Against All Odds 5t5mg

Other Novels by Kathleen Rigdon Highley

106 Arrowhead Drive In Search of Tranquility Coming Home Love’s Great Price Where Love Grows Love’s Long Journey 106 Arrowhead Drive: The Next Generation The Next Generation: Brooke

Against All Odds

KATHLEEN RIGDON HIGHLEY

Copyright © 2019 Kathleen Rigdon Highley.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing 1663 Liberty Drive Bloomington, IN 47403 www.archwaypublishing.com 1 (888) 242-5904

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture quotations marked (NIV) are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks ed in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

ISBN: 978-1-4808-8519-6 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-4808-8520-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019919592

Archway Publishing rev. date: 12/3/2019

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Power of Prayer

My personal thanks to Tanya Hartman for the cover design, on this and the 8 previous titles we have worked on together.

And to Reina Cisneros, attorney at law, for her guidance through juvenile court proceedings.

And a collective thanks to every reader, family member, and friend who has encouraged me throughout my writing career.

I love and appreciate each and every one of you!

Unbridled ion

O, to write beautiful words that move the souls of men, Whether one or two, or five or ten. Or perhaps a string of words that stretch around the earth, Bringing revelation, awe and mirth.

A truth so genuine, it could not lie. A truth so valuable, it could never die.

Awake, my soul, and read.

Kathleen Rigdon Highley

Chapter One

When you through the waters, I will be with you; and when you through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze (Isaiah 43:2 NIV).

With a scowl on his face, Paul stepped of the school building on his way to the football field and plowed right into his brother James. He did not want to see James, or anyone else, for that matter. He had been avoiding his entire family for weeks. He was ashamed to it it. Ashamed to think a girl could make him act like nothing else mattered. But he’d been struggling with himself, angry, wishing he could just put her out of his mind. Get her out of his heart. “What are you doing here?” growled Paul, his ongoing bad attitude had made him sullen, angry and standoffish for a couple months now. He knew it; but he didn’t know what to do about it. “Saving you from yourself, bro.” “What makes you think I need saving?” The one girl in school who had caught his eye had rejected him, numerous times. And yeah, he had let her rejection get to him. But he didn’t need some insane intervention tactic to get through it. Get past it. To move on and find happiness. He didn’t. Movement to Paul’s left caught his attention. Looking in that direction, he saw Doug coming around the corner of the building. “What is this, James? What’s going on?” He glared at his brother, as if the look in his eyes could speak the unabashed words that swam around in his head. James had no business telling the youth minister about his fall into depression. If what was happening to him could even be described in such clinical . He was hurt, and a little mad, but he didn’t need counseling. “Just listen to him, Paul,” said James. “He cares about you, and you’re not listening to anyone else.”

As Doug approached, James backed away. “Where do you think you’re going!?” Paul shouted at James’s retreating form. “I’ll see you at home, bro.” Paul rolled his eyes but didn’t go after his brother. If he were being honest with himself, he would have to it he was relieved someone really seemed to care. For weeks, he had been tortured by self-doubt, fear of not being good enough, and wondering why he’d let a girl throw him off his game so completely. A girl who didn’t care two bits for his affections or his feelings. As Doug stood silently in front of him, patiently waiting, Paul’s heart ached all over again for the loss of his father. Paul knew without a doubt that his dad would have come to the rescue long before now. Being the oldest child, Paul had gut-wrenching, painful, beautiful memories of their dad. Sometimes he envied little Kim, who didn’t have any at all. But when those moments came, Paul pushed them away. Nothing could be further from the truth. Dad had been the most important person in Paul’s life, and he treasured the memories of the loving, godly man who had miraculously managed to put his family first, even with four active children, a gorgeous wife who would have distracted any redblooded male, even as she bloomed with their fifth child, while he balanced a crazy successful career as a brain surgeon. Paul missed his dad with a deep and abiding ache. But even without him, God had not abandoned Paul. The proof stood right in front of him; and God’s love shown through the eyes of His ready and willing servant. “Wanna talk about it?” said Doug. Paul heaved a huge sigh, rolled his neck and pushed his shoulders back. No, he didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted it to not be real. He didn’t relish the “mirror time” that would tell him the truth about himself. No, he didn’t want to talk about it. “No, but I need to,” he managed to say. And, if he would just it it, he meant what he said. He did need to talk about it. “How about we talk over a burger, fries and a shake. My treat.” “Sounds good,” said Paul, hungry for more than a burger. Hungry for release

from this agonizing state of angst, for spiritual enlightenment, and to feel the firm foundation of belief under his feet again. Hungry for freedom from the confusion and internal boil that refused to let go. The eighteen-minute drive from KIPP Nashville Collegiate High School (where elite students excel but must meet rigorous academic demands) to Burger Up (where Paul prayed they could get a somewhat private table) had Paul’s stomach in knots. He wanted, needed, someone to talk to who wouldn’t make him feel stupid or awkward. Someone who wouldn’t be sitting across the breakfast table the next morning or hounding him for details before bedtime. Someone who wasn’t his brother, or heaven forbid, his mother. He felt foolish enough as it was. Paul sighed with relief when he followed Doug into the popular dining establishment and spotted an empty table in the back right corner. Doug and Paul each ordered a burger with the works, a large order of seasoned curly fries, and a large vanilla milkshake. As Paul enjoyed the treat, he appreciated not only the food, but the fact that Doug let him eat in peace. No scowls or probing between bites to make him even more self-conscious. “Man, that was good,” said Paul. “Thanks, Doug. For weeks now, everything has tasted more like cardboard than calories. It’s been a long two months.” He scrubbed his face with both hands and blew out a breath. The longest two months of his life. Doug wiped a spot of mustard out of the corner of his mouth then set his napkin on top of the crumb-laden basket. “How so?” he said. “Like I’m supposed to believe James didn’t lay it all out there for you.” Paul watched Doug very closely; but didn’t see anything in his expression to Paul’s accusation. Odd, he’d felt certain James would have ratted on him. Told their comionate youth minister all about Alexandria Luna. Ugh. “Not believing something doesn’t necessarily make it untrue,” said Doug. “James didn’t tell me anything, except that he was worried about you. And frankly, I wasn’t surprised since you’ve missed so many Wednesday night Bible studies. It’s just not like you. By the way, I apologize for not reaching out sooner. I’ve let myself get a little preoccupied, and sleep deprived,” he said with a chuckle, “since Darla had the baby.”

The baby. Paul froze. He’d forgotten all about the baby. But then, he’d forgotten most everything except his own selfish agenda lately. Hearing about Doug and Darla’s baby accompanied a stab of conscience that Paul had been dodging for weeks. “I feel like a heel,” said Paul. “I’ve shut myself off from just about everything over a wounded ego and a lack of self-confidence. I’m real sorry about that, now. So, what did y’all get, a boy or girl?” It felt good to say the truth out loud. To face his ridiculous behavior. To share the burden with a “safe” friend, a friend who would deal gently with him and coax him back into the fold. Paul very much wanted back into the fold, back in God’s good graces, free of the nightmare that Alexandria Luna had turned out to be. Doug’s smile spread across his whole face and Paul decided right then, he wanted to feel that measure of joy one day. A home. A wife. A child. Someday. But it would not be with someone like Alexandria, no way. The last several weeks had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that the woman Paul would one day marry, he had not yet met. Waiting for God’s best would make finding that woman worth the wait. Maybe there wouldn’t be a el of frogettes to kiss along the way. “A big strappin’ boy,” said Doug, pride beaming out from every crevice of his face as he cut into Paul’s thoughts. “We named him Daniel. He weighed in at nine pounds, six ounces, and stretched out to twenty-three inches.” “Sounds awesome,” said Paul. “Congratulations.” And he meant it. Doug was one of the finest people Paul had ever known, and his joy for their family had proven genuine. Made him feel even worse for being such an idiot lately. He’d been focused on his bruised ego and let himself think Alexandria’s rejection spelled the end of his chance for a meaningful life. What a joke. “Thanks,” said Doug. “So, tell me, what’s been going on with you?” Paul looked away, looked down at the floor and around the room before he looked Doug in the eye. “I let a girl get inside my head.”

“Ah. I know how that can be.” “You do?” Paul’s shock had to be evident. He couldn’t hide it. “I know better than I’d like to it,” said Doug. “The girl I knew was a stinker and just about ruined my life. That’s not to say, I didn’t play my part in all of it. I let her get to me. In fact, I was in a real pickle when God used our youth minister to get me back on track. It’s why I’m a youth minister, myself.” Paul could hardly believe it. He figured Doug had been one of those people who had stayed on the straight-and-narrow their entire lives, without a single incident to mar his perfect record. Didn’t have to be logical for him to think that way, his thoughts were his thoughts. “Wow. I assumed you had never done anything wrong, ever, which is why I have been avoiding you.” Doug laughed. A soulful, sad laugh. “Well, let me set the record straight.” Paul listened for the better part of an hour while Doug shared his testimony. He’d been a junior in high school at the time, his girlfriend a sophomore. Long story short, she got pregnant then miscarried in the third month. After that, the girl would have nothing more to do with him. He had disappointed his parents; and wasn’t very popular with hers, either. “I’m sad to say that experience didn’t jumpstart me on the road to doing whatever it took to not ever make that mistake again. Nope. Instead, I set aside my moral com and got way off course for a while. It took the rest of my high school career to even accept the fact that God could, and would, forgive me. I’m convinced that my youth minister felt beyond relieved when I finally started acting like a human being again. He and his wife hosted a pizza and pool party when I accepted Jesus as my Savior and Lord,” he said with a chuckle. “It was a close call there, for a while. Anyway, once God called me into the ministry, I jumped at the chance to be there for other kids. And I’ve never looked back. Forgiveness can be a powerful thing.”

Doug’s confession made Paul feel a hundred pounds lighter. He didn’t have to have Alexandria’s affections in order to live a happy and fulfilled life. He realized he’d been acting like a fool; but no one had been caught in a compromising position; no one had gotten pregnant; and he didn’t have to face his mother with such a story. Definitely, Paul realized the blessing that no involvement at all with Alexandria Luna had actually been. In fact, now that he was no longer blinded by the siren or her song, he realized Alexandria wouldn’t have been marrying material anyway, so why waste his time trying to win her over? Senior year felt serious. Real life was coming right at him. He wanted to be ready for it. Not get tripped up by some soul-less, darkhaired beauty. The Lord had someone extra special in mind for Paul Baldwin. He felt certain of the fact. Now. Someone lovely and godly, and pure. His heart told him to hold out for that dream of a girl. A girl who loved the Lord with a ion to match his own. A girl who would be faithful and honest, and not manipulative. A girl he would be proud to bring home to meet the family. Paul Baldwin came from a family history of strong, independent, godly women. He valued the influence they had made on his life. Thinking about it now brought to mind his mother and grandmother’s matching coffee mugs that read: To Good Women: May we know them; May we be them; May we raise them. For sure, Alexandria Luna would not fit into that mold. Paul could wait for God’s best. No sweat. No regrets. In the days following his discussion with Doug, Paul found an alternate route to class that didn’t in front of Alexandria’s locker. He needed to stay far away from her and keep his mind focused on what God had planned for his life. And Alexandria would have no part in it. Therefore, when Amber, one of Alexandria’s girlfriends, approached Paul to find out why he’d been avoiding Alexandria, Paul gave her a clear and concise answer. “Well, Amber, the truth is, I’ve decided to wait for the girl God has in mind for me to marry. And Alexandria is not that girl.”

Paul’s answer to Amber didn’t sit well with Alexandria Luna. Until now, she had been in complete control of Paul Baldwin. Who did he think he was, cutting her off like that? It didn’t matter that they had not been on one single date. It didn’t matter that she had snubbed every attempt he’d made to take her out to dinner, to a movie, or a ballgame. And now, he was avoiding her? Unacceptable. Alexandria didn’t give up control that easily. “What are you gonna do?” Amber asked Alexandria. “I don’t know yet. But goody-two-shoes Baldwin will be sorry he ever messed with me.”

“I can’t go with you, Alexandria,” said Paul, frustrated that Alexandria had been coming at him, off and on now, for months. “No, not under any circumstances. I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’ve moved on.” Paul considered his statement to be true, although he had not dated anyone seriously since he had attempted to go out with Alexandria. He’d taken a couple of girls to a movie or a ballgame. He hadn’t met anyone extra special; but his heart had healed from the disappointing infatuation he’d had for Alexandria Luna, who seemed to consider herself queen of their high school, maybe of the city of Nashville, and she would not persuade him otherwise. Ever. From that day forward Paul determined he would only date girls with real potential. Marrying potential. Hopefully, she would have a measure of physical appeal, kind eyes, a pretty smile, a sincere love for the Lord, and a positive attitude. He had discovered, in a pointed way, that the cover of the book could be beautiful while the pages inside contained nothing but rotten ideas and ungodly scenarios. He was done with that superficial attitude. Paul didn’t consider himself on the level of James Bond, for sure, although he’d been told he was quite handsome. He was willing to it, however, that he possessed some amenable assets. He was tall, 6’2”, and could still be growing. Who knew? He had achieved an impressive status on the high school basketball and golf teams and excelled in academics. His head full of sandy blonde hair contained a slight wave, and his deep blue eyes a warmth that had started many a conversation, once he’d shed himself of Alexandria’s influence, and let other people in. The Lord had surely created a lovely, sweet, godly woman who would fit with him, like two puzzle pieces ed together in all the right places, as precisely as a machinist fit parts together, so that everything worked in synchronized movements. A fit that wouldn’t crumble under adversity. A life-long fit. Determined, Paul had decided he would wait until the Lord brought them together. It’s not like high school graduation would be the end of any possible meaningful relationships. Even if it felt that way. At least a little bit. Part of him wondered why he hadn’t been able to find “the one” in an entire high school population. But then, his rational side would kick in: He would be all of 17 when he graduated high school. Who finds their soul mate at 17? He could wait. His intended could be right around the corner.

Between the fall of his junior year and Thanksgiving break his senior year, Paul dodged every bullet Alexandria shot his way. She would push herself up against him, into the open space of his locker, and he’d twist away from her. She would show up at his house in skimpy shorts and a halter top, and he’d refuse to come to the door. She would send lude texts and emails, so he blocked her number and removed any presence on social media. She pursued him as hard as she had rejected him—until a final confrontation on the last day of school before Thanksgiving break, brought her attempts to a screeching halt. The last class on the last day had ended. Paul had closed his locker, turned his back toward it, and taken one step forward when Alexandria rushed to stand in front of him, a little too close for comfort. The closeness he had once craved, now an affront to his senses. Alexandria opened her mouth to speak, but Paul took a step back, held up one finger and said, “Please excuse me for a moment.” He pulled out his phone and hit SEND on a previously composed text. Within seconds, James, Matt, Brooke, Kim, Doug, and a police officer, the cool uncle of a friend who had been recruited in advance (mainly for show) gathered around them. “I’d like to introduce you to my backup squad,” said Paul, as he glanced at Alexandria. “From now on, they will be alert to my signal. If I push SEND on my phone a pre-arranged code will send a message to each one of them, simultaneously, just like it did today. They will come running, any time, day or night. And Officer Thompson will assume that my life is in danger and come prepared to make an arrest. “This is my final warning, Alexandria. You will stay away from me and my family or suffer the consequences.” Alexandria stomped her foot, spun around to take in the entourage before her, then glared at Paul. She shouted at the top of her voice, “How dare you threaten me! Are you so dumb that you don’t know who my daddy is?” Matt stepped forward. “This is not a threat, ma’am. It’s a promise. And we don’t care who your daddy is.” Matt Baldwin, the youngest brother, had shot up during the previous summer and stood a mere half-inch shorter than Paul. He spent a lot of hours in the gym,

too, and made an imposing figure, all on his own. If a Baldwin could be capable of a bad-boy image, Matt had nailed it. He’d been the “wild child” since the tender age of 10, when he received his first motorized bike. He scared his mother and grandmother on a daily basis, with his antics. He could stare down a gorilla, or so it would seem. Alexandria did not intimidate Matt Baldwin. In turn, each member of Paul’s backup squad stepped forward to align with Matt. Officer Thompson moved to stand front and center, one hand resting on his holstered pistol. “If you step over the line and break the law, ma’am,” he said, “I will not hesitate to arrest you and take you down to the station. And like Matt said, I too do not care who your daddy is. You’d best keep that in mind.” Alexandria’s eyes got big then immediately narrowed into tiny slits. She whirled back around and glared at Paul, who stood straight and tall, calm but stalwart. He met Alexandria’s gaze and did not flinch or look away. She stepped even closer and yelled up in his face, “Paul Baldwin, I wouldn’t go out with you if you were the last man on the planet!” “Thank you,” said Paul, his voice even, steady, without any trace of a tremor. “I’m relieved to hear it.” “Hmmph!” said Alexandria, swirling away from him. She pushed her way through the curious crowd that had gathered when voices began to get loud— then disappeared around the corner. Laughter broke out the second Alexandria had made herself scarce. “Thank you all so much!” said Paul. “I hope that’s the last time I have to deal with the likes of Alexandria Luna.” “She’s not too bright, if she tries to come at you again,” said Matt. “Well, let’s all to pray for her,” said Doug, comion evident in his voice. The voice of reason. The quiet voice guided by Holy Spirit. “She may be dealing with some challenges none of us knows about.” “True,” said Brooke, the oldest sister. Brooke had been born old, her

grandmother always said. Brooke had a good head on her shoulders. Brooke got the grades. Brooke kept her room tidy. Brooke appeared to be the most-together of the Baldwin children. Paul had watched her development, noticed when she ran the other way, far away from the medical genius of her mind. Since she’d been a kid, she had read and deciphered their father’s medical journals. Had observed college classes, as early as 12 years of age. Their father had died, and Brooke began to shrivel up inside. An outsider looking in might not know the difference, but Paul knew. He had a soft spot for his sister; and planned to pray her through whatever she needed to deal with their father’s loss. Just like he’d done for James. Just like he’d be willing to do for any of them. “I’ll try,” said Kim. “But she’d better leave my brother alone!” Kim’s comment stirred a chuckle among the group. Kim wasn’t just the youngest Baldwin; she was also the most feisty. Alexandria would do well to stay out of range of Kim’s radar. In Shakespeare’s words: “Although she be but little she is fierce.” During Paul’s quiet time the following morning, Doug’s words came to mind: She may be dealing with some challenges none of us knows about. Paul tapped his pen atop the journal he’d been writing in, his mind searching for challenges that might plague Alexandria Luna, his heart searching/praying for the grace and mercy, the forgiveness required to make himself pray for her. It might not be easy, thought Paul, as he pushed away from the desk, stood, then strode over to the window. The sun had hidden itself behind a cloud, except for slim fingers of light that poked through the gray clouds of a morning that threatened rain. God, announcing Himself through nature. How could anyone miss that? “I can’t be directly involved with Alexandria, Lord, but I do care about her soul. Please, in Your time and Your way, send someone who can reach her. Someone she can trust and will listen to.” Paul stood at the window for a long time, praying, contemplating, waiting, until a knock sounded at the door. “Better make tracks, bro,” came James’s voice from the other side. “Grammi is

putting breakfast on the table, and you know what that means.” Paul chuckled. He knew alright. Grammi insisted the family eat together, as much as humanly possible. Together, at the same time, in the same room, at the same table. And no TV allowed. The Baldwin family had lost their head of household, all those years ago, and much more. Under the cover of darkness, Catherine had fled Ransom Canyon with her five children, a satchel full of money, and the family nanny. Forced out of their home by a mean, vengeful, influential and powerful mother-in-law, the small family found their way to Nashville, Tennessee, where they’d been welcomed into the home Catherine had been raised in. Leaving Texas, the only home he’d ever known and had shared with his dad, had been difficult for Paul. It had taken years to come to with the loss of his father, complicated further by a new school, a tighter budget, and a mother who broke down if someone even mentioned the name, Bradley Devin Baldwin. He died, leaving a respectable amount of money, including trusts for when the kids would need college money, and others that could be acquired upon graduation from an upper level school of their choice. But Bradley also left behind five children, the youngest of which had yet to be born. The transition had been difficult for everyone. Older now, Paul could barely wrap his mind around all that his mother had endured—through no fault of her own. Old enough to know that every life consisted of ups and downs, challenges and victories. But before he got caught up in a pile of what-ifs, he answered his brother. “On my way,” said Paul. But he turned once again to the window. “Thanks for listening, Lord. Guide me through this day and prepare me for what you have planned for my life.”

Chapter Two

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart (Jeremiah 29:13 NIV).

Graduation day found Paul Adam Baldwin surrounded by loving family and friends. Restored to his faith, Paul had big plans for the future. The summer following his junior year he had surrendered his life to full-time Christian service. This summer, before beginning his education at Regent University in Virginia Beach, Virginia, he would fill his time serving as a camp counselor in several youth camps throughout the state of Tennessee. Deer Run Camps & Retreats would be keeping him busy, one or two weeks at a time.

Paul spotted her from across the cafeteria. Her dark hair and amazing, crystalclear blue eyes captured his attention. The noise of the kids around him faded into the background. And when she looked his way and their eyes met, the whole world stood still. He took a chance and smiled at her. His heart did a stutter-step when she smiled back. Their gazes held for several seconds before Mike Roberts snapped his fingers in front of Paul’s face. “The line is moving, Mr. Baldwin.” It took a second for his own name to . “Oh yeah,” he said, moving forward and breaking the connection. He would find this mystery girl again though—tonight, he promised himself. The camp consisted of two hundred kids from various churches across the state. And it took some sorting out before Paul found someone who could tell him the name of the prettiest girl in attendance. Jo Sterling. From Memphis. Following the dinner hour, the entire group of kids, counselors and clergy would meet in the chapel for a worship service and devotional. As lead singer for the praise team, Paul had a sweeping view of the crowd. In the middle of the second song, he spotted her to his left, on the third row. His heart soared when they made eye again. Man, he had to get to know this girl. He’d always told himself that looks didn’t matter. He would have to eat those words. Jo Sterling was a knock-out. Hands-down, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with eyes that sparkled. Throughout his entire high school career, Paul had not met anyone that pulled this hard at him. Not even the illustrious, exasperating and conniving Alexandria Luna. In fact, Alexandria paled in comparison. The light that sparkled in Jo Sterling’s eyes dispelled the darkness that had seemed to consume Alexandria. Yeah, no comparison. None. Thus ended any thought of Alexandria Luna and what had never been. Looking at the beauty before him now, it seemed as if Paul’s soul had a direct connection with Jo Sterling’s. Paul forced himself to get back into the music and turn his thoughts toward God. Keeping the connection strong with his heavenly Father would be his only hope

for hearing any further instructions for the direction his life should take. What should be his next step, how he should move forward. He wanted only to treat this beautiful woman with respect and honor. Don’t mess this up. Paul had prearranged for a second counselor to escort his assigned group of kids back to the cabin at the end of the worship service, so he could put away his instrument and help clean up. It absolutely had nothing to do with making sure he would be available on the off chance he might accidently run into Jo Sterling. Of course, it didn’t. Even as Paul reminded himself of that fact and bent down to place his guitar in its case, a pink pair of Nike running shoes came into view. He followed a line up long slender legs clad in navy blue capris, to a narrow waistline, topped with a hot-pink camp t-shirt. As his neck bent back, he marveled that his dream girl stood smiling down at him. “Hey,” she said. “Hey yourself,” said Paul, standing. “I was trying to figure out a way to meet you.” “How’s now? I’m Josephine Sterling, but everybody calls me Jo,” she said, her hand extended in greeting. Paul grinned. “Now’s great. I’m Paul Baldwin,” he said, returning the gesture. When their hands touched, he felt a warmth akin to Mom’s fresh-out-of-the-oven apple pie snake its way up his arm then absorb into his heart. He cleared his throat, twice, then said, “Nice to meet you, Jo Sterling. Although I must confess, I already found out your name.” Surprised that words came out of his mouth at all, Paul stretched to his full height and looked down at her. She seemed the perfect height to fit into his embrace. She had perfect hair and perfect eyes and a perfect mouth. Whoa, Tiger, back the truck up. Don’t even go there. You just met her. Kissing her would scare her off. For sure. Stop. Go slow. Be patient. “Me too.”

Those two little words gave Paul hope, and made him want to kiss her even more. “You did?” he said, in total surprise. The words had squeaked out of him, like his voice was trying to go through puberty, all over again. He cleared his throat. Again. It took a few seconds, but he recovered and said, “That’s great.” Another pause. “Well, uh, would you like to sit together for meals while we’re here?” And can I follow you home when we’re done with camp? The fantasy slipped into his mind and Paul imagined them sharing every meal for the rest of their lives. But that wouldn’t be possible, quite yet. He had plans to go to school, and he didn’t know what Jo might already have in place to design her own future, or if she would even consider a lifetime commitment to full-time Christian service, or if a guy was waiting for her back home. But surely she wouldn’t be flirting with him, if she already had a boyfriend. Would she? His mind was all over the place. O, Lord, please don’t let there be a boyfriend. “I’d like that,” she said. “Like what?” said Paul. One eyebrow shot up and Jo laughed. A beautiful laugh that sounded rich and… perfect. “Share meals while we’re here?” “Oh yeah. Great.” His mind had carried Paul away so completely, he’d forgotten the question he’d asked. Thank goodness Jo had a sense of humor. The thought slipped into his head: Maybe a person can find their soulmate at 17. After all, he’d be 18 two short days after he returned to Nashville. Eighteen was plenty old enough to find the love of your life, right? “So, can I help with anything?” said Jo.

Paul snapped back to reality and returned to the present moment. “Uh, sure, if you’d like,” he said. Why did he keep saying ‘uh’? “We could always use help picking up trash and left-behind song sheets. If that wouldn’t be too demeaning,” he said with a grin, praying he hadn’t offended her. Jo laughed again. “I’m not the least bit offended,” she said, as though she could read his mind. “Or quite so fragile that I can’t pick up a little trash. I’d be happy to help.” Paul swallowed the lump in his throat. What miracle would it take for him to be able to talk to this beautiful girl without stepping all over his tongue and fumbling with every other sentence? He really liked her. Already. And did not want her to think him a moron. “Super,” he said, trying to sound normal. “I’ll just finish up here then come down and help.” Jo smiled again then turned to walk away. Paul stared after her. She seemed like perfection personified. Not too tall. Not too short. Sweet and playful, yet here, serving the Lord. Suddenly, she turned back around. With one hand on her hip, she said, “You planning to stall till the hard work’s all finished?” Paul liked this girl. A lot. Beautiful, sweet, kind, and spunky. “Sorry. I was distracted.” “Don’t be sorry; just get busy.” The echo of her laughter sounded like music. Sweet, soulful music, that spoke his language. The language of his soul. Paul Baldwin was smitten. In a big way.

Alexander Luna shook his head from side to side, a frown pulling his brows together. He had been down a similar road with his daughter before. Maybe similar was too vague, but the proper term escaped him. He couldn’t understand why Alexandria insisted on wanting a boy who didn’t want her. The idea qualified as “similar.” Her current request, however, boggled the mind. Alexandria had never suggested—dare he think it? She had never asked him to order a hit on anyone. He hadn’t dreamed she ever would. “Alexandria,” he began. “Don’t say it,” said Alexandria, the fire in her eyes making Alexander uncomfortable. “I intend to have Paul Baldwin. He should have known better than to mess with my feelings.” Alexander’s frown deepened. He had spoiled his little girl for way too long. After her mother died in childbirth, he hired a nursemaid to stay with Alexandria during regular business hours, only. He doubled the security that guarded the estate. He had difficulty leaving her with anyone. So, Alexander had been the one to hold her against his chest when she couldn’t sleep at night, when she suffered with colic, or her fever would spike for no discernible reason. He brought work home every night; but only pulled it out after Alexandria slept soundly in her princess bed. He expanded his multi-million dollar company into billions, to make sure his daughter would never want for anything. He had promised her the moon; and could almost deliver. Much to his chagrin, he had succumbed to her demands, one time too many. The disparaging result of his constant coddling now sat across from him with pouty lips and angry eyes. “Pleeeease, Daddy,” she whined. “I really like this boy and he refuses to give me the time of day. And now, he has taken up with some stupid girl from Memphis who can’t offer him anything close to what we can. I want her to disappear.” A stone of despair settled in his gut, and Alexander tried to convince himself that Alexandria did not literally mean she expected her father to kill a young, innocent girl. How could this have become their reality? “How do you know anything about a girl from Memphis?” he said, putting off the disturbing topic of…murder. “Have you been over there?”

Alexandria stuck her chin out and sat up taller in the seat across from him. The look in her eyes gave him the answer; and sent a shudder up his spine. If his daughter had been to Memphis, why had the team assigned to look out for her, not said something to him? “What have you done?” Alexandria huffed out a breath and Alexander Luna cringed, dreading what she might disclose next. “I haven’t done anything,” she said, much to his surprise. “But yes, I went over there. I’ve had some people keeping up with Paul’s whereabouts; and when I found out about her, I wanted to see for myself. And just like I thought, she’s a mouse of a girl who doesn’t have any money. No one I should have to worry about. Except, the reports say he’s smitten. It’s disgusting, really.” Alexander stood and moved to the window. How could he steer Alexandria away from this ridiculous notion? And what had made her think he would even entertain such a scheme? Alexandria wasn’t talking a new car, or a shopping spree, here. She was talking about a person’s life. It disturbed him greatly. Alexander Luna had a personal security detail that would lay down their lives for his or his daughter’s life, if someone threatened either one of them. Without question or hesitation. But he had never deliberately ordered anyone to kill a rival, or someone who didn’t agree with Alexander’s political views or business tactics, or choice of religion. He didn’t run a branch of some underground Cartel and had no mob connections. At all. Alexander Luna considered himself a hardworking, self-made billionaire, who followed all the rules—in life, in business, in the Catholic church. He didn’t miss a mass service unless it couldn’t be helped. How could he order the death of a young girl, just because his daughter demanded it? He could never say enough “Hail Marys” to get away with that. Alexander turned and faced his daughter. He steeled himself, determined not to cave. No matter how hard she pushed. Taking another person’s life would be crossing a line he did not ever intend to cross. Ever. Not even to appease Alexandria.

“You need to get over this boy, sweetheart. I refuse to have the blood of a young girl on my hands. She is, after all, someone’s daughter, herself.” Alexandria stood to her feet, glaring at her father. He had never denied her anything. So what if she wanted a boy who had let himself fall for someone else? Paul was being delusional, struck by too much sun, or something, to think Jo Sterling could compete with Alexandria Luna and her daddy’s money. The whole idea was ludicrous. And Alexandria certainly didn’t see anything illogical about wanting the little nobody out of the way. With Jo Sterling gone, Paul would come to his senses, and they could be together, forever. Simple. A heavy silence fell over the room and hung there between Alexandria and her father like a deadly, airborne virus. “Is that your final word on the subject?” “I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s just not right. I don’t understand how you could be so callous. And for the likes of a boy who wants nothing to do with you and doesn’t seem to care about our social or financial standing. I simply don’t understand.” Alexandria growled like a bulldog. “And I guess my happiness is no longer important to you.” Alexandria waited by the chair she had vacated, while her father approached, looking him in the eye. Daring him to defy her wishes. “I think you know better than that, Princess.” His placating tone struck a fire in her belly. How dare he? “I think I know you’ll be sorry you didn’t do what I asked,” she said, her face turning red. “What does that mean?” “You’ll see. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner date.” Alexandria whirled away from her father and stomped toward the door. She reached for the knob then froze when her father spoke from behind her. “Please don’t do anything you’ll regret, Precious.” She had never heard the

steely tone that coated his words. “And I would advise you not to approach anyone on my staff to take care of this problem. I would know it. And I won’t allow it.” Alexandria didn’t turn around, didn’t respond to her father’s comment—just left the room. She did, however, make sure to slam the 10-foot, solid oak door as hard as she could. She’d show him. Alexander Luna wasn’t the only Luna who had a measure of influence in Nashville.

It had been a muggy afternoon, the clouds threatening rain. Hot and tired after a close game of softball which they had lost to the girls, the guys huddled outside the baseball diamond, drinking Gatorade and pouring water over their heads. If memory served, Memphis had gone all the way to State in girls’ softball that school year. Suspicious. And now, these camp girls had come out on top by two runs, against an all-boy team. Could it be a coincidence? “You played for Memphis, didn’t you?” said Paul, as he reached Jo, next to the concession stand, accusation dripping off his tongue. Jo grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “Me, and three others on this team.” “I see. And today, you gave us no fair warning.” “None,” she said, her smile widening. Jo giggled and took off running, Paul in hot pursuit. The rest of the team followed to see how it would end. About fifty yards out, a wooden dock stretched out into the water. Jo raced up it and Paul reached out to grab her just before the dock stopped at the water. It happened in a flash. Jo’s foot slipped on the wet dock and she fell. With a crack her head hit the nearest post on the corner of the dock. She tumbled into the water. At the same time, lightning lit up the sky and thunder boomed. Jared Jackson felt like a heel; but a hundred thousand dollars was nothing to sneeze at. Not when he’d been scrambling through the gutters of the darkest depths of Nashville, for years. In and out of gangs, trying to find a permanent way out, to live a safe and normal existence, where his stepfather couldn’t get his hands on him, and he wouldn’t have to wonder if he’d die a victim of a driveby shooting. Heck yes, he would take Alexandria Luna’s money. No one would ever know he had been behind the “accident” that would stop Jo Sterling in her tracks. He’d

get away with it. After all, Alexandria had promised not to tell. A hundred thousand dollars would change his life forever. Alexandria had paid for the equipment, given him fifty grand up front and opened the door to a bright and shining future. Jared had gotten his soul tarnished, but it didn’t seem to faze him. Not now. Not with so much at stake, so much to look forward to. He’d been commanded to take care of a certain nuisance named Jo Sterling. And that’s just what he intended to do. A one-way ticket out of the ghetto had been handed to him on that fateful day… Jared Jackson trembled beside the dumpster, in a dark alley off McKinney and 18th. The rain pummeled his unprotected head and arms. He shivered from being wet, and the open wounds on his back and face stung with every drop of water. He cried in anger, against his will, ing the race to get out of the tiny house and away from his stepfather, the third of similar characters that had come before him. Jared’s mother tended to marry whomever would fund her cocaine habit. Jared was done with that scene. He was old enough to get a job. But he wanted out of this neighborhood—far, far away from the gangs and crazy people who had made a deal with the devil and didn’t care who died as they clawed their way to the top of the darkest trash heap in Nashville. No thank you. Jared wanted out, out, out. And he would do anything to make that happen. Jared blinked through the rain as a beautiful girl approached him in the alley. He didn’t know her. Had never seen her before. Could hardly believe she was real. What could she possibly want with him? When she spoke, he knew she couldn’t be from his neighborhood. She sounded, what was the word—entitled? She had “dressed down,” but she couldn’t fool any street-smart kid who bothered to take notice. She wore jeans—but they were designer jeans. She wore a hoody—but hadn’t bothered to hide her shimmering black hair that screamed salon pampering. And she hadn’t left her diamonds or her Rolex watch at home, before she’d crossed the line into a neighborhood filled with low-life men who wouldn’t just take her jewelry. Jared didn’t know how she had found him, and he didn’t much care. She should

count her lucky stars she’d come across Jared Jackson, rather than a myriad of other nefarious characters he could name. Alexandria Luna offered Jared a way out—and he took it. Jared had followed Jo all day long, studied the schedule for the entire camp, and determined that his best chance would be the dock. When he settled underneath the boards, he had no idea how long he’d have to wait, but it didn’t matter. The kids were scheduled to go tubing after the softball game. If he waited long enough, Jo Sterling would eventually step exactly where he needed her to step. And he’d be ready. A mere half hour later, when Jared peeked up above the dock, just to see what he could see, he wanted to shout. Jo Sterling came running straight toward the dock, at least 30 minutes before the tubing had been scheduled to begin. A quick twinge of guilt snaked through Jared’s blood, but he pushed it away. Hard. He had never actually killed another human being. And Jo Sterling looked super young, super happy, and super cute. A shame, really. But Jared forced that thought right out of his head too, and quick. His own life was important to Jared Jackson; and he might not survive another beating from his stepfather. In his head, he really had no choice. He cursed under his breath, forcing himself to focus, then slipped back under the water to watch for Jo’s pink shoes to land right above him. The instant Jared spotted a bright pink Nike, he reached up through the widest point between the boards, grabbed Jo’s ankle and yanked hard, more than satisfied when she’d been thrown off balance, hit her head on the corner post, and fell into the water. Perfect. With the scuba mask on, Jared eased below the waterline and watched Jo Sterling float toward the bottom. Done. And he didn’t hang around to be caught hiding under the dock, either. He wasn’t stupid. All the attention would be on Jo. Just like when no one had noticed him hiding under the dock for hours, or questioned him when he rented the wet suit, the scuba equipment or the canoe—no one seemed to notice him now. He swam smoothly, swiftly, under water, and didn’t stop until he’d gone at least a mile past the edge of the camp. Confident he had accomplished his mission, Jared hopped into the canoe he had

left hidden behind a fallen tree along the bank. He smiled as he slipped the oars into the water. The nobody from Memphis would no longer come between Paul Baldwin and Alexandria Luna. He’d made sure of it. And his life would never be the same again. In a good way. “Jo!” screamed Paul, into the rain. He spun around, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled for Brian to call 911 then immediately jumped into the river, after Jo. The water, cold and dark and deep, chilled him to the bone. He ignored the discomfort and forced his eyes open, frantic to find her. There! He spotted Jo slipping slowly toward the bottom. Thank You, God, for the beams of sunlight through the gathering clouds. Help me reach her in time, Lord. Paul frog-legged deeper into the water, praying every long, tortuous second. It only took a few before he reached her, but the seconds seemed elongated, stretched, endless. With everything he had, Paul looped his arm around Jo’s middle and headed for the top. When they burst through to air, Paul filled his lungs and searched through the rain to find the dock. He moved toward it, pushing through the water and pulling Jo’s unresponsive body along with him. Praise God, the current had not pulled them far. Once they reached the edge of the dock, two boys waited there to help pull Jo up out of the water. Paul scrambled up beside them. He vaguely heard voices yelling in the background, but his focus stayed totally on Jo. “In the name of Jesus Christ, I pray for wisdom and endurance, to save the life of Jo Sterling,” he mumbled, even as tears coursed down his face. Louder, he said, “I command Satan and all his demons to be gone from this place, for you cannot stand in the presence of our Lord and Savior!” Paul’s R training kicked in, and he went to work. He breathed air into Jo’s lungs through her mouth, pulled back and pumped her heart, one, two, three, four, five times. Air. Pump. Air. Pump. Air. Pump. Paul thought he would give out completely before Jo started to sputter and

cough, and water bubbled up through her mouth and nose. “Thank You, Jesus.” Paul wanted to scream, but the words came out in a garbled whisper, his tears blending with the rain. Only then did Paul become aware of the people around him, shouting and clapping. The rain stopped and the clouds parted. Just like that. Like God smiled down on them, all sunshine and purity. Paul leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Jo’s lips. “You’re alive,” he whispered. “How do you feel?” “Like somebody clubbed me. And I’m f-f-freezing.” A siren split the silence. Paul squeezed Jo’s hands, as if the connection alone would fix everything. He wanted to hold onto her forever. As he raced toward her through the water, a life without her in it had flashed through his mind, making his blood run cold. A whoosh of air pushed out of him when her eyes opened. And when he heard her voice, fresh tears spilled over. So close. Thank You, Lord. Gazing into her eyes, Paul said the only thing appropriate for the situation. “Don’t try to get up,” he said. “Help is on the way.” But there was so much more he wanted to tell her. So much. A shudder raced through Paul as he felt the Spirit of God envelop them, a cocoon of protection that he felt sure meant so much more than they could fathom. Something had changed. God had manifested His presence in a big way. It might not make sense to anyone else, but Paul knew that Jo Sterling would play a major role in his life. His whole life. Jo closed her eyes against the pounding in her head, grateful that Paul stayed by her side. She could feel him there, his hand on hers, his presence real and comforting. She had known him for four whole days. The best four days of her life. They’d played together, prayed together, sang together, laughed and joked together. She could feel herself falling hard and fast for this kind, godly man, who sang with a rich baritone that filled her spirit with the love of God.

Throughout high school, right down to crossing the stage to accept her diploma, Jo Sterling had wondered where and when God would answer her prayer for a life-long mate. She had set herself apart from the other girls, made certain her classmates knew her status as a Christian. She’d tried everything she knew to be ready for the moment when she would meet her dream of a man. Wasn’t something to mess around with, so she didn’t. Could Paul Baldwin be that guy? They really needed to have a long, in-depth discussion about future plans and intentions. What if they didn’t have similar goals in mind? What if he loved the Lord, but had no interest in full-time service, a calling she had deemed probable in her expected mate? What if he had no desire to marry, much less have children? All personal goals she would not compromise, unless providentially hindered. A deep frown furrowed her brow. It was all too much to think about right now. Too much for this pounding in her head to contemplate. Jo cooperated as she felt people lift her body onto a stretcher, painfully aware that Paul no longer held her hand. “Paul?” “I’m here, Jo. I’ll meet you at the hospital. We’ll call your folks.” “No!” she cried, trying to sit up. But she fell back and lowered her voice. “No. They couldn’t come anyway.” Of all the things she wanted to talk to Paul about, her parents rested at the very bottom of the list, if they made the list at all. Truth be told, she didn’t her parents, as individuals, only as an idea. She knew they had existed, of course. She was proof positive. Raised by Aunt Pearl, her mother’s sister, Jo had been loved and tenderly guided, taught the love of Jesus—but never taught anything significant about her biological parents. Pearl Sterling didn’t talk about her sister Rose, or the man she had married. And Jo had no memories of her childhood, aside from the nightmares. She ed the nightmares. But not what they meant, what triggered them, or their origin.

But zero memories of her parents. “Any family?” “Call my Aunt Pearl. She’s on my info sheet.” “Sure thing,” he said, squeezing her hand, then winking at her, with those warm, wonderful eyes. “Rest now. I’ll see you at the hospital.” Don’t call her parents? What kind of parents wouldn’t come when their daughter was in the hospital? But she hadn’t said wouldn’t come. She’d said couldn’t come. What exactly did that mean? Question after question raced through Paul’s head; but there wasn’t room in there for all of them, crowded as it was with concern and worry and wonder. “Doesn’t matter right now,” he muttered. “The only thing that matters, is Jo.” When Paul turned away from the ambulance, a dozen concerned faces looked back at him. “She’s gonna be fine, guys. I promise. That’s my prayer, anyway. She’s awake, which has to be a good sign. So, Cheryl, would you please run up to the office and tell Mark what’s going on? And ask Sue to call Jo’s Aunt Pearl. I’m headed to the hospital. I’ll get word back as soon as I can.” “Of course,” said Cheryl. “Mike, you’re in charge till I get back.” Paul’s eyes roamed over the small group. “I’m trusting all of you to be on your best behavior.” “You can count on us,” said Mike. “Good. And thank you.” With that, Paul raced over to his Jeep and headed to town. The camp authorities would take care of his kids. He had no choice but to get to the hospital. Get to

Jo. No way would he abandon her at this juncture. He vowed to at least be onsite until her aunt arrived. He couldn’t be anywhere else.

Chapter Three

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them (1 John 4:16 NIV).

Paul sat in the waiting room, chilly and more than a little damp, prayerful, thankful, and wrung out. He waited half an hour before a doctor emerged from beyond the double doors where he’d watched Jo disappear. “Josephine Sterling family?” Paul stood. “I’m the only one here, so far.” “And you are?” How did he answer that question? Their relationship was brand new; but Paul felt a much deeper connection than mere friendship with Jo Sterling. Even so, he knew he couldn’t lie to the man. But he desperately wanted, needed, to know Jo’s condition. The short pause in Paul’s answer saved him from having to answer at all. He’d simply run a hand through his hair to give himself time to think, when a tall, dark-haired lady with Jo’s signature blue eyes rushed into the waiting room. She appeared to be taller than Jo, maybe by two inches. Her hair was twisted up in a messy bun, but the outfit she wore, right down to her sensible shoes, screamed put together, determined, under control. “Dr. Blake,” she said, “do you have a report on my niece, Josephine Sterling?” Dr. Blake turned his attention to the striking presence of Jo’s Aunt Pearl, or whom Paul suspected would be Jo’s Aunt Pearl. “Pearl?” said Dr. Blake. Pearl just looked at Dr. Blake like the answer to his question should be totally obvious and shouldn’t require a response. “I didn’t make the connection.”

