.”

Kelli, Hunter’s twenty-eight-year-old sister was Teal’s childhood best friend, although mostly online now, since about four hours of driving time separated them. “The rat. I should have known.”

With quiet steps he disappeared up the stairs, carrying her suitcase to the bedroom her mother still preserved for her. She set the carrier on the hardwood floor and wandered into the utility room, removing her sweater and hooking it on the rack. Teal retrieved Kibbles’s food and water dish and filled them up, then dumped fresh litter into the box her mother kept for her visits.

Teal slipped back into the kitchen, breathing a quiet sigh that her mother hadn’t redecorated in here.

She flipped the coffeemaker switch as sneakers slapped the wood floor behind her.

“At least your old bed is still in the bedroom.” That voice, so deep and intense, did funny things to her insides. Weird.

Or was she just comparing Hunter’s deep tone to Ian’s voice, which seemed rather whiny in comparison? She frowned. She so didn’t want to go there, to be the kind of person who constantly trashed the ex-fiancée.

Water gurgled through the coffeemaker, the precious aroma quickly filling the small kitchen. She grabbed a couple mugs from the cabinet and automatically added sweetener to hers. Hunter liked his coffee black.

“So what’s going on with you, Hunter? How long will you be home?”

“Until the first week of January.”

She glanced over a shoulder, the coffee decanter hovering just above the mugs.

Hunter had taken off his leather jacket and lounged against the counter, arms crossed, his muscled upper torso filling out that black long-sleeved shirt, oh-so-nicely.

What was wrong with her? She blinked and turned her attention back to the decanter, now dribbling coffee on the countertop. “You can take off work that long?”

“Nah, not really. I’ll get some work done from here, including online meetings. But everybody needs a little downtime, Teal.”

Maybe she should have been a graphic arts designer. Granted, she had the flexibility to work from wherever she chose, but deadlines waited for no writer. Didn’t she know it? She had three months. Until February 17th.

She finished pouring the coffee and handed him the mug. “Where is home now?”

He cleared his throat, adjusted the ball cap lower over his face and mumbled, “Mostly D.C.”

Teal waited for him to elaborate.

“Teal, you’re home. I wasn’t expecting you until next week sometime.” Teal’s mother breezed into the kitchen. She planted a kiss on Teal’s cheek and gave her a one-armed hug, being careful not to spill Teal’s coffee. She did the same with Hunter. “Good to see you, too, Hunter.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, Ramona.”

Teal didn’t flinch at Hunter’s use of her mother’s first name.

Ramona had reverted to her maiden name after her divorce and despised the title “Mrs.” Everybody called her Ramona. Including Teal, most of the time.

“That’s OK, Hunter. I heard talking, and I just wanted to make sure that it was Teal.” Ramona covered a yawn.

That was odd. Who else would be talking in the kitchen in the middle of the night?

Teal narrowed her eyes and stared at her mother.

A new, colorful robe was knotted around her waist. And Ramona’s long hair? Where was it? She wore it now cut short, and angled at the bottom.

Teal’s jaw dropped.

Hunter reached over and propped Teal’s chin up with his thumb, a gentle expression on his face. Pity? Why not? He knew about her breakup and that she never handled changes well.

What a long day. All she wanted was to slink upstairs, curl up in the bed, and bury her head under a pillow. Would she wake up to find this day had been a nightmare?

“Nice hair cut, Ramona.” Teal managed to choke out the words.

And it was. Truly. But why would Ramona cut her hair?

“Thanks, honey. It was time to let my long hair go.”

The furniture. A drastic haircut and a brand new, flashy red robe.

What was next? The kitchen? Teal’s bedroom?

“Want some coffee, Ramona? I just made a pot. Decaf.” Teal sank onto the bar stool in front of the island.

“No. I’m headed back to bed. Is everything OK, honey?”

Teal stiffened. She hadn’t had a chance to break the ugly news. But that conversation would not take place tonight. Teal forced her lips into a smile. “Sure. Why?”

Her mother studied Teal’s short, black party dress. “Well, for one reason, when we spoke on the phone last, you said you were coming home next week.”

Hunter’s brows arched.

Next week. Yes, well, that was before the hot tub incident with Ian and Kate tonight. She sucked in a deep breath and tugged her dress down. She felt naked, exposed, vulnerable.

Hunter stepped so close she caught that whiff of peppermint again. He looped an arm around her shoulder.