“Well, now you know. How is Josephine? How soon can I see her?” Before Dr. Blake could answer, Pearl turned away from him and stepped in front of Paul. “Do you have any business here, young man?” Paul searched the lady’s eyes, and found much concern for her niece, and much curiosity regarding his presence, but did not pick up animosity in her gaze. With the realization, much of the tension eased out of his neck and shoulders. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, looking down, directly into Pearl’s eyes. “Jo and I are counselors at the Deer Run Camp. I was nearby when she fell into the lake. I pulled her out.” In a nano-second, Aunt Pearl’s arms went around Paul’s neck, she pulled him down to her and she kissed him on the cheek. Even with the added height, Paul still towered over her. When she looked up, tears filled her eyes. She placed one hand on each of Paul’s shoulders and whispered, “God bless you, my child.” “I did what any man would do.” “Nonsense,” said Pearl. “Don’t be so modest.” “Pearl,” said Dr. Blake, interrupting, his tone laced with impatience. “I need to get back. Your niece is going to be fine. She got a pretty significant bump on the head and came up waterlogged, but I see no reason to keep her more than one night. Unless something unforeseen happens, she should be good to go right after lunch tomorrow, when I will be available to examine her one last time and sign the release papers.” Paul watched the exchange closely. These two appeared to have a more intimate connection than a ive acquaintance. Definitely not strangers. He couldn’t be sure if what he observed in their interaction represented an unresolved past or an uncertain future. “I understand, Dr. Blake,” said Pearl. “Thank you. You know how much Josephine means to me.” Pearl clutched her shoulder bag in front of her with both hands, like a protective

barrier. Appears to be an unresolved past, thought Paul, in his amateur opinion. Family counseling would be a second major once Paul entered the university. He’d had a decent knack for reading people since junior high school and had incorporated extra college credits throughout his junior and senior years. People had been instinctively drawn to him and shared their problems with him, even confessed what challenges plagued them, and had asked his advice. He hadn’t always known the most appropriate response; but he had known whom to advise them to see. Comion and sympathy, and sometimes empathy, came natural for him. If someone at school had lost a parent, he knew exactly how they felt. Or if a new student ed them from another state, he helped with the transition. He’d walked in their shoes and wanted to help. Felt compelled to help. At university, he would expand that knowledge into family counseling. Deep sorrow screamed through Pearl’s eyes and body language. There was a story there, alright. “Yes, I do,” said Dr. Blake, his eyes boring into Pearl’s. “I’m glad she wasn’t badly hurt.” In an instant, Dr. Blake took a step back, breaking the spell. His professional demeanor returned; and the softness left his gaze. The hurt in Pearl’s eyes made Paul’s own heart ache. He wondered if the doctor noticed the agony he had unleashed. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said. “Certainly.” Then the intimate moment was gone. Cold steel replaced the hurt in Pearl’s eyes as Dr. Blake made his exit. “You okay, Ms. Pearl?” Pearl made a visible shake of her head and turned her full attention to Paul. The sweet memories died, before they’d come fully back to life. He could see it in her expressive eyes. Eyes so much like his Jo’s. Hear it in her now-strong voice. “I’m fine. Paul, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” “Well, Paul, let’s go get a room number for Josephine and make sure Dr. Blake knows what he’s talking about.” Paul chuckled. He would need to to stay on Aunt Pearl’s good side. It seemed she could be a force to be reckoned with, bared claws and all—or a kitten who just wanted to be loved and cherished and cared for. He couldn’t help but wonder what had transpired between her and the good doctor. But then, that was none of his business. Right now, he just needed to know, without a doubt, that Jo had suffered no lasting effects from her near-drowning experience. And what had caused her fall to begin with? Did she trip on the wet dock and then fall, or did she black out for some reason that resulted in a fall? Josephine had lain awake, waiting, hoping against hope that Paul had followed the ambulance, that someone would step up and take care of the teens under his charge, as well as her own. Her head still pounded, but she was alive, thanks to one tall, handsome counselor. A light tapping on the door made Jo try to sit up taller. The movement caused her head to pound harder. Her heart squeezed when the door pushed open. “Josephine?” Aunt Pearl. Jo fought the disappointment that pulled through her. “Aunt Pearl?” She knew her aunt’s voice. And, of course, she appreciated Aunt Pearl coming to the hospital. But Jo Sterling owed a huge debt of gratitude to one Paul Baldwin. She longed to thank him, in person, in a way that could not be mistaken. “I’m here, sweetie,” said Pearl. “And I have your rescuer with me. He’s been in the waiting room all this time.” Paul! He’s here. Disappointment vanished, and a smile that made her head hurt stretched across Jo’s face. A tear slipped down her cheek as she glanced over her aunt’s head and made eye with the object of her affections. When Paul winked, she

thought she’d melt right there, and slide off the bed, into a puddle at his feet. Her heart rate picked up and she shivered, ing how close she’d come to losing him. Pearl didn’t miss the way Josephine’s eyes lit up, or the fact that they drifted from her dear old aunt in search of said hero. A slight grin slipped across Pearl’s face. So, her little Josephine had grown up, seemingly overnight. Pearl considered Josephine more of a daughter than a niece, seeing as Jo had been under Pearl’s sole care since her mother, Pearl’s sister Rose, had dropped her off to babysit one Saturday evening, when baby Josephine had barely turned six months old. And “Mama” never came back. Not for a birthday or holiday, or for no reason at all but to see her child. Except for that one fateful weekend. The weekend that had spurred Pearl into taking legal action against her sister. The weekend that Pearl had prayed, for years now, had been erased from Jo’s memory, forever. Pearl’s sister and her no-good husband Rocky had been given little choice but to cooperate, after that unfortunate encounter with the law. They had been given no choice but to sign over all their rights as Josephine’s parents. Once they signed the papers, Pearl started adoption proceedings on the next business day. When the adoption had at last been finalized, Josephine had turned three. The endless investigations, inspections and invasive questions had been tiresome, but not debilitating. Nothing could hold Pearl back from protecting her niece, from keeping her safe. As it turned out, Rose’s husband had come from parents with similar, inappropriate parenting skills; thus, nudging them out of the running, early on. Pearl’s singleness then faced a barrage of questions and speculation. However, Pearl’s standing in the community, coupled with her reputation at the hospital, had worked together in her favor; and she overcame every obstacle, stood up under scrutiny—and prevailed. Dr. Patrick Blake, notwithstanding. Josephine, at last, became her charge, her official daughter. And Pearl never looked back. A twinge of regret may have interrupted her workday when exposed day-after-day to one Dr. Patrick Blake. But not often, and not for long. He had made his position clear. She could live with that. ‘Twas his loss, anyway. At the time, Pearl, an RN in good standing, had been working in the same hospital as Dr. Blake. She’d done the unthinkable and fallen in love with the young resident surgeon. The romantic feelings had been mutual—until Pearl

announced her intention to adopt little Josephine. Dr. Blake had been totally focused on his career, which he believed would mesh well with a hardworking nurse. He wanted a companion; just not a family. “It wouldn’t be fair to bring a child into the mix,” he’d said. “We’re both careeroriented; and I, for one, am not willing to make a detour.” End of story. Pearl refused to abandon Josephine, and Patrick refused to make Josephine a part of his plan. Neither one of them ever waivered. Dr. Blake stayed put while Pearl Sterling resigned and went to work at a sister hospital closer to her residence. And now, fifteen years later, Dr. Blake remained single, Pearl remained single, and Josephine had grown up, none the wiser. Pearl had been up front with Josephine about the adoption but had held back the details of that one nightmarish weekend, as well as Pearl’s unfortunate relationship with Dr. Blake. Pearl had prayed, ever since, that she would never have to tell that story. Even so, she had explained the situation as best she could, when Josephine turned five and started to school. Pearl wanted Josephine to be prepared for any and all questions that might come up, especially since the other parents and teachers would know that Pearl had never been married or had a baby out of wedlock. Someone was bound to ask questions. And she’d been so proud of her little girl. Jo had stood up to people who frowned on her for not having a “real” mother. She reported kids to the principal who tried to bully her. Together, Jo and Pearl had withstood every storm that had threatened their unique family dynamic. And Pearl believed they would do the same today, should it become an issue. “Thank you for saving me, Paul,” said Jo, her eyes fixed on him. “And thank you for coming, Aunt Pearl,” she said, even though she did not look away from Paul. Pearl cleared her throat, but it took a little bit for Jo to make the conscious effort to turn her gaze on her aunt. “Where else would I be, child?” said Pearl, firmly pushing the past back into the past, where it belonged. Seeing Patrick again had stirred it all up, and Pearl did not relish battling the memories. She forced them out of her head. “I’m just thankful you were at a nearby camp.”

“Yeah. Me too,” said Jo. “So,” said Pearl, “Dr. Blake says he intends to release you after lunch tomorrow.” Pearl kept her voice and her expression neutral, unwilling for Jo to think Pearl had any romantic feelings for Dr. Blake. Which, of course, she didn’t. Not anymore. And not one word had ever been uttered in her home about the relationship she’d had with Dr. Blake, or their falling out. She’d put her heart on hold back then, and it would stay that way until God sent her someone who would love her, just the way she is, and embrace Josephine as family, or she would happily stay single. She was good with that. No regrets and no dramatic expectations of a future romance. None, whatsoever. She was fine. Just fine. “That’s good news,” said Jo. “But right now, I think I could use a long nap.” Pearl waited while Paul lifted Josephine’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there; then leaned forward, and said, “Would you like for me to stay the night?” Pearl offered a weak smile of encouragement when Josephine glanced her way. “That’s sweet of you,” said Jo, turning her attention back to Paul. “But I’m sure Aunt Pearl will be here.” “Yes, I will,” Pearl interjected, anxious to be alone with Josephine so they could speak freely. She appreciated the fact that this young man had saved Josephine’s life; but it appeared their connection went deeper than that. She’d very much like to interrogate Josephine’s hero; but then decided it might be more prudent to speak with Jo, in private, first. She might be reading more into this situation than met the eye. After all, Josephine had just left for camp a few days ago. How much of a relationship could they really have? “And you need to get back to your boys,” said Jo. “It’ll give you a chance to explain things to the camp director and help get the camp ready to close.” “I guess I’d better,” said Paul. “Although I hate to leave you.” “I feel pretty good, really,” said Jo. “All things considered. Just heavy in my head and want to close my eyes.”

“I get the hint,” said Paul. “Nice to meet you, Aunt Pearl, and thank you for being here with my girl.” Pearl’s eyes got wide. There it was. Her suspicions had been correct. “Your girl?” “Our relationship is about four days old, Aunt Pearl,” said Jo, quickly. “But I do consider myself to be Paul’s girl.” Pearl clamped her lips shut. There would be a talk with Josephine, for sure. She was a mere child, who sounded like a woman in love. Oh yes, there would be a talk. Paul’s head swelled bigger and bigger, and his heart grew three sizes as he made his way back to camp. Jo considered herself to be “his girl.” “Thank You, Jesus,” he whispered. “Now just tell me where we go from here. How do we manage geography, school, careers?” It occurred to him, yet again, that he and Jo hadn’t discussed anything pertinent to their future together. Yet, they had connected on a much deeper level than mere semantics. Their mutual devotion to God had ed them on a spiritual level, which formed a tighter bond than the dazzling blue of her eyes or the shimmer of her dark brown hair with natural golden highlights that sparkled in the sun, or the intimate smile she reserved just for him. There had to be a way to make things work, so they could be together, he could get through seminary, and Jo could realize her own dreams, whatever they might be.

With the Jeep packed, the campground free of debris, the last camper and pile of luggage deposited inside the bus, Paul breathed a sigh of despair. He had not seen Jo since he’d followed the ambulance to the hospital. And he had no idea how soon he would see her again. And man, did he want to see her again. Soon. Then see her every day, for a lifetime. His doubts and fears, hopes and dreams were suddenly interrupted by the repeated honking of a horn. He moved around the Jeep, closer to the road, his eyes focused on the silver Toyota Camry coming around the curve, and his eyes found the enger’s gaze fixed right on him. “Jo,” he whispered. Tears sprang to the surface as he started jogging toward the oncoming vehicle. She looked good. Great, even. Paul stopped when the Camry stopped. He stared, wide-eyed and full of joy, when Jo opened the enger-side door and stepped out of the vehicle. “Jo,” was all he could say. So beautiful, radiant, healthy, no sign of trauma that he could see from his vantage point. Oh God, she is okay, right? “Cat got your tongue?” Paul had to clear his throat a couple times, before he could get any words out. Three days had ed since Jo had been released from the hospital. Six, since he’d last seen her. They had texted back and forth, but this moment was the first time he’d laid eyes on her. She hadn’t said she’d be coming out to the camp, so when he’d loaded the Jeep and packed the small U-Haul with the band equipment this morning before breakfast, all he could think about was Jo. Where was she? What was happening to her? Had she recovered? They lived in different cities, had different agendas, lived different lives. He really wanted to fix that. If they never spent another day apart, it would be fine with him. “You look beautiful,” he finally managed to say. “Thank you.”

“Jo, I’m so glad to see you. I was so afraid.” “Don’t be afraid,” she said, that beautiful smile captivating him. “Are you okay?” he said, not pausing for an answer. “Are you in pain?” The questions were piling up in his head. But what he really wanted to know was: “Can I take you to lunch then give you a ride home? I’ve missed you like crazy.” Jo laughed, a full, rich laugh that warmed his heart; and Paul felt like the luckiest man in the world. So grateful she had survived the near-drowning. So enamored with her smile, he could hardly breathe. He wanted to escape reality with her. Run away, and never look back. “I’m fine. Really. And if you didn’t ask me to lunch, I was going to ask you,” she said, stretching her hand out toward him. He swallowed hard, never more certain of anything in his life, than the feelings that had grown for this beautiful woman, in the matter of a few days. He no longer saw her as a mere girl, who volunteered at a church camp. She looked like his future. He smiled back at her and didn’t hesitate to wrap his hand around hers then tug her a step closer. He managed to say two words. “Oh really?” “Yes, really,” said Jo, in that beautiful, sing-song voice he loved. “Aunt Pearl and I discussed it on the way out here. I’m glad we made it before you got away.” Paul felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. The heat that ran through his veins should have set his shirt on fire. Wow. An afternoon alone with Jo. This was really happening. No kids. No supervision. No hospital. No walls. No Aunt Pearl. Just wow. “Excuse me,” said Paul, lifting one finger in Jo’s direction, as he released her hand. He stepped toward the open door of the Camry and stuck his head inside. “Thank you, Ms. Pearl. I’ll have Jo home, safe and sound, this afternoon.” “See that you do,” said Pearl. “Yes, ma’am.”

Whew. He gently closed the door, unceremoniously putting an end to the encounter. He did not want to give Pearl a chance to lecture him or set up any kind of parameters for the afternoon he’d spend with Jo. He noticed movement beside him as Jo crossed in front of the car. She leaned into Pearl’s open window and gave her aunt a hug around the neck. “Thanks, Aunt Pearl. I’ll see you later this evening. Be careful going back.” “I will. Keep this guy in line, Josephine. I won’t have you being hurt on my watch.” “I love you, Aunt Pearl. Try not to worry.” “I’ll take good care of her,” said Paul, stepping up next to Jo, but not too close. He stood there, hands in his pockets, so he wouldn’t reach for her, in front of her aunt. He needed all the points he could accumulate, if he wanted a future with Jo. Alexandria Luna lowered the binoculars and said a word that would have shocked her Catholic school teacher. “That’s just what I thought,” she said with a growl. There had been no obituary printed in the Memphis newspaper. Alexandria had checked. She had followed Paul’s every move since he’d returned to camp without the girl. No tears had been shed on her behalf. And now, she watched incredulous, as Paul slipped his hand into, what was her name? Oh yeah. Josephine’s hand. Josephine. What a stupid, stupid name. And she looked fine, nowhere near dead. Boy, was Jared Jackson in trouble. He’d made her think he’d put an end to Josephine’s interference. A permanent end. It was a good thing Alexandria had come to Memphis to find out, firsthand. Jared would have some major explaining to do. If she could find him again. The little punk. The day she’d hired him, she had scrounged around, dressed in jeans and a dark hoody, snuck her way through many nasty, backstreets of Nashville that she’d vowed never to enter again—until she found the little creep. After all that, all the sacrifices she had made; and he had let her down. She growled, angry and disappointed. But it didn’t matter. She’d only paid half the money up front; so even if she couldn’t find Jared Jackson, it had been worth fifty grand to hospitalize precious

little Josephine long enough to keep her away from Paul for a few days. Alexandria scrambled out of the brush and hurried down the road to the public parking lot near the marina. She unlocked the door of her Porsche SUV, yanked it open, and plopped down in the driver’s seat, so mad she could have, if humanly possible, made it all the way back to Nashville on the steam built up inside of her. Since Jared couldn’t get the job done, she’d find a way to keep Paul away from Josephine—all by herself. She just had to figure out how. And when. And where.

Chapter Four

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see (Hebrews 11:1 NIV).

The bus pulled out of the campgrounds headed for a central point in Memphis, where parents would be waiting to pick up tanned and tired campers. Paul and Jo followed behind them in his Jeep. Neither one of these counselors had been willing to go about their individual lives until each child they had been responsible for had been delivered to their parents, without incident. The sun shone bright, but not as bright as his Jo. Seeing her today had changed his entire demeanor. He had blossomed from a Gloomy Gus into a grinning idiot. He tried not to stare at her and pay attention to the road, but the challenge was near unbearable. Time was on their side. Even after the drive into town, the unloading, reloading and uniting individuals with their families, it was still too early for lunch. Nothing could please him more than to have more time with Jo Sterling. It would be okay with him if time stood still long enough to get his fill of her. But that would be an eternity, and they’d be missing out on the huge blessing of a life together if that wish came true. He could wait. He would wait, for God’s timing, as He shaped their futures—a future together—as one, in Him. “How about we head over to Shelby Farms Park?” said Paul, as soon as the idea popped into his head. “We could stroll, or sit, or jog, or whatever. Talk about stuff.” He glanced at Jo and she just smiled at him. What could she be thinking? Her eyes looked amused, like she knew a secret. Paul hadn’t known Jo long enough, or well enough, to pretend to read her mind. But he wanted to. Even so, a certain look in her eye alerted him that something was coming. Something pleasant? Hopefully, but he had no way of knowing, so he decided to simply ask her. “What are you not telling me?” he said. “Did you plan this get-together for a specific reason? Come on, spill it.”

“I think going to the park would be perfect,” said Jo, not really answering his question, at all. He still didn’t know what to expect. What was going on with her? Did she have a specific agenda or was she just teasing him? “And I’d love to take a stroll with you and talk about…stuff.” Paul didn’t know whether to be worried or excited. Josephine wanted to talk. But when he looked her in the eye he didn’t see the dreaded tell-tale signs that “we need to talk” usually conjured up. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?” he said. “Let’s talk while we walk, ok?” Sounded innocent enough. Jo wanted to marry Paul Adam Baldwin. It didn’t matter that she had known him less than two weeks. He was the man she had prayed for since, well, for as long as she could . Number one, he was a believer. They both loved the Lord, and she already knew Paul had been called to full-time service, since she’d dragged it out of Paul’s friend at camp. She knew he would be going to seminary in the fall. Just her kind of man. Number two, he cared for her. He’d said so. Number three, Paul had been a total gentleman. Which she appreciated immensely, since she had read Lady In Waiting so many times during high school, she’d lost count. Number four, Paul had a heart for youth that seemingly matched her own. Her dream had always been to teach kindergarten, but she also wanted to be involved with the youth at whatever church she attended. She wanted to be a positive influence for girls who faced life-altering decisions at a young age. Above all, Jo knew she could love this kind, godly, not-to-mention gorgeous man—for a lifetime. And she wanted him to know it. The discussions with Aunt Pearl had gone long and into the night, every night, since the day Jo had been released from the hospital. Warnings about being “too young,” “too trusting,” “too naïve,” “too inexperienced,” “too fragile,” too, too, too. Jo Sterling loved and respected her aunt; but nothing Aunt Pearl threw at her could change Jo’s mind about Paul Adam Baldwin. And Josephine Sterling had much to say to him.

When Paul parked the Jeep and trailer away from the other parking spaces, close to the trail, and out of the way of the other vehicles, Jo reached for the handle to get out. Paul stopped her with just a touch on her arm. “You okay, Jo?” Jo turned to face him, trying to remain calm, fighting the urge to close the distance between them and capture his lips with her own. The thought made her smile. Maybe their first real kiss would be today. The memory of his lips on hers the night she had nearly drowned sped through her brain, enticing her to want more. To know what it would be like to add romance to that gesture. “I’m fine. You?” “Nervous.” “Why’s that?” Paul shrugged his shoulders and Jo smiled even bigger. “Don’t be. Let’s walk. We can talk along the trail.” “Okay, but you’re scarin’ me.” Paul made it to Jo’s door before she managed to get out of the truck on her own. He wanted this day to be perfect. Wanted to stretch it out as long as he could, knowing he had to get back to Nashville sometime tonight. Knowing he’d promised to bring Jo home this afternoon. And knowing he didn’t want to ever let Jo out of his sight again. And not knowing how long it would be before he could see her again. That particular fact had gnawed at his consciousness since he’d left her at the hospital. And now, his summer would be packed, school would start in the fall; and not knowing what she wanted to talk about was making him nuts. He’d never felt this way about a girl before. Not ever. No, this time, he wanted to do things right. Proper. Perfect. Not turn into a joke, like they had with miss high-and-mighty Alexandria Luna. Ugh. He pushed that thought out of his head. He did not want to think about Alexandria, even for a second.

When the door opened, Paul offered his hand to Jo. She took it and smiled. Man, he loved that smile. “You’re killing me,” he said. Paul tugged Jo along toward the trail and prayed for the right words to say. Words that would help them find a way to be together, always. Eventually. Don’t let me push her, or crowd her, or get in the way of her plans, Lord. Guide us both to where You would have us be. Where we can best serve You and make a difference in people’s lives. “Where’d you go?” said Jo. “Just prayin’ I don’t mess this up,” he said, with a nervous chuckle. “I’ve been praying the same thing,” said Jo. “But I also have a confession to make.” Paul held his breath. He didn’t even want to think about what might come out of her mouth. She’d just spent six full days with Aunt Pearl, who probably had all kinds of preconceived notions about a boy his age and how unpredictable life could be. Pearl didn’t know him at all, except that he had saved her niece’s life. So how could she make such rash judgments about him? Listen to yourself. You’re the one making rash judgments. Paul kept his eyes straight ahead and waited. Suddenly, he felt Jo stop at his side. “You keep drifting off,” she said. “Look, there’s a bench over there. Let’s go sit. I really need your undivided attention.” She could have his undivided attention for a lifetime, he thought. But he didn’t say it. How could he? He had no idea what she was about to say. Would his plan to be with her forever fall apart in the next few minutes? How could he let her go? He couldn’t. And wouldn’t, unless she gave him no alternative. Surely, that wasn’t her confession. That she had someone else and would be returning to him today. Surely not. “Sorry,” said Paul, swallowing his fear. “And the bench will be fine. I want to

give you my undivided attention. My imagination is working overtime here.” “You’re being silly.” He didn’t feel silly. He felt desperate. Like he’d come apart and they’d be picking up pieces of him all over the place, if Jo could not be a part of his life. Paul sucked in a deep breath and pushed the anxiety to the back of his mind. They moved to the bench and sat down together. Paul reached for Jo’s hand, and thankfully, she let him take it. “Okay,” said Jo. “The thing is, I’ve done something you may or may not like.” May or may not like? Good grief, no wonder he was scared. What in the world could she be talking about? Was there actually a boyfriend out there somewhere? What kind of confessions did “good girls” make, anyway? “I’m listening,” he said, running a clammy palm along the top of his cargo shorts. His eyes never left Jo’s as he reached for her other hand, his grip increasing with each second. “That kinda hurts,” she said, wiggling her fingers under his. “Oh, sorry,” said Paul, loosening his hand a bit so hers could breathe. Still anxious, he tried to quell the thoughts that kept interrupting his brainwaves. Calm down, Baldwin. “Do you emailing me your summer itinerary?” said Jo. Paul twisted on the bench so he could look straight at her. “Yes,” he said, with caution. So? What was the big deal about that? He glanced down at their hands again when Jo started tapping her thumb against his thigh. “Now who’s nervous?” said Paul. “Just tell me so we can deal with it. Okay?” The grip Jo had on Paul’s hand tightened a little more, and a little more, as she rushed through her confession. It hurt a little, but he wasn’t about to say anything. No way. He didn’t want her to let go of him. Put any more distance between them. Lose the connection that sent zingers of electricity straight to his heart, with just the touch of her hand.

“I rearranged my entire schedule for the whole summer,” she spat out, “so I could work in every camp where you will be, when you will be there.” Paul waited a moment before responding, in hopes that what Jo had just said was the entirety of her confession. If so, he might start shouting hallelujah at any moment. Rearranged her summer schedule to be with him. Hmmm, maybe she really did like him as much as he liked her. “Are you mad?” she said, that thumb picking up speed on his thigh. Paul’s eyes got big, his knee bounced up and down in a rhythm that would rival any rock band, and a huge smile split his face wide open. “Mad? Are you kidding? That’s the best confession I’ve ever heard. The best news I’ve heard since my seminary application was accepted.” He paused for a moment, looking deeply into her eyes, hoping with everything inside him. “That is all you needed to confess, right?” She looked down for a second and Paul thought he would lose it. What next? “Well, that,” said Jo, “And Aunt Pearl says I can only go if you promise to be on your best behavior as a gentleman.” Paul jumped to his feet, pulling Jo up with him. Then he really did shout, “Hallelujah!” He wrapped his arms around Jo, leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “I promise, cross my heart, and hope to live!” Paul took a deep breath, trying to calm the excitement that raced through his veins. He pulled Jo just a tad closer to him and said, “Jo?” “Yeah?” “I really wanna kiss you right now.” “I’d like that.”

Over the next month and a half, Jo Sterling and Paul Baldwin traveled across the greater Memphis and Nashville areas, and served in four additional summer camps. They each went back to their respective homes between camps, where they stayed in constant . They talked about everything from childhood memories to having a family of their own one day. However, Jo managed to keep her biological parents out of the conversation; and Paul neglected to mention that his mother happened to be a famous concert pianist, or that he came from old family money. It didn’t seem to matter to her if he came with money or not. His chosen profession would certainly give her no clue of such a thing. So, he left money out of the conversation. He wanted their relationship to be based solely on a wholesome love of the Lord and for each other. Part of the monies Paul had access to had been designated either for tuition or living expenses, or both, contingent upon him staying in school. An educational trust fund that Dr. Baldwin had instigated at the birth of each of his children— even Kimberly, who had yet to be born, at the time their dad ed away, had been available to get him through school. But he’d worked to earn extra cash or spending money or dating money. Part-time, anywhere he could find work. The sacrifice had been worth it. He had been spending very little and saving as much as possible, since he’d started taking odd jobs, at the tender age of nine. He’d been tall for his age, strong and determined. He had no trouble handling a push mower, a riding mower, and even a weed-eater. All summer, every summer, throughout his school-age years, he’d managed to build up an impressive lawnservice business. His work had paid off; and he’d invested every available extra dollar along the way, in an investment strategy developed by his mother’s A. A strategy that had worked. The funds had accumulated into an impressive nest egg—just as Catherine’s A had predicted. The A’s genius had also exploded a second trust fund, separate from the educational trusts, for each child in the Baldwin family. Paul would soon be wealthy in his own right—and of age to access the funds. He would be able to provide for Jo and their family. No worries. A percentage of the salary he would one day accumulate as a youth minister, as well as a percentage of every dollar he earned as a family counselor, would only

further enhance what had been building for years. But none of that would matter, if he and Jo couldn’t maintain a long-distance relationship while he went off to seminary in Virginia Beach, Virginia, and Jo stayed in Memphis for her college education. Paul’s heart didn’t want to give up Jo or his dream to graduate from Regent with at least a master’s degree. But long distance relationships could be a real challenge. He prayed every morning and every night that he could maintain a high spiritual concentration, strong enough to overcome every temptation that Satan might throw at him. And he prayed the same for Jo. Time for a decision came suddenly upon them. Paul had been slated to leave Nashville no later than August second. The final camp where he and Jo served together would get him back to Nashville July 25th. They were out of play time. Thankfully, no further accidents had happened, Jo’s head injury remained superficial, with no trace of symptoms of a concussion. The summer had been memorable, as their relationship grew into something beautiful, and pure, and strong. Jo had received a full academic scholarship to the University of Memphis. She too had a dream. A dream to teach kindergarten, which Aunt Pearl had told him dated back to Jo’s own kindergarten experience. Man, he was going to miss her. Maybe even more than he’d imagined, after spending the majority of the summer working with her. He would miss looking into her amazing eyes, kissing her amazing lips, and reveling in the innocence of her amazing laughter. He hadn’t left yet; but he missed her already.

Chapter Five

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? (Romans 8:35 NIV).

Two and One-half Years Later

The time had come, finally, for Alexandria to make her move. She had been patient quite long enough. After all, she’d spent years being “good”, trying to appease her irrational father. Years trying to keep his suspicions at bay. Years spying on Paul Baldwin. He had become her main obsession. And Daddy didn’t seem to know it. It still irked Alexandria that he had defied her, insisting she give up on Paul Baldwin. ‘What do you want with a minister, anyway’, he’d said. ‘Paul isn’t even Catholic. And had he been, his vows as a priest would not have allowed him to marry.’ Alexandria’s focus on someone she couldn’t have, and who didn’t want to be with her anyway, seemed beyond his understanding. Still. He just didn’t get it. Daddy’s voice had droned on and on, until Alexandria tuned out anything he had to say on the matter. Fortunately, Alexandria had convinced her daddy that she agreed with everything he thought she should do. Agreed to find a hobby to occupy her time. Agreed to date new prospects. Agreed to bring guys around for his approval. Ugh, what a chore it had been. She had agreed. But Alexandria Luna had not followed through on any promise she made regarding Paul Baldwin. She didn’t like this new aspect of her father. She had grown up getting her way. And she preferred that nothing change. She could still buy anything she wanted. Big whoop. What she wanted most, Daddy had denied her. But no longer. The wait would be worth every long, drawn-out month. Alexandria had Paul Baldwin right where she wanted him. And Daddy remained clueless. Whether her father approved or not, Alexandria would have her way. Josephine Sterling was still in Tennessee, so Alexandria determined that she would follow Paul to Virginia. Without that little tramp in the way, Alexandria

would be able to convince Paul to marry her then fulfill her every desire. It was time. Way past time.

Jo felt her phone buzz from where she carried it in the pocket of her sweater. She had slipped a heavy-duty cable-knit over her long-sleeved corduroy top on her way out the door that morning. A cool front had moved in overnight, and the temperature lingered in the lower 40s. She shivered as the wind whipped around her. Headed toward her first class, Jo ran inside the building before swiping open the call. “Hey,”she said, a smile spreading across her face. She hadn’t heard from Paul in several days, they had both been covered up with studying for finals. “Hi there,” said Paul. “How’s the weather down there?” “You don’t wanna know,” said Jo. “Even in light of the recent cold front. I checked the weather channel up your way this morning, and ours might make you extremely envious.” Paul chuckled. “Virginia winters are ridiculous. And I think this year promises to be even worse than last year. Remind me to pray about not getting a job here.” Jo cringed. Praying for what you want God not to do could almost guarantee that’s what would happen. Well, it increased the odds anyway. Wasn’t our place to tell God what to do. And the grim weather report didn’t help. Paul had barely made it home for the holiday break, the year before. If the weather is worse this year, would she get to see him at all? Long-distance romance could put a real strain on a relationship, her aunt had cautioned Jo, over and over again. It certainly hadn’t been a walk in the park on a beautiful spring afternoon; but neither had it proven to be impossible. School had kept her busy and somewhat distracted. With Paul attending school out-ofstate, Jo surmised that her grades had probably benefited from the inconvenience of not being able to get her hands on the man she loved. But that was the only benefit she could see to their attending college so far away from one another. Paul Baldwin and Jo Sterling had been faithful to each other for two and a half years, already. It helped that they both made a concerted effort to stay that way during the fall and spring semesters then signed up to work at the same summer

camps. It had become a thing with them. Being together in the summer had made being apart during the school year much more amenable. “Do you think you might get snowed in this year?” The thought of not seeing Paul for Christmas made her blood run cold. She missed him. Needed to see him, look into his eyes and confirm that he still loved her. She needed to know he still needed her. Still loved her. Still wanted to marry her. “Don’t even say that,” said Paul. “My only salvation are the breaks I spend with you. It gets lonely and dark up here in the winter. When I’m with you, all the dark and lonely nights fade into sunshine.” Jo loved that Paul proclaimed that he still loved her, still wanted her to be his girl, still planned on them having a future together. Thanks to the college credits they had each acquired while in high school, just a year from now, they could be together. Always. A happily married couple. She would move to Virginia and teach, while Paul completed the requirements for his master’s degree. They had talked about it every time they’d been together. Yet Paul had not formally asked for her hand in marriage—not to Jo’s aunt, or to Jo. She kept thinking, every Christmas since they’d first met, that her gift would be an engagement ring. And if Paul didn’t get to come home for Christmas, she knew it wouldn’t happen this Christmas, either. Regardless of how selfish she sounded in her own head she couldn’t help it. She was tired of waiting for him to make it official. “Well,” said Jo, forcing her voice to sound confident, “I’ll be praying every day that you can come home.” And for a lot more than that.

Alexandria grinned at the memory of her father relenting, scrambling, making an impossible move, possible. Especially since Daddy didn’t appear to know that Paul Baldwin lived in Virginia. In fact, she was counting on it. Because if he did, he would never have let her go. “The pictures I’ve seen of Virginia in the spring and summer are fabulous, Daddy. The flowers are plentiful and gorgeous, and the summers are mild. I’ll just die if I don’t get to experience all four seasons there.” Alexandria had held her breath, waiting for his answer. Did he suspect anything? She hadn’t mentioned Paul Baldwin in over a year. And even then, she had been emphatic that she no longer had feelings for the man. Maybe by now, Daddy had forgotten all about Paul. She had been so careful. She’d partied on a regular basis; but was sure to go to confession. She dated lots of men; but did not make a commitment to anyone. She had a plan; and no one was going to mess it up. No one. Not even Daddy. Especially not Daddy. “I’ll see what I can do,” he’d said. A good sign. Daddy had used his standard answer, the answer that usually got Alexandria exactly what she wanted. She’d been disappointed though. He’d made her wait a full seven days before he revealed that he’d had to grease some palms and force someone else out, which hadn’t been all that difficult. All it took was money, so Alexandria could live in the one and only apartment complex that suited her fancy. He hadn’t understood her compulsion to be in an apartment, when she could have had any available house in Virginia Beach. But he couldn’t change her mind on that point, and finally gave in. “Oh, Daddy!” squealed Alexandria. “Thank you! This means so much to me! More than I can say. Really. Thank you.” Alexander Luna received his daughter’s hug and her praise, with more than a little gratitude. She knew that, because he had told her as much. It didn’t matter that Daddy didn’t know Paul Baldwin lived in that same complex. What did matter was that Paul Baldwin was in Virginia Beach and Josephine Sterling was in Tennessee. Alexandria could keep a close eye on Paul—especially if she lived

in the same building. All the fake relationship-hunting and feigned innocence had been worth the agony. The wait would soon be over. Paul would not know she had come to Virginia, much less positioned herself as his neighbor, until she decided the time was right. Alexandria enjoyed the months she had lived in Virginia Beach, immensely. She purchased a pair of binoculars so she could watch Paul’s comings and goings and made sure they didn’t meet up outside the complex or in the hallway. Which turned out to not be that difficult. Paul had proven to be a creature of habit. Achingly, boringly, so. He jogged five miles early every morning, without fail. No matter the weather. Alexandria had followed him for a couple weeks in the safety of her rented Mercedes, confident he had not recognized her, or suspected that someone was on his trail. But Paul wasn’t going to quit, or even take a break, from his routine. And since mornings were not her favorite time of day, Alexandria left them to Paul and slept in. She’d set her alarm for a few minutes before he would be leaving for class—which he also did every day, except Saturday and Sunday. After a while, Alexandria didn’t bother to watch him at all on Sundays. He went to Sunday school and church every week then took long naps in the afternoon. Boring. She couldn’t wait till they shared a life together, and she could change all that. Then winter set in, and Alexandria thought she might go stir crazy in the first two weeks. Winter came so early in Virginia. Too early. Alexandria soon discovered she didn’t like being cold, so she stayed indoors more than she would like. Snow took all the fun out of shopping. Her hair reacted badly to the extra moisture, and she couldn’t shop with the frizzies. She’d rarely experienced these sorts of difficulties in Tennessee. And no matter how big a fit she threw, Daddy refused to send the company jet for her, simply so she could shop in a Nashville mall. “Things are changing,” she grumbled. “I don’t know what’s happening with you, Daddy, but I don’t appreciate being abandoned in this winter wilderness.”

“But, Princess,” he’d said, syrupy sweet. “I am doing exactly what you asked me to do. You are experiencing all four seasons in Virginia. Now, enjoy them.” And he’d hung up the phone! No, this new attitude of her father’s was completely unacceptable. Alexandria had no idea what to do about it, but she would think of something. He couldn’t just push her aside like that and get away with it. Alexandria Luna tugged on winter gloves and slipped into her favorite Givenchy zebra-striped mohair and wool blend turtleneck she had charged on her daddy’s at Nordstrom. She had been saving the sweater especially for today, in anticipation of celebrating her eminent reunion with Paul Baldwin. Time was getting close. So close. Alexandria mumbled to herself, even as she watched Paul through the open curtains in his living room. She had to find a way to convince him to come home with her. Back to Nashville where they could live out their lives as a happy couple, safe under her daddy’s financial umbrella. She might even agree to give him a baby. But the thought of a baby made her shudder. She’d never been fond of ruining her magnificent body for the privilege of sitting up all night with a crying baby. It would practically take over her life, suck the joy right out of it, and destroy the freedom of being able to travel on a whim. Not to mention the fact that her own mother had died during childbirth. Yuck. Maybe she could talk Paul out of the whole family scene, his religious convictions, and his desire to become a minister. It was a lot to overcome, but Alexandria believed in her powers of persuasion. Especially now that Paul had been separated from Josephine for a very long time. He had to be lonesome and in need of female companionship. And female companionship didn’t come any better than in the shapely form of Alexandria Luna. Surely, he wouldn’t be too difficult to persuade. Alexandria made her way to the sidewalk, where a car waited to take her to the mall. Christmas was coming around again, and Alexandria felt certain that Paul would be stuck in Virginia this year. Just like her. Christmas.

Alexandria grinned a wicked grin as a conniving glint darkened her countenance. Yes, she could surprise Paul on Christmas day, with a special gift, and throw in herself as a bonus. It would be perfect. How could any man resist Alexandria Luna and all the money she had access to? Yes, this could work. She would have Paul Baldwin all to herself, then mold him into the man she wanted him to be. And Daddy could always use another good man to help manage his vast holdings. The perfect plan. The infernal, maddening wait would be over inside a month. Paul Baldwin would be hers, and they would never think, or speak of, Josephine Sterling again.

As fate would have it, heavy snow did indeed prevent Paul from getting down to Tennessee in time for Christmas. He sat in a chair in front of the computer, a deep frown marring his handsome face. He had planned a Skype session with the family, but the Internet wouldn’t cooperate any better than the weather. Catherine had let it slip that Jo would be there with them for the Skype session. She had wanted to surprise Paul, but oh well, he was glad he knew. Gave him something to look forward to. His mind thousands of miles away, Paul jumped when someone knocked on his apartment door. He couldn’t imagine who might be standing on the other side. He stared through the peep hole at a large green foil-wrapped package sporting a glittery silver bow. “Who is it?” he said. “Special delivery,” the green box seemed to sing. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Paul couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it. Definitely not a member of his family; they couldn’t get to him in this weather, any more than he could get to them. Curious to find out who might have sent him a gift by special delivery, Paul unlocked two deadbolts and the lock on the doorknob. The second the final lock clicked free, the box forced its way past him and into his living room. Odd. How did the delivery guy know how many locks he had on his door? Paul’s mouth gaped open and his eyes got big when he recognized the lady holding the green box, dressed like one of the chorus girls from White Christmas, in a red velvet miniskirt trimmed in feathery white. “Alexandria?” His voice squeaked with surprise and something else not even he could name. How had Alexandria found him? Why would she want to? Why would she think he might want to see her? He had made himself perfectly clear. Years ago. He had fallen in love with a decent, beautiful, innocent woman. Paul Baldwin had no use for Alexandria Luna. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. He hadn’t thought about Alexandria at all. Not since high school. Meeting Josephine Sterling had forced every last shred of a memory he had of Alexandria Luna, right out of his brain.

“Of course, sweeticums,” she said, all sugary and disgusting, as she pressed herself against him. “I’m glad you me. I’ve been waiting a long, long time to get you alone.” It was Alexandria Luna, all right. That voice that had grated on his nerves before, screeched past his eardrums now, until he wanted to cover both ears with his hands. That annoying whiny voice, full of come-hither must be how the sirens of fairy tales had sounded to the sailors of long ago. Paul would not give in to her song. If his mind alone could push her back into the hall, she would be long gone, already. He prayed for strength and courage as Alexandria wiggled her way into his arms. She draped the box behind his back and smashed her lips to his—just as the Skype connection came alive behind them. Paul heard a horrified gasp. Alexandria had been quick, and Paul had been stunned, with no chance of stopping Alexandria from forcing herself on him. “Really, Paul?” he heard Jo’s angry voice, coming from the computer. “No wonder you couldn’t make it home for Christmas.” Paul scrambled away from Alexandria and ran over to the computer. But to no avail. Jo had cut the connection. She was gone. Probably out of his life forever. He turned and glared at Alexandria. He had long ago quit using the backup squad code, but wished now, he could. But that would have been a futile move, snowed-in and far away from home as he was. Paul did not like being alone in a room with Alexandria Luna. Did not appreciate her intrusion into his life. Yet again. What was wrong with her? The anger and confusion that swirled through his brain pushed all semblance of patience to the side. “Get out!” he shouted. “Get out now!” Paul took Alexandria by the elbow and ushered her into the hall, green package and all. He heard her wailing and shouting as he slammed the door then triplelocked it, with record speed. “Leave, Alexandria! I can’t believe you! Go home. Go home now, and never come near me again! Do you understand?” It only took a few seconds for Alexandria to respond. “You’ll be sorry!” she

hollered. “Daddy is not going to be happy. He went to a lot of trouble and expense to get me here!” Paul clamped his lips together to keep from saying the words that flew into his mind. He turned away from the door, stomped into his bedroom, then groaned when he realized he also had no cell service. “My achin’ back,” he grumbled. He tossed the phone to the other side of the bed and covered his face with his hands. How was he going to get out of this mess? Alexandria stood outside the door of Paul’s apartment, drop-jawed. What had just happened? Her plan had been flawless. She had been inexplicably patient. Totally believed one kiss would change his mind about her. Something had to be wrong with that man—if her looks, her money, and her availability hadn’t won him over. It only took seconds for Alexandria’s puzzled look to morph into fury. She stomped her foot and screamed through his door. He had paid her no mind and told her to go home. The fire of humiliation burned in her gut as she heard the locks rapidly click back into place. “I could have given you everything your heart desired!” she screamed at the door. “But now, you’ve thrown it all away!” He had stirred her ire, and she would get back at him. In a big way. Something had snapped in Alexandria’s head all those years ago when Paul rejected her in front of a group in the hallway at school. Over and over, since then, she had demanded her father send people out to keep track of Paul Baldwin. And when Daddy refused to do it, Alexandria had found a way to get it done, herself. Then Paul met little miss goody-two-shoes and started making eyes at her, working with her, holding her hand, kissing her. Josephine Sterling had followed Paul around like a little lost puppy. It was then that Alexandria had made up her mind to cram a permanent wedge between the two. Or get rid of Josephine, altogether. She didn’t care how it happened, just that it did. She would have Paul

Baldwin for herself, or nobody would have him. Hope had dawned anew when Alexandria had learned that the nauseating couple would be attending college, thousands of miles apart. And again, this Christmas break, she had seized the opportunity to try and convince Paul that he didn’t need anyone, except herself. She had splurged on an Armani suit that could be tailored to fit his magnificent body. She had insisted her dad use his connections to get her an apartment in the same building as Paul (especially sweet, considering her father didn’t know it). She had felt like an adult. Like she could accomplish anything. Get anything on her own, without Daddy’s help. Well, relatively, anyway. Then she had waited, semi-patiently, until Mother Nature paved the way for her to win Paul back. All for naught. “Oooo, you better watch your back, Mr. High and Mighty Baldwin! This is not over. No one treats me like dirt and gets away with it. No one. You idiot! You act like you don’t even know, or care, who my daddy is!” The tired old line had worked for her, almost predictably, until she met Paul Baldwin. What an idiot. How could anyone be so thick-headed, so stubborn, so bent on struggling through life, when Alexandria could change all that. Alexandria stomped down the stairs and straight to the dumpster. She didn’t care if her scantily-clad body turned beet red from the cold. She didn’t care that snow seeped into her patent leather knee-high boots, or that the damp weather would make her hair frizz. She was mad. Too mad to care about such stupid inconveniences. In about twenty seconds, Paul Baldwin’s chance to own the Armani would be gone forever. Alexandria slammed back the lid on the dumpster, tore the pretty green paper off Paul’s special gift, ripped open the box then let the suit fall into the slush in front of the dumpster. She stomped on it, over and over, until completely convinced it could not be salvaged then rolled it up into a big wet wad and pushed it over the lip of the dumpster. Seconds later, the cold began to make her skin burn, which finally got Alexandria’s attention. She growled at her own stupidity, wishing she’d had

sense enough to put on her warm woolen coat and galoshes before venturing out into the bitter cold. “I hate that man,” she grumbled. “I’ll teach him to reject Alexandria Margarita Luna. He’s a nobody, compared to my family.” She believed it to be true, even though she knew next to nothing about the Baldwin family or their place in society. But there weren’t many families who could measure up to her father’s wealth. The assumption hadn’t been that far-fetched. The greatest, fiercest, most annoying winter storm in a ten-year span had roared through Virginia that Christmas, which made getting any electronic device to work, next to impossible. Lines were down all over the city. Paul waited for three whole days, pacing up and down inside his apartment. What a long and frustrating winter break this had turned out to be. The only plus worth mentioning, was that Alexandria had not made another appearance at his door. What had she been thinking, anyway? He had long ago forgotten there had ever been even a twinge of something for her in his psyche. And now, she’d forced herself on him and put his relationship with Jo in jeopardy. He was a wreck. And this storm was not helping his nerves. Not one little bit. When Paul’s phone rang on the morning of the fourth day after Alexandria’s unwelcome intrusion, he about fell out of his chair trying to get to it. “Mom!” he shouted, as if that would somehow make the connection stronger. “Finally!” “I know, Son. We’ve been dying to talk to you, too. Have you spoken with Jo since, well, you know.” Paul frowned. Yeah, he knew, and now he knew that his family knew. “No, but as soon as we’re done here, I’m calling her.” Paul stilled his body and held his tongue when his mother cleared her throat and seemed to hesitate. “Won’t do any good,” she finally said. Paul’s throat closed up and he struggled to catch a breath.