She glanced up, surprised at the tenderness shining from his warm eyes.

“Isn’t it wonderful that Teal could work out her schedule to come home early for the holidays? It’s been far too long since we’ve had a chance to hang out. Maybe we can find time to hit the slopes sometime next month.”

Her hero, stepping in to save the day.

Or rather, to shore up the emotional dam that threatened to break. She managed to send a smile of gratitude and caught his wink.

His stomach growled.

All three of them laughed.

Hunter dropped his arm to pat his belly. “Quiet down there.”

“Hunter, I think you’d better feed that hungry bear hiding inside you. I’m sure I have something in this kitchen that you and Teal can scrounge up.” Ramona looked from one to the other, something akin to suspicion mingling with her smile. “All right, then, I’m off to bed. See you in the morning, Teal. Good night, Hunter.”

Well, that conversation was postponed. Thanks to Hunter. Missing the warmth of Hunter’s arm, Teal shivered and rubbed her arms. Why hadn’t she changed into jeans for the trip here? “Sleep well, Mom. See you in a few hours.”

“Good night, Ramona,” Hunter added.

Her mother padded from the room.

Hunter leaned back against the counter, sipping coffee. He’d changed. Grown and filled out. But he was still the same childhood buddy. She smiled.

“What?”

“Did I tell you it’s good to see you?”

“I missed you, too, Teal.”

“I didn’t say that.” She sputtered, swatting him on the upper arm. Her hand met firm, lean muscle. Stunned, she blinked. A couple times.

“It was implied.” Satisfaction gleamed from his roasted-coffee-colored eyes and curved one side of his lips.

“Would you like something to eat, Hunter? Ramona always has eggs and cereal in the house.”

Hunter pulled a cell phone from his jeans pocket and studied it. His eyes widened, and then his lips thinned. He scrubbed his beard. “I’m sorry, Teal, but I’ve got to run. Um…a client needs something. Will you be OK?”

A client? In the middle of the night?

“If one more person asks if I’ll be OK—”

“Hey. Don’t shoot me. Just checking. You just went through a rough experience, and I haven’t seen you in awhile.” He mashed the phone back in his pocket and drained his coffee, then pushed away from the counter. He rinsed out the cup, eyeing her over his shoulder. “You up for a run in the morning?”

Teal glanced at the kitchen clock. Two a.m. Now that she was away from the public eye, she might be able to catch a few hours of good sleep. “Hunter, I don’t know what world you live in, but it’s morning now.”

That familiar coaxing smile appeared, the one he always used to cajole her into cooperating with his plans. He slid an appreciative glance over her bare legs. “You may be just a tad out of shape, Teal, but you’re not too far gone from our track days. What? Are you afraid I’ll show you up?”

“Out of shape! Show me up?” She snorted and stood up. “Right. Like that’s going to happen.”

“OK, then. How about seven-thirty?”

She didn’t usually work until Saturday afternoons, anyway. And it was just a run, not an all-day event.

“Only if you promise to throw in breakfast, too.” She groaned. How had she let him talk her into this?

One dark brow arched, and he flashed a wicked grin. How did he do it? This cheeriness. At two in the morning.

She wanted to growl.

“It’s a deal, Teally. With at least a gallon of coffee, too. I’ll meet you here.”

“Awful smug, aren’t you? We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune after you’re eating my dust.” She mumbled as she flipped the coffeemaker off and followed Hunter to the front door, her gaze drawn to his bulky shoulders and wide, strong back. Hunter must be on some workout regimen.

“G’night, Hunter. Sweet dreams.”

He glanced over a shoulder, his eyes suddenly dark and unreadable. “Night, Teally. See you in a few hours.”

She closed the door behind him. She was glad Hunter was home. Maybe they could spend some time together, revisit their teen hangouts like the ski slope and the lake.

February 17th. Burn that date in your brain, Teal.

She had three months to finish this book.

She couldn’t afford to let Hunter be a distraction.

****

Hunter cocked his head, listening for the click of Teal’s deadbolt, and popped a peppermint in his mouth.

Sweet dreams?

Hunter didn’t have time for dreams. He needed to get to his computer. Fast.

And hit the bathroom even faster.

He couldn’t afford to let Teal be a distraction.

For now, anyway. Not when Shale needed him.

He probably shouldn’t have spared the precious minutes to come over to see Teal. But she had surprised him by turning onto their small road ahead of his car.

And here he was. Like a moth drawn irresistibly to the light of her smile.