“Why not? What’s happened to her?” He felt certain he knew the answer to the question but did not want to it it. And until he heard it from his mother’s mouth, he refused to even consider the possibility. The ache in Paul’s chest dropped down into his stomach. This couldn’t mean he had lost Josephine—like, for, forever. “No, nothing like that,” said Catherine. “It’s Alexandria, isn’t it?” Might as well say it and get it out there. “I’m afraid so, Son.” Paul growled again. This could not be happening. “Mom, surely you know I’m completely, unequivocally innocent, don’t you? Alexandria appeared at my door out of nowhere, pretending a special delivery. I rejected her advances, forcefully I might add, and sent her packing. Immediately. No lingering visit. No discussion. Nothing.” As the words rushed out of him, Paul simultaneously prayed that his mother would believe him. Many a man had strayed while stranded far away from the person they had committed their lives to; but not Paul Baldwin. And definitely not with Alexandria Luna! He waited with bated breath for his mother’s reaction. She had to believe him. She just had to. If his own family didn’t believe him, Jo never would. “Thank goodness,” said Catherine. “I’m so relieved to hear it. Why don’t you let me explain things to Jo; and I’m sure she’ll you right away. She was crushed when she saw. Well, never mind.” The color drained from Paul’s face and his heart stomped inside his chest. “I’ll start praying now,” he said. “I thought you wanted me to come home,” wailed Alexandria, with pouty lips. She had worked herself into a frenzy, determined to get out of Virginia. The look had always persuaded her daddy before. She had called him on FaceTime just so she could use it. “Do you even care what I’m going through in this frozen tundra? Why, it’s not even safe to go to the grocery store. Do you want me to die

up here? Away from home?” She paused for dramatic effect. “Away from you?” There, that ought to do it. Alexandria clamped her lips closed and waited, silently counting off the seconds. One. Two. Three. Four. Her father’s next words made Alexandria want to squeal. Her spiel had won him over in under five seconds, her personal best. Being away from him had paid off. If only she could have accomplished such a feat with Paul Baldwin. But she couldn’t think about him right now. She was going home. Thoughts of the disaster Virginia had turned out to be would only spoil things. She’d get back at Paul Baldwin at a later date. It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. “Okay, Alexandria. I will send a plane for you.” “Oh, Daddy. Thank you.” Alexandria jumped up and down, like a school-girl on a mini trampoline. “Hold on now, Princess,” said Alexander, stepping on her glee. “There are conditions.” “Conditions?” Ugh. She didn’t like conditions. He’d only recently come up with any, and it didn’t sit well with her. A scowl immediately replaced the smile that had brightened her countenance. She stopped jumping and stood perfectly still. Well, whatever Daddy’s “conditions” were didn’t really matter. She would agree to anything, at least until she was safely out of Virginia and had her feet solidly planted in The Mall at Green Hills. “What conditions, Daddy? I’ll do anything, if I…Can. Just. Come. Home.” Alexandria did not tell her father about Paul Baldwin and her humiliation. She didn’t tell him she had destroyed an Armani suit and thrown it in the trash, or that she now kept her drapes closed so she couldn’t see Paul come in or go out, or that she had taken a hammer to a brand new pair of binoculars. Desperate to get home, she kept all the buzzing, annoying thoughts locked up inside her head.

“Well, that is refreshing to hear,” said Alexander. “Because I will only send a pilot for you if you make me believe that you have finally had your fill of chasing after Paul Baldwin. In fact, you will be forbidden to leave the state of Tennessee for a full year. Do I make myself clear?” Chasing after Paul Baldwin echoed through Alexandria’s head. How did her daddy know about Paul Baldwin? Had he sent a spy to watch her? It hit her then. Of course, he had. But not to watch her, to watch over her. Like a guardian angel or a bodyguard. For a brief moment, love broke through the wall of greed and entitlement, and Alexandria realized her father cared deeply for her. Contrition was a new and fleeting emotion for Alexandria, but she suddenly felt ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry, Daddy. But I had to try. Can you understand that, even a little bit?” Alexander Luna understood love for another human being, to the depths of his soul. Childbirth had taken his first and only love and left him to love her through their daughter. He had not given himself to another woman, since then; but had focused on building his empire and coddling said daughter. He had not experienced unrequited love; but his heart had been shattered when his wife ed away. If unrequited love hurt like that, it hurt—like crazy. His heart ached for his daughter, even if her actions seemed ludicrous. Yet, Alexander felt blessed that Alexandria had not stalked some celebrity or dangerous criminal with her alluring charm. At least Paul Baldwin had tried to stay out of Alexandria’s way. When it came to dealing with his daughter, Alexander Luna counted every tiny blessing he could conjure up. Alexander did not fear for his daughter’s life from Paul Baldwin; but when she’d left for Virginia Beach, he’d been clueless. Didn’t mean he was gonna pull security, though. Alexandria was his baby girl. Would always be his baby girl. He’d had someone watching her every move, since she’d started kindergarten, because he couldn’t be with her all the time. His money and influence could be both a blessing and a curse. A blessing that he had the resources to pay people well to be close by in case trouble showed up. And a curse because trouble had a way of sniffing out big money, then scheming ways to separate the dough from the pie maker. But for right now, Alexandria was safe. Her father’s heart raced a little thinking about Alexandria finally coming home. Safe, and back in his jurisdiction.

“I understand about losing someone you love, Princess,” he said after a short pause. “But you’ve been a little too careless lately. I’ll be glad when you get back here.” “Me too, Daddy. Thank you for sending a plane for me. I promise to be good.” She promised. Of course, she did. Saying what Daddy needed to hear, had long ago become her specialty.

Chapter Six

Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night (Psalm 1:1-2 NIV).

Two long months after Alexandria had practically plowed him over, Paul stood at the luggage carousel in Nashville, Tennessee, beyond grateful that Jo had believed his rendition of what happened with Alexandria Luna. It seemed to help that each member of his family had taken turns on the phone with her and explained what a nuisance Alexandria had made of herself in high school, and how several of them had staged an intervention to get the message across that Paul had absolutely no interest in any sort of relationship with her, regardless of how much money her daddy had, or how often she managed to get her way. Paul explained to Jo that he had not mentioned Alexandria’s past antics because he didn’t consider her worth mentioning. When she had stormed off that day in the hallway at school, Paul had put her out of his head. A cool breeze swept through the room when the door across from the luggage carousel opened with a flourish. Voices jumbled together—several Paul recognized right away. Family voices. But his ears were tuned for one voice, and one voice only. When he heard it, his eyes searched for hers. When his vision landed on Jo’s sky-blue orbs, tears welled up behind his own eyes, and he struggled to stop them from spilling over. Not that he cared that much. The relief that flooded through him seemed extra strong and demanded release. Man, he had missed her. Paul dropped his carry-on at James’ feet and pushed through the crowd, barely acknowledging his family. And, like the good family they were, they “parted the waters” in order to let him . “Jo,” he said, with reverence, gratitude and fear, all rolled into that one word. She smiled with warmth and sincerity, and Paul felt it from the top of his head to the tips of his toes—love. The realization struck him hard. And made him extra

grateful he had sprung for the bigger diamond. “Welcome home, big guy.” Paul opened his arms and Jo stepped into his embrace. “You feel extra good,” he said. “Now that you’re here, I am extra good.” “Okay, enough of the mushy stuff,” said James. “Let’s get this show on the road.” Little James had grown into an intelligent, confident, godly young man, who had made peace with himself about his father’s death and embraced his ion for all things in the technology field. The summer he graduated high school at the tender age of sixteen, he headed straight to MIT. As he worked his way through school, he began building his own software development company. He had grown out of his defensive ways and put all his energy into developing his mind and body. He had stopped growing at a respectable 5’10”, and James seemed okay with that, now. For the longest, he had resented being the only “short” Baldwin brother. Paul was proud of his younger brother. Right proud. Paul grinned at James now, with a chuckle, resisting the urge to muss his hair like he’d done when James was ten years old. When Jo tried to step away from Paul, presumably so he could grab his luggage, Paul draped his arm across her shoulders and tugged her close to his side. “James will be happy to get my bag,” said Paul, a gleam of mischief in his eye. “Yeah, yeah. I got it already.” Once hugs had been exchanged all around, the group moved together toward the curb, where security would be counting down the minutes, before a ticket would be issued for lingering too long in the enger pickup lane.

Paul had missed Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Eve, so the emotion that hit him when he walked into his grandmother’s house and saw the elaborate Christmas decorations still hanging in the great room, he felt weak in the knees. A ten-foot tree stood in the corner by the fireplace, fully decorated, with presents stacked beneath, as though Christmas day had not yet arrived. “Mom,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to go to all this trouble.” “Pshaw, you should know we wouldn’t have Christmas without you, even if we had to wait till July, when it was 90 degrees outside.” True. He had known the truth in his mother’s statement, without question. Eventually, the weather would have cleared, and he would have come home. But seeing the effort in real life, knowing the entire family had sacrificed the special holiday until Paul could be with them, gave him a warm glow all over. Part of him felt a sudden rush of gratitude for the delay in coming home. After all, now he would be proposing to Jo on a red-letter day. Valentine’s Day. What could possibly be wrong with Christmas happening on Valentine’s Day? Thank You, Lord, for making all things work together for good. As the family stood around visiting about school, the weather, the latest in each of their lives, Grammi and Catherine left the siblings to catch up, in order to tend to the last-minute preparations of the traditional Christmas fare that Grammi lovingly slaved over, every year. A warmth started in his belly, and once again, Paul silently thanked the good Lord for this opportunity to be with family. The semester was far from over; but Paul had worked double-time in the library, managed to get ahead, and obtained permission to go home for a four-day “leave.” The stress and pressure of finishing assignments early had been totally worth it. It was good to be home. Extra good. Paul patted the small box wrapped in red, with no bow, just a simple silver tag on top so it would lay flat in his pocket. When Jo excused herself to the powder room, Paul tucked the small package on a high branch of the Christmas tree, out of sight, ready for the big moment.

“Okay, let’s get these gifts unloaded and under the tree,” he said aloud, certain no one had noticed the small box he’d hidden above eyelevel. “Then I’ll haul my luggage upstairs and be ready for dinner. I know what happens when a body throws Grammi off schedule,” he said with a chuckle. In fact, in all the years he had known his grandmother, the only time Paul had seen any degree of a temper on her, was if one of the children disrespected her mealtime schedule. She had insisted that a family that ate together, and prayed together, stayed together.

With the dishes rinsed and in the dishwasher, everyone settled in the den. Kim volunteered to be the elf gift-deliverer, complete with faux fur-trimmed Santa hat. In keeping with long-standing tradition, all the packages were handed out before anyone dared to start opening presents. Then, one person at a time, one gift at a time, the family oooed and awed and laughed, or gasped in amazement over each gift. Three large garbage bags of paper had been collected by the time everyone had finished. One lone, unseen gift remained tucked high up in the branches of the Christmas tree. Now was the time, thought Paul, in the lull before everyone began to lug their gifts upstairs. He stood, walked over to the Christmas tree, reached up then deep inside. He carried the small red package across the room and knelt on one knee in front of Jo. Jo’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes got big, her gasp one among several throughout the room. “You go, big brother!” shouted Kim. Kimberly Baldwin, affectionately known as Kimmie, had been born two weeks after their father’s death. She had never known Dad, had zero memories of him. Every time Paul had stopped to think about that, it broke his heart. Since the moment Kim had learned to talk, she had hounded all of them for information about their father. “I’m going to Texas someday,” she would say, with all the strength her little voice could muster. “I’m gonna stand up to Grandmother Baldwin and get our house back.” It sounded noble and sweet, but not very realistic. Grandmother Baldwin had a lot of money and a lot of pull in Lubbock County, Texas. Yet, not one member of the family had been able to convince Kim that it might not be a good idea to stir those waters. But Kim was a big girl now, all of twelve years old. Perhaps she could be persuaded someday. But Paul highly doubted it. Love for his baby sister flowed through Paul, and he grinned. But he didn’t take his eyes off Jo Sterling, the eternal object of his affection, and the woman he longed to share his future with. “I should have done this a long time ago,” he said. “And after that stunt Alexandria pulled at Christmas, I had to make sure you know I have eyes only

for you, Josephine Sterling. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” The second the question left his mouth, Jo bounded out of her seat and lunged at him. Paul grunted when the force of her body slammed into him. He lost his balance and they both tumbled to the floor, with everyone in the room laughing. Jo had her arms wrapped around Paul’s neck and he held on tight. The fall didn’t disturb him, once he realized what she whispered in his ear. “I’m so sorry I doubted you for even a second.” Paul rolled to the side and brought Jo up with him. “No apology necessary,” he said. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Darling.” One hand on each of her shoulders, Paul gently eased Jo back far enough to look her in the eye. “But please answer the question. Will. You. Marry. Me?” he said, slowing the question down as if that would make it more clear. “Yes,” she all but shouted. “I can’t believe it has taken you this long to ask me.” “I’ve been saving up.” “For what? A house?” “No, silly. For this.” Paul handed the small red package out to Jo. “Oh.” “Open it!” shouted Kim. Jo laughed at Kim’s enthusiasm, but she didn’t take her eyes off the prize. Paul held his breath as Jo painstakingly removed the shiny red paper, lifted out the gray ring box then another whispered, “Oh.” Then louder, “Oh.” “Do you like it?” “Are you kidding me? I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

The words came out full of air and awe as her eyes filled with tears. “Put it on her! Put it on her!” said Kim, scooching up beside Paul. “You little monkey,” said Paul. But he kept his eyes on Jo. Jo stretched the ring box toward Paul. He gently removed the ring then slid it onto Jo’s left ring finger, where it nestled, a perfect fit. “How did you know my ring size?” said Jo, staring down at the two-carat marquis cut, with two half-carat diamonds tucked on either side, along a wide platinum band. “After I got your aunt’s permission to marry you, I asked her your ring size. She was very forthcoming.” Paul and Jo sat together on the floor, staring at each other, for about twenty seconds, before the family surrounded them with congratulations, pats on the back, and hugs all around. The image of Alexandria Luna kissing Paul right in front of her when the Skype connection finally brought Paul into view, had been seared into Jo’s brain. Fear and anger had consumed her for 72 long, torturous hours, until Paul had managed to talk to his family and convince them to call Jo and straighten her out about Alexandria and her insane attempts to get what she knew she could not have. The Baldwins had explained Alexandria’s character flaws and how she had initially scorned Paul’s what she’d called “feeble attempt to date her,” in high school. But from the instant the family had staged an intervention on his behalf, Alexandria had come after him with her nails bared and her tongue sharp. The family had considered Alexandria a thing of the past. Long ago. The fact that she had followed Paul to Virginia and thrown herself at him yet again, had been a shock to all of them. A complete surprise. The disturbing image of Paul and Alexandria, lip-locked, dissolved completely the moment Paul knelt in front of Jo and asked her to be his wife. No more worry that maybe he’d had second thoughts about his feelings for Alexandria. No more doubt about whether Paul still cared for Jo, about their future together.

Catherine’s voice broke into Jo’s musings. “So, tell your aunt we will help in any way we can. We are so thrilled you will be a permanent part of our family.” “Thank you, Catherine. I know Aunt Pearl will appreciate it.” The family chatted non-stop about wedding possibilities for the next hour then trailed off, one by one, beginning with Grammi, until Paul and Jo had been left alone. They snuggled together in front of the fireplace, on the loveseat Paul had dragged across the room. They sat, close and quiet, for the first half hour. “I’d like to kiss you,” said Paul, pulling Jo closer and angling his head. He paused inches from her mouth, glancing between her eyes and lips. Waiting. Jo responded by closing the distance between them. A half hour stretched into an hour then into an hour and a half. “We’d better turn in,” Jo finally said, “or we’ll be in trouble when Grammi puts breakfast on the table and we’re still snoozing.” “Don’t I know it,” said Paul. He chuckled, full of love for this perfect mate whom God had brought into his life. Grateful for the relationship they had managed to preserve through two plus years of long-distance challenges. More than grateful that she had said yes to his proposal. “I’ve been here two nights already,” said Jo, “so I can find my way to my room. Get on upstairs, please, before I beg you to stay down here with me.” Yep. Perfect. Because if he gave in to what he was feeling right then, they could both be in trouble. “And before I can’t say no,” said Paul, with a wink. He stood and offered his hand for Jo to stand. “Thank you, kind sir.”

“Yes, ma’am. And thank you. I am very much looking forward to our life together.” “And a bright future it will be. Well, good night, Paul,” said Jo, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss him. Paul kissed her back, chaste and sweet, and non-suggestive. He did not want to mess this up. He released her and let her walk away, fighting the urge to call her back with every step. “Good night, future Mrs. Baldwin.” Jo made a half-turn and smiled. “Soon, Paul Baldwin. Soon.” Couldn’t be soon enough to suit Paul. But they still had things to accomplish. They had agreed that they’d each have a four-year degree in hand before they walked down the aisle. And, by the grace of God, they would.

Chapter Seven

Six Months Later

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13 NIV).

“We’ll take it,” said Catherine. “Agreed?” she said, turning first to Pearl and then to Josephine. The three of them had spent four hours touring the grounds at Sampson’s Hollow in Walland, Tennessee. Then had ultimately chosen the “Once Upon a Time” package: “Services: (from sampsonhollow.com)

• The services of a Sampson’s Hollow approved minister to perform the ceremony; • Three hours on Friday between the hours of 3:30 and 10:00 which can be used for decorating, rehearsal, and time for the rehearsal dinner; • Choose 9 hours on Saturday, between 12:00 and 11:00 for wedding/reception; • Wedding Coordinator for Friday evening and Saturday; • Heavy rose petals for ceremony site; based on availability of colors; • Mason jars on fence row; • Use of wooden tree rounds as centerpieces for guest tables; • Day of wedding/night of wedding in Little Farmhouse Cabin;

• Arrival time in cabin begins with the arrival time for the package; and • Sparkler exit for bride and groom.”

“The perfect blend of country and elegance,” said Josephine. “I love it.” And she did. How could she not? A tremor of gratitude tugged at her heart and she felt tears pressing behind her eyes. But she refused to cry today. She would be married to Paul Adam Baldwin in less than a year, now. Life doesn’t get any better than that. She let her lungs fill with air and her heart with love, pushing the sorrow of the last weeks and months out of her system. Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. The Scripture from Isaiah 43 helped restore the calm she’d been missing in her life. She had tried to pull out of it under her own strength and gotten nowhere. Doubts about her own worthiness, fear that Alexandria would raise her ugly head again, and a general uneasiness had plagued her, as she tried to study, keep her mind on Christ, and believe that He held her in the palm of His hand. Now, with just a few words from Holy Spirit, she felt more bold and confident and sure of the future. A future with Paul. “I agree,” said Pearl, breaking into Jo’s thoughts. She smiled as another idea came to mind. “Let’s go really country,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I want to wear turquoise cowgirl boots with my gown.” “Really?” said Pearl, total surprise in her voice. “What happened to the whole glass slipper and pumpkin-shaped carriage thing? Your childhood dream?” Jo laughed, feeling even more like herself than she had all day, all week, all month. “It was, I know. But this beautiful country setting calls to me. I’ll wear the Cinderella wedding gown, as planned, but definitely have to wear the boots. And we’ll set glass slippers atop the wooden tree rounds as centerpieces. It will be perfect.” “We can manage that,” said the Sampson’s Hollow representative.

“Thank you,” said Jo. “So, what do you really think, Aunt Pearl?” Jo held her breath for a few seconds, waiting for her aunt to speak up. Pearl was right. Jo had been planning her wedding, her marriage, her life since she turned five years old. Would Pearl be terribly disappointed? Pearl got out of her chair and leaned over to hug Jo around the neck. “I think it is adorable. You know I only want you to be happy. The country touch will make your dream even more unique and wonderful.” Just what Jo wanted to hear. Her precious aunt had always been there for her. Jo didn’t know a lot about her aunt’s personal life or what had led up to the adoption, but she fully trusted Aunt Pearl to have her back. Always had, always would. God had given Jo a strong woman to influence her, to love her and guide her. Questions about the history that had put them in this situation stirred from deep in Jo’s soul, but she pushed them aside, just like she always had. What difference did it make, now? Jo was getting her dream man and her dream wedding. She needed to get over it. Leave the past alone. “How many guests are you expecting?” said the Sampson Hollow representative, cutting into Jo’s thoughts. “We want the 150-guest package,” said Catherine, not waiting for Jo to voice an opinion. Pearl’s eyes got big. Jo noticed; but couldn’t think of anything to say. If Catherine Baldwin wanted 150 guests at her son’s wedding, she really shouldn’t object. It might be a tight squeeze on the budget, but they’d manage. Somehow. Then Catherine’s next words set Jo completely at ease. “Don’t worry,” said Catherine, her hand resting on the arm of Pearl’s chair. “My family will be happy to cover the difference in the larger package. It’ll be glorious, and more than worth it.” “That’s very generous of you,” said Jo. “Really.” Tears filled her eyes. Family. Aunt Pearl had been all the family Josephine had ever known. And now she would inherit Paul’s mother, grandmother and four siblings. A reality she hadn’t even dreamed possible. And it would all begin in this beautiful country setting.

Dear Lord, please grant us Your favor. I pray for mild weather and a little cloud cover, even on the fourth of July. You can handle anything, if it suits You to do so. I pray for safe travels for all those who attend, for good food, harmony and for it to finally happen. Paul and I have waited so long, Lord. Please grant us mercy and grace as we build a life together. “My dear,” said Catherine, ending Jo’s prayerful mindset. “You have made my Paul so very happy, and I want to give you both a stupendous wedding.” The sales rep smiled big, commission dollars practically glowing in her eyes. Catherine returned the girl’s smile, and clapped her hands, once. “Okay, it’s settled then,” Catherine continued. “We have a lot to do before July fourth.” “We certainly do,” said Pearl, standing. “I’ve enjoyed working with you,” said the sales rep, as she stood behind her desk. She handed one card each to Josephine, Pearl and Catherine. “Sampson’s Hollow will be ready for your arrival. No detail will be overlooked. If you have any questions between now and then, please don’t hesitate to call. It’ll be exciting. Far as I know, we haven’t hosted a fourth of July wedding at this venue in years. It should be fantastic. Hopefully, we’ll be granted mild temperatures during your entire stay.” Josephine let the reality sink in. Her wedding day was not far off. This final inperson meeting solidified what they had been trying to accomplish by email and telephone conferences for the last few weeks. “I’ll probably call you for updates along the way,” said Josephine, letting concern edge its way back into her head. “I’m a worrier like that.” “No problem. I look forward to speaking with you.” Let the countdown begin. A fourth of July wedding in a country setting. Just the thought of it filled Josephine with warmth. Shades of gray had filled her thoughts for months. Replacing the gloom with a groom should chase the last of the darkness away. Paul Adam Baldwin would soon be the husband she had prayed for since she’d

been big enough to realize she would one day want a husband. A family of her own. Aunt Pearl’s love and influence had made it possible. Without Aunt Pearl and the love of the Lord, Jo hated to think where she might have wound up. Made her wonder if some stranger would have adopted her or if she would have been in an orphanage until the moment she turned eighteen and aged out of the system. Yeah, life could easily have been made up of more thorns than roses. Don’t even go there, Josephine Sterling. Count your many blessings and forget the what-ifs. You didn’t get raised in an orphanage. Your loving and godly aunt provided for your every need. And now, God has answered the prayers of your youth by sending you the man of your dreams. Enjoy it. Bask in His love and never forget that God is in control. Jo pushed away the last of any doubt when Catherine’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “The Dancing Bear Appalachian Bistro is only about seven miles from here,” Jo heard Catherine say, as they all turned toward the exit. “I took the liberty of making a reservation. It’s the finest restaurant in the area, and I’m anxious for y’all to experience its fine cuisine and rustic atmosphere. I’ve been there several times, when I would perform a concert in the area. I think you’ll really enjoy it.” Catherine led Pearl and Josephine out to the four-door Mercedes she had rented. She felt extremely pleased with the plans they had solidified for Paul’s wedding. Pleased that Pearl and Josephine had agreed to a wedding site close to Nashville, so that the many citizens acquainted with her family would not have far to travel. And pleased that Pearl had agreed to let Catherine provide limousine service to Sampson’s Hollow. Paul and Josephine had endured years of waiting and separation. It was time they let Alexandria stay in the past and move forward with their marital, educational and career-oriented plans. She felt almost giddy at the prospect. Yes, her son deserved a good life, a good marriage, and a rewarding career. She didn’t really care if it cost a small fortune to get him started off on the right foot. She happened to have one available for just such an occasion. Especially since the debacle with Elizabeth Baldwin had been settled. Surprisingly, Grandmother

Baldwin had surrendered her life to Christ, the house at 106 Arrowhead Drive had been restored to her and her children, and Catherine would soon be living there, once again. The Lord had been busy providing miracles that thoroughly blessed the Baldwin family. Gratitude rushed through her as Catherine chauffeured her future daughter-in-law to lunch.

Chapter Eight

Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone (Romans 12:17 NIV).

The date had been set. Paul had gone so far as to “x” out every day on the calendar for the past two months. Josephine would soon be his bride. His hire as the youth minister at the Virginia Beach church Paul attended had been solidified at the business meeting two nights ago. He had given up his apartment and put a deposit down on a house to rent. A cute little two-bedroom, not far from campus. He had sent pictures to Jo for her approval. It would be waiting for them when they got back from the wedding. He could picture her now, standing out in the yard, fussing over the rose bushes, watering the grass, smiling at him, content and lovely—and his. “Thank You, Lord,” whispered Paul, as he made his way across the room to mark another “x” through yesterday’s date. Gratefully, no one in the family had heard a word from Alexandria Luna since she had forced her way into Paul’s apartment all those months ago. The decision had been made to wed sooner rather than later. Paul was slated to begin the master’s program in the fall. He had attended Jo’s college graduation, just one week before his own. The family had brought Jo and Aunt Pearl with them when they flew up for his own ceremony in late May. It was now early June. Paul had decided to take the summer off, before starting his youth minister duties, in order to help prepare for his life with Jo Sterling Baldwin. Arranging for substitutes for the summer activities had been a bit of a challenge, but the color-coded chart he’d left hanging in his office left no room for speculation as to whom should be where, and when. They had his cell number, in case anyone had questions. Once it had all been organized Paul put it out of his mind and returned to Nashville. He had a wedding to look forward to and intended to focus all his efforts in that direction. Jo and Aunt Pearl had traveled to Nashville to spend a week near the family in order to take care of any last-minute hiccups in the wedding plans. They had

opted to stay at the Hampton Inn, so Aunt Pearl could maintain her privacy. She had lived alone for so many years Jo thought the Baldwin clan might be a bit much for her aunt. Not to mention, Aunt Pearl didn’t trust two young people in love, under the same roof, all night long, several nights in a row. Even after all the years that Paul and Jo had remained celibate. Or maybe it was because of that very thing. Early on Saturday morning, Paul dressed for his regular five-mile run. He enjoyed the trail that ran through Percy Warner Park on a regular day; but today wouldn’t be any regular day. It would be the first time Jo would be meeting him there. It had taken some coaxing on his part, since Jo had been out of the jogging arena for some time now. For several years, Jo’s routine had included a visit to the gym three times a week, for an hour, and that was it. But Paul had persuaded her that experiencing the out-of-doors during a run always made him feel closer to God. “Okay, I’ll try it again,” she’d said. “But I’m not promising anything beyond Saturday. I quit running years ago.” “I’ll take it,” said Paul. “’Cause I know you’ll love being with me out on the trail and will want to me often.” “We’ll see,” she’d said. “Yes, we will see,” whispered Paul to the memory, as he stepped into the garage to get into the Jeep. “Yes, we will.” He really hoped Jo would learn to love jogging again, and him, well, as often as she wanted to him. The idea of running with her sent a warmth through his body. She would be close and glistening and adorable. The morning dawned cool and clear, for which Josephine felt gratitude beyond measure. Summers in Nashville could be sweltering. It had been years since she had incorporated running into her workout, so she’d spent the past month researching advice for runners—or joggers—which term she much preferred. Jogging didn’t sound so brutal. Since changing her focus from softball to education, Jo had drastically changed her workout routine, and running on a daily basis had become a thing of the past. So now, Jo found herself facing a challenge. Jo got up extra early that Saturday morning to shower, dress in appropriate attire, review her notes, and do some stretches. She felt good. The practice stretching she’d learned during her research came almost naturally, now. It wasn’t like she’d forgotten everything she’d ever known on the subject; but she’d wanted to

brush up on the latest techniques. Jo checked the time on her phone, grabbed two small bottles of Essentia water, pulled on her lightweight backpack, and headed out the door. She closed it softly behind her, so as not to wake Aunt Pearl. Today should prove interesting. Jo figured she would either fall into rhythm with Paul, and learn to love jogging right away, or fall flat on her face and be forever humiliated. But she knew Paul would never belittle her. She smiled at the thought of Paul Baldwin, still awed by the fact that he found her attractive, wanted to spend his free time with her, and indeed, the rest of his life with her. Suddenly, a frown marred the happy face she had worn all morning. It came out of nowhere, or somewhere deep in her psyche. She couldn’t be sure. But sometimes she allowed her self-doubt to get between her and this wonderful man. From the first time she had uttered such feelings, Paul had gently placed two fingers on her lips to silence the negative voices that bounced around in her head. Despite Aunt Pearl’s unconditional love, the thought that her parents had dumped her, made Jo think she wasn’t good enough to love and that she’d never really measure up. Which was ludicrous since she’d only been a toddler when her parents left her behind. How could anyone place such a hardship on her, now that she had grown into an accomplished adult? And according to Paul and Aunt Pearl, Jo herself was the only one who even considered such a thing to be the truth. None of it made sense really. But when it comes to negative human emotions, “sense” rarely figured into the equation. “Stop it,” she whispered, as she got behind the wheel of her aunt’s Camry. Camry seemed to be the only vehicle Pearl trusted. She traded hers in every two years, like clockwork. “The subject of your unworthiness has been discussed to death,” Jo reminded herself. “If your past doesn’t matter to Paul, it shouldn’t matter to you.” She let that thought sink in, studied on it for a minute then prayed out loud. “But sometimes it does matter, Lord. Sometimes it just does.” The park entrance soon loomed large before her, and Jo pushed the gloomy thoughts out of her head. When she spotted Paul’s Jeep in the parking lot, she felt lighter, more content. Being with him again would certainly push all the nonsense out of her head. He loved her. She loved him. Together, they could

handle anything. Jo pulled in beside Paul’s Jeep and killed the engine. “Good morning, gorgeous,” said Paul, as Jo stepped out of the car. “Don’t you look like an old-hand at jogging.” “Ha,” said Jo. “Are you ready for this?” “Can hardly wait to share the trail with you.” The twinkle in his eye reinforced his love for her, and she felt, well, beautiful. She’d never considered herself beautiful, but that’s how Paul made her feel. Beautiful, loved, adored, even. “Just be patient with me,” she said, shaking off the desire to kiss him. “If I have to stop, you’re welcome to finish without me. It’s been a while, you know.” “I’ll that,” said Paul, stepping closer to her. “There are plenty of places to rest along the way. If you need a break,” he said, bending to look her straight in the eye. “I’ll circle around and come back for you. How does that sound?” “Very considerate. Thanks.” He was so close. Close enough that if she stretched up on tippity-toes, she could kiss him. It seemed all she could think about. “My pleasure,” said Paul, reaching for her hand. When he touched her, the familiar zing that arced between them made her smile even bigger. Paul Baldwin had agreed to be her husband. The reality of that still buoyed her up, as though she could float above the sidewalk. Jo talked herself back down to reality as Paul led her to the head of the jogging trail, where they did a few more stretches then headed out. There would be time later to satisfy the hunger for a kiss, beyond the peck on the cheek he had given her upon arrival. It didn’t take long for Jo to realize she was holding Paul back. He seemed like a racehorse tethered to a pole.

“I’m slowing you down,” she finally said, after they had covered the equivalent of a few city blocks. “No worries. One of these days, you’ll be ing me on the first turn. Besides, today is more being together than about me racing for another blue ribbon.” Jo teased him a little, grateful she still had enough wind to form words. “Another blue ribbon, huh? I guess you have a wall of trophies, too.” “Well, I don’t mean to brag.” Jo burst out with a laugh, and Paul ed her. Being with Paul had been easy from the first day they’d met. When he captured her gaze with his mesmerizing, deep aqua blue eyes, her breath would catch. Every single time. The ing of years only enhanced his character and her interest in him. She had never seen eyes like his, like looking into the deepest part of the ocean as the sun shone down on its rolling waves. And when he smiled Jo just about tripped over her own feet. Sometimes she felt like pinching herself. She was truly living the legendary fairy tale, and now Prince Charming wanted to marry her! “Where’d you go?” said Paul. Jo pulled her eyes away from the trail long enough to glance over and up at Paul. “Just ing when we first met,” she said. Paul chuckled. “I was smitten the first time I saw you. And nothing will ever change that.” He reached across the small space between them and squeezed her hand. “I know the feeling,” she said. By the time they had covered a mile on the trail, Jo began to feel it. Knowing she would have to return the way they had come, she decided that two miles would be all she could handle her first time out. It had simply been too long since she’d been a runner. The muscle groups necessary to keep pace with Paul had grown weak, and would require some conditioning, practice, and repetition to prepare her for a regular dose of this particular mode of exercise.

“Paul,” she said, slowing to a walk, trying to catch her breath. She stopped next to a park bench. “I think I’ll stop here and rest. I still have to make it back, you know, and my calves are already burning.” Paul stopped too and stood next to her. “Want me to stay with you till you’re ready to go again?” They sat down on the bench. Jo scooted over a few inches, until she was close enough to touch Paul’s hand. He immediately laced their fingers together and squeezed. The look in his eyes made romantic butterflies start pairing up in her stomach and flying around in small, intimate circles. A smile spread slowly across his face, and Jo wanted to stay right there, drinking him in, for always. When he winked, it broke the spell, and Jo realized she hadn’t answered his question. She pulled her hand back and gave him a little shove on the shoulder. “No, sir. I certainly do not. One mile for you probably doesn’t put a dent in what you’re used to. And I’ll be fine. I’m in the middle of a novel I can read on my Kindle app, if I get tired of absorbing the beauty around me. Which right now, I don’t see happening. How far do you normally run?” She found it adorable that he seemed embarrassed to say it. “Five miles,” he said hurriedly, “but I definitely don’t have to run that far today. I’d just as soon set my pace and time to match yours.” While they talked, a girl decked out in bright orange and black spandex slowed as she approached them. Jo looked over at the lady and found her glaring back at Jo, as if Jo had somehow offended her. Jo didn’t recognize the woman and assumed the angry stranger had mistaken her for someone else. Then, turning away without giving the disgruntled jogger another thought, Jo resumed her conversation with Paul. “I appreciate the offer,” said Jo, now fully in the moment. “But I’d feel better if you enjoyed the benefits of your normal routine. Really. Like I said, I’ll be fine. And by the time you get back, I’ll be refreshed and able to jog back to the starting line.” A slight frown appeared on Paul’s beautiful face, but it only lasted a second. Beautiful might not be Paul’s favorite term to describe himself, but it fit. Each

member of the Baldwin family had personal traits that most average people would envy. Their hair shone, their eyes twinkled, and they all had the same smooth gorgeous skin. Yeah, Paul Baldwin had a beautiful face, and beautiful eyes, and beautiful hair… “Okay,” said Paul, breaking into Jo’s ridiculous thoughts. “If you’re sure.” “I’m sure. You’ll be back in no time.” She smiled with confidence, and relief. She really could not have jogged another ten feet. Paul stood then and started off at a very slow pace, looking back at Jo every second or two. She laughed then. “Go! I’m fine!” she called out, shooing him away with a wave of her hand. With a final look her way, Paul increased his speed and took off around the curve, out of sight. He’d only been gone a couple of minutes when the distinctive crack of a gunshot shattered the peace of the morning. Jo’s head snapped up, her eyes searching for Paul’s tall frame. He had gone around the bend. Jo took off after him, her heart pounding, all thought of exhaustion totally replaced with a fierce need to get to Paul. Any possible danger never entered her mind. Not bright, maybe, but nothing and no one could have held her back. As Jo made the corner, she spotted Paul’s white Nike running shoes with the bright blue signature swish along the side, up ahead and to the left of the trail. His shoes lay eerily still, unmoving. Jo sprinted forward, calling his name. When he didn’t answer, she raced toward him and increased the prayers she’d started sending up the second she heard the gunshot.

Chapter Nine

“Because he loves me,” says the LORD, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name (Psalm 91:14 NIV).

Paul lay on his side, his face half-covered beneath a bush. He didn’t move, not even a twitch, and didn’t respond to Jo’s voice. She rushed to his side, knelt close to him and felt for a pulse. Tears flooded her cheeks, even as she thanked God for a slow but steady heartbeat. Jo pulled out her phone, dialed 911, and gave the operator directions to their exact location. She promised to wait on the line while an ambulance and the police were dispatched to their aid. Jo placed her phone between her shoulder and head while she rolled up the lightweight jacket she had tied around her waist then gently lifted Paul’s head to rest on it. She stared down at him then gasped when she spotted the dark patch of blood as it spread ever wider across his chest. Alarmed, Jo pressed her hands over the wound to help slow the bleeding. What is happening, Lord? Who in the world could have anything against Paul? Who would want to hurt him? To kill him? Was this the work of a crazed escapee from some mental institution, who had gone in search of an easy target? Someone defenseless and non-descript? Or something else altogether. Something more sinister, planned and executed with malice aforethought? Was someone out to get Paul? To destroy his life, when it was just getting started on the path God had planned for him? Blood pumped hard through Jo’s veins as she searched her memory for anything out of the ordinary, before he heard the shot. Anyone who may have looked suspicious. Or out of place. Or just plain angry. An image of the girl who had ed by them with a scowl on her face appeared in Jo’s mind. She had been the only person they had encountered on their earlymorning run. She’d clearly been upset about something. But could she be capable of murder? And why Paul? Did she even know him? The girl had been glaring at Jo, not Paul. It didn’t make any sense. And if it wasn’t the girl,

someone had to have been hiding somewhere, in wait. Whatever had happened needed to be dealt with, Paul needed to be taken care of. Life needed to get back on track. Her future with Paul depended on it. Jo’s mind raced with question after question, as she mumbled prayer after prayer over the unconscious form of her beloved, until sirens wailed in the distance and two uniformed policemen raced around the corner then stopped next to them. The EMTs followed close behind. “Please step aside, ma’am,” said one of the EMTs. Jo looked up at him, fresh tears on her face. She could barely speak, so shocked that Paul lay at her feet, bleeding from a gunshot wound. “Please save him,” she said, as she stood to her feet, staring at Paul’s blood on her hands. “We’ll do our best.” “Can I ride with him in the ambulance?” said Jo. “He’s my fiancé.” “Ma’am, I’m Officer Frank Martinez,” said the uniformed policeman standing to her right. “I’m afraid we will need to get your statement.” Get her statement? Now? She didn’t have time for that. She had to be with Paul. Jo twisted her fingers in front of her, now mindless of the drying blood that smeared up to her wrists. Her mind kept whirring in crazy directions. What if she stayed to talk to the police and Paul died on the way to the hospital? What if this was the last moment she would see him alive? The thought of that made her toes curl. “Can we do that at the hospital?” she said, pleading her cause with every ounce of persuasion she could muster with her eyes. Thankfully, she was going to get a break. She could tell, when the officer relaxed his shoulders and a softness entered his eyes. He seemed sympathetic with her plea. Maybe this wasn’t the first time he had dealt with a similar situation. “Yes, ma’am,” he relented. “We’ll secure the scene and meet you there.”

“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Following a short discussion with the officer, the EMTs wheeled Paul’s unconscious body to the ambulance, with Jo on their heels. Once Jo had settled into the ambulance and cleaned Paul’s blood off her hands, the very idea of having to do so, making her stomach roil with nausea, she somehow managed to pull herself together. She sent a group text to Paul’s family and to Aunt Pearl. She didn’t care how early it might be. This news couldn’t wait. Jo hurriedly explained that Paul had been shot and which hospital they were taking him to. She apologized for texting such bad news, but that she didn’t want to make phone call after phone call from inside the ambulance. With the word out, Jo silenced her phone and put it away. With no words left to say and no prayers left to pray, Jo stared down at Paul’s pale face, all the way to Medical Center East. His fate now rested in God’s hands. At the hospital, an emergency crew whisked Paul away behind double doors that Jo wasn’t allowed to through. Fiancée or no. She turned slowly away then made her way to the receptionist who sat behind a sliding glass window. She answered all the questions she knew the answers to, found Paul’s insurance card in the wallet one of the EMTs had found in Paul’s back pocket then took a seat in the emergency waiting area, to pray, until Paul’s family made it to the hospital. It was still early. There would be a necessary delay, since people would just be getting out of bed. She could wait. There was nothing to be done for it, anyway. She just hoped she didn’t pull all her hair out or cry every last tear allotment, before she had someone to help shoulder the burden. She had been sitting there, staring at nothing, for about thirty minutes, when a pair of black shiny shoes approached. She looked up into the face of one of the officers who had been at the park. She thought his name was something Martinez. “I know this is difficult, ma’am,” he said, “but we really need to ask you a few questions.” Jo knew they would be coming but had not prepared a statement. Her head had been full of what-ifs and her heart had been busy breaking. She didn’t know exactly what she would say to these policemen, but she would be as forthcoming as possible. She definitely wanted the person who had pulled the trigger to be

caught, punished, and put somewhere where he or she could never hurt anyone again. Not ever. “Of course. I understand. Have a seat,” she said, indicating the empty chairs across from her, and trying to ignore the tremble of her fingers. How could this be happening? The morning had started out glorious, hopeful, beautiful—and now Paul was fighting for his life, beyond her reach. The same questions that had plagued her in the ambulance came crashing through her head again. The stress had now taken the form of a headache that pounded in her temples. Dear Lord, what is going on? Please protect Paul, Father. Please. Officer Martinez took the lead, pulling Jo back to the moment. “What can you tell us about what happened, ma’am?” Jo pulled at the tissue she had wadded up in her hands, basically rendering it useless. She made eye with the officer, unsure what she could offer that might help. Her head hurt and she just wanted to see Paul, awake and well, and whole. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare. “I didn’t actually see it happen,” she started, shredding the tissue now, the shock beginning to wear off, and coming to the realization that Paul had been shot on the jogging trail. She should have let him stay with her. He might not be laid up in the hospital right now with a bullet in him, if she hadn’t insisted he finish his regular run. The weight of it pulled at her, until she wanted to curl up and die. No, that wouldn’t solve anything. But she did wish it had been her who had been shot, and not her beloved Paul, who had so much good to offer the world. For a minute, she thought she was going to be sick, but Officer Martinez’s words forced her to stay put and push back the bile that threatened to ruin his pretty black shoes. “Any detail you can could make a difference, ma’am, even if you think it might sound inconsequential.” Jo closed her eyes and took a deep breath that rattled as the air exited her lungs. At least her stomach had calmed down and she felt like she could speak. “I’ll tell you all I know. Hopefully, it will help. So, Paul and I met about 6:30 this morning at the jogging trail in Warner Park. I’m just getting back into this jogging thing and had to stop to rest at the one-mile marker. There’s a bench there and we stopped for a few minutes.

“Anyway, while we were talking, a girl came by. She slowed way down when she got even with us. I had never seen her before and thought she must have mistaken me for someone else.” Jo paused, a frown on her face, ing. If she could get her hands on the person right now, she would be hard pressed not to pummel her, until she couldn’t get up. Teach her a lesson in jogging etiquette. Shooting people was not on that list. Officer Martinez said, “What makes you think that?” “It was strange,” said Jo. The icky feeling of the woman’s glower raced through Jo again, and she shivered. “She glared at me like I was her worst enemy then kept looking back and scowling at me while she moved up the trail, at a snail’s pace. I was relieved when she disappeared around the bend. She made me extremely uncomfortable. “Like I said, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before. That look in her eye shook me up, though. It’s hard to describe, but she seemed so angry. I have no idea what was wrong with her; but I’m sure I don’t have a clue who she was.” Jo watched the officer’s eyes darken and a frown drew his brows together. The look disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Jo wondered what it meant. There’s no way this officer could know anything about the girl on the trail. Right? Unless some serial killer had been on the loose, and Paul wasn’t her first victim. Then again, maybe he was just thinking what it might take to find the angry woman. His next words confirmed as much. “Would you be willing to meet with a sketch artist?” he finally said. A sketch artist. Jo had heard of those, of course, but had never had any dealings with one. But if her description of the girl she saw on the trail would help solve this crime, she would go anywhere to make it happen. “Of course. Anything that might help. Do you think that girl shot Paul?” Her eyes got big and alarm shot through her entire body. She wondered again what anyone might have against Paul Baldwin, the kindest, gentlest, most godly man she had ever known.

“We’ll do a complete investigation,” said Officer Martinez. “Someone shot your fiancé, and we aim to find out who.” A whoosh of outside air swept into the room as the emergency room doors opened and Paul’s family bustled in. Somehow, they had all managed to arrive at the same time. Or maybe they gathered in the parking lot, before coming in the building. It didn’t matter, so why was she thinking about it? Catherine came in with Tommy, who had flown in from Lubbock the day before. They were followed by James, Matt, Brooke and Kim. Aunt Pearl brought up the rear. Jo noticed that James shuffled around all of them and went straight to the clerk behind the sliding glass window. Aunt Pearl moved to Jo’s side and draped an arm across her shoulders. She appreciated the gesture, but she really wanted to know what James was getting out of the clerk, that Jo had been unable to extract earlier. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” said Pearl. Jo pushed at the tears that continued to fall. But it didn’t help, she couldn’t wipe fast enough to make a difference. And her aunt’s tender touch made her even more weepy. At least, she wouldn’t be facing this afternoon alone. Paul’s family had come. Aunt Pearl had come. Everything would be fine. Paul would be fine. Fine, fine, fine. Her mind seemed determined to repeat that ridiculous word, that couldn’t come anywhere close to how she wanted this mess to turn out. Fine wouldn’t cut it. “I can hardly believe this is happening,” said Jo, sobbing, as she let Aunt Pearl hold her. An hour later, everyone except Catherine and Tommy waited outside room 327, propped against the wall, making small talk or not talking at all. Fidgeting. Anxious to see Paul. The surgeon had told them that the bullet had been a small caliber and gone in at Paul’s shoulder beneath the shoulder blade, where it had stayed lodged until surgically removed. It missed anything that might have threatened his life, but he had lost a lot of blood. And of even more concern had been Paul’s head injury when he struck an exposed root where he’d fallen. He’d been unconscious since they arrived at the hospital. No one could tell them how long he would be out. How long it would be before she could hold his hand or look into his eyes or tell him how much she loved him. That she would always

be there for him. He just had to wake up, in order to hear it! Someone had shot Paul Baldwin at close range and didn’t seem to care if the wound took his life. Jo waited for her turn to be with Paul, wanting so much to see for herself that he was alive and well. To hold his hand and look into his eyes. To hear his voice, to know without a doubt that he didn’t have amnesia, or some such malady, that would keep them forever separated. And know, without a doubt, that death had not come for him. Not now. “Good grief,” she muttered. “Pull yourself together.” “Did you say something?” The voice came from her left. Jo turned toward the sound. Aunt Pearl. What would have ever become of Jo without the love and sacrifice of Aunt Pearl? Jo loved her aunt, as though she had been her biological mother. Indeed, Pearl had been the only mother Jo had ever known. She hoped she’d told Pearl often enough that her aunt knew the truth about Jo’s feelings for her. Pearl had taken her in without hesitation or regret and had never seemed to care that she had sacrificed a lot to keep her niece, care for her, and love her unconditionally. Jo would never be able to make it up to Aunt Pearl. Not ever. But then, what child could give back, after receiving love upon love, for years, without question, or demand? The scale could only be balanced when a child raised well, shared that type of love with others. When Jo had children, she would have a fine mentor to draw from, to learn from, to mimic. Her heart filled with love, knowing she had been beyond blessed. “I guess I did,” said Jo. “But I didn’t mean to.” “You okay?” “I’m fine,” she lied. “It’s been a long scary day, and I’m worried about Paul. And I’m also wondering if the girl I saw on the trail actually shot my fiancé.” Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “Never mind me. I’m a wreck.” Josephine fell silent. Aunt Pearl rested a hand on Jo’s shoulder, showing respect and comion for Jo’s concern and confusion, which Jo appreciated. She didn’t want to make small talk. She didn’t want to talk about the incident or

acknowledge the guilt that sliced through her. Aunt Pearl seemed to sense some of what Jo was feeling and remained quiet. Just then, Catherine stepped out of Paul’s room and Jo pushed away from the wall, searching Catherine’s face for any sign of hope. Her nerves were shot. She had very little patience and had to make herself keep her lips together and wait for Catherine to speak. They made eye and Catherine offered a small smile. Jo moved toward her, unaware of the others in the hallway. “He has come to and is asking for you, Jo. We’re gonna be here for a good while, so I think the rest of us will get a bite to eat and give you some time together. Can we bring you anything?” “Thank you. That would be nice,” Jo said, automatically, woodenly, like she knew what to say but not sure of the question. No matter, Aunt Pearl would know and make sure Catherine’s question had been answered properly. “Please excuse me. I can hardly stand being away from Paul right now. I really need to see him with my own eyes.” Tears escaped and ran down her cheeks, unbidden. Social protocol was lost on her at the moment. She felt stretched and exhausted. Seeing Paul alive and awake would work like a tonic for her soul. “Of course, dear. We’ll see you later.”