After all, shouldn’t there be some perk to being in Promise Lake and not halfway across the world?

The real reason he’d returned to this side of the world growled again, disrupting the peaceful night. Pain shot through his gut. He pressed a hand against his stomach.

A distinct click rattled from the other side of the door.

He hustled to the end of the driveway, and then jogged across the street to his parents’ house.

What happened to the operation? He didn’t expect to hear from Shale until sometime tomorrow, er…today. Later today.

“What’s going on, Shale?” he huffed, under his breath.

Hunter stopped to grab his bags from the car then raced inside and up the stairs towards his old bedroom. He set the bags down and hit the bathroom.

When the overseas doctor suggested medical tests, he had said no. What would happen if the doctor found something that required surgery? How would he cope by himself? Here in the states his family could help if surgery was necessary.

Relieved for the moment, he sank into the desk chair, which squeaked, as loud and obnoxious as ever. He booted up the computer and tugged his favorite sports cap off, running a hand through his hair. “Come on. Come on.”

Finally. He tapped at the keys, and while he waited for the program to load, he pulled out his cell phone and texted Shale.

Hunter glanced at the bed next to the desk. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, and then circled his neck to work out some kinks.

Two-thirty.

Samson, his parents’ ten-year-old golden retriever, ambled into the room and gave him the “What are you doing interrupting my sleep?” dogface.

“Hey, old buddy. How’s it going?” Hunter scratched the dog’s head until Samson plopped down on the rug and huffed.

“I’m with you, buddy.”

With a couple hours of work ahead of him, he would be lucky to catch some sleep before he left to run with Teal.

What would it be like to have a normal job? One where he could be snuggling under that toasty comforter by now. Where operatives or assets situated all over the world weren’t texting him at odd hours of the night. Er, morning.

Or to be married? With a wife to warm his bed, to cozy up to him with a hug at the end of a long day. And a family to come home to, with plenty of kids to help him see that the world wasn’t all bad. To bring the smiles and the laughter back into his day.

God, will Teal ever see me as the right man for her? Not just some jerk who will treat her bad, but the one who will show her what true romance is? With Your help, I would do my best to take care of her, love her, and cherish her for all of my days.

He would give up the job for her. In a second.

But one thing he wouldn’t do.

He refused to be someone she turned to for hugs and comfort when her boyfriends dumped her. Or the other way around.

And what’s the first thing he did tonight when he saw her?

Offered a hug.

Mush ball.

Hunter checked the screen. Time to get clicking.

***Special thanks to Rick Roberson for sending me a review copy.***

It was like a dream, but not really. I mean it was a dream but there were parts that seemed so real—besides the parts where Mom had actually died in real life. Does that make sense? I get those every once in a while, dreams that are more real than real, ever since I was a kid.Anyway, in the dream Mom was driving our SUV up the steep, winding road to our home in Malibu Canyon.

Jake and I were in the back, sitting in our clearly designated seating areas . . .

Jake in his WARNING: Biological Hazard Zone, complete with empty Cheetos bags, crumpled McDonald wrappers (which had last seen action months ago), his wadded up T-shirt and crusty socks (which had last seen a washer longer than that), and don’t even get me started on the last time he shampooed his hair.

I, on the other hand, sat in the WELCOME: This is How Normal People Live Zone, complete with breathable air and a place to sit without catching some deadly disease. (Jake accuses me of being a Neat Freak. Maybe, but it’s better than being a toxic waste site.)

And where was our dear father in all of this? To be honest, he seldom shows up in my dreams—just like he seldom shows up in our real lives. Oh, he says he loves us and all, but what’s the saying? Actions are louder than words. Anyway, I’ll get to him a little later.

It was the same dream I’d had a hundred times before . . .

I was busy doing homework when I glanced up to see a monster truck coming around the corner in our lane.

“Mom!” I shouted. “Look out!”

“What’s that?” She reached over to turn down the radio—one of her silly Country-Western songs about some girl breaking some guy’s heart.

“Up ahead! Look out!”

But she didn’t look out. And, just like all the other times, I saw the truck heading towards us, blasting its horn. I’m guessing his brakes had failed by the way he was scraping along the mountainside to slow himself. A good idea, except the mountainside was on our side!

Mom had nowhere to go. She swerved to the outer lane then tried to turn back, but she’d run out of road. We crashed through the guardrail and sailed out over the can- yon floor, which was a good two hundred feet below. There was no sound. I could see Mom screaming but heard only silence—except for that Country-Western singer going on about his broken heart.

I spun to Jake but he didn’t even glance up. He was too busy playing his stupid computer game. Then, just when the singer reached the line, Why you stompin’ on my achin’ heart with your high heel boots, we hit the water with a huge splash.

And this is where things get interesting . . .

In the real world, on the day Mom died, there was no water at the bottom of the canyon. It was September and the stream had dried up. And while we’re doing a reality check, Jake and I weren’t even in the car that day. Jake had been at the beach being Mr. Cool with a bunch of girls, and I was at home doing my algebra. (I know I’m only seventh grade, but besides being a neat freak, I’m kind of a workaholic.)

But in the dream there was plenty of water and the SUV kept sinking deeper and deeper with all three of us inside. Well, actually four, if you count the Country- Western singer who was now sitting in the front passenger seat, strumming his guitar!

Water poured in and quickly rose. Mom tried opening her door, but it wouldn’t budge. She hit it with her shoulder over and over again, but the pressure of the water outside was too much. It began swirling around our waists and rising to our chests.

“Jenny,” Mom shouted, “roll down your window!” “It’ll flood us worse!” I yelled.

“It’s the only way. Roll down your window and swim out!”

“But—”

“Hurry!”

I threw a look to Jake who had conveniently disappeared. (Even in my dreams, he’s a slacker.)

“Hurry!”

I rolled down the window. More water roared in, pounding against my chest and face. I had to turn my head just to breathe. Then I grabbed the sides of the open window with my hands, turned my head away for another quick breath, and pulled myself out into the water.

I kicked and swam until I grabbed the SUV and pulled myself over to Mom’s door. By now the car was completely filled. Our faces were inches apart, separated only by her window. I yanked at the door handle. It didn’t budge. I tried again. Nothing. My lungs started aching for air, but I kept pulling and tugging as Mom kept pushing and banging.

Still, nothing.

My heart pounded in my ears. My lungs felt like they were on fire. The outside edges of my vision started going white. Mom pounded on the glass. I joined in and hit the window with my fists. When that didn’t work, I tucked in my feet, raised my legs and kicked it. Still nothing. My lungs were screaming for air. My vision grew whiter. I had to get a breath. I pointed to the surface and shouted, “I’ll be back!”

She nodded and I pushed off, my lungs ready to explode. Sparkly lights danced through my head. I was losing consciousness, I was going to pass out, I was—

Then I broke through the surface, coughing and gasping. Cool air soothed my lungs as I gulped in two, three, maybe four breaths. I forced my head to clear, then took one more breath and ducked back down into the water.

It was dark and murky but I could follow the bubbles. The SUV had settled to the bottom of the river. When I reached the roof, I pulled myself over to Mom’s side. She wasn’t moving.

“MOM!”

I yanked at the door. I slammed it. I kicked it. I had to get her out. The door gave, ever so slightly. I pulled harder. It moved some more, then it opened with a groaning CREAK.

I grabbed Mom’s arm and pulled, but she was stuck. I spotted her seat belt and reached down to unbuckle it. My lungs were crying out for air again as I pulled her from the car. But we’d barely started before we were jerked to a stop. I turned and saw that something like a shadow had grabbed her other arm. At first I thought it was the Country-Western singer. I pulled but it held her tight. It was like a tug of war game, me on one arm, the shadow man on the other. And the harder I pulled—this was even weirder—but the harder I pulled, the more he started turning into this shadowy creature that kept growing bigger and bigger with huge, bat-like wings.

This is a dream, I kept telling myself, this is only a dream!

But my lungs were on fire. My vision was going all white again. This time I would not leave. I’d stay here and die with her if I had to, but I would not leave.

The pounding in my ears grew louder, filling my head . . . along with the song. That’s right, the singer or shadow or whatever it was, had begun singing again. Maybe it had never stopped:

I’ll never let you go . . . you will always be mine . . . always be mine . . . always be mine.

Well, Mr. Shadow could guess again. Dream or no dream, he could not have her.

Always be mine . . . always be mine . . .

My vision was totally white now. My mind shutting down. I could no longer feel my hands or my legs. I knew I was dying, but I would not let go. I loved her too much, I would never let go. The shadow thing may have won, but—

And then I heard a shout. “Augh!”

It sounded like Jake. But that was impossible. What would Jake be doing down here? I heard him again, even louder.

“AUGH!”