Chapter Ten

Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective (James 5:16 NIV).

James Baldwin whispered goodbye to his mother. “I need to go check on something,” he said. “Text me if Paul wakes up; and I’ll come right back.” James didn’t want to go into a long, drawn-out discussion about his errand, so he didn’t mention that he was headed down to the police station. His brother had been in the hospital three days and there had been no progress on finding the person who shot him. He had come to just long enough to see and speak to his mom and fiancé then ed right out again. He had not been coherent since. James had pondered and pondered the situation, until he felt certain he could help. He had a suspicion about who the culprit might be and wanted to see the composite the department’s sketch artist had come up with when they met with Jo. It might be a wild theory, but James no longer thought so. He had spent hours in prayer, trying to decide what he should do; and couldn’t keep his mind from turning back to the same possibility. He had to know for sure. James took a step away from Catherine, but she reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Yes, ma’am?” he said, pausing. “Let me know what you find out.” Pain zinged through James’ heart at the sadness reflected in his mother’s eyes. She seemed to know what he was thinking. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he felt like their minds were on the same wavelength. No one wanted to say it out loud, to accuse Alexandria, when they really had no idea who had done this to Paul. But the Baldwins were tight and could form a small army, when needed, to fiercely protect one another. Years of bonding, holding themselves together after great loss, had made them strong, and bold, and brave.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. But text if you need me.” “Okay. We’ll be down in the cafeteria for lunch, in case you get back and can’t find us. Otherwise, we’re not going anywhere.” James went to the front desk inside the police station and asked to see Officer Martinez. “He’s out right now.” Of course, he was. There had to be other cases that needed the policeman’s attention. But James thought there could be no case more important than finding out who had tried to murder his brother. “Okay,” he said, silently counting to ten. “Is there someone else here I could speak to about the Paul Baldwin shooting? I’m James, his brother, and I think I can help.” The officer behind the desk slid his glasses up on his bald head and looked straight at James. James didn’t flinch. He would wait there all day, if he had to. “I’ll get Detective Wright for you,” said the officer at the desk, evidently satisfied that James was telling the truth. “He’s been assigned to the case.” “Thank you,” said James. James sat down in one of the ugly, worn, multi-colored vinyl chairs along the wall and waited for the detective to come out. He glanced around the room, grateful that at nine in the morning there were no hungover or drugged-up prisoners sitting next to him in handcuffs, staring at him. He wouldn’t know what to say to them, would likely keep his eyes on his phone to avoid any direct interaction. James had never seen the inside of a police station before, in his life. Probably had Paul to thank for that. Yes, ing how much his brother had done for him, tripled James’s determination to help bring the guilty party to justice. And if it turned out to be who he thought it might be, it was way past time for her shenanigans to be brought to a halt. She was getting out of control, and “Daddy” didn’t seem to be willing to do a thing about it. If Alexandria Luna had been standing in front of him, in handcuffs, James knew exactly what he’d say to her. There he went, assuming again, that he knew who

had shot Paul. Alexandria. The name alone left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had never forgotten the day his family had come between Alexandria and Paul in the hallway at the high school. She had pushed and pushed, badgering Paul to go out with her, until they had all agreed the time had come to do something. After that, Alexandria had been off the radar for a good while, before she pulled that ridiculous stunt at Paul’s apartment on Christmas day, over a year ago. James wondered what Alexandria did between flare-ups. Wondered how much self-talk it took for her to build up enough steam to commit premeditated, attempted murder. And just how big a role her daddy played in Alexandria’s ludicrous attempts to get revenge against Paul. Revenge for not bothering her at all, for cryin’ out loud. Rejected yet again, Alexandria could definitely be responsible for Paul being in the hospital. James huffed out a breath. He would know for sure, before long. If that detective would acknowledge his presence and let him see the composite, they could bring this case to a screeching halt. If James’ theory turned out to be correct. If Alexandria Luna had completely gone off her rocker and shot Paul. If her daddy had allowed such an injustice. If, if, if. James realized he could be totally off the mark; but the notion that Alexandria shot his brother would not leave him alone. Therefore, he would not walk away from the theory until it had been proven completely right or completely wrong. James drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, glanced at his watch, and frowned. He had been waiting for half an hour. “I understand you have information about the Baldwin shooting?” Finally. The detective had asked the obvious question. Did James really have the answer? Maybe not, but he had a strong suspicion and wanted to make sure he helped the police explore every option. “Maybe. Can we talk?” “Come on back,” said Detective Wright. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” Detective Wright didn’t sound very enthusiastic, to James’ way of thinking, or very sorry that he’d kept James waiting. But James didn’t really care what the detective thought, so long as he would give him an audience. If the guy would just listen to him, and if James was right, this case could be solved without

further delay, and his brother could get on with his life. Just as soon as he woke up. Because there’s no way James would acknowledge that Paul might not wake up. Detective Wright had no idea if this guy was who he said he was or what he might know, but he’d always been a firm believer in following every lead, no matter how miniscule or seemingly inconsequential. And he also had no idea what category this potential lead might fall under, so he kept his questions to himself until they entered a private room. No need to go off half-cocked so long as this so-called informant stayed calm and didn’t cause any trouble. False witnesses came in off the street on a regular basis, which made Detective Wright abundantly cautious. He gestured toward an empty chair across from the plain, gray, metal desk, where he lowered himself in the chair, across from the visitor. “How can I help you?” he said. “My name is James Baldwin. Paul is my brother; and I think I may know who shot him.” Detective Wright rested his hands on top of the Baldwin file and made eye with James. He studied James for a moment, waiting to see if his scrutiny made James squirm. No. Okay, maybe he does know something, and had not shot his brother then come in with some cockamamie story to throw them off-track. “Great. Let’s make an arrest. I’m ready. Who are we arresting?” It would be nice for a change to close a case within a week of the crime. A rarity in any big city. “You wanna know what I think, or don’t you?” said the visitor, with a definite note of derision. Ok, so he might have sounded a little negative. Wright thought for a second that maybe he’d been in this business a little too long. Cynicism and mistrust surfaced before trust and open-mindedness.

“I apologize. What makes you think you know who the guilty party is?” Detective Wright held his tongue as the visitor scooted the chair closer to the nondescript desk and rested his forearms on its edge. “I’d like to see the composite drawing that my soon-to-be sister-in-law helped the sketch artist create. Then I can tell you if you should be looking for whom I think you should be looking. If I’m wrong, I’ll get out of here and let you get back to your job.” Made sense. If this guy knew who shot Paul Baldwin, the drawing should be close enough to reality to at least give them an idea. Wouldn’t be the first time they had nabbed a killer by someone recognizing a face drawn by a sketch artist. It wasn’t that far-fetched. He decided he would let the guy see the drawing, watch his reaction, then decide where to go from there. “I can arrange that,” said Detective Wright. He folded back the front of the file folder and looked through the few pages that had been accumulated in the short time the case had been open. He pulled the drawing out and slid it across the table with one finger. “I knew it,” said James, almost immediately. He didn’t have to stare at the drawing for long to be sure. It took only a quick glance to convince him. He’d know Alexandria Luna’s face anywhere. The scowl seemed to be her normal expression. She had the same long dark hair and almond-shaped eyes. The same nose and mouth and cheekbones. He was staring at a likeness of Alexandria Luna, all right. And since Jo had never known Alexandria, she would not have been able to just make up the likeness in order to point a finger at her fiancé’s ex-interest. Even at Christmas, Alexandria’s face had been pressed up against Paul’s and Jo couldn’t have recognized her from those few seconds of exposure to the back of her head. Jo hadn’t described Alexandria to be vindictive; she’d simply described the lady who had glared at her in the park. “Yep,” said James. “That’s exactly who I thought it would be.” James sat back in the ugly green chair and gingerly rested his hands on the cracked vinyl arms. Once he got out of here, he would make sure to use the hand sanitizer he kept in the glovebox. This place had to be crawling with invisible

germs. He wondered if anyone ever scrubbed the arms of any of the chairs in the building. He’d kept his cool since he’d entered the lobby; but had not been comfortable for even a second. “I’m actually surprised she reared her ugly head at this late date,” said James, pushing the germy thoughts aside. “Why is that?” said Detective Wright, suddenly sounding more interested in what James had to say. Guess recognizing the sketch carried some weight with this guy. James scooted forward again, looked Detective Wright in the eye then launched into Paul and Alexandria’s short-lived history, right up to and including her surprise visit to Paul’s apartment the Christmas before.

Jo sat in the chair beside Paul’s hospital bed, praying. He’d only been conscious for a few minutes when she had first had an opportunity to see him, not long after the shooting. That had been five long days ago. And now, the family had left her alone with him for a solid hour. So grateful for the time to just hold his hand and stare at him, willing him to wake up, smile at her, and kiss her. To stand up and walk out of here on his own. She pressed her lips to his cheek, squeezed his hand, and whispered to him, pouring her heart out, and pleading to God for his life. Five minutes later, hope waned, and soared, in what seemed like the same breath. Jo ended her prayer with “Amen,” a knock sounded at the door, and Paul’s eyes fluttered open, all in a matter of seconds. “Come in,” said Jo, as she squeezed Paul’s hand, and pushed the call button for a nurse. Someone on staff needed to know that Paul was awake. Catherine stuck her head in the door. “Come in. Come in,” said Jo, excitement building in her voice. “He’s waking up again.” She spoke through tears as her heart cried thank you to her heavenly Father. Silently, wildly, thankful. Watching Paul lie there unmoving, day after day had begun to wear on her. Just the glimpse of an iris had sent her heart soaring. He was going to be okay. The Spirit within her encouraged her to believe, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Paul would come through this, at last. He would. Psalm 91 had protected them from harm. It might not look like it to someone on the outside who knew Paul had been shot; but she knew. God had saved Paul’s life, regardless of what the shooter’s intentions might have been. Catherine turned and spoke to the others who were still waiting in the hall. “He’s awake,” she said. “Excuse me,” said a nurse, trying to get in the door through the throng of people. Catherine stepped back, and held the door open for the nurse. “Everything okay in here?” said the nurse.

“Much better now,” said Jo, beaming at Paul, as he grinned back at her with recognition in his eyes. Thank You, Jesus. The nurse took Paul’s vital signs, read the machine that beeped at his side, checked the fluid in the IV then left to find the doctor while everyone who had been waiting in the hallway crowded into Paul’s room. “Guess I was out for a minute,” said Paul. “You might say that,” said Matt. “You gave us quite a scare.” “Sorry about that.” “Don’t be sorry; but don’t let it happen again.” “Ever,” said Catherine. Paul asked Jo to raise the head of the bed so he could see his family better. He lifted a hand to touch the bandage that wound around his entire head and took note of the sling that kept his left arm firmly in place. “What happened?” he said. Catherine stepped forward to speak but was interrupted before she could utter a word. “Is it really necessary for all you people to be in here at the same time?” All heads swiveled toward the door. Dr. Casey frowned as he made his way into the room and over to the bed. Jo stepped aside, but Catherine stayed close. Paul glanced at his mother, expecting her to put Mr. Arrogance in his place. Surprisingly, she didn’t lash out in the family’s defense. In fact, no one answered the doctor’s question. It seemed as though they all held a collective breath. If they were quiet, maybe he would let them stay. In any case, no one volunteered to leave. “Hey, Doc,” said Paul.

“Glad to see you back among the living. How’s the head?” “I have a headache, but it’s not pounding. My shoulder hurts. What happened to me, anyway?” “Apparently you hit your head on an exposed root when you fell—after someone shot you.” The doctor continued his explanation in a matter-of-fact tone, as though being shot could be considered an everyday occurrence. And it might be in the doctor’s world. But it didn’t happen to a Baldwin all that often. Had never happened to a Baldwin. Paul kept his opinion to himself and contained the shock that the doctor’s revelation caused to run through his body. He’d been shot. Shot. Not easy news to swallow. “I’ve removed the bullet,” Dr. Casey continued. “You’ll be sore for a while but should recover completely. We’ll do another x-ray on your head and keep you another night. At least. Get you up and walking, see how well you respond to moving around. Watch for any further signs of a concussion, swelling, dizziness, nausea or vomiting. If I’m happy with your progress, you should be out of here by Friday morning.” “Friday? Have I been here since last Saturday? And what do you mean, someone shot me?” At Paul’s question, Dr. Casey at last looked up from the chart. “You were brought to the hospital last Saturday morning after someone shot you while you were at the park,” he said, with a hint of impatience. “You fell and hit your head on a raised root. I removed the bullet, sewed up your head, and we’ve been watching you sleep and monitoring your vitals until today, which is Wednesday afternoon.” He glanced at his watch. “At approximately two o’clock.” Paul could feel his slack jaw and knew he must look perplexed. His gaze left the doctor’s face, skipped past his mother, and searched until he captured Jo’s eyes. “Jo,” he whispered. “Are you okay? Were you hurt in any way?” Jo stepped to the doctor’s left side and moved another step closer to the bed.

“No, darling. I found you a few minutes after I heard the gunshot, but the shooter was already gone. I’m fine. Really. We’ve all been waiting. And praying.” Another knock on the door, and James stepped into the room. “Okay, that’s it,” said Dr. Casey, his patience obviously at an end. “I want this room cleared out. No more than two people in here at a time. Now scoot. If Paul is going to recover well enough to go home by Friday, he needs rest. And lots of it.” “Uh,” said James. “Hold up a minute. We’ll do as you say, Dr. Casey. I promise. But first I have news that all of these people will want to hear.” Without another word, James held up the front page of The Tennessean.

LOCAL BILLIONAIRE TYCOON’S DAUGHTER ARRESTED IN CONNECTION WITH WARNER PARK SHOOTING

The headlines announced the news, and an angry mug shot of Alexandria glared back at them. Paul heard Jo gasp at his side. “That’s the girl I saw in the park,” she said, in a loud whisper. Mumbling filled the room for a few seconds. “I guess we’re not really surprised,” said Catherine. “There’s something unstable about that girl.”

Chapter Eleven

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, but fools despise wisdom and instruction (Proverbs 1:7 NIV).

Alexandria Luna stared at the headline news, torn between a measure of guilt, confusion, anger and rage. How had he been fooled so thoroughly by his daughter, for so long? Not one of his men had seen this coming. And no one had reported to him that Alexandria had managed to get her hands on a gun, of all things. Had no one been aware that she had gone to the park that morning? Someone would have a lot of explaining to do. And would be out of a job. And how had they missed that Alexandria was following Paul Baldwin again? The bodyguards he had sent to watch over Alexandria had managed to keep up with her in Virginia Beach, Virginia, for crying out loud, but then lost her in their own back yard. And now she had been arrested. Tomorrow would not be a good day for the bodyguards Alexander had hired to protect his daughter. Alexander could hardly believe that Alexandria had taken it upon herself to shoot Paul Baldwin. He didn’t like the idea, but if she had come to him, perhaps he could have found a way to get Paul out of the picture. Maybe Paul could have been paid off, and Alexandria might have been persuaded to give up the notion that she could have Paul Baldwin. But now, it was too late. He released a heavy sigh. The notion that Alexandria could have been persuaded, or that Paul Baldwin could be bought, were both highly unlikely. His mind swirled with confusion and exasperation that bordered on rage. Fear crept into his soul. What would become of his baby girl, now? Did he have enough clout, enough money, enough connections to get Alexandria off? Attempted murder was a serious charge. And Alexandria was no longer a minor. She hadn’t been caught shoplifting at Nordstrom, this time. Premeditated, attempted murder had to be bad news. Really bad news. And what would happen, even if he did manage to get the charges dropped? Would she go after Paul and/or Josephine again? Was it worth it to get her off now, just to endure her getting in even more trouble later?

The police had arrested Alexandria after five o’clock on Tuesday afternoon, too late to get anything done to stop the process—so Alexandria had spent the night in a holding cell. But five o’clock didn’t translate into a deadline for the press, so Alexander Luna had not been able to keep the story out of the newspaper, either. Basically, he had failed his daughter completely. Just the thought of her sitting in a jail cell overnight made him want to throw up. Then tear something up. His reality had suddenly become a living nightmare. What had become of that sweet little girl he’d loved with his whole heart? Alexander folded the newspaper in half and laid it face down on the table, next to his dinner plate. He had pushed the food around, but barely tasted any of it. A frown creased his brow and he pulled out his favorite after-dinner cigar. He didn’t move for a long time. Not when the maid picked up his dishes. Not when she pulled the drapes to, because nightfall had stolen the light out of the room. Not until the cigar was nothing but ash and his brain had finally slowed down. At half past nine, Alexander pushed his chair back from the table, stretched his back and turned his head from side to side to work the tension out of his neck. The movement didn’t help as much as he’d hoped. “There’s no way I can sleep,” he muttered. “Think I’ll go for a swim.” Alexander Luna went out through the French doors then made a beeline to the pool cabana. He slipped inside, changed into his favorite solid blue swim trunks then deliberately took the ten steps to the diving board. He stepped up on the board and walked to the end, inhaled deeply then stared down into the smooth, deep water. His normal routine was to bounce three times before diving seamlessly into the water. Alexander prided himself on the discipline he had maintained through the years in order to keep his body healthy and agile. A nice dip in the pool, followed by lap after lap, the number determined by his level of stress, had almost always brought him to a place of calm, a centeredness that made him able to face whatever might come the next day. Tonight, should not have been any different. Alexander took in another calming breath and bounced up; but when he came back down and landed on the board, the lights went out and the ground shook with the sound of the explosion. Alexander Luna would not be standing in the gap for Alexandria. Ever again.

Friday morning arrived, right on time. The sun came up much like any other day, and Paul woke up in the hospital to find his fiancée asleep on the small cot the hospital had provided. His head had felt much better the day before, the x-rays hadn’t shown anything abnormal or swollen, and by this morning his vision had cleared. His mind felt sharp as ever. Yes, he would be going home today. This morning, in fact, as soon as Dr. Casey made his rounds, examined Paul one last time, and signed the release papers. “Thank You, Lord,” whispered Paul. “I am so blessed. Blessed to have you as my Savior and Lord. Blessed to have such a great family and fiancée and blessed that I was not permanently injured by Alexandria’s bullet. “I feel an urgent need to pray for her, though. I don’t know where she stands as far as a relationship with You, but if she has not surrendered her eternal soul and accepted Your free gift of grace, please send someone to witness to her. Someone she ires and respects and will listen to. Or perhaps a priest, who does prison ministry. I’ll leave the details to You. I it, I haven’t actively prayed for Alexandria in a good while. I ask forgiveness for that, and trust that You have a plan for her life, just like You do for mine.” He had prayed for Alexandria before, all those years ago in high school; but the prompting had been so strong to pray for her this morning, that he dared not ignore the urging of Holy Spirit. At the close of the prayer, Paul opened his eyes and watched Jo sleep, ired her beautiful hair splayed across the pillow, watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and gazed on the serenity that defined her. He felt like the most blessed man on the face of the earth, despite the gunshot wound. Fifteen minutes later, James pushed his way through the door, a newspaper tucked under his arm. “You won’t believe what’s happened,” he said. Paul scowled at his brother. “Shhh,” said Paul, holding a finger to his lips. “You’ll wake Jo and half the

hospital.” Jo shifted on the cot but didn’t open her eyes. Paul motioned James over to the other side of the hospital bed. He had waked up today, excited to be going home. Anticipation had forced the day to begin early; but he was glad James hadn’t arrived before Paul had had a chance to visit with the Lord and watch Jo in peaceful repose—a daily routine he looked forward to making a permanent part of his life. Paul was, after all, still in the hospital, where hospital staff routinely disturbed him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they had managed to wake him from a sound sleep to perform whatever ritual or examination they might deem necessary. The last time it happened, at five-thirty that morning, Paul had given up trying to snooze, and entertained himself by watching Jo get the rest she needed as badly as he needed his own down time. By the time James had arrived an hour later, Paul felt fully awake and ready for him. “What has you so up in arms?” whispered Paul, hoping James would follow suit and keep his voice down. James didn’t speak; just unfolded the morning edition of The Tennessean across Paul’s lap.

BUSINESS TYCOON, ALEXANDER LUNA, KILLED IN EXPLOSION AT HIS HOME

The headline screamed at Paul. Shock ran through his system, as he squeezed both sides of the newspaper. He stared, as though trying to make the words change in front of his eyes. Who would want Alexander Luna dead? Of course, Paul realized that he didn’t know much about the man, aside from the fact that he was ridiculously wealthy and had a tendency to indulge his little girl. It could be a business deal gone wrong, or an old grudge created while Alexander had been focused on building his empire. It could be anything. Hopefully, it didn’t have anything to do with his daughter’s arrest.

For a moment, a pang of sorrow zinged through Paul’s chest. Alexandria would be crushed. Being alone now, with both her parents dead, she would have much less of a chance of getting out of an attempted murder charge. A yawn coming from the cot drew Paul’s attention away from the newspaper. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said, his voice falsely chipper. “James has more news.” Jo smiled at Paul, as she ran her fingers through her hair, making Paul’s hands go clammy and his heart race. He wanted to wake up next to that beautiful, sleepyeyed face for the rest of his natural life. “Good morning, Paul. James,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just step into the restroom then be right back.” “The news will keep,” said Paul, soon as he could manage words. Jo offered him a slight smile then slipped behind the bathroom door. Paul stared after her, aware of the grin he couldn’t hide. “You really love her, don’t you?” Paul pulled his eyes away from the closed door to look at his brother. The brother he felt closest to. The brother who had shared a hard-hit sorrow over the loss of their father; and also shared the weight of guilt that had pressed down on both of them. The argument had escalated, the last words to their father and to each other that morning, had been said in anger. Dr. Baldwin did not come home that day. The brain aneurism exploded, and he was gone in an instant. Years of grief and guilt followed, each son blaming himself for his father’s death. An afternoon of sharing and forgiveness had formed the strong bond that now held these two together. A bond not fully understood by their siblings. A bond that could never be broken. “I thought everyone knew that,” said Paul. “I expected you to know before anyone else, since you seem to read me so well.” “Yeah, sometimes I can read you, bro.” said James. “But I’m not well-versed in the romantic stuff. Haven’t had much experience in that department. But seeing your face all lit up like that. Well, I’m glad you’ve found someone.”

“Thanks, buddy. Your turn will come.” Paul believed that with his whole heart. James had grown into a fine man, with business skills and a heart for research. God had crafted the perfect woman for his brother. They just hadn’t met yet. “Maybe. I haven’t dated anyone who appreciates my superior brain.” “Oh brother.” Paul rolled his eyes but smiled at his little brother. They teased easily, having learned which buttons produced hearty laughter and which buttons produced anger. The house had, more than once, been filled with their raucous play, until Grammi had ordered them out into the yard. The memories warmed Paul’s heart. Having Jo in his life made him realize just how much he wanted his brother to find his own soulmate. “You never know when Cupid will shoot his arrow straight into your heart,” said Paul. “And surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt at all.” In that moment, Jo opened the restroom door, looking refreshed and beautiful. Gazing into her beyond-blue eyes always shot a thrill of expectation through him. Sweet and kind and godly and gorgeous—and she would soon be his. He wouldn’t let a little thing like a gunshot wound delay their wedding date. No way. If Paul’s brain could be relied upon, Jo would be his bride in about twenty-nine days. By then, physical therapy sessions would be over. He’d be able to take care of himself—and give her the undivided attention she deserved. Jo stepped up beside him and placed her hand on Paul’s arm. “What were you saying about more news? What has happened now?” The newspaper. That thought brought all musings of a wedding to a grinding halt. The reality of the here and now would necessarily take precedence over his daydreams. Paul tilted the paper up so Jo could clearly see the disturbing headline. Across town, Alexandria Luna clutched a copy of the morning edition to her

chest and wailed. She tore the newspaper into shreds and threw them all over the jail cell. She ran the metal coffee cup across and back again on the cell bars until a guard took it away from her. She screamed at the top of her lungs. Over and over and over again. She had come undone, completely out of control. Detective Wright sent for the priest from the parish where the Luna family attended mass. “Ms. Luna, please. It’ll be all right,” said Father McIntosh. “I know you’re upset, child, but your father is in heaven and better off than he has ever been. He would not want you to be so upset. I’m sure he has made provisions for you. You have to believe, Alexandria, that everything will be all right.” Alexandria glared at the priest who had come to console her. She buried both hands in her hair and scrambled it up until it was wild. Her eyes, red-rimmed from crying, now held a crazed look that refused to die down. She rejected the priest’s consolations and ordered him out of her cell. “Nothing will ever be all right again, Father McIntosh,” she growled. “You don’t get it. My father is dead. I am alone. Nothing will ever be all right again. Now, get out, and leave me to my misery.” In the middle of the night, as Alexandria carved deep cuts into her wrists, the wailing turned to whimpering. The following morning, the guard on duty found her, completely and thoroughly dead. A white plastic knife lay in stark contrast to two pools of blood beneath Alexandria’s cot. The scene, combined with the ashen face of the once darkhaired beauty had been too much for the guard, and sent her racing for the ladies’ room, unable to hold down her breakfast. She radioed for help, even as she ran. In less than forty-eight hours, the Luna family had been reduced to a memory. A very public, painful memory.

Chapter Twelve

That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh (Genesis 2:24 NIV).

Jo took Paul’s hand and walked alongside him into his grandmother’s house. They should be all smiles, giddy with anticipation. But a dark cloud seemed to follow them. Jo glanced up into the heavens and realized the weather matched their mood. Grateful they had made it up the porch steps before the downpour, Jo and Paul faced each other when they reached the top step. “Looks like a gully-washer is headed our way,” said Paul. “Yeah. I usually like the rain, but the whole world seems to be mourning over the last couple weeks of tragic events.” “It feels that way.” For the third day in a row, The Tennessean announced crimes and deaths revolving around the infamous Luna family. One story, in particular, had pulled Jo down into the closest thing to a depression she had ever known. One of Luna’s inside men had told police that Alexandria Luna had hired a contract killer, without her daddy’s permission, to permanently take one Josephine Sterling out of the picture, in order to pave the way for her romantic interest to be free for her to pursue. Said romantic interest being Paul Adam Baldwin. The article went on to describe the first Deer Run Camp outside Memphis, where Paul and Jo had first met and fallen in love. Then perfectly painted a word picture of the dock where Jo had fallen into the river, the scenery that time of year, the rescue by local emergency personnel, and Josephine’s subsequent recovery. Not a word of such information had been leaked to the press at the time Jo had come close to drowning. No one had even suspected foul play. She had assumed she’d lost her footing on the slippery dock, hit her head on a corner post and fell in the water. Period. It seemed that the detectives in charge of Alexander Luna’s murder case had been persistent and persuasive. Many disturbing facts regarding Mr. Luna’s

business practices and how he’d managed to work his way to the top of the financial ladder had been revealed. In exchange for immunity, the contract killer who had been responsible for Jo’s “accident” would walk. How the authorities had found him, Jo would never know. But what mattered most, and what Jo needed to remind herself daily, was that she and Paul had survived. God had protected them through it all. The truth made Josephine’s skin crawl. It unnerved her to think that an old high school classmate of Paul’s, whom he had never even dated, would come after them, and either made attempts on their lives, or hired someone to harm them. The reality, the tragedy, the sheer madness, sent a chill up Jo’s spine and made her shiver. Only time would tell if the police would be able to solve the murder of Alexander Luna, or what would become of his self-made dynasty, or how long it would take for the gossip to die down. For three long weeks, the Baldwin family tried their best to stay out of the public eye. They turned reporters away, daily. The most annoying ones would follow them every time Jo took Paul to a physical therapy session. Like today. Jo looked across the seat at Paul. Frustration pushed toward the surface when she spotted yet another reporter boldly waiting at the corner of the physical therapy building, a camera around his neck and a tri-pod at the ready. “Why should a reporter be interested in even one of your therapy sessions, much less all of them?” said Jo, as she moved to open the car door. “Beats me,” said Paul. “But I’m enjoying the Panama hat and sunglasses. At least they can’t read the message in my eyes. It might ruin my reputation as a minister.” Jo marveled at Paul’s positive attitude. She had not been so sunny about the whole thing. Reporters irritated her, the weather set her teeth on edge, even this close to their big day. Their wedding would be upon them in about a week. Jo felt like she would have to do some major soul-searching to be ready. The dark hours had grown long and filled with nightmares, once again. She felt certain that the trouble Alexandria had caused had stirred them to life again. But oddly enough, Jo’s nightmares had nothing to do with the shooting or the attempt on her life at a church camp. The nightmares that plagued her dated back to her

childhood. She had not mentioned them to Paul. Would not. Part of her hoped that will power, a wedding ceremony, and her own determination would force them back into the far reaches of her mind, where they would stay. Once happiness flooded her life again, the dark memories would fade. Surely. “I know what you mean,” said Jo, as she forced the gloomy thoughts back, yet again. “Anyway, let’s go enjoy your final day of therapy. I know you’re ready to put this whole ordeal behind you.” “You got that right. I want to be able to hug my girl with both arms.” The thought of Paul holding her once again helped to dispel the dreariness that hung so close to the surface these days. “I want that, too,” she said. She got out of the car and met Paul at the front of his Jeep. In that moment, rain broke through the clouds. They clasped hands and jogged toward the automatic doors, trying to duck under one umbrella. Under the shelter of the drive-through, they looked back at the reporter scrambling to get his equipment beneath the building’s overhang. “Poor guy,” said Paul. “I hope his equipment is okay; but I also hope that’s the last we’ll see of him.” “Me too,” said Jo. “I’m so glad Sampson’s Hollow agreed to keep our wedding plans on the down-low. They very easily could have exploited your current level of fame in the media realm.” Jo prayed every day for a peaceful ceremony. Prayed for their secret to stay a secret. The wedding had not been d, and the location had not been leaked to reporters. If it had, they would know it by now. “Not my idea of satisfying publicity,” said Paul. “You nearly drowned, and I got shot, for Pete’s sake. What’s to celebrate?” “Exactly,” said Jo. “Just keep praying they stay away from the wedding.”

Just over a week following Paul’s final therapy session and subsequent release by the doctor to resume regular daily activities would find Paul Baldwin and Jo Sterling standing before the minister from Sampson’s Hollow, to be ed in wedded bliss. The great Smoky Mountains hung in the background on a clear, sunny day. Beautiful, and mild for July. Josephine stood inside the luxurious cabin, staring out at the trees, the green landscaping and the covered arch where she would soon, in just about ten minutes time, become united in holy matrimony with Paul Adam Baldwin, the one, and only, true love of her life. Row after row of white chairs had been filled with well-wishers. The grassy aisle she would walk up to Paul at the altar stood wide and inviting, with a basket of multi-colored roses hanging on the inside chair next to the aisle, on each and every row. She smiled at the large chandelier that hung above the minister’s head, elegance amid the tamed wilderness. A large, full fern hung in each opening of the covered but open gazebo-like altar, and a table just to the left of where she would be standing contained the unity candle and the two candles she and Paul would light then turn their flames simultaneously to light the unity candle, a symbol of two lives, melding into one. “Are you ready?” said Aunt Pearl. “They’re calling for us.” Jo closed her eyes and whispered a prayer that not even one newspaper reporter would track them here and wreak havoc on their special day. So far, there had been no hint of such a thing. Perhaps they had been spared and the bigger stories of Alexander Luna’s murder and his daughter’s suicide had taken over. Turning, Jo relaxed, so that the lines between her brows smoothed out and the tension flowed out of her neck and shoulders. Her lips turned up into a smile, and she said, “Oh, I’m ready, alright. You have no idea how ready. Lead the way.” Paul tapped his fingers along the seam of his black Wrangler dress jeans. He hadn’t always been a Wrangler-type guy. He’d spent more of his life in Levi’s. Josephine had introduced him to the Wrangler dress jeans, and he’d been a fan

ever since. They were comfortable and looked sharp. Since Jo had decided to wear boots with her Cinderella gown, he had agreed to wear black Wranglers with his tux jacket, black ostrich cowboy boots, and had even gone so far as to wear the black Stetson that had been stored in its original box, for all the years since his father’s ing. The hat that had belonged to his dad. Wearing it on his wedding day made Paul feel a bit closer to his father. “I’ve missed you all these years, Dad,” whispered Paul. “And I know you would approve wholeheartedly of my bride-elect. She’s beautiful, sweet, and she loves me and the Lord. I plan to make you proud, as a husband, and hopefully as a father.” The idea of having children with Josephine Sterling suddenly sounded like the perfect scenario. Him, Josephine, and a little boy or girl. Maybe one of each. Paul’s thoughts realigned in a nano-second when Jo appeared at the head of the aisle. Seeing her in that gown filled his whole brain. There wasn’t room for anything else. She wore her hair down, shaped in loose ringlets that hung just past her shoulders. A jeweled tiara crowned her beautiful hair, and a shimmering veil hung from the tiara, down her back, and all the way to the floor. Tiny embroidered iridescent roses cascaded in random swirling rows down to the hem of the dress. His mouth went dry as he watched his beloved move gracefully toward him. His eyes dropped down to the turquoise cowgirl boots, barely visible as the hem of the dress swished along with her movements, which made his smile challenge the space in which it had to grow. She was a dream. His dream. Come true. As Jo approached, her hand resting inside Aunt Pearl’s bent elbow, Paul’s smile had begun to almost hurt, but he paid it no mind. He couldn’t stop smiling now if he’d been placed before a firing squad. Tears glistened in his eyes. No fatherfigure would give Josephine Sterling away today. No, it would be the only parent she had ever known. Aunt Pearl. Paul stretched his hand out toward Jo, and she laid her hand across his palm. He heard the minister say, “Who gives this woman in marriage to this man?” “I do,” said Pearl, loud and clear.

Pearl placed a gentle kiss to Jo’s temple and released her into Paul’s care. A songbird of a voice sang over them. Paul and Jo exchanged vows then came together to light the unity candle. Followed by the sweetest words Paul would ever hear. “By the power vested in me by the state of Tennessee, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

A mere three days following Paul and Jo’s near-perfect wedding, their happily ever after became threatened. Josephine Baldwin tossed and turned, sweat pouring from her brow. She whimpered, then yelped, then cried out. She kicked the covers off, even as she fisted the sheets in her hands. Paul roused into a sleepy haze as his wife sat straight up in bed—and screamed. A blood-curdling, horrific scream that made him shake off the heaviness of sleep. Paul sprang up next to her, cautious not to wake her too suddenly. She’d had a nightmare. That’s all. A doozy of a nightmare that could have been about anything, or nothing at all. Considering what they’d been through over the years, there would be plenty of material to choose from. Paul rested a hand on Jo’s shoulder and gave her a little shake then waited. He gave her a moment for the adrenaline to slow, watching her closely. Her eyelids fluttered open. “Jo? You okay?” said Paul, moving his hand to rest on her forearm. Jo looked at him through glassy eyes. Swollen and red. “What happened?” she said. “Apparently you had a nightmare. Can you talk about it? Can I get you some water? Anything? I want to help.” Jo stared at Paul and her heart dropped to her stomach like a stone. The nightmares had started again. She had so been in hopes that marriage would dispel all the darkness and she would never have to face another one. That being held in the arms of Paul Baldwin would make the fear and loneliness stop altogether. Not so. Her husband looked back at her with concern in his eyes. He was here. She was safe. But still, the nightmares haunted her dreams. Should she tell him that she had been plagued with nightmares for as long as she could ? Oddly, they seemed seasonal, spiking in the summer months.

Then she might get through an entire winter without even thinking about them. Now, they were back. And she was married. She couldn’t hide nightmares from her husband, could she? Jo offered Paul a slight smile. “Water would be great.” She watched him leave the bedroom, searching her mind for something to say that would sound feasible. How could she offer him a reasonable explanation, when she had no idea what triggered the nightmares? Or what they meant. She didn’t know if they were based on some sick reality or if she had been overwhelmed by demons for so long, they just showed up at random, inexplicable times, just to torment her. Either way, she had no idea what to say to Paul. When he came back with a glass of water, Jo had wiped the sweat from her brow, had gone to the restroom and splashed cold water on her face, then returned to bed, and now sat propped up against two pillows, hoping she looked coherent. And not like the crazy person she felt like she must be projecting. So out of character for wedded bliss. “You okay?” whispered Paul, as he handed her the glass of water. “Better.” Paul sat on the edge of the bed next to her and rested a hand on her upper thigh. “Good. Do you need to talk?” “Probably should,” offered Jo. “But I don’t know what to say. I have no idea where the nightmares come from, why I have them, or if they’re based in reality. I do know, however, that I have the same nightmare, over and over again. I’ve been dreaming the same horrible dream as far back as I can .” Jo watched Paul closely. He’d had lots of training in counseling. Maybe he could come up with a logical reason why she periodically had bad dreams. The same bad dreams. “That’s bound to mean something,” said Paul. “Would you be willing to try and

find out what might be causing them?” Jo cringed. Did she really want to know? What if they were suppressed memories, deep dark memories that surfaced in the form of nightmares? What then? “Um, I don’t know, Paul. What if they’re based in fact—real, terrible things that actually happened?” The thought made her shiver. She set the glass on the bedside table, her hand trembling. Water splashed over the rim of the glass. Jo let go of it altogether and forced her hand back to her lap. She clasped her other hand, trying to wring the fear out of her head. “Then we’ll deal with it,” said Paul. He sounded so matter-of-fact. Like he would stay by her side, even if the nightmares defined a gruesome past that Jo couldn’t . “Maybe Aunt Pearl could be of some assistance. She knows you better than anyone.” Aunt Pearl. Jo ed her aunt holding her after similar nightmares, long ago. If Aunt Pearl had known the source of Jo’s nightmares back then, she had not shared the information with her niece. But then, Jo had only been a young child at the time. Probably far too young to comprehend what had happened to her. Far too young to be told the bald truth. Far too young to deal with reality. Aunt Pearl had held her, protected her, stayed with her all night, until the nightmares began to come less often. The best thing about the nightmares back then, was that Aunt Pearl always made banana pancakes for breakfast the following morning. “Maybe,” said Jo. “Let me think about it, okay?” The frown that marred his face made Jo a little nervous. “I’m sorry. But I will think about it,” said Jo. “I promise. Maybe Aunt Pearl could help, after all. We’ll see. Okay?” Jo Baldwin would at last be forced to face the nightmares she had managed to

hide from everyone who had known her as Josephine Sterling. At least throughout high school and as an adult. She ed Aunt Pearl racing into her bedroom in the middle of the night. She’d wrap Josephine in her arms and hold her until she’d calm down. She’d place a cool rag on Josephine’s forehead and offer her water, much as Paul had done. But they had never talked about what might be behind the bouts of bad dreams. Josephine had made herself not ask the questions she might not want the answers to. And Aunt Pearl had not volunteered her own view, not even a hint. So, eventually, Josephine had learned to hide behind a pillow, cover her head with blankets, and keep the nightmares a secret. Aunt Pearl seemed grateful, and relieved, that the nightmares seemed to have stopped. Josephine being Josephine, she allowed her aunt to believe that Josephine had outgrown the nightmares. The subject had been dropped—or in any case, avoided—until now. “Okay,” said Paul. “But don’t wait too long, sweetie. You need to be able to sleep at night. I want to be your hero; but I can’t enter your dreams and take care of the bad guy.” That got a little smile out of her. “Thank you,” she said, resting her free hand on top of his. “I promise to think about it.”

Chapter Thirteen

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth (1 Corinthians 13:6 NIV).

Paul sat across the small table from his bride of two whole weeks and bragged on her culinary skills. He enjoyed the food, but his mind had not been thinking about breakfast. The night before, Josephine had awakened in the middle of the night, screaming, yet again. The most horrendous version of the nightmare since they’d been married. Jo had not mentioned calling her aunt yet, but the nightmares kept coming, every other night, now. Paul really wanted to help her. Wished she would let him. Jo smiled at Paul’s accolades, feeling grateful she had spent so many hours underfoot in her aunt’s kitchen. The fog of gloom had not entirely lifted from her spirit, but Jo felt certain she had whined quite enough about the unfortunate chain of events that had led up to their wedding day. And she really didn’t want to talk about the nightmares, even though they were definitely the elephant in the room. “Let’s watch it again,” she said, avoiding the nightmare subject, hoping Paul would let it lie. At least for now. “Really?” said Paul, with a chuckle. “You must have it memorized by now.” A dreamy look covered Jo’s face. “True,” she said. “But I love watching it. I felt so much like Cinderella. A cowgirl Cinderella. And now, I’ve been plagued with these stupid nightmares again. It feels like my princess crown is already tarnished, and I just put it on two weeks ago.” Jo placed her fork across her plate and rested the silver-bordered cloth napkin (a gift from Paul’s Grandmother Baldwin—a gift gladly received since Grandmother Baldwin’s salvation experience and reconciliation with the family) next to her plate. She lifted her eyes, filled with tears, to look straight at Paul. “It helps to watch the video,” she said. Alarmed, Paul jumped up and stepped to her side. He placed his hand on her

elbow and helped her stand then pulled her into an embrace. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll always be my princess. What is making you cry?” He had a suspicion it was the nightmares she didn’t want to talk about. She wanted to run from their meaning. He knew only a small part of the story. Pearl had raised her, but he didn’t know why. He knew that Jo fell easily back into self-doubt; but didn’t know its source. He knew Jo struggled with memories from her early childhood. Memories she had yet to share with him. But even she didn’t know the true story behind the dark veil that separated her from the truth. “I should be over it, I know,” said Jo, her head buried in Paul’s shoulder. “It all happened so long ago. But sometimes the memories come rushing at me and I have no defense against them. There’s a darkness there that my mind can’t penetrate. It feels like claws digging into my skin, holding me down, while some evil creature laughs at my pain.” Paul pulled back just enough to look Jo in the eye. During the two weeks they’d been married, Jo had wakened several times in the night, sweat pouring down her face, her hands clenched in a stranglehold on the sheets. Paul had tried to talk to her, to convince her she could trust him. Tried to help her see that she needed to fight back. He would pray with her, console her, and hold her until she fell back into a fitful sleep. Then he would stay awake until her breathing became a steady cadence, and she seemed to be at peace. He didn’t fully give in to sleep, until he knew Jo had. Had he known about her struggles before the wedding, he would have suggested they face the past together, long ago. But he hadn’t known. She had never once mentioned any previous bouts with nightmares. But now that he did know, he wasn’t about to ignore it. Something monstrous lurked in the shadows of her mind, and they needed to get to the bottom of it. “Ready to call Aunt Pearl?” Jo’s eyes went wide. It killed him to see that look. To know that something terrible must have happened to her when she was very young. What other explanation could there be? Jo had confessed that the nightmares had not been anything related to Alexandria, Jo’s own near-drowning experience, or even Paul’s brush with death. But the nightmares certainly stemmed from something. He believed it was time they got to the bottom of what tortured Jo in her sleep.

“Maybe not,” said Paul, comion filling him. “But Pearl might know more than she’s told you. You know, in order to protect you. In any event, I think it’s time we faced the past and dealt with whatever is hidden in the dark corners of your mind.” There, he’d said it. He needed to convince her. Paul rested his hands on Jo’s shoulders, leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. “We can Skype her,” he said gently. “And I’ll stay right by your side, just in case you need me.” Jo shuddered. Did she really want to know what frightened her about her early childhood? Would Aunt Pearl be able to shed some light on what kind of evil kept pulling Jo under the throes of fear, to the point of nightmares? Something dreadful must have happened. Something unthinkable. Did she really want to know what? “I know you’re right,” she finally said. “I’m scared, though.” “Perfectly understandable,” said Paul. “But do you want to be scared forever?” Jo wrung her hands together in front of her, thinking. Praying. Wishing all the prayers she had prayed over the years had wiped the memories from her mind. But year after year ed without much change. And no, she hadn’t told Paul anything about them before they married. What if his feelings for her were forever altered by the revelation of her past? What if he didn’t want her anymore? She had been unwilling to take the risk. But now that they were married, she owed him the courtesy of meeting the memories head-on. Maybe Aunt Pearl really could help. Maybe the truth could be faced, with Paul at her side. “Okay. I’m ready to call her.” Jo called Aunt Pearl’s cell phone first and asked when she’d be available for a Skype call. “I have something serious to ask you about, Aunt Pearl. And I want to look you in the eye when I do it.” Suddenly, Jo wanted desperately to know about her parents. Everything about

her parents. “It’s time I understood a few things.” Jo sucked in a breath and waited for Aunt Pearl to answer. When she heard Aunt Pearl’s voice, she finally released it. “Give me a half hour, sweetie, and I’ll be home. We’ll talk.” Jo hadn’t missed the tremble that accompanied her aunt’s response. The fear that seemed to penetrate every word. What did it mean? Had she opened a type of Pandora’s box and released a horror she would not be able to win against? Doesn’t matter. I need to know. If being Paul’s wife, safe in his care, could not hold the nightmares at bay, she had to believe the truth would. Pearl pressed END on her cell phone. Tears welled up immediately. Her body shook. She knew what was coming. The past had finally caught up with them. Her shift at the hospital ended, and Pearl escaped the building using the back stairs, in order to avoid sideline conversations. She knew she would not be able to manage a fake smile or pretend to care what someone else tried to tell her. Not today. She rushed to her car and collapsed behind the wheel. “Dear Lord, I didn’t want her to ever know, or . How can I tell her the truth? God help me, how can I?” Pearl broke down and begged the Lord to guide her, to provide the words she felt sure she would not be able to say, in her own power. Words that would break her baby girl’s heart. Words that could destroy the precious relationship she had been blessed with for Jo’s entire life. Words that would change Jo’s notion of a happy marriage. Of a family. And of the family she had been denied when her parents abandoned her. “I should have told her before, Lord. Especially before she married Paul. But there’s nothing to be done about that now. Help me believe that Your Truth will indeed set us free. Help me, Lord. Help me.” The tears came in earnest then, and Pearl sat in her car for a long time. She didn’t glance at her watch or her cell phone. She just cried, and prayed, and cried some more. When the tears slowed and she could breathe again, Pearl sucked in a deep breath, started the Camry, then made her way home.

When Pearl stepped into the house, the memories slammed into her chest, like a physical blow. The horrible scene came into her mind, so real, Pearl collapsed on the sofa, sobbing. It felt like the entire ordeal had just happened. The cell phone vibrated in her pocket, reminding Pearl she had left it on silent after work. She reached for it, pulled it in front of her face and saw Jo’s beautiful yet tentative smile looking back at her. Pearl’s heart hammered in her chest, but she wiped across the phone screen and tried to smile for her daughter. “Hi, baby.” “Aunt Pearl, are you okay? I’ve been calling for over an hour.” How did she answer that question? No, she wasn’t okay. Yes, she was fine. Can we put this off forever? “I’m fine,” she said at last. “Took me longer to get home than I thought it would.” “Aunt Pearl, you’ve been crying. What in the world has happened? Were you in an accident? Are you really okay?” FaceTime. Pearl wasn’t a fan. You can get away with a little white lie when your daughter isn’t looking you right in the eye. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the reality of what was about to happen wash over her. “Aunt Pearl.” Jo’s voice shook Pearl back to the moment. “I’m not hurt, sweetie. I promise. No accident. But I think I know what you want to ask me about. Are you having nightmares again?” Pearl waited, holding her breath. She knew the answer before she asked the question. They had been here before. But it had been more than ten years since the last time Pearl had known about the reoccurrence. Even so, somehow, she knew deep in her knower, the nightmares were back. “How did you?” “You’ve had them off and on through the years. They started when you were

little.” “Aunt Pearl, you’re scarin’ me.” There. The fear in Jo’s voice. That’s what Pearl had been avoiding all these years. She didn’t like the sound of it. Nonetheless, the truth had to be faced, voiced, dealt with. There would be nothing to do now but come out with it. Deal with it. Get the truth out there so they could dismantle it. Take away its power over them. Somehow. “I’m sorry, hon. Call me back on Skype, and I’ll clear it up for you. That way, neither one of us will have to hold a cell phone and it’ll be easier to get to the tissues.” Jo slowly lowered the phone to the coffee table, her hand trembling, her mind tumbling, and her tummy rumbling. She looked up to see Paul approaching, laptop in tow. “I heard,” he said. “Are you ready?” Jo covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I’m scared.” Jo felt Paul sit beside her on the sofa. One of his hands pulled gently on one of hers. “Jo, I’ll be here,” he said quietly, slowly, lowering her hand away from her face. “There’s nothing we can’t conquer together. Nothing. And I mean that. Till death us do part. I meant what I said at our wedding. Nothing could ever change that. Now, let’s call Aunt Pearl. We won’t know what she has to say, until she says it.” Jo looked deep into her husband’s eyes. She saw love looking back at her. They had survived a four-year, long-distance relationship. They had survived her neardrowning, and him being shot in the shoulder. They shared a love for God and trusted Him to lead them and take care of them, even when it looked like the enemy might win. Her heart told her they could trust Him with this, too. Whatever “this” was. “Thank you,” said Jo. “Me too.” Paul squeezed her hand, leaned forward and kissed her gently. Then turned and

opened the laptop, accessed their Skype , and called Aunt Pearl. Jo watched as her aunt came into view. She scooted even closer to Paul and rested her left hand on his right thigh. “Hi, Aunt Pearl,” said Jo, already fighting tears. “I think I’m ready.” “Guess it has to be done,” said Pearl. “I was hoping the truth would stay buried forever.” “What truth?” said Jo. “I need to know, Aunt Pearl. It’s time.” “Yes, sweetie, I know. But the truth behind the nightmares is an ugly truth.” Jo stiffened. Aunt Pearl knew why Jo had nightmares, and Jo didn’t? How much sense did that make? “What happens in your nightmares, Josephine?” Jo frowned. Paul slipped his arm around Jo’s waist and pulled her into his side. Jo let him. She needed his strength, his . His unconditional love. For always. With a sigh, Jo leaned into Paul’s side and answered her aunt’s question. With her eyes closed, she could conjure up the images. “It’s not real clear. But it seems like I’m in a dark box. I can’t get out. I’m crying. Hysterical. And my back hurts. A lot. I hear noises outside the box. Loud voices. Someone laughing. It smells funny. “Then someone opens the box and picks me up. I feel lips on my forehead. And someone, other than me, is crying.” Jo paused, opened her eyes, and saw her dear aunt on the computer screen, weeping. “That’s all I ,” said Jo, barely above a whisper. Jo felt surprisingly calm. Saying the words out loud felt somehow freeing. And so much easier than dreaming the frightening scene in the middle of the night. But she didn’t understand any of it. Were the images even real? Had any of it

really happened? “What does it mean, Aunt Pearl? Do you really know?” “Yes, I’m afraid I do, sweetie. Are you sure you want to know?” Of course, she wanted to know. And no, she didn’t want to believe the nightmares had been based in some kind of hideous reality. But if they were, yes, she did want to know. Needed to know. Needed to face the memories and get rid of their influence, rid of the torturous dreams. “Yes,” whispered Jo. “God help me,” said Pearl. “It happened on a three-day weekend, Josephine,” Aunt Pearl began. “I hate to say it, but I wanted to get away. My relationship with Dr. Blake had just ended. I wanted to cry in my pillow, and not have to deal with the gossip mongers.” She paused and took in another deep breath. “Anyway.” “Wait,” said Jo, interrupting. “The Dr. Blake I know? Patrick Blake?” Pearl blew out a breath. “Yes.” She really did not want to talk about Patrick Blake. Ever. “What happened?” “Oh, sweetie. He is such an insignificant part of this story. I only mentioned him because he’s the reason I was out of town that weekend.” Maybe that would suffice, thought Pearl. But no, of course not. “Aunt Pearl, it sounds like he was important to you once. I care about you, and what’s important to you. Did he break your heart?” Pearl yanked another tissue out of the box and pressed it under her eyes. Good grief, she hated this. But the door had been opened and she couldn’t back out. Not now. Her daughter’s peace of mind hung in the balance. Just suck it up and tell her.

Pearl looked her beloved Josephine in the eye, a grown, married woman, who could understand the thrill of feelings for a man; but could she understand that the fierceness of her aunt’s love for her niece really could trump the feelings Pearl had felt for Patrick Blake? With no regrets? “Yes, Josephine, Patrick Blake broke my heart. I’d had it, waiting for your mom and dad to get cleaned up and take responsibility for the child they’d made together. And I loved you so much, I wanted to be your mom. At any cost. I was ready to adopt. I wanted to give you a real family. And I thought Patrick would be part of that family. We dated for three years. My neighbor, you Marilyn, happily kept you for me every time Patrick and I found an opportunity to go out.” “Yes, I ,” said Jo. “Marilyn made the best chocolate chip cookies.” “Baking was her favorite thing. She always said being a little round in the middle was worth it, if she could enjoy baked goods every day.” Pearl tried to chuckle, but it came out weak and not funny at all. “Okay, carry on,” said Jo. “Sorry to interrupt.” “So anyway,” said Pearl, “everything with Patrick fell apart when I told him I intended to adopt you. He didn’t want children then, or ever. I refused to give you up, and he walked away. He’s been married to his career ever since.” “Oh, Aunt Pearl, I’m so sorry.” “Well, it hurt at the time, I’ll it. But I’m not sorry. Not one bit. We did fine without him, right?” Pearl felt strength and resolve fill her soul. It actually felt good to have an adult conversation with Josephine about the motives that had pushed Pearl forward. She wanted Josephine to know how very special she was. That the monsters who had been her biological parents, or the man Pearl had believed would step in as dad, had not kept them apart. Pearl had made sacrifices, yes. But no matter. She would do it again. In a heartbeat. Yes, she had let herself wallow in self-pity for a few days when Patrick broke her heart. And she’d paid dearly for that little bit of self-indulgence. And she’d

never left Josephine for longer than her shift at work, ever again. No regrets. Josephine had been the joy of her life. Jo’s voice broke Pearl’s reverie. “I couldn’t have asked for a better mother,” said Jo. “Thank you. But I was not such a great mom that weekend. I was selfish, and you and Marilyn paid the price.” “What do you mean?”

Chapter Fourteen

Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong (1 Corinthians 16:13 NIV).

Pearl hated what she had to say. Hated that it was real. That it had happened at all. She took a breath, whispered another prayer, then began to relay the whole ugly story. “Okay, here goes,” she said. “Please forgive me, Josephine.” “Done.” Pearl’s eyes popped open. “I mean it,” said Jo. “You have been nothing but good to me. You told me about Jesus and took me to church. You loved me with your whole self. No matter how terrible the truth might sound, you can’t tell me anything that could make me not love you.” Pearl stared at her beautiful niece, her adopted daughter. What a treasure. She had grown into a miraculous, godly woman, with a genuine love for the Lord. And apparently, a deep and abiding love for her imperfect, but faithful aunt, who loved her beyond words. “Thank you, sweetie. I’m so proud of the woman you have become.” “I know,” said Jo. “You have yourself to thank for that. Now, back to the story.” “Ugh,” said Pearl. “The nightmares coming back must be God’s way of telling me it’s time to come clean. Maybe the truth will set you free of them. Set us both free of the horrid past.” “Maybe it will be that simple. That would be super.” Paul spoke for the first time. “Say, Pearl, will this story explain the scars on Jo’s back? She said they had

always been there, and she didn’t know how she got them.” Pearl started crying again. She couldn’t help it. The scars on Jo’s back had been the strongest of many reasons Pearl had determined to legally take Jo out of harm’s way. Keep her forever safe—from her own parents. Pearl closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them she looked straight at Paul. “Yes,” she said, with only a slight tremor in her voice. She was trying hard to control her emotions, to keep a lid on the explosive feelings she’d kept buried for so long. “I know what they are.” “You do?” said Jo. “Yes, of course, I do. Makes me sick to think about it, but I do. Let me start again, and I’ll tell you all I know, okay?” She knew, alright. But never had she entertained the idea of revealing the story behind the scars. Never, in her wildest imagination, did she think she would ever have to break her daughter’s heart like that. Never. But today, she would do just that. “Yes, ma’am,” said Jo. Her innocence tugged at Pearl’s heart so hard, she really wanted to forego this conversation, pretend it had never started. Jo snuggled in closer to Paul. She had a feeling that what Aunt Pearl had to say was not going to be easy to hear, and she wanted to make sure Paul had a tight grip on her. No matter what Aunt Pearl said though, Jo would silently pray her way through it. And she felt confident that Paul would be praying, as well. Aunt Pearl knew the truth. It was time Jo knew it, too. “Like I was saying,” Pearl continued. “Marilyn offered to stay at our house with you so I could get away for a few days. It was a scheduled holiday weekend for me anyway, so I took her up on it. “I had planned to go to some fancy resort with Patrick, but that was off the table. I didn’t go far, just over to the Gardentree, 24 minutes away; but I felt lighter

than a feather when I pulled into that parking lot. I believed you were in good hands, and knew Patrick had no idea where to find me, if indeed he might even think to try. “But at 4:00 on Saturday afternoon, a screaming, crushing feeling that I needed to get home weighed me down. I couldn’t eat. I could barely think. So, I didn’t try to. I just checked out of the hotel, scrambled out to my car, and challenged the speed limit all the way home.” Fresh tears spilled over onto Pearl’s cheeks. She just let them fall. She had to get the story out before she backed out altogether. Josephine deserved the truth. “Just as I didn’t know what circumstances had prompted the need for me to return home early, the same sick feeling flooded my soul as I pulled up in front of the house. A strange rust-bucket of a car with Washington plates sat parked in the driveway, and loud music rattled the windows of the house. “Fear struck so hard that I called 911 without having a clue what I’d say. Anyway, I told the 911 operator that my home had been broken into and the intruders were still inside.” Pearl made herself look at Josephine, silently praying she could say what needed to be said. “It’s okay,” said Jo. “I want to know.” Pearl just nodded. She took a sip of water, closed her eyes against a fresh jab of pain through her heart then went on with the story. “Then I did one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I waited for the police to arrive. I had no idea who was in my house or what was happening, but I didn’t dare face it alone. That much I knew for sure. It took fifteen long agonizing minutes for the police cruiser to arrive. I jumped out of the car and ran over to the nearest officer. I explained all I knew, which wasn’t much. But thankfully, he took me seriously, and the three of us approached the front door. “I looked in through the glass beside the door, and gasped. ‘Get in there, now!’ I shouted. “’Right now!’” “What did you see, Aunt Pearl?”

“It’s difficult to say,” said Pearl. And she meant it. Getting the words out would be extremely difficult. Turning up this trail in their history would not be fun. It would be agonizing. And she dreaded it with every fiber of her being. She had spent years keeping the truth from Josephine, only to have it come crashing down around them. It literally made her nauseous to think about it. “Take your time, Aunt Pearl,” said Jo. “I’m not going anywhere.” The anxiety and fear, mixed with determination, that Pearl read in her niece’s eyes made her cringe. But she had promised Josephine the whole story, and she would get it. “Okay,” said Pearl. She took yet another deep breath and another sip of water before she continued. “I saw…Marilyn tied to a kitchen chair in the middle of the living room,” Pearl gushed out, like hurrying would make the truth hurt less. “Blood trickled from one side of her head and she’d been gagged. “The officer closest to the door shouted, ‘Open up! Police!’ He didn’t wait for anyone to answer, just took a step back and shoved his shoulder into the door as he turned the doorknob. Thankfully, miraculously, it wasn’t locked.” Josephine’s gasp didn’t stop Pearl from telling the rest. This was it. The time for telling the truth had come. “Your biological parents were there, Josephine. They were high on something, the music loud, and they were dancing and laughing. When the door burst open they turned in surprise, as if they hadn’t even heard the officer yelling through the door. Rocky reached toward the bar where a pistol waited, but he didn’t get to it before the officer shot him in the shoulder. “Rose went into hysterics and rushed the officer. His partner grabbed her and twisted her arms behind her back. Once Rose had been cuffed, he moved to the stereo and turned it off. “I expected silence to engulf all of us, but the sudden loss of blaring music amplified crying. Your cry. I would know it anywhere. “I looked all around the room for you while one of the officers released Marilyn

from her bonds and removed the gag. “’They locked Jo in the front closet,’” Marilyn told me. “I was so mad I stomped over to Rose and slapped her hard across the face. I told her if she ever came near you again, I would kill her. I think I meant it,” said Pearl. “Oh, Aunt Pearl, how terrible for you. I mean, she was your sister. Was Marilyn badly hurt?” Pearl’s eyes got big. She had just told Jo that her parents had locked her in a closet; and she was asking about Marilyn? “You want to know about Marilyn?” said Pearl. “Josephine, they locked you in the closet.” Pearl paused to wipe the tears from her eyes so she could see Josephine clearly. “But that’s not all they did.” “Okay, I get it,” said Jo. “But I still want to know how badly they hurt Marilyn. She was one of my favorite people.” Pearl sighed, weary of the whole thing. The sadness went deep, and she hated having to dredge it all up. But again, she had promised the truth. “We found out later that Rocky had knocked Marilyn out with his pistol so she couldn’t fight him while he tied her up. You know Marilyn would have given her life to keep them away from you. Anyway, the wound in her head required several stitches, but she recovered completely and went on to make many more delicious batches of chocolate chip cookies.” “Thank goodness for that,” said Jo. Pearl ed Josephine in a sad chuckle. The release of a load of stress felt good for a few short seconds. “But when Marilyn came to,” Pearl continued, “she had to watch in horror while Rocky lost his temper, because you wouldn’t stop crying.” Emotion so strong that Pearl couldn’t go on, racked her body. She shivered, her shoulders shook, and she succumbed to its power. She hadn’t cried so hard since

Josephine had started having nightmares, every night, so long ago. Pearl had held Josephine close to her body every night for a solid year. Josephine had been a baby of two years, when her parents had surprised Marilyn and created havoc in Pearl’s house. “Aunt Pearl,” said Paul, his voice loud. “It’s over. Jo is fine now. She’s safe. You don’t have to worry about her. Please calm down. Pull yourself together.” Pearl sniffed, blew her nose, and shook her head. “But you don’t understand.” “Help me understand,” said Jo, a quiet whisper, laced with concern. “I know I have to say it,” said Pearl. “But I prayed for years you would never have to know.” “Please,” said Jo. Pearl blew out a shuddering breath then made herself say the words. “When I opened that closet door, I fell to my knees to wrap my arms around you. Someone had stripped you down to your little princess panties, and you cried even harder when I put my arms around you.” Pearl closed her eyes again, the memory strong and clear, as clear as the day the living nightmare had taken place. “I slowly turned you around to see what was causing you such pain.” She paused there, unwilling to continue, until Jo’s voice prompted her to finish the story. “What did you find, Aunt Pearl?” “Someone had put out several cigarettes on your back.” Just saying the words made Pearl want to vomit. But she fought the urge and braced herself for Josephine’s reaction. “I’m so sorry, Josephine,” said Pearl, when Jo didn’t say anything. “I should have never left you overnight. I’ll never forgive myself.”

Jo couldn’t think of a single thing to say that might make her aunt feel better. For a long moment, she just stared at her hands, rested in her lap. She felt Paul move beside her. He walked away, and her heart sank. Would he no longer be able to make himself touch her? She could be really messed up, especially now that she knew the truth about her parents. But Jo pushed that thought aside seconds later, when Paul returned. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought you might need some lemonade.” Jo smiled up at him. “You’re right. Thank you.” She never should have doubted him. Paul Baldwin was a loyal, genuine man of God, who loved her deeply. “Josephine?” said Pearl, through the speakers of the laptop. “Yes, ma’am,” said Jo. “I’m here.” “I’m so sorry,” said Pearl. “You okay?” Jo frowned, unsure of how she felt. She had horrible biological parents, which she might need some Christian counseling to come to with. Maybe. Maybe not. But Aunt Pearl had probably saved her life. She had pressed charges against Jo’s parents, had adopted her, and raised her as if she had been born to her. Jo loved Aunt Pearl, totally, without condition. She trusted her, completely. And she would now do whatever it took to keep her aunt from feeling guilty, over anything. Maybe they could do three-way-call counseling, and work through the yuck, together. Jo managed a shaky smile. “I had horrible biological parents,” she said, praying and thinking at the same time. She wanted to make sure her aunt felt loved and appreciated. “But I’m so grateful you were there to save me and fight for me and raise me in a loving home. I have no clue what triggered the nightmares again, and I don’t care. I’m just glad it all came to the surface. You’ve carried this junk around with you, far too long. “We can beat the past, Aunt Pearl. It just has to be faced. We can put it behind us, together. Right, Paul?”

Paul pressed a kiss to Jo’s temple. “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help. Or just listen. Whatever you need.” “See, Aunt Pearl? You are not alone. I am not alone. With the three of us united and the Holy Spirit to guide us, the past has no hope of overshadowing our collective futures.” “Sounds wonderful,” said Pearl. “I’ve been avoiding this forever but now I’m truly, honestly, glad it’s out. I should have told you years ago, but I was afraid to stir it all up again. Once the nightmares stopped, I hoped it was because the love I lavished on you had soaked up the whole memory, and you would never have to know.” Dear, sweet, loyal, precious Aunt Pearl. Jo felt there were no words in the English language strong enough to convey Jo’s love and gratitude for her aunt. God had protected Jo from the truth all these years. Perhaps at a different stage of life, Jo would not have been able to deal with the truth. Paul would not have been there to provide the extra strength and that could make all the difference. Who knows why? But it didn’t matter. The truth was out. Jo did have Paul to stand beside her. And Aunt Pearl would finally be able to let go of any last shred of guilt or regret. They would be fine. Just fine. “And I think,” interjected Jo, “that God didn’t want you to carry the weight of it by yourself. And now, you don’t have to.”

Chapter Fifteen

Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you (Colossians 3:13 NIV).

The last minute of the final three-way counseling session had come to an end. Pearl and Jo had buried the past twelve-feet under and managed to leave it there. To say Jo was beyond relieved would be putting it mildly. With every counseling session, the nightmares had come spaced a little farther apart, until, at last, three months prior to this moment, they had stopped altogether. Jo snuggled closer to her husband. “Good morning,” she said. “Are you ready for today?” She sighed with deep contentment. This evening, her precious husband would receive his diploma for a master’s degree in professional counseling. And come Monday morning the moving van would haul their houseful of belongings all the way back to Nashville. Home. They were finally going home. She would not miss Virginia winters. Not even a little bit. Paul had secured a bi-vocational position as youth minister at Nashville’s largest non-denominational church. The appointment had been a miracle, really. Paul had been chosen out of one hundred candidates. One hundred candidates. It boggled the mind. The youth minister position could have easily been a full-time job, but the church body of elders had voted, unanimously, to bring Paul in as part-time staff, so he could take a leap of faith and rent office space in which to offer his services as a family counselor. Whatever Paul wanted to do suited Jo just fine. They were going home. To Nashville. And she was thrilled. No less miraculously, the week before the move, a kindergarten position became available for the fall semester—at the church’s private Christian school. The same church that had hired Paul. Therefore, they had been hired as a package. Miraculous. But the fact is, Paul and Jo had both been hired to work at their dream jobs, in Paul’s hometown, within the same church body. No one could argue—it had taken a miracle. God had certainly been busy.

Paul graduated mid-term, which would give Jo the spring and summer to put their house in order and prepare for the fall semester. The current kindergarten teacher had put in her final notice for retirement, just in time to bring Jo on board. Jo had stopped trying to count all her blessings, it was taking up so much of her time. But they filled her head and her heart throughout the day, as she packed up their little house. If she could whistle, she would. Blessed further with a mild winter (for Virginia, anyway), the move could be handled without a great deal of hazardous driving; and loading the moving van would not be the soggy mess it would have been the winter before. Miracles all around. “You look wickedly handsome,” said Jo, with a giggle. “Can I say that to a minister?” “You can.” Paul’s voice sounded husky, gravelly, enticing. Jo lifted up on her toes and thoroughly kissed her husband. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “Ditto,” said Paul. “We make a formidable team.” “God did good when He put us together, that’s for sure.” At six o’clock that evening, Paul Baldwin, decked out in graduation garb, walked across the stage, accepted his diploma, waved at the crowd, then walked sedately down the steps on the opposite side of the stage, his family cheering him on.

NASHVILLE

Paul Baldwin raced inside the local juvenile detention center, out of breath and trembling. He’d been three blocks over when the SOS text grabbed his attention. “Dear Lord,” he prayed, pushing the door closed against the wind. Words failed him, beyond that plea. A few steps inside the building, Paul stood in front of a large counter with a juvenile detention officer looking down at him. “I’m Paul Baldwin,” he said, “youth pastor over at God’s Family Fellowship. I’m here to see Marcus Rubio.” The officer frowned. “I got a text from his brother. Marcus is part of our youth group.” This wasn’t Paul’s first visit to the juvenile detention center. He’d been there several times over the past year. But he’d never expected he’d be here for Marcus Rubio. Marcus was one of his better youth kids. He came from a troubled home that consisted of a loud, mean drunk of a father, an abused and frightened mother, and an angry, independent brother, who had a habit of making himself scarce when home didn’t feel safe. Marcus had clung to his church family for and encouragement. And Paul trusted that Marcus would do the right thing first, if at all possible. “Have a seat,” said the officer. “I’ll see what I can do.” “Yes, sir.” Paul took a seat then sent a quick text to Jo, asking for prayer for Marcus. I’ll explain later. Paul silenced the phone and shoved it in his jacket pocket then settled in, fully

expecting to wait for hours. Never failed. He had no idea what went on beyond those walls that took so long, but he would wait as long as it took. Marcus needed him, and he wasn’t going anywhere before he met with Marcus, saw him with his own eyes, and heard what he had to say. Paul stayed alert, watching for any sign of Marcus’ brother at the front door, and for Paul’s name to be called from the back hallway. Julio had alerted Paul of Marcus’ arrest, so why wouldn’t he show up to help get his brother out of this mess? The minutes ticked by, until they added up to an hour. Then two. No brother. No call. What was going on? Just when Paul had decided to approach the front desk again, someone called his name. He scanned the room, until he found the source. A uniformed officer approached him. “You can see Marcus Rubio now. He’s been asking for you.” What terrible thing could Marcus have done? Paul couldn’t imagine. Maybe it was a mistake. A gross case of mistaken identity. Or something. After all, Marcus had just turned 14 the week before. Paul considered him to be a “good” kid. His older brother, Julio, delivered Marcus to youth Sunday school classes, Wednesday night Bible study, and every youth activity that family demands would allow. It was the family demands that worried Paul, but he pushed that thought aside. The here and now had his full attention. They’d deal with whatever they had to deal with. Paul had been meeting with Marcus at the park, once a week, for months now. The violence in their home had escalated during that time period. So much so, that Julio had been absent more and more, leaving Marcus alone in the midst of the fray. On the night of Marcus’ fourteenth birthday, Dad got drunk. His violent tendencies intensified. Marcus barely escaped out his bedroom window, ran all the way to Paul’s house, and collapsed in a heap on the front porch. Since that night, Paul had been investigating ways he could legally have Marcus removed from the home. But incarceration had not made its way to the list of possibilities. “Thank you,” said Paul.

“Follow me.” Paul stayed close behind the officer, surprised when he indicated a room, where Marcus sat in a worn gray chair, still handcuffed. He had obviously been crying; but sadness didn’t look up at Paul as much as anger and confusion—and fear. “Hey, Marcus,” said Paul. No response, beyond a nod. Paul moved to sit in the chair across from Marcus but paused to look to the officer for permission. The officer answered in the affirmative, so Paul settled in the chair across from Marcus. “What’s going on, Marcus? Have you been hurt?” Marcus finally made eye with Paul and held his gaze. Relief surged through Paul. Maybe Marcus would talk to him, after all. “Nothing I can’t handle. But Mom’s dead and Julio ran away again.” Ice froze the blood-flow to Paul’s heart, unable to fathom what this day had been like for Marcus. He almost hated to ask. Marcus’ deadpan tone spelled further concern for how Marcus was handling his mother’s death. Could he really be so callous? There was more to this story than Paul knew. He’d wait to hear the rest before he drew any conclusions. “Oh, Marcus, I’m so sorry. Can you tell me about it?” Marcus glanced at the officer then turned his attention back to Paul. “Dad got mad.” Tears pooled in Marcus’ eyes and Paul had to work to keep his own emotions under control. It sounded like Marcus’ father had finally crossed the line from abuse to murder. And with Marcus in the room. “So, what are you being charged with?” “He assaulted an officer while we were trying to contain the scene,” said the

officer who stood by the door. He didn’t sound forgiving, at all. Marcus glared at him. “He means,” said Marcus, “that I pushed my way through them ‘cause they wouldn’t let me see Mom. I wasn’t resisting arrest. I didn’t punch anybody. I just wanted to get to Mom. But I kinda already knew she was dead. Dad sliced her throat with a butcher knife. I could see it over the officer’s shoulder.” A rush of tears came then, and Paul didn’t try to stop them. Marcus shrugged his shoulders, his eyes dry now, his jaw set. A child, who had suddenly been thrust into adulthood and the state of being an orphan, in the space of a few hours. “What happens next?” said Paul, as he swiped at the tears and turned to look at the officer. “There will be a hearing on the charges. Then I expect Marcus here will be either sent to juvie or placed in the system. That’ll be up to the judge.” Paul swallowed the lump in his throat. No trace of comion came with the officer’s declaration. Something had to be done. The charges sounded trumped up, not like Marcus, at all. “How soon?” said Paul. “It’s looking like tomorrow morning.” “Great,” said Paul. “I’ll be there. What time?” “The paperwork I saw said nine A.M.” Paul wanted to throw up, just thinking about Marcus being held overnight. Wondered how a stretch in juvie would affect his future, his attitude. Would it make him turn his back on God, on all the hope and promise that living the Christian life had to offer? Paul also wondered where he might find Julio, so he could give him a piece of his mind for deserting his little brother. The thought entered his head how blessed he’d been to be raised in a close-knit family—his brothers, any or all of them, would have come to his aid. Paul wondered what Jo would think about them taking care of Marcus for a

while. You know, till things settled down, and a more permanent plan of action could be worked out. He looked at Marcus, and his heart broke for him. “I’ll be there, Marcus. I promise. Try not to worry. Can I pray with you?” Marcus frowned, swallowed hard. His mom, innocent and protective to the end, was gone forever. Prayer wouldn’t change that. At all. What would become of him, without his mother? Would he ever see Julio again? His brother, who had run out of the house and not come back. “How did you know I was here?” said Marcus. “Julio sent me a text.” “He did?” Surprised filled him. Maybe Julio really did care. Maybe he’d come back; and they could live together. But he didn’t know how, or where, or when. His family didn’t own the house they lived in—and now it was a crime scene. He didn’t wanna be homeless; but if they tried to put him in foster care, he’d run away. And if they put him in juvie, he’d try to escape. He didn’t belong there. Hadn’t done anything wrong. “Julio cares about you, Marcus.” “I thought so,” said Marcus. “Till he ran away the second trouble started. Trouble like we’ve never seen before. Not sure I’ll ever see him again. ‘Cause trouble ain’t going anywhere.” “I believe you will see Julio again, Marcus.” Marcus stared down at the floor, avoiding the eyes of Paul Baldwin. He trusted Paul; he really did. But things had gone from bad to worse, and Marcus was beginning to think that even God could not see him anymore. “I guess we could pray about that,” he finally relented. “It couldn’t bring Mama back, but it might work for Julio.” Paul stood and moved around the table. He rested one hand on Marcus’ shoulder

then prayed with everything in him, claiming victory over the enemy, asking for clear vision, for wisdom and discernment. He prayed for freedom for Marcus, mercy from the judge, and a plan for Marcus and Julio to be together again, as a family. “In the mighty name of Jesus, we pray. Amen,” said Paul. Marcus sniffed and tried to wipe the tears off his face onto his shoulder. “Here,” said Paul, as he dragged his handkerchief over Marcus’ face. “There. Now, I’ll see you in the morning. Keep praying, Bud. God has a plan in all of this. A plan for your good.” Marcus looked up at Paul, and Paul’s stomach clenched. Fear, and a measure of doubt could not be disguised in the half-smile Marcus offered Paul. Marcus’ future hung in the balance—and could swing in the wrong direction, just as easily as not. What happens tomorrow is in Your hands, Lord. Paul reluctantly left Marcus in the custody of the authorities then went straight to the church to get a prayer chain started. While there, he had a long discussion with the senior pastor. Frustration poured out of him. He was giving his all to these kids; but they seemed to hit wall after wall, in every direction. Was he doing any good at all? Did the authorities really care about these kids as individuals, or were they all just grouped into some big statistical ball that put black marks on their lives, before they ever had a chance to prove themselves capable and willing to claw their way out and live a different life? As Paul left the pastor’s office, he pulled out his phone, opened the Kindle app, scrolled through to Jesus Calling by Sarah Young then just about choked when he read the daily reading for that day:

You have been on a long, uphill journey, and your energy is almost spent. Though you have faltered at times, you have not let go of My hand. I am pleased with your desire to stay close to Me. There is one thing, however, that displeases Me: your tendency to complain. You may talk to Me as much as you like about the difficulty of the path we are following. I understand better than anyone else

the stresses and strains that have afflicted you. You can ventilate safely to Me, because talking with Me tempers your thoughts and helps you see things from My perspective.

Then, the last part of the message really got his attention:

Complaining to others is another matter altogether. It opens the door to deadly sins such as self-pity and rage. Whenever you are tempted to grumble, come to Me and talk it out. As you open up to Me, I will put My thoughts in your mind and My song in your heart.

Oh man. Hadn’t he just spent the last hour complaining like a man, to his pastor? He must have sounded like he doubted God could handle a problem as big as the one Marcus would be facing tomorrow in court. Paul stopped right there in the middle of the hallway and apologized to the Lord. “I’m sorry, Lord. Please forgive me for going on and on, like You have no say in the outcome of all this mess. I’ll try to do better. Take this matter from my hands and keep me close to You. Show me the plan You have for Marcus, and what part I need to play in it.” Paul glanced at his watch, already feeling better. Good, Jo should be home from school by now. Maybe she’d like to have dinner out. We could hash out a plan. I could get her considerable insight—and neither one of us would have to cook or do dishes. When he thought about it, today was his turn to cook, so a night out sounded more and more perfect.

Chapter Sixteen

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well (Matthew 6:33 NIV).

Dinner out with Jo worked its magic, and stress melted off Paul like butter on hot corn. She smiled across the table from him, and his heart hammered in his chest, much like the first time he’d seen her at Deer Run Camp, outside Memphis. “You’re beautiful, Jo. I’m the luckiest, most blessed man alive to be your husband.” “That’s nice to hear,” she said. “I feel pretty blessed myself. Now, you wanna tell me all about Marcus, so we can focus on the real reason for this outing?” Paul had to chuckle, wondering why he had even tried to fool her. Not that he didn’t have romance in mind for later, but he had planned to talk to her about Marcus, without the distractions that inevitably come with preparing, eating, and cleaning, when they dined at home. He didn’t feel completely guilty, though, because he knew that Jo would be equally concerned about Marcus. “I apologize,” he said. “You know I want to be here with you, just because of you, right?” “Of course, I do,” she said, with that sparkle in her eye that he loved so much. “And I want to be here with you. But I also want to know what’s happened with Marcus, and how we can help.” Paul stretched his arm across the table and folded his hand over Jo’s. That attitude, right there, was one of the many attributes of Josephine Sterling Baldwin that had drawn him to her, then pushed him over the edge into a deep pool of love he never wanted to swim out of. They had been talking more and more, lately, about starting their own family. Paul knew Jo would be an amazing mom, a lot like his own mother or her Aunt Pearl. No credit for Jo’s amazingness could, or would ever be, given to her biological parents. Now that

they knew the truth, her parents had never come up in conversation again. Any child of Paul and Josephine Baldwin would be so engulfed in love that any extended, unmentioned, deceased family would not be missed. “That’s my girl,” said Paul. Then he launched into the nightmare that had become Marcus’ reality. Several minutes later, Paul sat back in his chair and raised his glass of sweet tea to his lips, pausing to give Jo time to collect her thoughts. Jo pressed a tissue beneath each eye, shuddered out a breath then raised her eyes to meet his. The comion and sorrow that looked back at him made tears spring up behind his eyes, yet again. He swallowed them back and lifted an eyebrow in question, anxious to know her thoughts. Would this be where she drew the line? The part of youth ministry that stretched her heart beyond the point of recovery? Would she want nothing more to do with the life they had agreed represented God’s calling? “I just have one question,” she finally said. “I’m ready,” said Paul. Or at least he hoped he was ready. “If the charges against Marcus happen to be dropped—and I believe they will— is there any chance the court would allow us to foster Marcus? He’ll need a safe place to stay, at least until Julio can be found and other arrangements can be made. Right?” Paul let the tears fall then. He had no choice, there were too many to ignore. They came pouring over his eyelids with no way to stop them. Jo had said exactly what he’d been contemplating all afternoon. Surely the judge could appreciate that Marcus had meant no malice toward the police officers at the scene, he just wanted to get to his mother. If so, Paul had hoped that Marcus could stay with him and Jo. They had already been approved as potential foster parents, but no one had been placed with them. A shout of joy bubbled up inside Paul, as he stared in gratitude at the woman he loved. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, “so I can thank you properly. You have made me extremely happy.”

Jo followed her husband out into the parking lot, toward their latest acquisition, a brand new GMC Yukon XL Denali. She had gawked at the price tag, but Paul had assured her they could afford it. He had mentioned several times since they had settled in Nashville that they needed to have a family meeting (all two of them) so he could explain everything about their financial situation; but they had been so busy, they hadn’t taken the time to do it. But now that they had bought a house and a vehicle that must have set him back about seventy grand it was time to have that talk. Especially since he was a youth minister and she was a teacher. And she knew they did not make car payments. Unbelievable. Whether they brought Marcus home with them or not, Jo needed to know. Not that it mattered all that much. But they were married, one flesh, one heart, one mind. If she didn’t need to stress over the grocery bill or wonder between paychecks (which she blindly handed over to him every month), she would happily quit thinking about it. It was the not knowing that was beginning to bug her. “Where’d you go?” she heard Paul say. “’Cause you don’t seem to be in this truck with me. Come on. Spill it. Are you having second thoughts about Marcus?” Jo turned toward him as much as the seatbelt would allow and looked directly at the side of Paul’s head. “Goodness no,” she said, with a vigorous shake of her head and all the sincerity she felt inside. “Definitely not.” “Then what’s bothering you? Come on, I know something is going on inside that pretty head of yours. Let me help?” Jo blew out a breath. She suddenly felt petty and ridiculous. Marcus’ mother had just been murdered this morning, right in front of him, by his own father. As if that weren’t enough, Julio had disappeared, and Marcus, sweet, innocent, tormented Marcus, had been arrested and would have to sit through a hearing in the morning. A hearing that could change the course of his life. Literally. Jo cared about the outcome. She really did. And would do anything to help Marcus. She had no idea why this money thing had even entered her head tonight. Maybe because they had only been riding around in this luxurious vehicle for two days, and it still felt foreign. Rich leather, climate controlled seats, plus every other

available feature out there. Gone were the treasured days when they’d been in school and only dreamt of a bright future as Christian servants. They had lived very simply in Virginia. How much money they might make in the process of doing God’s will had not been a priority. At all. Anyway, no matter the reason, their current financial state kept nagging at her. And it seemed, now, that it might not let go until she had some answers. “I’m ashamed to tell you,” she whispered. “Ashamed?” cried Paul. “Okay, that’s it.” Jo’s eyes got big when Paul pulled the vehicle off the road and parked under a large light in a nearby lot. He killed the engine. It was October, so the temperatures were still mild, and they wouldn’t freeze, sitting there, waiting. Waiting for what? Her stupid insecurities to be revealed then dealt with? She felt utterly mortified. “I’m sorry,” she said, as tears filled her eyes. “Jo, you’re killing me.” “Can we get in the back seat?” she said. “I may need a hug.” Instantly, Paul popped the seatbelt button, hopped out of the truck, and ran around to open the enger-side door. “Come here,” said Paul, his arms outstretched. Jo tumbled out of the truck and fell into Paul’s arms, sobbing. She relished the feel of him. Her big, strong, safe Paul. How could she tell him what she was feeling, without sounding ungrateful, or like she questioned his means of acquiring wealth she knew nothing about? She had been aware of his mother’s fame and obvious ability to pay for most of their wedding expenses. But that was Catherine, not Paul. Jo suddenly realized she knew very little about the private side of her husband. Maybe she deserved to know, maybe she didn’t. Regardless, she very much wanted to know. “Come on,” said Paul, still holding her against him. “Let’s climb into the back

seat. You can tell me anything or ask me anything. I have no secrets. And if you do, great, we’ll deal with it.” Jo pulled away, instantly missing his warmth, as a sudden breeze swirled across the parking lot. She wrapped her arms around her middle and hugged her body, still fighting tears. “I have no more secrets,” she said. “Okay, fine. Then you can ask me anything, about me.” “Thank you,” whispered Jo, as she followed Paul to the back door of the Denali. She climbed in first, stopping in the middle of the seat. She offered a tentative smile when he settled in beside her. “Fire when ready,” he said. Jo squeezed her hands together in her lap, harder and harder. She couldn’t look at him, and tears dripped a steady rhythm on her hands. She kept her eyes open and stared straight down at her lap. She jumped when Paul reached across and rested a hand on hers, covering them both. She could feel his eyes on her. When he whispered her name, concern and comion evident in his voice, she looked up into his eyes. “Really, my love. I have no secrets.” Jo pushed the words out, before she gave into the temptation to make something up that would make her sound noble and good—or before she jumped out of the truck, pretending they could rewind the entire conversation, and just talk about Marcus. “Do you have a lot of money?” Jo jerked a hand out from under his to cover her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled behind it. Paul looked at her for a quick few seconds then smiled as big as the day he’d married her.

“Yes.” Jo gulped in air. Her eyes got big. “How?” “Oh, my darling. The answer isn’t sinister. And the minute we get home, I’ll pull out all the statements and show you. It didn’t seem to matter to you whether I came with money or not, and I was so grateful that you would have me, just for me, I guess I put it out of my mind. I’m sorry.” The tension between them melted away, and Jo pushed it out through her lungs, grateful to feel her shoulders drop, and her neck become more pliable. She smiled at her husband through tears. “For reals?” she managed to squeak out. “For reals,” said Paul. Jo let Paul pull her into a hug, where he held her for a long time. She felt loved and cherished, beyond belief. She wiggled closer to him and sighed with awe and gratitude. “Ready to go home?” whispered Paul. “We can do so much better than the back seat of this truck.” That made Jo chuckle. She straightened up and smiled, even bigger. “I’m ready,” she said, with one last kiss on his cheek.

The Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer (Psalm 6:9 NIV).

Paul and Jo Baldwin sat close together in the courtroom, waiting for Marcus’ case to be heard. Their hands stayed clasped tightly together, and they each engaged in silent prayer for the outcome to be in Marcus’ favor. Jacob, the senior pastor of their church sat on one side of Paul, his wife, Suzie, beyond him. Several parents of youth who had become friends with Marcus over the past year sat on the bench behind them. No matter how this hearing went, Marcus’ church family wanted him to know they would be there for him. They had come to show . The Bailiff called Marcus’ name. He stood next to the attorney who had been assigned to represent him. His guardian ad litem sat at the defense table as well. A guardian ad litem had been necessary since Marcus was under age, and no longer had a parent who could be present on his behalf. The charges were read. “How do you plead?” “The defendant pleads not guilty, Your Honor.” “Approach the bench, young man,” said the judge. Marcus glanced back toward Paul, who nodded and smiled in encouragement. It made Paul cringe to watch this basically good kid struggle to make his way to the bench, handcuffed and wearing ankle cuffs. “Just tell the truth, buddy,” whispered Paul. The judge’s voice broke into Paul’s thoughts. It didn’t seem like the judge cared whether anyone besides Marcus could hear him, but his deep voice resonated through the room. “Do you understand how serious it is to assault a police officer, young man?”

“Yes, sir,” said Marcus. Paul felt pride in Marcus flood through him. Marcus looked Judge Simmons straight in the eye and didn’t falter when he answered. Paul had been informally counseling Marcus for nearly a year now. It had taken several weeks to get Marcus to talk to him about his home life. About his dad’s drinking problem and the abuse his mother had lived with since the day she had married Ernesto Rubio. The stories broke his heart. Paul knew he could do nothing about the past; but he intended to do everything in his power to give Marcus a brighter future. He just wished Julio would make an appearance and show some for his brother. It was the least he could do, after running out on Marcus the very night their mother had been killed, right there in the kitchen, in front of Marcus. “Good job, Marcus,” mumbled Paul. Jo squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, grateful beyond words that this beautiful, godly woman loved him, and shared his love for the troubled kids they tried to help every day. “And you contend that you are not guilty of assaulting Officer Wilson? Why would Officer Wilson say different?” Marcus straightened to his full height, and Paul wanted, badly, to go stand beside him, put his arm across his shoulders, and let him know, without a doubt, that Marcus was not in this alone. He and Jo would be there for him, no matter what. “I’m sure someone told you,” said Marcus, his voice clear and unwavering, “that my dad murdered my mother, right in front of me.” Judge Simmons cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Yes, I am aware of the accusation.” “It’s not an accusation, sir, it’s a fact,” said Marcus, his voice even stronger and more sure. Marcus shuffled his feet and stretched to his full height. He did not look away from the judge but held him with his eyes. “Anyway,” he continued, “when the police got there, I was trying to stop my dad from hurting her. He was meaner than I’d ever seen him. I could feel in my heart that Dad was about to come unglued, especially after the police busted in our door. The whole scene erupted in chaos. I had to get to her; but the policeman wouldn’t let me . I pushed out of his grip, trying to get to my mother. But I didn’t make it. Dad sliced Mother’s throat with a butcher knife while a policeman hollered something at me and handcuffed me. I did not assault him. He detained me, and I

had to watch my mother die.” The room fell deathly silent. It seemed everyone present held a collective breath. Even the judge seemed stunned into silence. After a moment, Judge Simmons cleared his throat, rifled through some papers on the bench then called Officer Wilson, along with Paul and Jo Baldwin to Marcus and his counsel up front. Once they all stood before him, Judge Simmons said, “Officer Wilson, you’ve heard Mr. Rubio’s testimony. What is your response to it?” Officer Wilson glanced down at Marcus. Marcus returned the gesture, his chin raised, his gaze steady. He did not look away. Another point in his favor, as far as Paul was concerned. He only hoped the judge saw it the same way. Long seconds ticked by, as Officer Wilson and Marcus stared at one another. “Sounds about right,” said Officer Wilson, at last turning his head to face Judge Simmons. “We had been called to a domestic dispute, and we never know which way they’re gonna go. A lot of the time, those situations don’t bode well for the officers on the scene. When Marcus here wrenched out of my grasp, I assumed the worst.” Paul watched Marcus press his lips together, hard, obviously trying to hold back a retort. Another point in his favor. “Thank you,” said Judge Simmons. “You can return to duty. I will take your words into consideration.” “Yes, Your Honor.” Officer Wilson left the courtroom. When he opened the door, someone rushed past him. Julio! Thank the Lord, thought Paul. Julio was alive and well, and had come to Marcus, after all. Marcus spotted Julio, and tears filled his eyes in an instant. The first sign of the turmoil that must be rolling through him. Paul had to clear his throat to disguise his own emotions. Jo touched his hand and he grabbed onto it. “Marcus,” said Judge Simmons. “Do you know the young man who just came

in?” Marcus sniffled, and Paul really wanted to step over to him and slide his arm across Marcus’ shoulders. But that might not help anything. And he sure didn’t want to cost Marcus any points by interfering. “My brother, Julio.” “Come us, Julio,” said Judge Simmons, waving Julio in. Paul didn’t know if any part of this hearing had followed normal protocol. But he ired Judge Simmons for running his courtroom, his way. No one had objected, so Paul figured either no one dared, or no one cared. Either way, Paul didn’t slow down the loop of prayers that kept running through his head. In a moment, Julio stood between Paul and Marcus, where Officer Wilson had stood earlier. “Do you have anything to offer that would be pertinent to this case?” Apparently, Julio didn’t think twice about the consequences, and stretched his arm across Marcus’ shoulders and drew his brother into his side, much like Paul had had in mind to do. Good, thought Paul. Marcus needed his brother. “I don’t know much, sir, since I wasn’t an eyewitness,” said Julio. “But I do know that when Dad got mad, it was time to make myself scarce. He’d kill me if I hung around.” “Any reason you didn’t take Marcus with you?” Paul really wanted to hear the answer to that question. “I don’t have a very good reason,” said Julio. “I only made it to the back yard before I thought I better go back for him. But someone must have called the cops soon as Dad got loud. It’s happened before. Anyway, the police were already breaking in through the front door by the time I reached the back door. “Then everything got crazy. I heard Marcus cry out. After that, all I could do was stay out of the way. If I wasn’t there I couldn’t be accused of anything. That was wrong of me. I see that now.”

Julio’s voice broke and Marcus started crying. “You don’t have to say anymore, son,” said Judge Simmons. “Take a minute to calm down, and we’ll get to my ruling.” Judge Simmons allowed Julio and Marcus a full three minutes to pull themselves together. The grip on Marcus’ shoulders seemed to tighten as Paul watched Julio embrace his little brother, foreheads together. The need to help these boys burned in his heart. There had to be something they could do to keep them together. “Okay, now,” said Judge Simmons. “Let’s get down to brass tacks. Julio, where are you currently living?” “Just crashing with a friend until this mess is over and Marcus and I can get a place together.” “And are you gainfully employed?” Julio glanced at Paul then Jo, then turned back to Judge Simmons. “Yes, sir. Thanks to these two folks vouching for me, I’ve been working at Nashville Auto Repair for the past year. The owner is paying for me to get my certification in auto mechanics and works with me on scheduling class time and work time.” Judge Simmons looked at Paul. “He’s a good kid,” said Paul. “The owner of the repair shop and I go to church together. We happened to agree that Julio deserved an opportunity for a better life.” Judge Simmons did not comment on that revelation. Instead, he asked Paul another question. “I see here that you and your wife have requested to be foster parents to Marcus, until he and Julio can make it on their own.” “Yes, sir,” said Paul and Jo, in unison. Judge Simmons suddenly slammed down the gavel. “So ruled. Bailiff, release

young Marcus into the Baldwin’s care. Julio, keep up the good work. “Marcus,” continued Judge Simmons, his voice more tender than before. “I’m sorry for your loss.” “Thank you, sir.” “I hate to say it, but would you be willing to testify if your father’s case goes to trial?” “Nothing could stop me.” Paul noticed that Marcus straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. The boy turned man would not be intimidated. Paul’s chest filled with air as pride filled his heart. Marcus Rubio stood a chance to make it in this old world, and Paul vowed he would be there to help along the way. “Well, take care and I don’t want to ever see you in my courtroom again. Case dismissed,” he said, slamming down the gavel one more time. Finally, free of restraints, Marcus and Julio pounded each other on the back as they made their way out of the courtroom. “Thank You for Your mercy, Lord,” whispered Paul. “Thank You.”

Chapter Seventeen

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows (James 1:17 NIV).

Paul Baldwin tapped the brakes, slowing to watch the activity on the corner to his right. A new building was going up in the middle of a neighborhood that most industries completely ignored. Curiosity pulled at him so hard, he made the nearest corner and parked along the curb. He got out and walked over to the sign. His heart sped up with excitement, as he read the words.

COMING SOON: YOUTH ACTIVITY CENTER

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YOUR FUTURE STARTS HERE

Wow. Answers to many prayers glowed under the lights shining down on the heavenly phrases. How had he missed the announcement? Surely the story had been printed in the newspaper. A flyer probably waited on the corner of his desk.

“I’ll look when I get back,” he said, to no one. Paul pulled his phone out and opened the camera, snapped a picture of the billboard, then jogged back to the truck. Settling behind the wheel, he let out a whoop, thanked the Lord for provision, then headed for home, anxious to tell Jo and Marcus the good news. Marcus had been in counseling for six weeks, seemed to be dealing with the loss of his mother well enough to keep his grades up, and had been hinting that he needed something to do. Something constructive that would occupy his free time and provide a little wholesome entertainment. Plenty of activities had already been planned to get them through the holidays. Marcus should be fine until the new year, especially since Julio had agreed to them for Christmas this year. Their first holiday gathering at their home. Everyone had been invited; and there should be a crowd. Jo had been beside herself all month, trying to get everything ready—everything perfect. And the news he had to share with her today would make the holidays even more exciting.

Paul borrowed long white tables and matching chairs from the church supply, and Jo decorated them with care. She had spent months making covers for the backs of the chairs, embroidering the corners of two deep red tablecloths and matching cloth napkins. As she lowered the centerpiece on the second table, she sighed with contentment. Perfect. “Wow,” said Paul, as he slipped his arms around her waist. “It looks perfect.” “Just what I was thinking,” said Jo, with a laugh. “Our first family Christmas in our own home.” Josephine Sterling had dreamed of just such a Christmas since the tender age of five. For hours, she would search through magazines and catalogs, cutting out picture after picture. She had begun, naturally, with bridal magazines. She cut out glossies of perfect wedding gowns and perfect wedding rings. She had even gone so far as to cut out pictures of the perfect china pattern, silver and stemware then attached them to a cork bulletin board, which she hung on her bedroom wall. Once everything had been set in place for the wedding, she replaced the old pictures with pictures of the perfect house, the perfect landscaping. Then she moved on to perfect holidays, complete with families who stood around, smiling at each other, in front of a perfect Christmas tree. She chuckled as she looked around the room. “What?” said Paul. “Oh, I was just ing all the “perfect” pictures I cut out of magazines and catalogs when I was a kid. The perfect wedding dress, the perfect groom, the perfect house, even the perfect family around a perfect Christmas tree.” “How do we measure up?” “Perfect,” she said.

And she meant it. Up to this point, their marriage had been perfect. All they needed was the pitter-patter of little feet, to make their picture-perfect lives, complete. Jo turned to face her husband, reached up on tiptoe, and kissed him. Paul kissed her back, and her heart soared. Perfect. The doorbell rang, and Jo stepped out of her husband’s embrace. Little chills raced down her spine and she had to giggle. This was it. A family Christmas. In her own home. “Something smells delicious,” said Aunt Pearl, as she hugged Josephine. “Of course, it does,” said Jo. “It’s your recipe for dressing.” “I knew it smelled familiar.” Aunt Pearl chuckled, a twinkle in her eye that brought joy to Jo’s heart. This dear, courageous woman had sacrificed the chance at a personal life of her own, in order to give Jo a home. Jo would be eternally grateful for her aunt’s sacrifice, her faithfulness, her love. A thrill ran through her, now that she could open her home to Paul’s entire family, as well, knowing they had also grown to love her. To accept her. The past had been firmly planted in the past, where it would stay. Catherine Baldwin Churchwell and her husband, Tommy arrived next. Their love story alone would fill a novel. Jo had asked Catherine a million questions, until Catherine had shared the long and challenging history that had led to Catherine marrying her high school sweetheart. Life didn’t come without duress, in one form or another, for every human since Adam and Eve. ‘Twas the way of a fallen world. God sent Holy Spirit to help keep us afloat, promising to never leave us or forsake us, and ultimately to work all things together for our good. Satan had evil intentions for God’s children; but God had the final say. We are held in the palm of His hand, where nothing can get to us, without His permission. “We could use some help unloading the truck,” said Catherine, breaking into Jo’s thoughts. “I may have gone a little overboard this year.”

“This year?” said Paul. “I thought overboard was a tradition.” “Ha ha,” said Catherine. “Wait till you and Jo have a child. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” The laughter sounded good. The food smelled incredible, and the space underneath the tree disappeared altogether, crammed with package after package. “Okay, everyone,” said Jo. “Let’s gather around the table and say grace, so we can eat before all this effort goes to waste.” Every member of the family seemed to take that moment to think of something to say, and chatter filled the room with joy and excitement. Jo didn’t think her joy could reach any greater heights. Then the unthinkable happened. Jo had a tight grip on the large bowl of mashed potatoes she carried into the dining room from the kitchen. Two steps through the doorway, she let out a scream of pain and the bowl went crashing to the floor. Jo crumpled beside it. Paul jumped up and reached her in two seconds flat. “Jo,” cried Paul. “Jo,” he said again, his voice rising in pitch and volume. “What’s happening?” “I. Don’t. Know,” said Jo, between deep breaths. “The…pain is…excruciating.” “Somebody call 911,” said Paul. “I’m on it,” said Pearl. Catherine took it upon herself to clean up the mess. James and Kimberly gathered in the corner and started to pray. And Matt went outside to wait for the EMTs. Paul led his wife to the sofa and helped her lie down. “It’ll be okay, Love,” he whispered. “Help is on the way. Don’t be afraid. God has you in the palm of His hand.”

Paul kept a tight grip on Jo’s hand while he called the senior pastor with his other hand, thankful for speed dial. “Thank you,” said Paul, ending the call. “I called Jacob,” he said to Jo. “He’ll meet us at the hospital.” Jo didn’t answer, didn’t even open her eyes. So still. So quiet. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Dear Lord, please take care of Jo. I claim healing over her body, and mercy over our lives, in the powerful name of Jesus. “Get out,” he whispered, fiercely. “Any demon of Satan who may be lingering near, ready to cause damage and destroy one of God’s children. Be gone, in the name of Jesus. For in His presence, you cannot stand.” Paul opened his eyes to see everyone in the room either watching them or praying for them. Even Marcus and Julio had ed the prayer circle that James and Kimberly had started. Paul had known this kind of pain before. His mind raced right back to that rainy day when Jo had fallen into the lake. It had taken several attempts to get her breathing again. That incident had been premeditated; but this was a mystery. A total mystery. Jo had not exhibited any signs of distress before today. She had not complained of pain or nausea, or anything. But Paul knew that the body used pain as a warning. Getting Jo to the hospital was imperative. “Thank you all for your prayers,” he said, looking around at his family. “Feel free to stay and eat. I’ll be going with Jo to the hospital.” Everyone started talking at once, again. Paul couldn’t make out every comment; but it seemed no one would be eating an early Christmas dinner, this year. He expected all of them to show up at the hospital, and Pearl would likely lead the pack. Later that afternoon, the family went back to the house, quiet and concerned. The mood had shifted from joyful to anxious, at best. That evening, around six o’clock, Marcus left with Julio. He would be staying with his brother until school started back up in January. The following morning, most everyone else returned to their respective homes. Paul would let them know as soon as he knew something.

Pearl Sterling, however, had refused to leave. Jo had been released from the hospital early Friday afternoon. Paul felt certain he could handle his wife’s needs, on his own. He didn’t want to have to juggle his job, his wife, and his mother-in-law, all at the same time. His flexible schedule allowed for him to stop by the house several times a day. If necessary, someone would take up the slack and Paul could stay with her for an entire day. Whether it be because she felt physically disabled or emotionally distraught, he would do whatever it took to make her comfortable. “I’m okay, Aunt Pearl,” said Jo, making Paul release the pent-up breath he’d been holding. “Really. I have an appointment for next week with a specialist in Dallas. Until then, there is nothing to say or do. Paul can take care of me until after the holidays.” “Are you sure?” “I promise.” “Paul?” Paul took the opportunity to assure Jo’s aunt that he could be trusted. That her little girl would be left in good hands. “Yes, ma’am, Aunt Pearl, I promise to take good care of her. And if things get hairy around here, I will definitely call you to come to the rescue.” He didn’t really need to say it. Aunt Pearl would stand for nothing less. He hoped it made her feel better about leaving, though. Whatever had gone wrong and caused Jo so much pain had not been disclosed. The doctors had been unwilling to stick their necks out by making a declaration, instead deferring to the doctors in Dallas. Big-name doctors who’d better know what they were doing, if they didn’t want the entire Baldwin clan breathing down their necks. “See that you do.” “Yes, ma’am.” Paul had a huge measure of respect for Pearl Sterling. She had raised Jo with no trace of regret or selfish desire. Because of this dear woman, Josephine knew the Lord, knew she had been truly loved. Paul felt certain that Jo owed her physical life to Pearl Sterling. And he would do what needed to be

done to show her the respect she deserved, just as surely as he would care for Jo with the same degree of deference. “Okay?” said Jo, staring at her aunt. Paul could read the hope in her eyes. Neither he nor Jo wanted to slight Pearl, in the least. She meant too much to them. “I guess,” said Pearl. “I hate to leave you, though.” “Trust me. I’ll call,” said Paul, not giving Jo a chance to answer. Certain that Pearl would finagle her way into staying, if at all possible. And Paul knew it wasn’t necessary. Not yet, anyway. He prayed with everything in him that all would go well, and he wouldn’t have to make that call. Pearl went home. Paul took Jo to Dallas. And the holiday season ed, slowly and quietly, as they waited for test results. Jo snuggled closer to Paul and sighed with satisfaction when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Being his wife had been the best time of her entire life. Aunt Pearl had raised her with a strong and abiding love, filled with comion and self-sacrifice. Just the kind of mother Jo wanted to be. But back then, she could not have imagined the kind of love she would feel from a spouse. Paul completed her, to the depths of her soul. Sadly, a part of her still ached. Something tangible was missing. She had wondered about it over the years but considered the possibility that motherhood had been put on hold so she could get past whatever this current malady might be. She wanted a child, almost desperately. The fact that she had not conceived during their marriage slammed into her heart, and tears sprang immediately to her eyes. The pain she had experienced at Christmas made the dream seem so much more fragile. The fact that the hospital in Nashville had referred her to a specialist in Texas, unnerved her. She didn’t know what to expect, and she didn’t like that feeling. Not even a little bit. “Jo?” Paul’s voice bounced around in her head until it finally reached her ears. She turned in her seat to face him, straight on.

“What’s going on?” he said. “I guess this is as good a time as any,” she said, brushing at the tears that had collected on her cheeks. But she hadn’t expected to bring up the subject of babies, or the lack thereof, until after the new year had begun, they had settled into a routine—and well, she didn’t know what. But now, she had let Paul see her tears, and needed to explain herself. The visit to the hospital had been real. Heck, Paul was probably thinking the same thing himself. She might as well put it out there. Paul sat there silently, waiting, so Jo decided to just say straight out what was on her mind. She looked down at her hands and whispered, “Do you ever wonder why we haven’t conceived? We’ve been trying for so long I’m beginning to think… I’m beginning to think that the pain I experienced at Christmas was God’s way of preparing me for the worst.” Her voice trailed off into nothing, and silence engulfed them. Jo began to tremble, and the tears came in a steady stream. Paul would no longer want her if she couldn’t give him a child. Would he? After all, they’d been planning a family since the moment they realized their feelings ran deep enough to make a lifelong commitment. What if that never happened? Could never happen? Jo didn’t dare raise her head, afraid of what she would see in his eyes. Paul moved close enough for their knees to touch. Jo jumped at the and began to cry even harder. He reached over her lap and gently lifted her chin, until their eyes met. This beautiful woman, who had quickly become his life, even before she had agreed to become his wife, seemed to be cratering right before his eyes. Over a maybe, over a possibility that might never come true. He felt stunned, almost helpless. Dear Lord, tell me what to say. What to do. How I can help her, assure her? Make her believe she is enough. “Jo baby,” he said, “please listen to me very carefully.” He lifted his free hand and gently wiped away a tear, agony for her pulling through him like a raging river. “There are two things I want you to thoroughly, completely, no-matterwhat, believe. One, you are the absolute love of my life. You complete me, beyond anything I could have imagined. And two, whether we ever have a child

of our own—or not—could never change or diminish that fact. No way. Not ever. Do you understand?” Jo dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. Paul pulled her to her feet. He embraced her, gently rocking from side to side, whispering in her ear, believing the words he prayed would heal her, seal their love, under any circumstances, forever. Once her shoulders stopped shaking and the sobs dwindled to intermittent hiccups, Paul took a half step back, one hand on each of her shoulders, pouring love out through his eyes, and praying with every fiber of his being that Jo would read the message he longed to portray. A full minute ed before a smile transformed Jo’s face with a look of hope. Yes, progress! And he didn’t wait for her mood to shift back the other way. Just tilted his head and bent down to capture her lips with his own. He kissed her with all the ion running through his veins. Kissed her with his whole heart. When he stopped to take a breath, he whispered, “Do you believe me?” Oh yes, she believed him. Knew he loved her, with his entire being. But they didn’t have the test results yet. They didn’t really know whether she could have children or not. And what if she couldn’t? How could Paul know, now, how he would actually feel, when the truth could no longer be denied? She closed her eyes and prayed with all the fervor she had in her. “Jo,” said Paul. The urgency in his voice made her eyes popped open. She saw pure love looking back at her. Oh, how she wanted to give this man a child. His awesome character traits needed to be ed down. Any little girl would love to be blessed with his thick golden hair; and a boy would provide yet another Baldwin generation who loved the Lord and would add to the growing godly family legacy. It’ll break his heart if I can’t be a mother to his children, Lord. How could I live with that? “Jo,” Paul said again, a little more firmly, his concern evident and urgent.

Jo took Paul’s hands in hers and pulled him back down on the loveseat. “I’m afraid, Paul. Afraid something is wrong with me.” “Oh, sweetie, please don’t be afraid. I’ll be with you through it all. No matter what. And I meant what I said, Jo. Whether we have a child of our own, or not, wasn’t a condition on which I based my marriage vows. And I hope it wasn’t for you, either. God brought us together for a reason, gave us a mission to carry out, has entrusted the lives of lots of young people into our care. Together. I couldn’t make it without you. Don’t ever think I could.”

The news from the doctor had not been good; and Jo had cried softly through the trip back then most of the night, once they returned home from Dallas. Not a great start for the new year. Paul had held her and let her cry—his soothing words meant to encourage her. Meant to help her believe their marriage could survive endometriosis, just as their relationship had survived the upheaval and trauma that had come at them in the past. Morning came, the sun rose, and Jo woke up in the arms of her sweet faithful husband. She watched his sleeping form and marveled at his declarations of love and acceptance. Filled her soul with the comion and unconditional love he had expounded to her, over and over, until sleep overcame her. She loved him so much—too much to ask him to stay with her at the cost of never having children. But she couldn’t tell him as much. He would talk her out of leaving. That much she knew. So, when Paul woke up and smiled into her eyes, she smiled right back—even leaned in close and kissed him. A long, sad kiss of goodbye, even if he didn’t know it. She wanted him to believe that the matter had been settled in her heart. That she could live with infertility as well as the next woman.

Chapter Eighteen

Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord (James 5:14 NIV).

“I know she’s there, Pearl,” said Paul. “Where else would she go? Please let me speak to her.” Pearl let out a breath that made Paul’s blood run cold. Surely, she wouldn’t keep him from seeing Jo, who had run away out of some insane kind of guilt, or something. So, she might not be able to have children. Did he care? Well, yes, he cared as far as the fact that Jo wanted a child very much. She wanted to give him a child very much. Had convinced herself, despite his efforts to persuade her otherwise, that she would not be good enough for him, if she really couldn’t have children. She had only been gone 48 hours, and he was already about to lose his sanity. He could not, would not live the rest of his life without her. “You know I want to,” he heard Pearl say, her voice breaking through the agony that screamed through his soul. “She says it’s better for you, this way. And she won’t budge.” Paul let out something akin to a growl. After all they’d been through, he couldn’t believe this was happening. How could Jo think, for a second, he would not want her—for any reason? If they wanted to raise a child, there was certainly no shortage of children who needed a home. He had told her, repeatedly, how he felt. Why did she not believe him? “I can’t take this, Pearl. What am I supposed to do?” Paul heard a noise in the background, like the wind rushing in when a door opens. When the noise stopped, Pearl spoke again. “I can’t let you come to the house, Paul,” she whispered, as though ears were listening from somewhere in the house. “I just can’t. But if you want my opinion, I’d say no one can keep you from coming to the hospital.” “What? What hospital? When? Pearl, what on God’s green earth is going on? She’s only been gone two days, and I feel like I’m being left out of her entire

life. Please help me understand.” What would he do if Jo refused to let him come? Years and years and years of obstacles and miracles had defined their union. Paul believed God had brought them together. Believed it with his whole heart. God knew what challenges they would face and had arranged a way for them to overcome every single one of them! Paul could not fathom a life without Jo in it. Refused to accept the possibility. “I’m sorry, Paul,” said Pearl, breaking into his thoughts again. “I can’t even imagine how you must feel. But here’s the deal. Josephine had another spell yesterday.” “Pearl!” Paul’s exasperation level was about to fly off the charts. This separation was pure agony, and uncalled for, and ridiculous. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have called you. Anyway, I threw a fit, and insisted she call that doctor in Dallas.” “Okay,” said Paul, trying with his whole being to understand, trying to stay calm. “What did he say?” “The hospital called this morning. They have scheduled her surgery for Friday morning.” Five days away. “Good grief, Pearl,” he groaned, too frustrated to even cry, although he felt a flood building behind his eyes. “Were you even planning to call me at all?” “Yes, of course, Paul. I promise. But she watches me like a hawk. There she is now, calling me. I’ve got to run. Goodbye, Paul.” Click. Pearl had ended the call. Just like that. “No matter,” he mumbled. “I know which doctor, in which hospital, and I know

the day.” Pearl was certainly right about one thing. No one would be able to keep him out of that hospital. Paul swiped his phone back to life and began making phone calls. Josephine Baldwin would be showered with so much love when she woke up in that hospital room, she would not be able to push all of them away. And she especially would not be able to push him away.

Paul sat in the waiting room with his mother, his brothers, his sister, his grandmother, and Aunt Pearl. He had sent Pearl a text earlier in the week, so she wouldn’t freak out when his entire family showed up at the hospital. It had taken very little encouragement to convince everyone to rearrange schedules, so they could all show Jo how much they loved her. How much it didn’t matter if she would never be able to have children. “How you holding up, Pearl?” said Paul. “I’m a nervous wreck. How about you?” “The same. Sort of.” “Sort of?” Paul swallowed hard. He didn’t want Pearl to think he didn’t care about Jo, or the outcome of the surgery. He did. For lots of reasons. “Well, you know as well as I do that God has Jo in the palm of His hand, right?” “Right.” “Well, I just have a feeling that everything is going to work out for the best. I prayed a long time about it, obviously. What else did I have to do? I was going nuts in that house, all by myself. Prayer was my only refuge. “Anyway, even if it turns out that Jo can’t have a child of her own, I believe she will come to the realization, perhaps after much prayer and meditation, combined with the massive prayer chain we have going, that life can be lived to the full, even if children are not a product of our union. It has worked okay for you, am I right? And you have the greatest influence with her, when it comes to unconditional love and self-sacrifice.” Paul took Pearl’s hand in his own when the tears immediately flooded her eyes. He prayed silently that he would have the words that would calm her, reassure her, help her believe that he understood how much she loved her little Josephine, and had not regretted anything that other people might think she had “given up” to help an abused child. Her niece turned daughter, whom Pearl would give her

life for. Then, and now. “Oh, Paul,” she said, between sniffles, “I could not have asked God for a better daughter. And I would not, ever, have settled for the life I dreamed about with Dr. Patrick Blake, without her. Not for a second. I have not one single regret.” Her voice came out rough, emotionally charged, but strong and confident, all at the same time. “I knew it,” said Paul. “You’ll see. Jo will come around. Everything is going to turn out just fine.” Paul looked up simultaneously with his entire family, as the surgeon entered the waiting room. He jumped up, Pearl right after. They approached the surgeon, together, a united front. A mother and a spouse, equally charged with hope for Jo. “Don’t look so worried,” said the doctor. “The surgery went well. We were blessed to discover much less evidence of endometriosis than I expected to find, especially after two back-to-back episodes. I’m encouraged by that. I’m confident I’ll be able to release Mrs. Baldwin later this evening.” “That’s great, Dr. Harper,” said Paul. “How soon can we see her?” The nervous quiver that had zinged through Paul’s bloodstream all day finally settled down. God had answered his prayers. Jo would be fine. They would be fine. They had a future together. He just knew it. “In about an hour, I expect,” he heard the doctor say. “A nurse will come and tell you when Mrs. Baldwin has been moved to a room.” He looked at Paul. “Are you the husband?” “Yes.” “I thought I recognized you. May I have a word with you in the hall?” “Of course.” Paul squeezed Pearl’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right back, and we’ll talk.”

In the hallway, Paul braced himself for whatever the doctor might throw at him. The look the surgeon gave him didn’t help the nerves that had been building up since the day before. Surely, they weren’t looking at something more ominous than a mild case of endometriosis. Not cancer. Please, Lord, not that. “I must caution you,” said Dr. Harper. “Even mild cases of endometriosis, such as your wife’s, can increase the risk for pregnancy and delivery complications. And there is a higher risk for miscarriage, as well.” Paul absorbed the doctor’s words. So, not cancer. They could be grateful for that much, at least. He made himself listen to the doctor’s entire spiel. If there were specific things they needed to do in order to make Jo more comfortable, he didn’t want to be remiss in her care. But a huge burden lifted when the doctor pronounced that they definitely were not looking at cancer. Not even pre-cancer. Praise the good Lord! “Are you saying it is possible for Jo to have children of her own, after all?” The doctor frowned, making Paul’s heart drop to his toes. “Possible, yes. But I must caution you,” he said again. “Your wife wants a child very much.” “Yes, she does. Even more than you can imagine.” Just the thought that not having a child had chased Jo away from him, out of their home, out of his life, made him sick to think about. Was this doctor trying to tell him that something more sinister than endometriosis could come into play here? “I do understand,” continued the doctor. “I deal with this type of emotional pressure on a regular basis. But before you decide to take the chance, please consider how devastated your wife would be if she miscarried a child. Would that be worse than facing the future without a child at all? You might consider adoption, if you believe the possibility of losing a child would be too much for her.” Paul frowned then. This doctor was telling him that Jo could have a child, but that she should not even try. If Jo knew that, Paul felt certain she would guffaw at the news and tell the good doctor to get out of her way. If God brought them a baby, Jo would carry it, protect it in her womb, and trust God to carry them through to full-term. If Jo knew, she would not give up. Not ever. Not even for a

second. “I realize it is not my business what personal choices you decide to make,” said the doctor, as if he could read the declaration in Paul’s head. “But I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I feel it is my duty to suggest you take great care for your wife’s mental and emotional health, before you agree to take on the risk of pregnancy. Endometriosis is unpleasant and painful, even more so during pregnancy, should it return. And I’m not saying it will. I’m just saying, you need to be aware of the possibilities.” Dr. Harper fell silent and Paul left him, the doctor’s words ringing in his ears. When Paul returned to the family, all eyes were on him. But he moved first, to stand before Aunt Pearl. “She’s fine, Pearl. Really. For now. The doctor just wanted to caution me about pregnancy. The endometriosis could return, which would mean a high-risk pregnancy and delivery. But right now, she’s fine. I promise. He told me there were no signs of cancer, or even pre-cancer. She’s fine.” He couldn’t seem to quit saying it, maybe for his own reassurance, maybe for Pearl’s. But repeating that Jo was just fine, made him feel better. She’s fine. Really. Pearl let the tears fall, and Paul’s heart broke for her. Pearl, more than anyone among them, knew Jo’s heart. Knew her heart for children, and the dream she had long-carried to have a child of her own. Knew what it meant to love a child more than one’s own life. Catherine stood and ed them, reaching an arm across Pearl’s shoulders. “We’re here for both of you, Pearl. If you need anything, ever, please don’t hesitate to call on any one of us.” “Thank you,” said Pearl, sniffling, wringing her hands. It hurt Paul’s heart to watch her. He could not identify with the agony of a parent’s broken heart. He only knew his own struggle, as he watched his wife give up on their life together, because of a maybe. If Pearl’s pain exceeded his own, she needed all the understanding she could get. And he would be there for her, no matter what. “Maybe we should run down to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat while we have a chance,” said Paul. “Jo needs her rest. We can see her in a bit; and I for one want to be able to talk to her without my stomach growling.”

He tried to laugh, but nothing seemed funny. So, he just shrugged off the attempt at humor and let his mother respond. “That’s a good idea,” said Catherine. “Come on, Pearl. You need to eat, too. We will be back here in plenty of time to find out what room Jo will be in. Okay?” “It’s probably a good idea,” said Pearl. “Even though I hate to get that far away from her. Did he say how soon she can go home?” Paul was happy to give her that answer. “Good news there,” he said. “Jo will be released this evening.” Pearl cried harder, and Paul took the liberty of resting an arm across her shoulders and pulling her in for a hug. He had a hard time dealing with her agony. But he figured the extra tears had come as a release of the tension that had held her together, to this point. And he could identify with her hesitancy to leave the waiting room, as well. But keeping up their strength could go a long way when Jo needed to borrow some from them. “I’ll tell the nurses where we’ll be,” said Paul, releasing Pearl and turning toward the nurse’s station. “In case they need us.” “Thank you,” said Pearl, taking in a shuddering breath. But she seemed to have calmed down, and that gave Paul hope that she would get through this, too. “That would make me feel better.” After witnessing the agony Pearl had gone through when she’d left Jo in the care of someone else for part of a weekend, Paul felt sure she would need them to help her get through this ordeal. Pearl ached for Jo just as much as if she had been born to Pearl, beyond the love of adoption. Pearl’s great love for Jo had been formed long before the adoption procedure had been finalized. Maybe even from the moment Jo had been born. The Baldwins would stand by Jo and Pearl, alike, whatever it might take to see them through to the other side of this dark valley. After lunch, the entire crew squeezed into one elevator and rode back upstairs, where a nurse told them what room they had moved Jo into, while they waited for her release papers to be signed. She was awake and could see one or two people at a time.

“Pearl,” said Paul. “She doesn’t know we are all here, does she?” Pearl looked sheepish for a second, glanced down at the floor and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was.” Of course. If Jo was too upset to even stay home with him, why would she want him at the hospital? He had to come to with the reality that Jo felt like a failure, that seeing him might trigger that feeling even more. But, no matter what Pearl might say right now, Paul would not leave this hospital before he had an opportunity to speak with his wife. Alone, one-on-one, and have a heartfelt talk with her. He would get on his knees and beg if he had to. The plan was to take her home with him. They could face this together. He prayed with all his heart that Jo would agree to go home with him. “I understand,” he said, even though he didn’t entirely understand any of this. He didn’t understand why Jo thought he might not want her. He didn’t understand why she ran away. He didn’t understand much right now, but he wanted to. “So, you definitely need to see her first,” he conceded. “You can tell her we’re here, or you can leave it up to me. But I fully intend to see her today, Pearl.” He needed to make his feelings understood. Pearl smiled through her tears, and the first ray of hope began to melt the cold fear in Paul’s heart. Maybe Pearl was on his side. On their side. Maybe Pearl knew that Paul and Jo still belonged together. “I’m counting on it,” said Pearl, with a wink. “You need your wife at home. And if you could hear her talking at my house, you’d know she wants to be there with you. Might take some convincing; but I have faith that God, me, you and all your family, will be able to get her past this. She’s too young to give up so readily. Too stubborn for her own good sometimes.” Aunt Pearl stepped out of Jo’s room with a tired look of acceptance and regret, and Paul’s stomach clenched. What if Jo refused to see him? Would he defy her wishes and push his way in? Yes, he would. She had to know his heart. And he would insist she look him in the eye, if she intended to be rid of him. “I told her you are here, Paul. She has agreed to see you.”

A breath of expectancy gushed out of him and tears filled his eyes. He didn’t know what he would have done if she had refused to see him. Well, he did, but she might not appreciate it. He pushed the thought away. So far, he had a green light, to at least talk to his wife. He’d worry about what to say, when he got in there. “Thank you, Aunt Pearl. Really.” “You’re welcome.” Paul turned to the rest of his family. “I should probably go in alone first, okay?” “Of course,” said Catherine. “We’ll be in the waiting room. Please come with us, Pearl.” “I could use a cup of coffee,” said Pearl. “It feels like I’ve lived a year in the space of the last few weeks. I’m emotionally exhausted.” “Good,” said Catherine. “We’ll go now. So, text me when you’re ready for us, Paul.” Paul hugged his mother without another word, accepted the pats on the back from his brothers and the hug from Kimmie then turned to enter Jo’s room. He stood in the doorway and stared at her. She looked pale and weak and…and so sad. Give me Your words, Lord. “Hi,” he said, trying to sound upbeat, but comionate, at the same time. When Jo looked over at him, he rushed to her side. Tears already streaked down her face in a flood of anguish. When she spoke, he had to strain to pick up the words. So, he didn’t worry about what she was trying to say, just read her body language, and knew she wanted to be held. Don’t try to fix her, Paul. Just hold her. Be here for her. This is not the time to offer solutions. Five full minutes ed before the sobbing slowed down. But even then, Paul did not release his hold on his wife. As long as he was holding her, she was with

him, not off somewhere hiding from reality. From their life together. From him. “Jo,” he finally whispered, “what do you need from me?” Paul felt Jo’s chest rumble as she took in a shuddering breath. He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. “Please talk to me, sweetheart.” “What is left to say?” “Say you’ll come home with me. We can figure out the rest from there.” She had to believe he needed her at home with him. No matter what any doctor said, or how she felt about her own body. Even if she felt inadequate, did not mean she was. They had been made for each other. He’d known it from their first conversation. And he wasn’t willing to walk away so easily. Or to let her walk away. Not without a fight. A loving, adoring, I-can’t-live-without-you fight. “Do you realize what you are saying?” “Oh yes,” said Paul. “Do you realize what I am saying?” Jo looked deep into her husband’s eyes. My, how she loved him. Could he really want her, even if it meant never having a child of his own? Could they build a life together, knowing they would never share that bond? Never watch a baby coo up at them from a crib. Or watch a toddler learn to walk. Or cry and pray together through the turbulent teens. Or beam with pride when their child walked across the stage to accept his college diploma. “Yes,” came out in a whisper. “Good. Then we can handle anything life throws at us. Together. Right?” She wanted to say no. She wanted to run and never look back. She wanted to confront God and ask Him if He knew what was happening to them. But it was a lie. She didn’t want to say no or run away and never look back. She wanted to be

with Paul Baldwin till the end of her days. And God could worry about what He was going to do about her condition. He could reverse it, if He was of a mind to. For the first time in weeks, Jo smiled. A genuine, from-the-heart smile that said more than she could say in words. “Right,” she said. “Together.” Paul kissed her then. And she let him. She needed to feel loved and accepted. She needed Paul Baldwin. She clung to him, like a life preserver, her fist clenched into the fabric of his shirt, her tears rolling down her cheeks, even as her other hand pulled him closer, and closer. Jo Sterling Baldwin needed to count her blessings and stop complaining, feeling sorry for herself. Wishing she could have something she just couldn’t have. Paul loved her. That’s all that mattered today. Tomorrow could take care of itself. Paul pulled back after kissing his wife with everything in him. “I have something to tell you,” he said. “Oh?” He only hesitated for a second, unsure of how she would feel about the crowd waiting to see her. “Uh, the family is here,” he said, with caution. “All of them. And they want to see you. Would you be okay with that?” His heart healed in an instant when Jo nodded her head and smiled again. “Great. They’re down in the waiting room. I’ll just text them. So, brace yourself for lots of hugging and loving.” “I’m ready,” she said, weak, but certain, so far as Paul could tell. He texted Catherine, before Jo had a chance to change her mind.

Valentine’s Day arrived a little less than a month after Jo returned home from surgery. Paul wanted to make this special day the most romantic, memorable event he could possibly come up with. He had made the reservation before Thanksgiving—before any fears had been confessed by Jo. Before her collapse, or any test results had been revealed—before the bad news. He wanted to make sure Jo was aware of that particular piece of information, so she wouldn’t think this night had been arranged out of pity. He wanted his wife to know how much he loved her. No conditions. The Sugar Creek Carriages driver would be ready at six o’clock. Paul glanced down at his watch. Four-thirty. Good, he still had plenty of time to stop by the jewelry store, where Jo’s gift waited to be picked up. Paul thanked God, yet again, during the treacherous ride over, for the rare gift of snow, a foot of it, which had fallen during the night. How much more magical could Valentine’s Day get? Especially in Nashville, Tennessee, where snow remained a rarity. Especially as late as mid-February. Paul had had chains put on the Yukon’s tires then drove carefully through the streets of Nashville, hyper-mindful of every driver and extra cautious at every intersection. His mind couldn’t help but wander to a certain well-respected music director who had served the same congregation for many years, and the accident that took his life. Charles Jacobs had set out one afternoon on Valentine’s Day. He purchased a dozen roses for his wife of thirty-five years then headed back toward their home. Only to be T-boned by a drunk driver who ran a stop sign a few blocks from their home. Mutilated roses had been thrown about the vehicle, a sad picture of the end of a beautiful relationship. Charles Jacobs ed away from his injuries a mere two days following the accident. Paul did not want a repeat of that accident. He pushed the incident out of his head as he made the corner, headed for Shane Co. An empty parking spot emerged right in front of the store, and Paul set his mind on the evening ahead of him. He pulled gingerly into the space, thanked God for a safe arrival then killed the engine. He stepped carefully out onto a freshlysalted parking space. Good job, Shane Co., he thought, for the sidewalk ahead of him had been covered in a heated mat, right up to the shop door. The interior of Shane Co. felt heavenly when Paul stepped inside, out of the unseasonably cold

day. “Come in. Come in,” said the shop manager. Paul searched for the man’s name, finally settling on Alec. Yes, that seemed right. “We have your order ready, Mr. Baldwin. Step right this way, and I’ll get it for you.” “Thank you, Alec,” said Paul, hoping memory served him well. He ed thinking of the Baldwin actor when he’d first met Alec. The correlation between the manager sharing the actor’s first name, and the actor sharing Paul’s last name, had made the name game relatively simple. When Alec spread a black velvet cloth over a small stand without correcting his name, Paul relaxed. Alec gently placed the two custom pieces on the velvet cloth. A gasp took Paul’s breath at the sight of them. “Oh. They are exquisite,” he said, genuinely pleased. “There are hardly words.” Paul could imagine the look on Jo’s face when she saw them. He prayed they would work as a healing balm, and she could put the test results out of her head. She could believe, without a doubt, that his love for her stretched at least to the ends of life on this earth. No matter what. “So pleased you are pleased, sir. You have excellent taste, Mr. Baldwin.” “In jewelry, and in a bride,” said Paul, pleased with himself. The small but elegant gifts seemed perfect. Paul pulled into the garage and killed the engine. Tonight, had to be special enough to make up for the fact that surgery had confirmed endometriosis, albeit a mild case, according to the surgeon. Even so, the condition automatically came with a high-risk factor, especially during pregnancy and delivery. He did not want to chance his wife’s life, or the life of their child. After much debate, many tears, and repetitive conversations with not only himself, but with Aunt Pearl, Catherine and Grammi, Jo had finally agreed to come home. If she happened to get pregnant, they would deal with it, as part of God’s plan. And if they never had a biological child together, they would deal with it, as part of God’s plan. Jo had promised to accept God’s will, whichever way it went. She promised to stop worrying about it, to search for the joy in every new day. To live life more abundantly, just like the good Lord promised. She had finally come to with her condition, and just wanted to be Paul Baldwin’s wife. To be with him every

day. To love him, so long as God saw fit for them to live. It had about killed him while he waited for her to reach all those conclusions; but she had. And if he had to, he would do it all again. Paul had told Jo, yet again, just the night before, that it didn’t matter whether they had biological children of their own, or not. They could, just as they had been doing all along, love every kid God sent their way. Just like they loved Marcus and Julio, and all the other youth kids God had sent them to shepherd. They could be foster parents again, adopt, or whatever Jo felt led to do. He would be there for her. There were plenty of children in the world who needed unconditional love. Just like Aunt Pearl loved Jo. He even went so far as to get Aunt Pearl on the phone again, to explain, from the bottom of her heart, how rewarding it had been for Pearl to raise Josephine as her own daughter, never regretting for a second, that Pearl did not have a biological child of her own. That’s when Jo began to soften up a little. “Thank you for Aunt Pearl,” said Paul, whispering a prayer. Paul’s love meter still read off the charts for his beautiful bride. Nothing could change or diminish his love for her. Nothing. No way. No how. Even in the seriousness of such sentiment, Paul found himself chuckling, ing the Wizard of Oz. Funny, how the smallest things could trigger embedded memories from long ago. But the man behind the curtain zipped right out of Paul’s brain the second he returned home and entered the living room. He stopped dead in his tracks at the vision before him. “Jo,” came out in a whispered breath. Her broad smile set his feet in motion. “You’ve never been more beautiful.” Paul lifted Jo’s hand and kissed the back of it, wishing he could abandon every lovely plan he’d made, mess up her hair, and kiss every perfect palette of makeup off her face. The ion that roared through his body must have shone in his eyes, because Jo exclaimed, a little breathy herself, “Oh my, Mr. Baldwin. It’s getting warm in here.”

Chapter Nineteen

For this command is a lamp, this teaching is a light, and correction and instruction are the way to life (Proverbs 6:23 NIV).

Paul snuggled close to his wife in the carriage, where a thick blanket topped by a mink throw covered their laps. They clasped mitten-clad hands beneath the warmth and enjoyed every minute of the sleigh ride. As the horse-drawn carriage meandered slowly along the appointed path that had been salted in preparation, Paul and Jo Baldwin soaked up the beautiful scenery. A light snow continued to fall, dusting their shoulders with its powdery whiteness, and making rooftops even more pronounced. “It smells so fresh,” said Jo. “Like winter represents new life, as though God has blessed us with a special gift. Snow in Nashville, as late as February, truly a blessing.” “Speaking of special gifts,” said Paul. “I have something for you.” He pulled the small gifts from his overcoat pocket and set the wide flat box on top of the mink, a prayer in his heart. She had to get it, this time. She had to. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my one and only true love. I love you from the depths of my soul.” Jo removed the sparkling gold bow. With great care she removed the tape from each end and let the red velvet box slide out. Paul reached out and opened it for her when he realized her hands were shaking too much to manage the task. “Here,” he said. “Allow me.” When the hinge stopped the top from falling back and he heard Jo gasp, he kissed her temple. “I love you, Jo.”

“Oh, Paul.” The twinkle in her eye warmed his heart. He lifted the gold bar necklace with JO BALDWIN engraved in the center, out of the box. She turned, lifted her hair, and let him clasp the necklace around her neck. “It’s so beautiful,” she said, with a sniffle. “I’m glad you like it.” Paul lifted the second piece of jewelry out of the box, encouraged, but still praying. “What does the bracelet say?” said Jo. “Here, I’ll let you read it.” Paul handed the matching gold bar bracelet to Jo. Tears filled her eyes in an instant. “I can’t see,” she said, a cry/chuckle on her lips. “You’ll have to read it for me.” “Okay,” said Paul. “Let me see. Engraved on the front, it says, ‘Paul loves Jo,’ and on the back it reads, ‘Always and forever—no matter what.’” The floodgates opened, and Jo let the tears fall, healing tears to wash away the last remnants of sorrow and regret. Endometriosis had invaded her body and shattered her heart into a million pieces. And now, this kind, loving, generous man, who filled her heart to capacity, had gifted her with a lasting reminder, etched in solid 14K gold, that he loved her, and would love her for always, no matter what. “No conditions,” she whispered, pulling her eyes away from the bracelet, and meeting Paul’s gaze. “None. No way. No how. Not ever. No matter what.” “Thank you for the beautiful gifts. But most of all, thank you for loving me. For accepting me. For being willing to stick by me.”

Jo let Paul hug her for a very long time, all the way to the end of the sleigh ride. Just before the sleigh came to a full stop, she shifted in the seat a smidge, so she could whisper in his ear. “Your gift is waiting in our bedroom back home.” “You don’t say,” he responded, waggling his eyebrows, a grin lighting up his face. “Oh, you,” she said, swatting his arm, but giggling, in spite of herself. “It’s a real gift.” “Well, that will be nice, too,” he said, with a laugh. Jo had commissioned a famous local artist to paint their portrait from one of her favorite photographs. Some might say it would have been better if done from live sittings, but that would have ruined the surprise. And the artist had managed to capture both of their images perfectly, right down to the twinkle in Paul’s eye, and that made the endeavor worthwhile. She’d had in mind for the painting to be displayed in Paul’s office, and felt certain he would love and appreciate it. In fact, the way she felt at the moment, she thought her glow could light the way home. The love that radiated between them would serve as a beacon. People should be coming out of their houses to see what was lighting up the street outside their windows. The drive home, peaceful and serene, reminded Jo how blessed she truly was. How many women in the world could say they had a godly man who loved them through thick and thin, no matter what? She sighed with gratitude, closed her eyes, and let her heart speak to the Lord. Thank You. I know You have a plan for our lives. Together. Help me take my focus off myself and be the servant to the youth you have called us to be. I give the matter of my body over to You, entirely, and look forward to what You have for us as a couple, whether or not we ever have a child of our own.

Two Years and Four Months Later

“Paul!” called Jo, running in from the front door, waving the The Tennessean in her hand. “Look!” Jo raced into the kitchen, where she just about stumbled over Paul, coming out to meet her. She bent over at the waist, trying to catch her breath, and lifted the newspaper up for Paul to see. “Look on page three,” she said, sucking in air, “of the classifieds.” Paul touched her shoulder and Jo looked up at him. “Wanna sit at the table with me?” “Sure,” she said, straightening to stand. “I was so excited, I thought I had to run.” She laughed at herself. “I feel foolish now.” Paul took her hand and walked with her to the table. She still cherished the feel of his hand in hers. It had been nearly three years since the surgery. Still no baby, but she had also been blessed with no further complications from endometriosis. And now this potential job opportunity to immerse herself in the mission God had given them as a couple sent goosebumps up both arms. Having delayed the g of next year’s school contract as a kindergarten teacher, the opportunity filled her with hope. Maybe God had found a place for her that would complement her husband’s calling as a youth minister, after all. God had been tugging at her heart about it, for a while now. “Well, let’s see what all the excitement’s about, shall we?” said Paul. “It must be pretty amazing to make you run all the way from the front yard.” He snickered. “Very funny,” said Jo, following him to the dark oak table. She settled in the seat across from him, where she could see his face, sense his reaction before he spoke a single word. For two years now, she had known what God wanted her to do. And for two years she had looked for this particular ad to show up in the newspaper. She waited now, holding her mouth shut tight, with just the tiny pink

tip of her tongue showing. It only took a moment for Paul to find the ad. She noticed the moment his eyes stopped roaming over the page. Then he seemed to take longer than necessary to read it. She wanted to talk about it. Wanted to email her resume the second she’d noticed the ad. Especially since Marcus had been working at the White Warrior Foundation Youth Activity Center since he’d turned sixteen, nine months ago. He had gone on and on about meeting Samuel White, raved about the benefactor’s interaction with the youth, and said he felt appreciated and valued for the tasks he performed three evenings a week, and half a day every other Saturday. Excitement bubbled up again while she waited for Paul to finally put the newspaper down and look at her. She could hardly stand the wait. But then, she did have a tendency to be a little dramatic about new opportunities. There was just something special about a fresh start. She felt extremely blessed to be with Paul, to have had a clean bill of health for several years running, and now this opportunity had presented itself, and she could hardly stand the wait, to find out if she could get the job, to perform the job in an irable way, to serve others within a godly organization, and fulfill God’s will for her life. She wanted to start tomorrow. “You ready for this?” he finally said. Jo jumped up. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for, well, for forever!” “Forever,” said Paul, deadpan. He didn’t fool her though. She could see the corner of his mouth twitch. He was trying to look serious and not burst out laughing, at the same time. She knew, logically, that two years could not accurately be described as “forever.” But it felt that way. “You know what I mean,” she said, punching his shoulder. “I’m throwing my hat in the ring, at least. Only God knows if I heard Him correctly, or if I was listening to myself, and what I thought He wanted me to do. But look at the timing. This is June. I’m off for the entire summer. I can or cannot sign my contract for the new school year. I put it off this year. Something I never do. And I didn’t take on a summer-school class this year, either. Which is something else

I never do. “I don’t know for sure, Paul,” she said, pushing out a breath. “But this could be my chance to help make a major contribution to the Youth Center. You know how much I’ve loved volunteering there since the center opened. And how impressed Marcus is with the foundation and its benefactor. You’ve heard him go on and on about how much Mr. White seems to really care about the kids who come to the center. I can hardly wait to meet him.” “I wonder why you haven’t?” said Paul. “Good question. Marcus said that Mr. White travels a lot. The timing has just been off, I guess. Anyway, I feel ready, Paul. I really do. If the Board and Mr. White agree, I’m ready to give my all to the Youth Center.” She knew she was rambling. Talking, talking, talking. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted this job in the worst way. She knew it was the perfect fit for her. For Paul. For Marcus. For all of them. “Okay then,” said Paul, his hands raised in surrender. “Let’s have a prayer session, then email that resume. Sound good?” Jo flung her arms around Paul’s neck and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Thanks for believing in me, Paul.” “You know I do.” And like magic, it happened. Jo Baldwin opened the door to the youth center on Monday morning, June 18, in a whole new way. She floated through the door and over to the stairway that led to her office on the second floor. The open concept allowed her to look down on the kids from the walkway outside her office. A heavy-duty iron railing stretched across the opening, the spaces between pipes filled with iron mesh. A proper safety barrier that stood just over waist-high. Jo stood in the center of the walkway and smiled down at the expanse below her. It was early. Before eight in the morning. No one would be there for a while yet. But the director of a youth center had a lot to do, behind the scenes. “So, get to it,” she mumbled, turning toward her office door. Paul and several of

the regulars who came to the youth center had worked hard over the weekend to get everything set up for her. The computer specialist, the cable guy, and the Board President would be in and out during the day, today. Then, once the kids arrived, Jo would be able to announce that she had been appointed the new director. As a volunteer, she’d been able to listen to their concerns; but as Director, she just might be able to do something about them. The training had been completed. Her prayers had been answered. The kids would be here soon enough. She wanted to be ready. A frown creased her brow for a moment, ing that she still had not met Samuel White, the very person who had formed the foundation that started the youth center. Switzerland. An extended stay, the Board President had informed her. “Must be nice,” she whispered, switching on the computer. As the display screen came to life, her phone rang in her hand. “Paul.” “Hey, Darlin’,” he said. “How’s your first day?” Jo laughed. “Well, I’m here alone, still waiting for the computer to boot up. So, I’d say, so far, so good.” Jo sat back in her new leather burgundy office chair and relished the feel of its luxurious softness. She twirled back and forth a few times to get the feel of being in her own office. It felt good. Really good. “Sorry. Guess I jumped the gun a little,” said Paul. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you thought of me.” In all the years they’d been married, Paul had not failed to be thoughtful. He loved her, even when he basically had a good reason to walk away. He’d stayed by her side, stood up against anyone and anything that had tried to harm her, tried to come between them, or threatened their happy-ever-after. Paul Adam Baldwin had proven to be a keeper, over and over and over again. Jo let the joy of the Lord fill her up.

“Good,” said Paul. “‘Cause I’m down in the parking lot, hoping you’ll let me in for a minute.” Jo stood, grabbed her keys, and made her way to the door. Monday was Paul’s day off. He normally went for an early run then worked in the yard or did whatever men do on their day off. She certainly hadn’t expected him to show up at the center so early. “Okay,” she said, drawing out the “a.” “I’ll be right down.” “Should I hang up?” “Yes, silly, I’ll be there in two shakes.” Jo shook her head then skipped down the stairs to unlock the door. What was her husband up to, anyway? Doesn’t matter. I’m always ready for a Paul surprise. When Jo pulled the front door open, she didn’t see anything but red roses. At least two dozen of them. “Paul?” Paul lowered the roses until Jo could see his eyes over the top of them. “Surprised?” “I certainly am. Where did you come up with so many roses so early in the day?” She stepped aside so Paul could squeeze in through the door with his delicioussmelling cargo. As he ed, she inhaled deeply. “Mmmmm.” “To answer your question,” said Paul, turning so he could look at her. “I placed my order the day you were hired. The florist had them ready for me at eight o’clock this morning.” Jo locked the door then turned to her husband, the sweetest man on the

planet. Their relationship had grown by leaps and bounds after her dreaded surgery. Since then, God had blessed each member who had lived under their roof over the past two and a half years. She and Paul had served as foster parents to one infant and one toddler, who had both been adopted within six months of ing their family. Marcus had accepted the Lord as his Savior and grown closer to his big brother, Julio. Once Marcus graduated from high school, he and Julio planned to get a place together, and Marcus would attend a local automotive technology trade school then follow in his brother’s footsteps. He was almost there. It wouldn’t be long, now. Everything’s coming up roses, thought Jo, with a giggle, as she followed Paul and the huge bouquet up the stairs to her office. Once they reached the top step, Jo scurried around him, quick-stepped up the hall then opened her office door. She held it wide as Paul stepped inside. “How about on that table right in front of the window?” said Jo. “The sun will make them glow.” “Good idea.” With roses in place, Jo stepped forward to her husband. “They really are super fantastic,” she said, putting her arm around his back, at the waist. “I can’t thank you enough.” “I’ll figure out something,” said Paul, turning toward her with a suggestive grin. “I bet you will,” said Jo, stepping into his arms, snaking her free arm around to meet her hand in the back. “How about a kiss, to start with?”

Chapter Twenty

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:7 NIV).

“I’ll be a little while yet,” said Jo. “It’s end-of-the-month report time. My absolute favorite thing.” She could not keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Sounds like it,” said Paul. “No worries. I’ll keep dinner warm. But I probably won’t wait up too late for you.” “Ha ha. No need. I know you have an early morning tomorrow. There’s a protein bar and plenty of bottled water down in the kitchen. I won’t be extremely late. A couple more hours, probably.” She cringed when she said it, knowing it would be closer to three. It happened every month, like clockwork, so why didn’t she stay up on the numbers every day, instead of putting herself in this position every month? She had been at the center for close to five months now, but still had a tendency to spend more time downstairs with the kids than in her office, dealing with istrative duties. Next month, she’d do better, she told herself. Every time she found herself in this same predicament, she made the same promise. “Paul, hold a second, will ya?” “Sure.” Jo leaned forward to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Nope, it was there, alright. An email from Samuel White. What in the world would he have to say to her? They still hadn’t met, face-to-face. Part of her wondered if they ever would. She couldn’t help question if the Board had been pleased with her performance. If a child or parent had filed a complaint against her. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “Can’t believe what?” said Paul. Paul’s voice pulled Jo out of her reverie. Still shaking her head, she said, “Oh,

sorry. I have an email from Samuel White. It threw me off for a second.” After all this time, she was finally being recognized by the man himself. Samuel White had been a mystery. And out of the country for so long, Jo had begun to think he was a myth. “What’s it say?” “I dunno. A little nervous about opening it.” Paul huffed in her ear. “Open it, already. It could only be good news. You’re an awesome director.” Jo hoped Paul was right. She felt like she was doing her best to take care of Mr. White’s investment. The foundation had done wonders for the neighborhood and the kids who had been born into it. Yes, there were still plenty of troubled, abused and neglected children, but the youth center had become a haven for a large number of them who had a desire to improve their lives and their lifestyle. To find a way off the streets and away from the influence of gangs. Jo Baldwin gave her best every day, in every way. “You would say that,” she said. “Open it. I’ll stay on the line, so I’ll know if you faint and I need to come running.” “Silly man.” Jo closed her eyes and counted to one hundred. “Have you opened it yet?” “Okay, okay. I’m doing it now.” Jo opened the email and read it aloud. Dear Mrs. Baldwin, I must apologize for the fact that we have been unable to meet in person, to this point. The holidays are fast approaching, and our international endeavors pick

up speed this time of year. I try to make a personal appearance at each school or orphanage I possibly can. We hand out New Testaments to the children who can read, and a baby Jesus life-size doll to those who can’t. Anyway, I digress. Earlier in the year, when you first began as director at the Nashville Youth Activity Center, I necessarily had been isolated in Switzerland, therefore I missed being present for your appointment and subsequent first day on the job. So, let me take this opportunity to say that I have only heard great things about you from the Board; and they have received glowing reports about your service from many of the kids who frequent the youth center, as well as a dozen or more parents of those kids. Trust me when I say, it is a rare blessing indeed, when we hear from parents of troubled kids, in a positive way! I would like to welcome you aboard, give you a digital pat on the back, and wish you and yours a Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas and a Prosperous and Healthy New Year. May God bless you. Sincerely, Samuel White P.S. I should be able to visit the Nashville Center around the middle of January. Thanks for going above-and-beyond the call. P.P.S. Your Christmas bonus should appear in your no later than December first. If that doesn’t happen, please me immediately and I will personally rectify the situation. I’ll close now, and let you get back to it. Again, thank you for your service. I look forward to meeting you in the near future. “Wow,” said Jo. “Guess I’m not fired.” Paul laughed out loud in her ear. “Not fired? Of course, you’re not fired. I hear through the grapevine, you’re the greatest director ever, even compared with all the directors in all the youth centers sponsored by White Warrior.” “Now you’re being ridiculous.” “Hey, it’s true.” “Okay. Well, thank you. Now, I’ve got to get to work, or Samuel White will regret his kind words. And I might not even be home in time for Thanksgiving dinner.”

Of course, she would be home in time for Thanksgiving dinner. But it felt good to tease Paul sometimes. He was such a good sport, and had proven his love for her, so many times, in so many ways, it still took her breath away. The center was important to Paul and to Marcus. As important as it was to her. The turnaround in Marcus’ life had been nothing short of inspiring. And that turnaround had inspired Julio. Together, they would make a formidable team. She wanted great things for Marcus and Julio; but also, for many kids who seemed to care about their own future. Kids who frequented the center and sought her out for short counseling sessions, and even some tutoring. All-in-all, Jo had great hopes for the future of the center and those who had come to think of it as a sanctuary. “Yikes,” said Paul, cutting into her thoughts. “I want you home long before Thanksgiving dinner. Way before. I’m hanging up now. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Paul startled awake to the shrill, traditional ringtone of his cell phone. Two things happened at once. First, he realized he was alone in bed; then simultaneously noticed the time on the alarm clock. The orange glow spelled out two o’clock A.M. Suddenly wide awake, his eyes flew open, he swiped open the phone, and scrambled out of bed. “Hello?” “Paul Baldwin?” “Yes,” said Paul, his voice barely above a whisper, as fear coursed through his body. “This is Lisa, at Nashville General Hospital. We’ve been trying to reach you for an hour.” Paul held the phone between his shoulder and head while he stepped into the Wrangler jeans he’d laid across the chair before turning in. His head was beginning to clear. He ed falling asleep around eleven, with a book still on his chest. He must have rolled over sometime, for the book was now on the floor at his feet. What an odd thing to think about, when he should be thinking only of Jo. “What has happened to Jo?” he cried out, his whisper voice suddenly forgotten. “Is your wife Josephine Baldwin, sir?” “Yes, yes. What has happened?” This was getting ridiculous. If they knew his name and had his phone number and had been trying to call him for an hour, they should already know Josephine was his wife. He knew she carried an emergency card in her wallet, just in case. By now, they should know it too. Paul was beginning to lose patience. He put the phone on speaker, laid it on the bed, then slipped a dark blue, long-sleeved t-shirt over his head, pulled on socks

then stuck his feet in a pair of running shoes, picked up the phone again then hurried to the coat closet, where he retrieved his black leather jacket. He grabbed his keys out of the sapphire blue bowl on the counter by the side door that led to the garage. “There’s been an incident, sir.” Paul wanted to curse. Why hadn’t he heard his phone an hour ago? “Is Jo badly hurt?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but said, “I can be there in ten minutes.” “Come to the emergency waiting room,” said Lisa. “You didn’t answer my question,” roared Paul. “Is Jo badly hurt?” “She will recover, Mr. Baldwin. But she has been asking for you.” Paul ended the call without a goodbye, grateful they no longer had small children living with them. Marcus. He needed to call Marcus. Paul spoke to the Yukon: “Call Marcus.” Marcus answered immediately. “Mr. B,” he said. “Where are you? I’ve been trying to call you.” Paul felt sure Marcus’ voice warbled, laced with agony. “On my way to the hospital. Something’s happened to Jo.” Paul heard sniffles coming through the phone. He hadn’t imagined the emotion in Marcus’ voice. Something had happened to Jo. Dear Lord, must they be challenged at every turn? Would there not ever be a point that their lives would not be in danger? Could they hope to live a “normal” life, one day? “Marcus?” “Yes, sir,” said Marcus. “I’m at the hospital.” “You are? Why? Are you hurt, too?”

What in the world was going on? Paul felt his stomach go sour, the taste of bile in his throat. He pushed it back down. “Not bad,” said Marcus. “I’ll explain when you get here. I’ll be waiting for you by the emergency entrance.” Paul could hardly think. His head hurt. His heart hurt. The blood in his veins throbbed. What had happened to his family? Guilt smacked him in the gut. What had happened to his family—while he was sleeping, safe and sound? “Dear God, protect them. Heal them. Help me get there in time. Before…” But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, say what flashed through his mind. Traffic being light, Paul raced inside the emergency room door, fifteen minutes after he’d taken Lisa’s call. Lisa was her name, right? It didn’t matter right now anyway. The only thing that mattered was getting to Jo, seeing that she was all right. Two steps inside the door, Marcus raced toward Paul, his eyes red-rimmed, swollen, and one of them beginning to blacken. Blood had splashed onto Marcus’ t-shirt, and his jeans were muddy, like he’d rolled around on the ground in them. “Where is she?” said Paul, without voicing the slightest concern for Marcus. Guilt stung for a moment, but he couldn’t help it. He had to get to Jo. “I’ll take you to her, Mr. B. I tried to stop him. I mean, I did stop him, before he.” Paul stood very still, staring at Marcus. Stop him? Stop who? From doing what? His imagination took over then and his stomach churned with acid. Someone had tried to hurt Jo. “Not a car accident?” “No, sir.” “Dear Lord,” said Paul, collapsing onto the nearest chair. He lowered his head and whispered a prayer, before looking back up at Marcus.

“I’m so sorry,” said Marcus. “Take me to her. I need to see her for myself.” “Yes, sir.” Paul followed Marcus to the elevator, where they waited a few minutes for it to arrive. They rode in silence to the third floor, Paul unable to speak. He just wanted to get there, see that Jo was perfectly fine, then take her home. To realize this was all a big mistake. Maye even a dream. Scratch that. A nightmare. But Jo wasn’t perfectly fine, was she? Apparently, someone had attacked her, with intent to…intent to what? Marcus had said he had gotten there in time. But what was Marcus doing at the youth center in the middle of the night? And who in the wide world would want to hurt Jo? She had zero enemies. Everyone loved her—even the troubled kids who came to the center. Or, maybe especially the kids who came to the center. But a shudder ran down his spine as he ed a bunch of television detective shows when the families of the victims always proclaimed, “So and so doesn’t have any enemies. Everybody loves So and so.” Ugh, Paul thought if he didn’t see Jo in the next few seconds, he might explode. Hurry up, you ridiculous elevator. I could have run up the stairs faster. Paul moved toward Marcus and draped an arm across his shoulders. He should have shown some comion the instant he realized Marcus had been injured. He battled guilt and an overwhelming desire to get to Jo. But he had no excuse for ignoring Marcus, acknowledging his bravery, and coming to the rescue. He might not know the whole story, but he knew he owed Marcus a great deal of gratitude and a huge dose of comion. “Thank you for saving Jo,” he said, forcing himself to speak. “Maybe after I see her, you could tell me what happened? I don’t mean to seem ungrateful. I just really need to see her.” The elevator chimed, and the doors parted. “Sure,” said Marcus. “I’ll wait at the end of the hall.”

The tone that laced Marcus’ words further broke Paul’s heart. He sounded sad, but also scared. Paul realized then that Marcus was just as afraid for Jo, as he was. He squeezed Marcus’ shoulder then stepped out of the elevator. “Okay. I’ll see you in a few,” said Marcus. Paul slapped Marcus on the shoulder and offered him a weak smile, before he pushed open the door to Jo’s room. A dim light shone above the headboard. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Deadly quiet. It made Paul’s heart race at the thought that Jo might not respond to his voice. Might not be able to. Jo lay very still, her head turned away from him. Paul didn’t want to wake her; but he had to see her, hold her. Hear her say everything is all right. Tell him it was all a big mistake, that they had the wrong girl. They had called the wrong Paul Baldwin. But he knew better than that. Knew they would be required to walk through yet another nightmare. Paul took tentative steps to the far side of the bed. He leaned over to see if Jo’s eyes were closed; but she looked right back at him, mascara streaks still prevalent on her cheeks. Cheeks that were now dry, but red and swollen. She, too, had one eye turning black. His stomach did a flip-flop and he dropped into the dark red chair beside her bed. “Oh, Josephine, what happened?” Jo blinked hard, pushing fresh tears down her face. She couldn’t believe any of this could be real. But neither could she deny that she hurt all over. That one of their youth from the center had attacked her and tried to…but she couldn’t even think the word. Gratitude coursed through her instantly, when she ed Marcus. He had risked his life to save her from Darnell. Darnell Washington had been ing her for coffee in the break room three afternoons a week for a couple months now. They had talked endlessly about his wreck of a home life, about the girl at school who broke his heart, about a local gangster-type who had sent bullies around to harass him, urging him to their gang, so he could have a “real” family. “I tried to help him,” she whispered. “Help who, sweetie?”

Was she ready to talk about it? She didn’t have to think much about the answer. Her heart said no. “Can we talk tomorrow?” she managed to say. “I’m so tired. Been waiting for you.” A nurse had come in earlier and given her something for pain and something else to help her sleep. Her eyelids felt heavy. So very heavy. She’d been fighting sleep, trying to stay awake until Paul could get there. She needed to know he was with her, so she’d feel safe and loved. Then she’d be able to sleep. Get the attack out of her head and sleep. But not until she’d seen Paul. Knew that he would stand watch over her and keep the bad guys at bay. It seemed to Jo that she had a target painted on her back. She’d been abandoned by her parents, had cigarettes put out on her back at two years of age, raised by her aunt (albeit, a total blessing), targeted by a crazy woman who had gone to great lengths to possess Jo’s husband, had been unable to give said husband a child of his own, and now, had been attacked by a kid she’d been trying to help. It didn’t seem fair. Not fair at all. But Paul had loved her through it all. “Of course, Darling,” he said, close to her ear. “I’m gonna step out and talk to Marcus. But I’ll come right back. Go to sleep. I promise not to leave.” “Okay,” said Jo, her heavy eyelids finally winning the battle. They slid shut, as she at last gave them permission. She let the pull of drug-induced sleep drag her under its spell. Paul would be there when she woke up. And everything would be okay. Better than okay. Paul stepped into the hall, trembling with rage and confusion. Jo had tried to help him, she’d said. I tried to stop him, Marcus had said. Jo and Marcus each had a black eye. Obviously, there had been an altercation. But why? And with whom? Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t know right that minute, for he felt certain he would not be doing the Christian thing. Nope. He’d beat the guy to a bloody pulp. He would not stand there in silence, as Jesus had done. He felt certain he’d react more along the lines of Peter, when six hundred, or more, soldiers came to arrest Jesus. Put a sword in his hand, and you might not be able to tell Paul Baldwin from that

long-ago version of an angry Peter. “Sir?” said Marcus, approaching from where he’d been waiting at the end of the hall. Marcus’ voice worked as a grounding rod. Paul sucked in a breath to steady himself then took a second to search for the center of peace found only through Holy Spirit. “Hey, Marcus,” Paul said calmly. “I think she’s probably asleep by now. Guessin’ they gave her something.” “Prob’ly.” “Wanna get some coffee? I don’t think I could sleep right now, unless someone drugged me, but coffee sounds good.” And he needed something to keep his hands occupied, so he didn’t go searching for that sword. “Sure. You want answers, huh?” “Many as I can get.” The cafeteria wouldn’t be open for hours, but Paul and Marcus found a refreshment center where they could get a delicious, totally unhealthy snack and a cup of coffee that could only be tolerated with a generous helping of cream and sugar. Didn’t matter about the available fare. Paul needed the distraction to keep him from going berserk and give his hands something to do. And he badly needed the scoop on what had happened to his lovely wife, the image of her swollen and battered face fresh on his mind. Seated across from Marcus, Paul took a sip of the bitter brew, scrunched his nose up in response then immediately reached for the packaged honey bun to battle the taste. His fingers drumming on the tabletop, he waited for Marcus to speak first. Moments later, Marcus cleared his throat. Good. Finally. Maybe Paul could get some clarification on what had happened while he’d been dreaming, safe at home, while someone attacked his wife. Marcus spoke in a strained voice,

forcing Paul to lean closer, in order to pick up every word. “I heard Darnell Washington and Pedro Garcia in a heated argument down at the shop yesterday, just before lunch. Darnell had already told me that Pedro’s been after him to the Southside Saints.” Marcus forced out a chuckle. “How’s that for a misnomer? Anyway, Darnell was screamin’ at Pedro that he wouldn’t do it. Then Pedro said Darnell couldn’t , if he didn’t. That he’d never have a family who’d have his back.” Paul took another sip of coffee, just to keep himself from asking the obvious. But his patience was wearing thin. Someone had hurt his wife and his foster son. He wanted to know who, and he wanted to know why. He wanted to know if they’d caught the guy. To know if he was sitting behind bars, where he couldn’t get at either one of them again, for a long, long time. With a tight grip on the thick paper cup ensconced in a coffee collar, Paul made himself wait for the rest of the story. “Darnell said he still wouldn’t do it. Said he didn’t care about family. He’d seen what family was about, and he didn’t much like it. I tried to look real busy under a Ford Focus parked close to where they were standing. I don’t think they knew anyone was paying attention to them. So, I didn’t move, just tried to be extra quiet. “When Darnell turned Pedro down a second time, things got ugly.” Paul released the cup entirely, so he wouldn’t crush it and spill coffee everywhere. He formed a fist with his hand, focusing his anger into that one part of his body. Told himself to relax and keep his mouth shut. “Pedro said, ‘I bet your cute little sister would like to get to know me better.’ Then Darnell went nuts. He and Pedro got into a scuffle. Pedro ended up on top of Darnell, threatened to do to Darnell’s sister what they expected Darnell to do to, uh, to.” “Say it, Marcus.” Paul held his breath, not certain he wanted to hear the truth, but knew he had to know, regardless. Marcus cleared his throat again.

“Yes, sir.” Paul waited with a patience he did not feel. He bounced his knee, moved his hand to force his leg still. Made a double-fisted effort to control his temper, certain he wasn’t going to like what Marcus had to say. “What they expected Darnell to do to…Mrs. B.” The words came out in a rush. “I’m sorry. Real sorry. But Pedro told Darnell, if he didn’t do it, they would do even worse to his sister. Kill her even. “I swear, Mr. B, Darnell began to cry. He has a lot of respect for Mrs. B and the work she does at the center. I know for a fact, she has tutored Darnell in English down at the center; and listened with comion to his stories about his father beating him and his mother, on a regular basis. She’s been trying to help him, for months.” Marcus fell silent then, and Paul wanted to scream. Some things in this world just shouldn’t be, that’s all. Men should not beat up on their wives and children. Children should be loved and nourished and taught about the love of Jesus, so they didn’t grow into a stinking Pedro Garcia, who thought he had the right to bully and threaten people who were trying to better their lives—and they shouldn’t hurt those people’s little sisters. To push an innocent kid into becoming a criminal, by hurting a God-fearing man’s God-fearing wife. It made him sick to think about it. He doubled over, arms resting on his thighs, and sucked in breath after breath. It took several attempts before Paul felt stable enough to sit up. “Do the police have Darnell?” Paul managed to say. “Yes, sir. For some reason, the officer who answered the phone yesterday, believed me when I told him what I suspected might happen. A cruiser pulled up while Darnell and I were still fighting. The rest of the gang had already begun to scatter. “It happened too fast for me to get to Darnell any sooner, Mr. B. I swear. I parked a block away, hoping they wouldn’t notice me. Then, Darnell jumped Mrs. B before she made it to her car. I was still running to get there when two guys grabbed her from behind and Darnell slugged her, screamin’ he was sorry. They made him do it, or they’d kill his little sister, he shouted. The two guys forced Mrs. B to the ground, Darnell ripped her shirt open, and lowered himself

down over her, cryin’ the whole time.” Marcus swiped tears off his face then whispered, “That’s when I shoved my way through two or three of them punks and pulled Darnell off Mrs. B. I ain’t never been so mad in my whole life.”

Chapter Twenty-One

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak (Isaiah 40:29 NIV).

Early the next morning, Jo opened her eyes to find Paul, lightly snoring, on the small fold-out couch, his legs curled up, wedged in, so he wouldn’t roll off in his sleep. She watched him for several minutes, a smile replacing the fearful frown from the night before. She was safe now. She’d seen the police officer push Darnell’s head down as he helped him into the back of the squad car. Just before they took Darnell away, he made eye with Jo. She ed being shocked at the sight of tears on his face. He stared at her for several seconds then mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before they pulled away from the curb. The memory of the entire ordeal washed over her, and she shivered, pulling the light cotton blanket up to her chin. She squeezed her eyes closed, confusion mingling with the fear that came rushing back. She forced her brain to think about what had happened. To face it. Deal with it… She’d worked late, later than she’d expected to. Not the first time she’d put in extra hours; but the first time she had stayed past midnight… “You really need to do a better job of keeping up with daily and weekly reports, Josephine,” Jo mumbled to herself, as she left the center. She chuckled; but then realized that the porch light and the yard light had been broken out. That can’t be a coincidence, she thought. She reached into her jacket pocket for her phone, so she could utilize the flashlight. At the same time her hand cleared her pocket, a dark, rough hand clamped over her wrist, then twisted her arm behind her back, while his other hand covered her mouth. She struggled to get away, her eyes popping open even wider when five more boys poured out of the darkness. “Do it now, Darnell, or we’ll do your sister.” “What are you waitin’ for? We ain’t got all night.” “Hurry up, Washington, before a patrol car shows up. You know they drive

around this neighborhood pretty regular. Like they’re expecting a crime to happen every hour.” The voices ran together, the words tripping over each other. Then Darnell whispered in her ear, “He made me do it, Mrs. B. I didn’t want to.” “Darnell!” yelled someone Jo couldn’t see. “Sorry,” Darnell said again, right before he punched her in the face, kicked her legs out from under her, then forced himself on top of her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears, whimpering, in spite of herself, begging him not to do this. Her words had been drowned out by all the yelling from the gang of guys egging him on. Suddenly, a familiar voice rang through the darkness. “Darnell Washington! Get off her, you moron! The police are right behind me.” Marcus. What was Marcus doing here in the middle of the night? What could he possibly do against a gang of boys, all by himself? But wait. Did he say the police were coming? How could he know that? The pain, mixed with fear and confusion, made her brain foggy. The sound of her shirt tearing away from her skin alarmed her. So strange that Darnell could be so violent with her, even while he cried real tears. She could feel them dropping onto her bare chest, while his rough, dark hands moved to touch her. But Darnell did not have his way with Josephine Baldwin. She suddenly felt his weight lift off her. She opened her eyes, not sure of what to expect. Above her, she watched as Marcus pulled Darnell off her. Beyond the scuffling bodies of Darnell and Marcus, Jo noticed two uniformed police officers hurrying toward them. One pulled Marcus off Darnell, and the other chased after the other boys, who had scattered in every direction. Jo dropped her head back down to the ground. She pulled her shirt together, as

she closed her eyes and began to pray. At the end of her prayer, the cacophony of noise had settled into an eerie silence. When she glanced around again, she took in a sharp breath. Darnell was staring right at her, weeping. She watched as a steady stream of tears washed over his face. She didn’t understand any of it. Why had he done this to her? How far would he have been willing to go? She couldn’t believe what she saw after that. Darnell was mouthing something. She sat up to look back at him, straight on. “I’m sorry,” she read. So strange. “Mrs. Baldwin?” Jo pulled her eyes away from Darnell. “The EMTs are here, ma’am. We need to get you to the hospital, so they can check you out.” Her gaze locked onto Officer Williams’ eyes, pushing aside the troubling thoughts about Darnell. There was nothing she could do for him now. He had crossed a line and would suffer grave consequences. She would have no choice but to file charges. Paul would not tolerate anything less. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Is Marcus okay?” Jo shuddered at the thought of how much worse it could have been for Marcus: one kid taking on a whole gang. She was proud of him for thinking ahead and persuading the police to show up—at that time and in that location. Grateful they had listened to a kid. “I’m fine, Mrs. B,” said Marcus, as he knelt beside her. “And you’re gonna be fine too. I’ll call Mr. B on the way to the hospital. You just get better, and don’t worry about a thing.” Her own tears came then. The adrenaline rush of fear gave way to relief and expressed itself in a tidal wave of emotion. This dear, sweet boy who had shared their home for the past three years, would soon be grown and gone. She would miss him and his sweet smile. “Some time you’ll have to tell me how you knew to be here, Marcus. But for now, thank you for saving me.” “All right, that’s enough, folks,” barked Officer Williams, interrupting their

conversation. “Let’s get this lady to the hospital.” “I’ll see you later, Mrs. B,” said Marcus. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Mr. B meets us at the hospital.” But something had gone wrong, and it had taken over an hour for Paul to get to her. He must have been frantic when they’d finally reached him. She knew what it was like to have the person you love lying injured in a hospital bed, and not be able to get to them. When Paul had been shot, she had waited for hours to see him, touch him, look into his eyes and know he was going to be okay. She didn’t envy him that worry. But he was here, now. Thank You, Jesus. Paul blinked his eyes open and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Good morning, handsome,” said Jo. “Did you sleep well?” Paul swung his legs over, planted his feet on the floor, then stood and stretched. Jo could hear parts of him settling into place. He had on one of her favorite tshirts, dark navy blue, with a small white dove stitched above the pocket. The tshirt stretched taut across his broad chest and back, which always made her breath catch. On the reverse side of the shirt, a simple phrase from a long-ago song read, ‘Peace on Earth, was all it said.’ People either understood its meaning or they didn’t. She couldn’t count how many times she had stood patiently by his side, as he explained it. The song represented a sad, insightful story. Gave a person something to think about. What’s most important in this old world, is not the stuff it contains, but the relationships we build while we are here. Working together to maintain peace, was the real treasure. Being with Paul had always made Jo feel safe and loved, adored and blessed— even when she didn’t necessarily feel any of those things. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, making his way across the room in stockinged-feet, a smile filling the bottom half of his face. He looked so good it made her heart hammer in her chest. Gratitude rushed through her as he approached, the pain all but forgotten. Her heart kicked into an even faster rhythm when his muscled arms braced on each side of her head. He had that look that always meant he intended to kiss her. And she wanted that.

Very much. She needed to feel normal, to know that Darnell had not ruined her for Paul. To feel Paul’s lips on hers, and smell the April-fresh Downy, still clinging to his t-shirt. This was real. Last night must have just been a terrible nightmare. But she knew better, the instant Paul pulled away and gently placed a finger next to the eye she’d been told had blackened. It still felt swollen and tender. His touch was light as a feather, oddly in contrast to the storm that darkened his eyes. “I should have insisted on staying at the office with you,” he said, the tenderness in his voice making her tear-up again. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for leaving you there, all alone. And then falling asleep, like everything was right with the world, and not being there when you needed me most.” He felt bad, she got that. But nothing that had happened the night before could, by any stretch of the imagination, be blamed on him. And she wasn’t about to let him carry that burden. She had made the choice to work late, because she had gotten behind. She had gotten behind. Not Paul. And it wasn’t the first time. She only had herself to blame for that. Then there was Darnell. He had caved under some heavy-duty pressure, rather than going to Paul or to the police for help. Again, Darnell’s choice. Not Paul’s. The gang who had threatened Paul’s little sister made poor choices every day. Paul certainly had no control over that. So what, if he’d been sound asleep and didn’t hear the phone ring? It could happen to anyone. Besides, it was all over by then anyway. There would have been no opportunity for Paul to save her, before the fact. She was fine. Basically. And she did not blame Paul, in the slightest, for anything. He would just have to forget that notion and get over himself. “You better figure out how to forgive yourself, Paul Baldwin.” Paul reacted to Jo’s directive with a chuckle. “Really.” “Yes, really,” she said, using her teacher/director voice, and with a strength he hadn’t expected she’d have, so soon after the attack. Josephine Baldwin had grown into a strong, confident woman, still fiercely motivated by her deep, abiding faith. He grinned at her and enjoyed watching the stern look melt into a soft smile that reached her eyes. Good, she was beginning to relax.

“What are you grinning at?” she said. “I’m serious.” Paul raised both hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am, I can tell. And I promise to work on it. But you do realize that someone came after the love of my life, while I was sleeping. Sleeping. I feel like a heel. It could have been much worse, you know.” He couldn’t speak the awful truth of what might have been. He totally believed that Darnell would have raped her, might have even killed her, if Marcus hadn’t happened to overhear Darnell talking at the mechanic shop the day before. Believed what he’d heard, forewarned the authorities, then jumped on Darnell before he could do his worst. Paul pulled a chair beside Jo’s hospital bed and proceeded to tell her everything Marcus had told him. A sickening gloom fell over the room. When Paul noticed fresh tears snaking their way down the sides of her face, he jumped up, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled Jo into a hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Paul held her and let her sob, all the while praying that the tears would wash away the fear, the terror, and the “might-have-beens.” Certainly, it might have been much worse. He could have lost her, forever. Marcus might have been killed trying to save her. Yeah, things might have been much worse. Much, much worse. Again, Paul thought it was a good thing he couldn’t get an hour alone with Darnell Washington, or the punk who had coerced him into attacking Jo. For the first time, he felt gratitude toward Marcus for calling the authorities, rather than calling Paul. Something inside of Marcus must have whispered to him, to let the police do their job, and leave Paul out of the fray. Another good judgment call, even if Paul had challenged Marcus’ judgment. Paul’s anger might have gotten all of them killed. Thank You, Lord, for working things out Your way. For protecting my wife and son. For knowing best, especially when we don’t. As Paul held Jo in his arms, a tap on the door surprised them both. Who would be here this early in the morning? Paul’s family, and Aunt Pearl, of course, would come to the hospital at some point. It just seemed odd for anyone to be

here before the breakfast tray. The knock sounded again. “Who’s there?” said Paul. “Um, Samuel White here.” “Oh, my word!” gasped Jo. “Paul, let him in,” she said, pushing against his shoulder. “I’m going,” he said, with a chuckle. Jo really wanted to meet Samuel White. Didn’t expect it would be like this, but still, apparently he had come. Paul strode across the room, as curiosity built in his chest. He couldn’t be sure which of them would be more surprised to find the mysterious Samuel White standing on the other side of that door. If this was some kind of gang-prank, someone would not be happy when Paul discovered their scheme and took matters into his own hands. With caution, Paul pulled the door open. Even at 6’3”, Paul had to look up into the eyes of the tall blonde. “Samuel White?” “In the flesh,” said Samuel. “Do you mind if I come in? Marcus called me, and I wanted to be sure I came in person to check on Mrs. Baldwin.” “Come in, come in,” said Jo, behind Paul. “Yes, of course,” said Paul, stepping back. Samuel White. The Samuel White, benefactor of White Warrior Foundation, which had made the youth activity center in Nashville, possible. Finally. Jo had been wanting to meet this guy for years. “Do you mind if I sit?” said Samuel, with a chuckle. “I just got off the red-eye and am not fully functioning as of yet.” Jo stared at him. She set up straighter in the bed then glanced over at Paul. She patted the bed next to her, and he ed her there. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to soak in the fact that Samuel White had flown in to see her.

“Make yourself at home,” said Jo. “And tell me about Marcus calling you. How many kids have your personal number? I don’t have it, myself.” Samuel sat up straighter. “It’s simple, really. I make it a point to have information on all my employees. Way back when Marcus first came to work at the center, he gave me his number and I gave him mine. He knew that I would want to know what had happened and took the initiative to call me. And I came running. Like I said, simple. “Listen,” Samuel continued, scooting to the edge of the chair. He looked straight into Jo’s eyes, before saying, “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I want you to know that the White Warrior Foundation will be paying all your medical expenses. I can’t imagine how upset you must be.” All her medical expenses? Really? White Warrior Foundation had not attacked her, any more than Paul had. But the gesture felt especially heartwarming, considering the fact that she had never even met this man. “I never expected.” “Don’t mention it,” continued Samuel. “I won’t hear any argument on the matter. It breaks my heart that one of our kids did this to you.” Jo took in a deep breath. She could hardly believe it herself. Darnell Washington had been a good kid, who got himself in a jam he didn’t know how to get out of. Or he’d forgotten that going to the authorities was perfectly acceptable behavior when a gang leader was harassing him. Either way, it made Jo extra sad that one of their kids had been persuaded to attack the main person who had been trying to help him. “Thank you,” said Paul. “We appreciate you going to the trouble and expense to come here.” Samuel White held up a hand in protest. “I shouldn’t be anywhere else, at a time like this. Is there anything we can do for you at the house? Do you have responsibilities, Mr. Baldwin, that we could help with? I feel like we aren’t doing nearly enough to rectify the situation. Not just because you’re the director at the Nashville Center, Mrs. Baldwin, but I recently learned that we are family.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

He does wonders that cannot be fathomed, miracles that cannot be counted (Job 5:9 NIV).

Family? Surely, he must be mistaken. How could Samuel White be family? “What did you just say?” said Jo. “That part about being family. The only family I’ve ever known are my Aunt Pearl and my deceased parents, whom I only have nightmarish memories of.” Jo watched Mr. White as a smile stretched across his face. He knew something they didn’t know. How fascinating. Jo reached for Paul’s hand and squeezed hard. “Ow, that kinda hurts,” he said, wiggling his fingers. “Sorry,” said Jo. She loosened her grip but didn’t let go of the anchor that held her in place. She needed Paul’s touch, his close proximity, in case she ed out or something. She blinked back tears of impending joy then turned her attention back to Mr. White. “What do you mean, we’re family?” “You haven’t spoken to Catherine lately, I take it.” Paul spoke up then. “Catherine, as in Catherine Baldwin-Churchwell, my mother?” “Yes.” “What does she have to do with any of this?” Jo scooted closer to her husband’s side, so she could reach him with both hands. She rested one softly on his thigh and gave him the sweetest smile she could muster. “You okay?” she said. Paul cleared his throat but didn’t say anything for several beats. “Fine, Jo. I’m fine. Really.”

She hoped he was telling her the truth, because she very much wanted to hear Samuel White’s story. “Good,” said Jo. “Go ahead, Mr. White, please continue. I’m intrigued.” “Please, call me Sammy.” Jo sucked in a breath then. “Oh, I don’t know if I could do that. You’re my boss.” “I’m also Paul’s uncle, which makes me your uncle, by marriage.” “My uncle?” said Paul. “You’re my mother’s long-lost brother?” “I am.” The room began to spin. Paul had to brace himself, to keep from falling off the side of the hospital bed. The family knew Catherine had a brother somewhere. The fact had been revealed at his grandmother’s funeral. But could Samuel White be that guy? The story of his birth had been horrendous. He’d been born deformed, with a hole in his heart. His lungs full of fluid. He hadn’t been expected to live—until the mayor of Nashville and his wife adopted the child, in order to save his life. To give him a home and raise him as their own. “You don’t look like the baby Mother described when she told us about her twin’s birth.” He knew he sounded skeptical. The truth was hard to take in. This tall, handsome billionaire couldn’t possibly be that deformed infant. Could he? Samuel White managed to chuckle at that. Paul knew he had probably insulted the man, so why the humor? “No, I suppose I don’t,” said Sammy. “My adoptive parents showed me pictures of that little guy. I it, I am a walking miracle. But miracle or not, I really am Cath’s twin. She and Tommy were at my house just last week. She invited me to the family in Lubbock on Christmas Eve. Today’s visit is jumping the gun a little bit. She wanted everyone to meet me at the welcome-to-the-family party. But under the circumstances, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Wow. Just wow. Samuel White had been born his mother’s twin brother. Amazing. Paul couldn’t help but wonder how their first meeting had gone. It must have been surreal for his mother, as well. Samuel White had accomplished more in his lifetime than most people could even fathom. He had overcome insurmountable odds then ed on his knowledge to other companies and shared his wealth with the impoverished. Thank You for sending someone to love and Sammy and help him recover from the bleak beginning he’d been dealt. Thank You for showing comion then nurturing comion in Samuel, so that he shared his good fortune, his knowledge and genius mind with the less fortunate. Thank You. “I’m speechless,” said Paul. “Well, I’m not,” quipped Jo, making Paul jump. She sounded so excited, as if it was perfectly clear that God had orchestrated the whole thing, and it had come to fruition at precisely the right time. She was certainly a marvel, and he was lucky to have her as his life partner. “I think it is the most wonderful news I’ve ever heard!” she chattered on, next to him. “Just imagine, Paul. Samuel White, excuse me, Sammy White is your uncle! I can barely wrap my head around that.” Paul planted a kiss on Jo’s temple, released her hand then slipped off the hospital bed. He took two steps forward, to stand in front of Samuel White. He held out his hand and said, “Welcome to the family. I’m so pleased to finally meet you.” Tears filled his eyes the instant Paul saw tears in his uncle’s eyes, too. Strange. So strange. This benevolent man had overcome so much—and had grown into a world-renowned benefactor. His uncle. God had watched over them all, yet again. Jo would recover from her injuries. They would see to it that she had counseling, if it came to that. One day, the attack would slip into a slot that housed bad memories best forgotten, or at least not dwelt upon. Joy would triumph, once again. When we yield to His ways and trust Him, God and His majesty always prevails over the evils of this dark world. Always. “Me, too,” said Jo. “I love what I do at the activity center. Really. This mishap in no way will affect my duties. Please know that, uh, Sammy.” Samuel White pulled his gaze away from Paul and smiled at Jo across the distance between them. Paul swelled a little with pride, this whole ordeal

suddenly surreal. “I’m glad to hear it,” said Sammy. Paul was amazed by this guy. Such a powerful, wealthy man, who had irers across the globe, spoke to them like a regular person. But there was nothing regular about Samuel White. Not even close. He was a walking miracle that made miracles happen for other people in the regular course of his day. Paul felt blessed to know him and double blessed to be his nephew. “We’d hate to lose the best director we’ve ever had,” Sammy continued. Paul made himself pay attention. This conversation was important to his wife, just as important as it was to him. “I’m sure Darnell will do some time for his crime, although I’ve heard talk that he may turn state’s evidence and get off with a lighter sentence, since he is totally willing to name everyone in the gang that threatened you, Darnell, and Darnell’s little sister.” Paul watch Jo closely. How would she take the news that Darnell might not get the sentence he actually deserved, after he brutally attacked her? Warmth spread across his chest when she responded to Sammy. “I hope so,” she said. “Darnell did not want to hurt me. I was there. I saw the anguish in his eyes. He believed he had no alternative. He thought he was saving his sister from a fate worse than what he had inflicted on me. If we stand by him and him, I believe he will never make such a grave error again. And if it comes down to it, I will testify to the fact. And I am also willing to help in any way I can, through the activity center. Darnell is basically a good kid. He deserves a second chance, just like the rest of us.” That was his Jo, big-hearted, forgiving, comionate. Wow, he loved her even more today than he had when their love was brand new. “I ire your spunk, Mrs. Baldwin.” “Jo,” she said, interrupting her boss. Paul chuckled. “What?” she said, giving him a sideways look. “Nothing,” said Paul, raising his hands in surrender. “I want to stay on your good side.”

“Ha,” she said. “I meant what I said. If I can help Darnell, I’ll do it.” The room grew quiet for a minute. In that span of just a few seconds, Paul noticed Sammy’s eyes drift closed. It had been very considerate and generous of him to fly to Jo’s side, but it had also cost him a night’s sleep. “I bet you’re exhausted, Sammy,” said Paul. “Let me run you to the house. You can rest there. Then holler at me when you feel refreshed. Maybe we could go to dinner together or something this evening.” Sammy scrubbed a hand over his face several times. “If I wouldn’t be putting you out,” he said, “that sounds amazing.” “Done,” said Paul. “Will you be okay for a little bit by yourself, sweetheart?” Paul walked to the side of the hospital bed and reached for Jo’s hands. The swelling in her eye had gone down some overnight. She didn’t seem to have any major injuries. Maybe the doctor would let her go home today or tomorrow. He sure hoped so. He wanted her out of this place and in his arms. In his bed. After last night, he didn’t ever want her out of his sight again. Which was ridiculous. They both had jobs, responsibilities, things to do. But, he would never allow her to work so late at night again. Not unless he stayed with her. Not ever again. No matter how much she protested. “You know I won’t be alone for long,” said Jo with a chuckle. “I’m sure Aunt Pearl will likely be here before you get back.” Paul shrugged. “Sounds about right. So, yeah, I’ll run Sammy out to the house then be back ASAP. I love you. I’ll be praying for a release date of…today.” Jo giggled. “Today would be awesome. Okay, then, I’ll see you in a bit. I’ll try to get Aunt Pearl to use her nursely powers of persuasion. Maybe she can talk the doctor into letting me out of here in time for dinner.” “That would be super.” “Well, I’ll see you guys,” said Jo. “Thanks again for coming, Sammy. I’m blown away.”

“It’s the least I could do. Don’t hesitate to tell me if I can be of further assistance. I’ll see you soon, whether at dinner, or before.” “Certainly.” Jo leaned back against the pillow and let her eyes drift closed. Samuel White had turned out to be Paul’s uncle. She still had trouble grasping that one. Catherine must be on cloud nine. Jo glanced up at the clock. Seven-thirty in the morning. That wasn’t too early to call someone, was it? Well, maybe a little. But she had to try. She reached for her phone on the table by the bed and pulled up Catherine Churchwell’s number. Should she call her? Would it be more thoughtful if she let Paul speak to her first? Maybe. Probably. Jo returned the phone to its resting spot. Yes, she should let Paul talk to her first. Geez, she didn’t want to do that. But it was the right thing to do, right? As she debated with herself, her phone bounced and buzzed on the Formica surface. She grabbed it up, curious. Catherine Baldwin Churchwell! “Hello?” “Josephine, are you all right?” “Well, all things considered, I’m in pretty good shape. How did you know?” This day was really getting strange. “Sammy called in the middle of the night. I have been on pins and needles waiting for a decent hour so I could talk to you.” Samuel White was something else. Not only had he gotten on the red-eye flight to get to her the same night she’d been attacked; but he had also called family to let them know what had happened. Paul hadn’t even had the opportunity to do that. If she’d been in worse shape, he probably would have called in the middle of the night, too. But she hadn’t been too badly hurt, mostly shaken up, so he’d decided to wait until they spoke with the doctor later this morning. He wanted to be able to tell his family exactly what was going on, not just scare the pants off

them. “Sammy came to see me. Did you know he was going to do that?” “I assumed,” said Catherine, “since he called me while waiting on the red-eye. He’s something, isn’t he?” Jo felt so overwhelmed by all the good news, she could barely speak. Samuel White, the Samuel White, was not only her boss, he was family. The most generous and benevolent person she had ever heard tell of, was family. Jo felt so blessed. She had the best job. The best boss. The best husband. The best aunt who had become her mom. The best family a person could ask for. No matter what Satan threw at them, he would never defeat any of God’s children. Even in the darkest hour, she had been surrounded by light—a light she couldn’t see— but a light she could feel from within. Blessed. “I’m so happy you’ve found your brother, Catherine. He truly is amazing. So sweet and thoughtful, and totally handsome.” Catherine laughed at that. “Isn’t he though? I’m crazy about him. Not everyone knows this, but Sammy was my best friend in junior high school. So smart. He tutored me in math, until my dad forbade me to talk to him. I was so hurt. Sammy didn’t have many friends back then. “Anyway, we had the best reunion when Tommy and I went to visit him. I’m so excited for him to meet everyone at Christmas.” Jo smiled big. Catherine sounded so happy. She had waited so long to finally know the truth about her twin brother. To know they were happily reunited warmed Jo to the core. “Yes, Sammy mentioned Christmas. We’ll be there with bells on.” “Thank you,” said Catherine. “But enough about me. How are you? Are you badly hurt? Did they catch the punk who did this to you?” Jo settled back against her pillow and gave Catherine a blow-by-blow of the events of yesterday, leading up to and including the attack. “My heart hurts for Darnell,” she finally said, in closing. “He really is a good

kid, a victim of the punks who rule in that neighborhood. And his parents are next to worthless. I’m praying he’ll get a light sentence and won’t slip into a life of crime, because of one isolated incident.” Jo heard sniffling on Catherine’s end, so she waited for her mother-in-law to recover before she spoke again. “I really hope we can help him,” said Jo. “You are incredible,” said Catherine, after blowing her nose. “I’m so proud of your work with the activity center.” Jo didn’t need the accolades in order to do her job, but it didn’t hurt to hear them, once in a while. She had worked hard to make the activity center a safe and encouraging environment for troubled kids, or good kids from troubled families, as well as the rare child who had good intentions and good parents to go with them. She believed their efforts made a difference in that particular part of Nashville. The work was important to Jo, on so many levels. She had come from dysfunctional parents, who abused her at a very early age. If Aunt Pearl hadn’t stepped in, Jo could have ended up like any of the troubled kids she dealt with on a daily basis. If Aunt Pearl hadn’t stepped in, Jo might not have ever heard about the love of Jesus. If Aunt Pearl hadn’t stepped in, Jo might be dead by now. The thought made her shudder. “These kids need to know there is an alternative,” said Jo. “If I don’t give it to them, who will? Not that I think I’m the only one who could, or even would. But God has given me a directive and set these kids before me. I believe He expects me to give them my all.” “Like I said,” Catherine repeated. “I’m so proud of you.” Just as Jo said “thank you” to Catherine, Aunt Pearl tapped on the door and pushed it open at the same time. Jo waved her in, with one finger up to signal she would just be a moment longer. “Aunt Pearl just got here,” said Jo. “Be sure you call Paul, so he won’t feel left out. He’s pretty excited about having a famous uncle.”

Jo signed off with Catherine then turned her attention to Aunt Pearl. When God gets involved, a mountain becomes a mole hill. Aunt Pearl did indeed persuade the doctor to release Jo into her husband’s custody, after Pearl had promised to follow-up and make sure Paul understood what to look for, in case Jo had a head injury that had not shown up on the xrays. Pearl stayed in Nashville long enough to have dinner at Monell’s with Jo, Paul and Samuel White—for there was much to celebrate.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Have faith in God,” Jesus answered (Mark 11:22 NIV).

Three days before Marcus’ dad’s murder trial, the phone rang at Paul’s desk. “Paul Baldwin.” “Mr. B.” Paul tried to understand what Marcus said after that; but with Marcus stuttering between sniffles, it proved impossible. What could have Marcus so upset? Paul knew Marcus wasn’t looking forward to testifying at his father’s trial. Who would be? They had talked about it at length. Their closest friends from church would be there with the Baldwins and Marcus’ brother, Julio, to and encourage Marcus. Paul thought Marcus had come to with the task. It had to be done. “Slow down, Son,” said Paul. “I can’t understand you.” Paul heard Marcus take in a shuddering breath, pause and blow his nose, before he tried again. “I’m listening,” said Paul. “Sorry,” said Marcus. “I thought I was through with that part.” “What’s going on?” Paul could only imagine what new tragedy or trauma his family would be forced to deal with next. Anything could happen. Paul refused to speculate, to make things worse than they might be. So, he held his tongue and waited for Marcus to speak again. If there had been yet another attack on his family, he would be spending more hours on his knees before the Lord. Keeping the evil one away from their door had begun to get old. But he reminded himself that Satan rarely shoots one arrow at a time, and that God was way big enough to handle an entire quiver, and more. So, no matter what came at them, they would continue to trust Him with their lives.

Another deep breath, and Marcus finally found the words he’d called to share with Paul. “Okay,” said Marcus. “Julio got a call at the garage a few minutes ago. Dad attacked a guard at the prison, and a full-on riot broke out. Two guards and three prisoners were killed. Dad was one of them.” Paul swallowed back the rush of words that first came to mind. He felt relief, first. Marcus would not have to testify in court against his dad. Followed by an almost overwhelming grief. No one wants to lose a parent to a violent death, much less two. Then remorse, for he knew, with very little doubt, Marcus’ dad would more than likely spend an eternity in the fires of hell, a place of neverending suffering and separation that God had never intended for mankind. But Marcus didn’t need to hear any of that, just then. Maybe never. Paul felt sure, Marcus had already thought of that, which could very well be part of the agony that plagued him, for he had grown to have a tender heart for lost souls. “I’m on my way,” said Paul. “Where are you? See if Julio can us for lunch, okay?” “Yes, sir. I’ll head over to the garage now, and call Julio on the way. I’m sure he’d appreciate you being with us, right now.” “Okay if I bring Jo along?” “Of course. See you in a few.” Paul breathed a little easier. Marcus sounded more like himself, now that the shock had had time to settle in. He would be fine. Julio would be fine. Without the threat of their father, or the stress of a trial, they would be able to move forward with their plans, even sooner.

It was now the first of December. Jo had been out of the hospital for almost two weeks, recovered well enough to stand behind Marcus for his father’s trial. It had just been Jo, Paul, Aunt Pearl, Marcus and Julio for Thanksgiving, and the four of them had traveled together to Aunt Pearl’s, in order to take all the pressure off Jo. And now with the trial taken off the calendar, they could say yes to Catherine’s invitation to spend Christmas in Lubbock, for certain. Jo had accepted the invitation after meeting Sammy in the hospital; but then had to make their RSVP tentative. Standing with Marcus during this difficult time, had to come first. Marcus decided to stay close to Julio this Christmas, since they were deep in the planning stages for their business; and the loss of their father still seemed fresh. Even though he had not been kind to them, and had murdered their mother, the boys had now buried both of their parents. The emotional scars would have to be dealt with, of course. But Paul and the church body would be available for Marcus and Julio. They would get through this. Standing side by side for each other would also help the brothers cope. Marcus would graduate high school in the spring, and had a future in auto mechanics, just like his big brother. Oscar Martinez had paid for Julio’s automotive technology certificate; and had offered to do the same for Marcus. “I appreciate the invitation,” Marcus had said. “But I think I need to hang with Julio this year, sir. We got big plans to make.” “I understand. We’ll miss you, but certainly know that blood family trumps foster parents.” Paul grimaced, hoping he was wrong. Marcus’ next words, proved that, without a doubt. “Don’t ever say that,” Marcus had said, standing, hands on his hips. “You and Mrs. B will always be family to me. But I’m a man, now. Need to start acting like it; and make my own way.” Paul’s chest swelled with pride. Once again, Marcus had proven himself to be an upstanding member of the community. He had a service to offer. A service he

excelled at. Marcus had voiced his gratitude on numerous occasions, for the raising he had received from Paul and Jo, the he had treasured from his church family, and for the generosity of Oscar Martinez. He was well on his way to leaving a great legacy that his mother would have been proud of. “Calm down, Marcus,” said Paul. “I meant no offense. Of course, you and Julio are family, in every sense of the word. I was just teasing. And I apologize, it was in poor taste. If I were you, I’d probably do exactly what you’re doing. You see the path God has paved for you. I’m pleased to see you walking in His ways.” Paul flipped the handle to raise the footrest on his Lazy Boy and let the memory wash over him. “Thank You, Lord, for protecting all of us, leading us to each other, then teaching us how to work together, love together, and live together. Bless Marcus and Julio as they combine their efforts to become closer and build a business, a life together. And light the way as Jo and I seek Your guidance for our own future, with or without natural-born children. I have not given up on Jo’s dream of being a biological mother. And whether or not we have a child together, please guide us toward the child, or children, You have in mind for us to love, to nourish, and perhaps to raise to adulthood. And remind us to give You all the glory. No matter what.” “Paul!” said Jo, breaking into his thoughts. Her voice carried into the den from the kitchen. “Coming,” he said, bringing his prayer to a quick end. He lowered the footrest, stood to his feet, and headed toward the kitchen, still mellow from the time he had spent communing with his heavenly Father. He felt the Spirit strong within him and relished the vision that God carried all of them in the palm of His hand. Such a comforting picture. He had managed five steps, before Jo suddenly appeared. “Paul,” she said, as she let his body stop her forward momentum. Paul raised both hands to rest on her shoulders, with a snicker. “I’m right here.”

“Oh, sorry. I just got off the phone with Catherine. My mind was still on that conversation. You won’t believe what she said.” Paul guided Jo toward the loveseat. He stretched a hand toward it. “How about we sit here, and you can tell me all about it?” Jo swatted his arm. “What’d I do?” he said, rubbing the place where she’d punched him. “Nothing. I just feel silly, right now. Do I sound crazy?” Paul thought about his answer. He didn’t dare imply his wife was crazy. That would be just plain dumb. He probably shouldn’t say she sounded crazy either. “No. Of course not. But I don’t want to miss anything. Catherine is my mom, after all. What is she telling you that she didn’t deem necessary to tell me?” “Okay. Fair enough,” said Jo. “She’s not trying to keep anything from you. But her news is two-fold. Part one has to do directly with my boss. And part two has to do with Christmas plans. So, she just gave the whole message to me. And I said I’d it on. You can be the one to call her back and confirm, if you want to. You know, so you’ll feel better about yourself, and all.” “Ha ha,” said Paul, in mock laughter, which caused Jo to laugh with him, and that made his teasing so much better. Paul listened fast. Jo seemed excited and amazed, and about to burst with the news. He watched her eyes then dropped his gaze to her lips. Back to her eyes. Then her lips. “What?” she said, shoving at his bicep again. “You look so good. I really wanna kiss you right now.” “You’re crazy.” “I know. Crazy about you.” “Okay. One kiss. But I got big news to share.”

Paul only heard Jo agree to kiss him; then moved in. An hour later, Jo turned toward her husband, asleep next to her. She watched his chest rise and fall in easy breathing. Still as good-looking as the day they’d met, she loved him with her whole heart. She had been messing with him earlier about his need to return his mother’s call. She knew Paul had no insecurities, at all, when it came to his place in the family. She had spent years in awe of the entire Baldwin clan. Flaws and all, they made a very impressive role model for how family should treat one another. She had experienced their unconditional love and acceptance, up close. Being part of a healthy family dynamic had to have been a factor in Paul’s own character development. Add a double-dose of love for the Lord, complete loyalty and faithfulness, and wow. Just wow. Josephine Baldwin had learned to count her many blessings through every trial. Rainbows only happen when it rains; and who doesn’t love rainbows? As her mind carried her through the years that she and Paul had shared, the challenges that God had overcome on their behalf, she drifted into prayer, full of thankfulness and joy. Before “Amen” found its way to the end of her declaration, she smelled something alarming and unsavory. Like something burning. “Great,” she mumbled. She leaned over and planted a kiss on Paul’s cheek. “Thanks for ruining dinner, Tiger. Now, you get to take me out.” Jo rolled out of bed, slipped into her favorite crimson terrycloth robe, and padded into the kitchen. Yep, just like she figured. Smoke billowed out of the oven, and the distinct odor of burning roasted chicken met her nostrils. She raced forward, turned off the oven and yanked open the patio door to help clear the air. Too late. The smoke alarm let out its shrill protest. She ran to the pantry closet for the four-step stepstool so she could reach the alarm. “Got it,” she heard from behind her, Paul’s smooth baritone sending shivers up her arms. How she loved this man.

Paul. Serves him right, she thought. He should be awakened by the smoke alarm, since it was his fault the silly thing was screaming at them. But she couldn’t be mad, could she? He looked adorable, with his mussed hair, droopy eyes and, oh my. Paul had run to the rescue in just his boxer shorts. Jo stared at him for a moment, still impressed by his well-formed physique. The screeching smoke alarm forced her mind back to the crisis at hand, and she shook off the well-placed distraction. She stood back and watched as Paul retrieved the two-step step-stool she kept folded at the end of the cabinet. It seemed she needed a stool for everything, even though she wasn’t considered short, by female standards. But the ceilings in their home were high and the cabinets, tall. She didn’t want to have to call Paul every time she needed to reach something. Paul grinned down at her now, the smoke alarm in one hand, waving smoke out of the air with the other. He took her breath away. “Looks like I owe you a dinner.” “You sure do, buster. A perfectly good chicken, ruined.” She said the words, but she knew the bite had been absent. “Worth it.” She giggled. Giggled. It just popped out. She had become the director of a youth activity center. Did directors giggle? Well, this one did. Paul Baldwin still made her giddy. “Totally worth it,” she said, moving closer to him. She raised up on tiptoe, stretching up to place her hands on his bare chest. He stepped down off the stool, laid the smoke alarm on the countertop then reached for her. Jo let him kiss her. Thoroughly. Twice. “Okay, that’s it,” she said, pushing away from him. “I’d like to have dinner sometime today, please.” Paul’s rich laughter filled her ears as he took a step back.

“Yes, ma’am. Monell’s?” “Monell’s would be heavenly. Let me close the door and crack a window. I’ll be right behind you.” “You sure?” “I got this. Be there in a sec.” Jo watched him walk away, sighed with a heart full of love, then set about putting her kitchen in order. Life was good. “Monell’s is the best,” said Paul. “I’m glad I burned the chicken.” “Thanks a lot,” said Jo. “Well, I’m sure your chicken would have been amazing. But what if I’d burned the chicken on a Friday or Saturday? We never would have been able to get in this place.” He knew she couldn’t argue with that logic. Monell’s had grown to be their go-to spot for special occasions. They had celebrated their wedding anniversaries at Monell’s; when Marcus came to live them; the two times they had been approved to foster first an infant then a toddler. And they’d brought Samuel White here the day they’d met him. Paul looked forward to all the future celebrations they would have at Monell’s. They had already planned to bring Marcus and Julio here to celebrate Marcus’ high school graduation, as well as opening day for Marcus and Julio’s car repair business. Maybe one day, they would be able to celebrate a forever-baby in their home. Only time would tell. They ordered and began sipping sweet iced tea. Surprisingly, Jo raised her glass. “To burned chicken.” Paul chuckled. “Touché.” Thirty minutes later, his belly full, Paul sipped on his third glass of tea and

grinned at his wife. Man, she looked good. “You’re gorgeous; you know that?” “Why, thank you, kind sir. You look pretty good yourself.” “Now, before I get us off-track again, wanna tell me Mom’s big news?” “Oh yeah,” teased Jo. “Let me see if I can . That was soooo long ago.” “Ha ha. Just tell me, already.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me (2 Corinthians 12:9 NIV).

Christmas Eve in Lubbock, Texas found everyone home. Catherine BaldwinChurchwell had called each of her children, unwilling to leave a digital email message, a Facebook personal message, or even a voicemail. She called, and called, and kept calling, until she had spoken to each one of them, in person. Upon confirmation from the mouths of each of her children, Catherine immediately proceeded to book the Overton banquet hall, from five until midnight, Christmas Eve. When Paul had returned his mother’s phone call to confirm they would everyone in Lubbock on Christmas Eve, she had explained the situation… Paul braced himself for whatever his mother might disclose. He knew they had found her twin brother, had already met him. So, what’s the big mystery? He needed his mother to fill in the blanks where Jo had left off. She had little to add to what they already knew, when he thought about it. She had mentioned that Sammy had a bionic hand, or something. He’d created some incredible technology that would change the prosthetic industry forever, so it seemed. But that was it. What would his mother have to say about her brother? Paul held back the myriad of questions that crowded into his head. He needed to be patient. This was her story. He should let her tell it. No doubt, Paul and Jo both ired Samuel White for his benevolent foundation and his attention to detail, regarding his employees, his board of directors, and the kids they had all tried to help. Just the fact that Marcus had felt comfortable enough with him to call and inform him about Jo’s ission into the hospital, said a lot. But Paul did not want his mother to be hurt. There had been so much to take in, already. The revelation that she had a twin brother had been a confession from her mother’s deathbed. There had not been even a moment for Catherine and her mother to get into a deep discussion, shed tears of acceptance and forgiveness, together. Catherine had been left to deal with the emotional landslide, all on her own. Before she had the strength to tell her family. Before

she had the stamina to plan her mother’s funeral, to listen to all the great things people had to say about her parents, when she knew they had lived out a huge lie, a secret that could have changed Catherine and her brother’s lives. Paul had watched his mother put up a brave front, only to witness her crumble under the agony of deceit, weighed down by grief and loss. Paul knew that his mother finding her long-lost brother had lifted a longstanding burden. So, what did she have to tell him now? Paul clamped his mouth shut and waited for his mother to speak. To tell him the big secret. “Tommy and I spent a few days with him, you know,” said Catherine. Paul heard her take in a shuddering breath and held his own. She had found her brother. What could have upset her so much? The emotional tension that she’d lived with for so long? Or had she discovered something sinister about Samuel White that the rest of the world didn’t know about? Paul tried to think back over the months since his grandmother’s death. But he couldn’t recall a single incident that would shed any light on his mother’s current state of mind. “Yes, he mentioned that,” said Paul, still cautious. “He said it went very well.” “Oh, yes, it did,” said Catherine. “It most certainly did. He is an amazing man, Paul. You know about his accomplishments and his generosity. But I assume he didn’t go into what he’s been through to achieve the social and economic status that makes it all possible. The youth centers across the US, the orphanages in other countries, the doctors he has on staff to help children born with deformities. Oh, honey, the list could go on forever, and even that list would not fully depict the forgiving and generous heart of my brother.” Paul felt the tension flow out of his neck and shoulders. Thank You, Lord. She has good news. When the ball had dropped the weekend of his grandmother’s funeral, the Baldwin clan fell apart a little bit. The heads of their family had spent a lifetime loving every one of them with such fervor, not one person would have been able to guess that they’d also been living a lie. Catherine Welch had been raised an only child. No hint that she had a brother, much less a twin brother, had been evident. It still shook Paul up, if he let himself dwell on that reality. But he set that aside, as the excitement and joy in his mother’s voice melted all the unsavory thoughts that could spoil Christmas for her. And he refused to be a part of anything that might hurt his mother’s feelings.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said in response to the revelation. “He appears to be a wonderful, impressive individual. So, why all the mystery? What are you not saying? Should I be concerned for your welfare? Is there some big something about Sammy that could ruin your relationship with him? I can’t tell if you’re crying because you’re happy or because you’ve been hurt somehow by this new discovery. What is it? I want to help.” Paul ired all the work Samuel White had done on behalf of the kids in a dark neighborhood of Nashville. So far, he ired everything he knew about Samuel White. So, what was up with his mother? Samuel White had been born a Welch, seven minutes after his twin sister, Catherine. A deformed hand, his lungs full of fluid, one of which had collapsed. And with a hole in his heart. No one had offered to explain to the birth parents how twins could be born so much alike yet be totally different. Catherine had been perfectly formed, at a good weight, and with zero flaws; while her twin brother had been born with numerous challenges. Life-threatening challenges. The twin boy needed surgery; but his parents had no money, no job, and no insurance. It looked like the newborn might die. No hope. No way to save him. “Please don’t make me sign the paper,” Edith Welch had begged, staring into her husband’s sad eyes. “He’s my son. Our son.” Edith sobbed into her pillow, long and hard—until her husband placed one hand on each of her shoulders and spoke the awful truth. “Edith, sweetheart, listen to me. If both of us don’t sign, the boy will die. There’s nothing to be done about it. Is that what you want? Do you want our son to die?” Edith stopped wailing when she saw the river of tears that fell down her husband’s face. He did love their son. Didn’t want him to die. Would give him up to keep that from happening. And she’d relented. And he was gone.

Just like that. After a long pause, Paul said, “Mom. Wanna tell me what’s going on? I want to understand.” Catherine blew out a breath then launched into the reason she had called Paul to begin with. An invitation for Christmas Eve had only been a small part of it. She wanted her oldest son to understand his uncle. To realize that Sammy didn’t just wake up as Samuel White, the billionaire sweetheart the world knew him to be. She had cried all over Tommy so much, she felt like he didn’t want to hear any more about it. Which was ridiculous. She knew better than that. But Paul had always been the son who held her heart in his hands. Her firstborn. He had grown into a strong, godly man who loved the Lord. She was so proud of him. And she wanted him to know the truth. To know how special her brother really was. “Well, me telling you about all the challenges that Sammy had been born with?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Okay, so when Sammy was still in junior high school, he discovered that he had a propensity for numbers. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do with them. No problem he couldn’t solve. I know this, because he used to tutor me back then. He’s a genius, Paul. Anyway, Mayor White helped Sammy develop that skill and Sammy launched a career right out of college that would boggle your mind. “But that’s not the secret. That part wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out.” Tears started again, just like they always did when Catherine talked about her brother’s struggles, his accomplishments, his benevolence. His very life screamed miraculous. “Mom?” “I’m fine. Really. I just get emotional when I think about it. So, let me get to the point. While Sammy was in college, he began to experiment with ways to make his hand more -friendly. That’s a terrible way to put it, I know. But he was determined to be more like other people. Not that he couldn’t function, but he wanted to find a way to make life more bearable for other people with

handicaps. And he’s done it, Paul!” “O-kay,” said Paul. Catherine laughed out loud. She had seen her brother’s “mechanical” hand with her own eyes. It seemed so real, except for its silver color. It functioned just like his good hand. He could do anything with his mechanical hand that he could do with the other one. Smoothly. No hiccups or sounds or awkwardness. And now, he was ready to share that technology with all of Europe, a much more amenable marketplace than the United States. “So,” said Catherine. “I know you and Jo had been a little frustrated that Sammy hadn’t been around when Jo was hired, or for several months after. I’m telling you all this, so you’ll know that the technology Sammy developed became perfected while he was in Switzerland. He stayed until it was ready to launch. Until he could make it semi-affordable and even began another foundation to help the indigent and handicapped. God has worked a miracle through my brother, Paul. I just wanted you to know what a tenacious and generous man you have for an uncle and Jo has for a boss. He really is something else.”

Catherine bounced up and down in her new Prada shoes, dressed to the nines for her brother’s visit. She had rented a banquet hall. Steak and lobster would be catered, and all her children, along with Tommy’s daughter Angela, and Elizabeth and Devin Baldwin, Catherine’s previous in-laws, would be together in one room to celebrate Catherine and Sammy’s long-awaited reunion, as brother and sister. “Are you waiting on me?” said Tommy, one eyebrow raised. “Not the norm, I know. But I’m so excited I can hardly stand it.” Catherine beamed at Tommy and he rattled the keys as he extended his arm, indicating she should go out the door first. “I’m happy that you’re happy, Darling. Dinner is scheduled to be served in an hour and a half,” he said with a grin. “I’m pretty sure we won’t be late.” Catherine let his words bounce off her like a golf ball on concrete. Even if she’d been put together three hours earlier, she still would have wanted to leave, without delay. Just being in the building, she felt sure, would solidify the fact that the gathering would actually take place. Would make it somehow come together without a hitch. The fact that they would be meeting on Christmas Eve made it all the more magical. It had been a little over a month since she had met Sammy in Nashville, and they had shared a wholesome and cleansing afternoon together. She still had to pinch herself to believe the entire situation. But, no matter how much difficulty Sammy had endured, or how many years they had been separated, their reunion had been real. Sweet. Emotionally charged, but precious. They were twins, after all. God had carried them through it all, until they could be reunited. “This will be an enchanted evening,” said Catherine, as Tommy pulled into the parking lot, in front of a holiday-festive lighted building—then suddenly, Sammy stood right in front of them, decked out in a thunder gray tuxedo that made his blue eyes pop. “Isn’t he a sight?” whispered Catherine.

“Yes. Glorious,” said Tommy, with a laugh. “Oh, you,” said Catherine, swatting Tommy on the arm. “You have to it, though, that God has been busy all these years.” “Definitely,” said Tommy. “Most definitely.” Sammy approached the enger-side door and opened it for Catherine. Tommy met them at the front of the Denali. “Shall we?” said Tommy, offering his arm to Catherine. Sammy did the same, and Catherine entered the banquet hall sandwiched proudly between her husband and her brother. She had waited so long to have Samuel White be a part of her life. Even as a friend, she had been denied an active part in his life. But as he’d welcomed her into his home and they shared their hearts, she had felt all the anger and hesitancy to forgive, wash away. The instant her brother’s arms enveloped her, and they shed tears together, for loss of a life they had lived separately and for the loss of four people they had known as parents. They had cried for their birth parents’ agony over having to give up their son; then prayed for the power of forgiveness to replace any bitter feelings for keeping his existence a secret from their daughter. It had been an emotionally charged reunion that had left Catherine exhausted. But none of it mattered today. Today, the living of the family would come together, whole once again. Catherine gasped when she came through the double doors that had each been decorated with a single, silver-balled wreath. Every wall had been draped in invisible strands lined with tiny cotton balls, giving the appearance of falling snow. A grouping of three white-flocked trees with silver ornaments graced opposite corners. The ceiling gave the illusion of clouds, pregnant with snow. Catherine had no idea how the decorators had accomplished that. Solid white, bare trees stood in small groupings, as though the tables had been tucked neatly into a winter forest. Each table had been draped in silver satin, with glowing goblets filled with tiny lights, shimmering crystals, silver and white ornaments, and a few delicate white feathers. The catering station had been placed inside a faux snow-covered carport-style building, awaiting the food and servers. “It’s perfect,” said Catherine. “Isn’t it just so perfect, Tommy?” “It’s perfect,” he conceded.

“Yes, it is,” said Sammy. They made their way to the head table, which had been positioned at an angle in front of the decorated Christmas trees. “What’s all this?” said Sammy. “Well, it is Christmas,” said Catherine, especially pleased that everyone had complied with her first-time-ever request that they wrap their gifts in silver and white, rather than Catherine’s long-standing tradition of white and gold; then had them delivered to the venue ahead of time. “I’ll have to leave what I brought, out in the truck,” said Sammy, with a chuckle. “Why is that?” said Catherine, stretching her neck to look into his eyes. Sammy smiled down at her. “All of my gifts are wrapped in Christmas blue.” “Blue goes perfectly with silver,” said Catherine, squeezing his arm. “And that way we can start with your gifts, and everyone will know you thought of them.” Catherine hadn’t expected her brother to bring anything. He didn’t know these people. Well, he had come to know Paul and Jo a little bit. But not for long. She felt a swell of pride that Sammy had used the list of family names and descriptions she had given him, as a Christmas list. Her heart tugged in her chest. This tall, handsome man, who had struggled throughout his growing-up years, had not settled for the cards he’d been dealt. No, he created a whole new set of cards, all on his own. His determination to help children who had been dealt a similar hand, could only be described as miraculous. Bold, yet gentle. Pragmatic, and comionate. Brave, and generous. Determined, and…And the list could go on for miles. She beamed up at him. Tommy touched her elbow, and she turned to face him, tears shining in her eyes. He winked, and she knew he understood. “I’ll tell the front desk we need someone to help haul in your gifts, Sammy,” said Tommy, stepping away. “I could probably manage,” said Sammy. “But since you offered, I’ll just hang

out here with Cath.” Catherine smiled through her tears. It was the first time Sammy had used the nickname he had tagged her with in seventh grade. Her smile broadened with the wonder that her special friend from junior high school had turned out to be her twin brother. Miraculous. The reality had been a blow, when Catherine first heard the words her mother’s lips. She had swooned and cried and battled against misunderstanding and rage. It had taken a lot of tears and a lot prayer to get her through those early weeks. But the hardest part was over now. God had worked miracle after miracle to give Sammy a healthy, blessed, abundant life. And now, they could enjoy their relationship as brother and sister, for as long as God let them live. Thank You, God, for bringing us together. I am so full of gratitude and love and, well, just so much! Thank You, thank You, thank You! “I’m so glad you could make it,” said Catherine, her hand on Sammy’s gloved hand. The glove matched his tux, exactly. It warmed her heart to see it. She knew what was beneath that glove. She knew how many years he had worked to perfect it. She knew that the technology would soon be available to the world. She knew and she wanted to shout from the rooftops that her little brother, by seven minutes, had been the brains behind it all! “Nothing and nobody could have kept me away,” said Sammy. “I am so ready to meet the rest of the family. Meeting Paul and Jo under such trying circumstances hurt my heart. I hated to see her that way. She really is a tremendous director, a comionate human being. And I’ve ired Paul’s work, I guess since he started his ministry in Nashville. His reputation working with the youth is impressive. You should be proud.” Catherine chuckled. “So proud,” she said. “I’m proud of all my children, of you, of everyone in this family.” She couldn’t stop the happy tears from gushing out. Sammy looked down at her and patted her hand that rested on his arm. “We are blessed.” “So blessed,” she said, wiping the tears off her cheeks. “Now, I’m ready to show you off to everyone.” “Ha. That’s funny. I’m just a regular guy, Sis.”

Catherine squeezed his arm and frowned up at him. “Don’t ever say that again. I am so, so proud of you. And there’s nothing regular about you. But I also don’t want you to get the big head, so I won’t disclose everything I know about you and what wonderful things you have accomplished. Not tonight, anyway.” He raised a brow at her. “I promise,” she said, with a grin. Catherine turned toward the door as package after package, wrapped in winter blue, was carried in and placed near the others around the Christmas tree. Just as the last package had been placed, just so, voices drifted in from the lobby. “I hope you’re ready for this,” said Catherine, with a grin. “’Cause Christmas is always a loud and boisterous celebration with this crew.” She looked up at her brother with a smile. She was smiling so big it almost hurt. But she paid it no mind. Today was a day of celebration. The first time all her family would be together. The day most of them would meet her long-lost twin brother. Yeah, she was beyond proud. “My parents are all dead now,” Sammy said quietly. “Christmas has been a dull affair for too many years. If it weren’t for the charities and orphanages demanding my time, I think I may have gone mad.” Too many tears to contain spilled over and down her cheeks, as Catherine guided her six-foot five, broad-shouldered, handsome, baby brother toward the double doors. She blotted at the tears with a tissue, pushed her shoulders back, and stood tall. Her brother had come home. This was not a time for sadness, but a time of rejoicing. As though they had each received a letter of instruction, the family lined up outside the door, awaiting the opportunity to meet and welcome Samuel James White into the fold. Matt and Jessica came first. Matt grinned big. “Nice hair,” he said. Catherine laughed—all sense of sadness completely gone. Matt and Sammy looked as much like twins as she and Sammy did. She could feel Sammy relax under the hand she still had on his arm. Tommy stepped up to her other side, and Catherine leaned into him. “I’m the happiest woman alive,” she said.

Half-way down the line of new family, Sammy’s eyes got big. “Ah, Paul and Jo. I’m so glad to see you again. You’re looking well, Jo. I trust you have fully recovered?” “I’m doing fine,” she said. “Thanks for all you’ve done for me. You went a little over the top.” Sammy took Jo’s hand and said, “It hurt me so much to see you in the hospital. I would have taken away the pain and even the memory, if I could.” Jo stared back at him, until he let go of her hand and tried to smile. “Sorry to get so heavy. It’s Christmas. We’re here to celebrate.” The attack on Jo Baldwin had affected Sammy deeply. One of his own, a celebrated employee and niece by marriage, had been attacked on his property. It had been a pleasure to pay her medical expenses, send her flowers, pay for housekeeping and have meals sent in, for two full weeks following the attack. He would not soon forget the incident. Darnell Washington had turned over the names of every gang member who had threatened him. Marcus had testified on his behalf, and Darnell would serve a six-month stint in juvie. Jo had been to visit him, had forgiven him and promised to be there for him when he got out. Sammy puffed up with gratitude that he could be part of such a marvelous family. “Thank you,” said Jo. “You two have been a huge source of inspiration for me,” said Sammy. The shock on Paul’s face made Sammy feel totally humble. People had a tendency to brag about the accomplishments of Samuel White; but Sammy knew that people like Paul and Jo Baldwin were the real heroes. Without people like these two, the centers would be shut down. The children would be lost on the streets, and so much intended good would soon become a pile of ash. “How’s that?” Sammy felt certain that Paul Baldwin had no idea that he really was a hero. That troubled youth all over Nashville had sung his praises. And not just Paul, but his

lovely wife, Jo, as well. The director of the Nashville Youth Activity Center had made a name for herself, whether she knew it, or not. “You and Jo have helped many young people within my sphere of influence. They would come to the youth activity center downtown and rattle on and on about how y’all made them feel like part of a family, through your youth ministry, that went far beyond the walls of a church building. At-risk kids who had never felt loved in their entire lives, before you and Jo took the time to listen to them, play with them, and love them with a Jesus kind of love. I’m very impressed.” Sammy gripped Paul’s shoulder, beaming. Paul laughed. “Well, you’re awesome too, bro. The kids love that place. Mom has told me a little about what you have accomplished. I’m the one who should be impressed.” “Hey!” said Kim, from behind them. “What’s the hold up? I’d like to meet my uncle before next year.” “Guess someone’s in a hurry,” said Sammy, with a grin. “I ire her enthusiasm.” Paul, Jo and Sammy agreed to get together later then moved on. Sammy watched them go, still awed that they were part of his family. His real family. What a blessing to be in the same family with such a godly couple. The three of them would do great things together. Sammy’s heart felt extremely full as he met each new member of his long-lost family. Thank You, Lord. I feel brand new. Somehow complete, like a part of me has been missing all these years and is now fully restored. Like the broken parts have been mended. Sammy, Paul and Jo sat together near the head table and talked about everything under the sun. There was so much to learn, so much to get caught up on, and so many people full of questions. Jo listened with every fiber of her being. She already ired Samuel White, before she’d even met him. But watching him interact with family, full of grace and forgiveness and acceptance and the love of God, she nearly broke down, right there in front of everyone. The Baldwin family had a long history of trauma, grief, mystery and disaster, yet still

managed to come out victorious. God had His hand on all of them. And now, the healing of body and souls came together on this one night. A Christmas miracle. “Oh, Paul,” said Jo. “Isn’t this the best Christmas ever?” “It’ll go down in the annals of Baldwin family miracles, that’s for sure.” Jo whispered in her heart. Lord, we need a Christmas miracle of our own. Out of nowhere, or maybe because Samuel White had been reunited with his family after so many years, or because she and Paul had been through so much trauma of their own, or maybe it was something Jo couldn’t put a name to, she couldn’t be sure. But the Spirit of Christmas had once brought the Savior of the world down to Earth in the form of a tiny babe, to bring hope and the promise of eternal life. A miracle that big came from a power that knew no bounds. The longing for a baby of her own resurfaced. Hard and fast. After all this time, Jo thought she had buried the ache deep enough that it couldn’t affect her. Deep enough that it would never hurt her again. She’d been wrong. Tears filled her eyes, and Jo excused herself from the table. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she whispered to Paul. “You okay?” How could she answer that? Yes, I just need a breather. No, my heart is breaking all over again. Yes, I’m just answering Nature’s call. No, I need to get alone and cry. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just headed to the restroom.” Paul wondered about that. Jo didn’t seem fine. He’d seen her eyes fill with tears more than once tonight. And he’d never been good at reading them. Were they happy tears or sad tears? Should he follow her?

Better not. I’ll give her a few minutes. If I think she’s been gone too long, then I’ll go after her. Five minutes dragged by. Then ten. Then fifteen. Okay, that’s it. Paul stood and excused himself. He didn’t think he and Jo would be missed overly much. The main course was winding down, and he expected to be back before dessert had been served. He had to get to Jo. Something wasn’t right. “Just gonna go check on Jo,” he said to Sammy. “Be right back.” Paul found Jo outside the ladies’ room door, slumped on the loveseat that garnished the hall. She was staring at the floor. “Jo? What’s going on?” Jo looked up at him and Paul rushed to her side. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying and tears still slipped down her face. The half-hearted attempt at a smile she offered him, broke his heart. “Jo.” “I’m fine.” “Don’t give me that. I can see you aren’t fine. What’s happening?” “I’m ashamed to tell you.” Now his heart started to hammer in his chest. He knew Jo pretty well. Thought they had confronted every ghost and skeleton in her closet. He didn’t even want to think about what she might say. But no matter what, he would stick by her. “I think you know that you can tell me anything.” He thought she knew, but the look on her face told him, maybe she didn’t really believe it. Again. Please, Lord, give her the strength to be real with me. “Really,” he said. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s hurting you. Is it something I said or did? I’m sorry. For whatever.”

A frown creased her brow, and he waited for her to speak. To finally tell him what in the world was going on. “I want a baby.” “Oh.” “Yeah, I know. I thought I was past all that. But sitting here, in the face of a real Christmas miracle, I started aching for one of my own. One for us. And the sadness just about knocked me off my feet. I had to get out of that room.” “Oh, sweetheart. Come here.” Paul opened his arms to his beloved, held her against him, and let her cry it out. Prayer and a miracle granted from God the Father would be their only hope. All he could offer was his and prayer. An idea began to form in his heart, and he thanked the Lord for insight. Yes, sir. I’ll do it.

Chapter Twenty-Five

…”Son of man, look carefully and listen closely and pay attention to everything I am going to show you, for that is why you have been brought here…” (Ezekiel 40:4 NIV).

Josephine Sterling Baldwin stood before the congregation and sang one of her Aunt Pearl’s favorite songs: “Come See This Man.” Her lovely voice drifted out into the audience with a smooth and perfect pitch that pierced her husband’s soul. As she sang through the final chorus, tears began to slip down her face. Paul could only watch, and wait, and pray. He had begun a 24-hour prayer vigil on her behalf as soon as they had returned from the Christmas holiday. He held her every night and prayed her work would distract her during the day. But the sorrow had a tight grip on her soul. They had been home for six long months. People were beginning to drop off the prayer chain. But that did not deter Paul. He filled in the empty slots himself or recruited fresh pray-ers. The Lord had laid it on his heart to pray. And pray they would—until the Lord said the prayer season was over. Jo made her way down to sit next to him, and Paul wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Great job, Sweetheart.” Jo smiled back at him, but it did not quite reach her eyes. Please, Lord. Find a way to give her peace, with or without a child of her own. Please help her that You love her, that you died for her, and that You care about every aspect of her life. Help her live the words of the song, and really see You. Following the worship service, Paul took Jo’s hand and walked with her out to the car. The sun shone bright overhead but did not make him perspire. June had come in mild and not quite so humid as May had been. Grateful for the slight breeze and welcome temperature, Paul squeezed Jo’s hand and leaned toward her. “How about a picnic? It’s a beautiful day.” A slight frown marred her lovely face, but then ed in an instant.

“I’ll cook,” he urged. Jo faced her husband. Bless his heart, he had been trying for months to pull her out of the depths of gloom she’d been groveling in. She struggled to give him a smile then decided a picnic might be a good idea, after all. She’d gotten into the habit of holing up in the house every weekend, getting out only for Sunday worship and dragging herself to the grocery store, only if absolutely necessary. Paul didn’t deserve that. He had been such a trouper. Never once faulting her, or blaming her, or chastising her, for the funk she found herself in—and hadn’t even tried to pull out of. “That would be nice,” she managed to say. “Really? That’s great! Ok, let’s get home and get changed. You can rest while I make lunch. Deal?” She wanted to say no, even after the self-talk. She wanted to bury her head under the covers and not face anything until she had to go to work on Monday morning. Work. The kids. The job. Her boss. The love of her husband. Even Darnell Washington had been to the activity center to apologize, in person. He’d managed to come by a few times since his release. They had shared some deep discussions about Christianity and the gift of salvation. She had hope that he was close to accepting God’s free gift of grace. These things had given her a reason to get up in the morning. She should really start acting like she appreciated all of them. “Deal,” she said, offering him what she hoped was a better smile than she had managed for months. “Awesome,” said Paul, pulling a genuine smile out of her. She really did love this man. So much. Help me be the wife he deserves, Lord. Please help me trust You. Help me give myself, my whole life, over to You. All of it. No matter what. I’ve been ridiculously foolish. Peace followed the words. A peace Jo had not known for what seemed like ages. Sunshine flooded through her, swelling her heart and filling all those hideous cracks with gold. Only God could provide the healing she needed. Only God could offer her full restoration. Only God could mend the broken pieces of her

life. I love You, Lord. Thanks for reminding me that You are still with me. I trust You. I do. Help my lack of faith. Strengthen me and help me. The words to the song she had sung that very morning came back to her. He’s never far from where you are. The ride back to the house reminded Paul of the summer before, when all was well with their world. Jo sat by his side, riding along with a smile on her face, engaging in conversation, laughing. Laughing! Wow. Paul’s heart swelled with gratitude. Thank You, Lord. This could only be You. And they spent the rest of the afternoon basking in the shade, and in the love they had for each other. Jo settled in for the ride home, a smile plastered on her face. A smile she felt down to her toes. Her husband had shown her unconditional love, always. Even when she’d been a stinker. And now, in the face of new-found peace, she could not stop smiling. “I love you, Paul,” she said, turning in her seat. He glanced over at her and her heart began to pound. Tears filled his eyes. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” Paul had given her lots of time and space to think, to pray, to mourn—not the loss of a child, but the lack of a child. And he loved her still. “I heard the voice of the Lord after church this morning,” she said. She could hear the tremble in her voice but cleared her throat to release the clog. She wanted Paul to know that the burden had been lifted. Holy Spirit spoke to her in a voice she knew was not her own. And she had heard Him, heard the heart of the Lord as He revealed His love for her, revealed His intent. He would never leave her or forsake her. Only God could be more steadfast and consistent than her Paul. And she needed that. Needed to know she would never really be alone. Never be abandoned again.

“Oh?” “Yeah. He used the words in the song I sang. He’s never far from where you are. And I heard Him.” She paused then, pulling herself together, more sure than ever of what she was about to say. “I trust Him, Paul. I really do. And I trust you. Thank you for being so longsuffering. Please forgive me for falling into such a deep dark well of self-pity.” Her eyes got wide as Paul pulled off to the side of the road. He jumped out of the driver’s seat and raced around the vehicle. He yanked her door open, unfastened her seat belt and pulled her down to him. She could feel his tears as they fell on her shoulders. He clung to her for several seconds before pulling back. “You don’t need forgiveness from me, Babe. But if you think you require it, I give it freely. I’m just glad you have come back from the darkness. I’ve missed you—more than I know how to say.” Jo stared into the eyes of her husband and a fresh batch of peace washed over her. The love that looked back through his eyes seemed surreal. He really did love her. No matter what. She’d been a fool to forget that her husband, and her God, both loved her. Without condition. Without need of a specific performance. Without regard for her past, her present or her future—whatever that might look like. She was blessed and highly favored. The head and not the tail. Loved, forgiven, restored. Never to be separated from the love of God. “Take me home, Paul. We have some catching up to do.”

Christmas –Two Years Later

“It’s time to wake up, Josephine! Santa’s been here, and he brought some friends with him.” Paul nudged his wife’s shoulder, urging her to get out of bed. She needed to wake up, before she missed all the festivities. She looked up at him, one eye open. “Really? Do you know what time it is?” “Yep.” He tugged on her arm. “Come on. It’s snowing outside. And it’s fantastic! You have to see it!” The smile on Jo’s face gave him hope. Their love had blossomed to a whole new level over the past two years. They’d had two more infants as foster children, who had found forever homes. Julio and Marcus now owned the automotive repair shop that had been left to them in the previous owner’s will. Not one single member of the Martinez family had protested. The magic of the previous two years hung in the air, like the wonder that hovers under mistletoe. “Are you coming or what?” Paul asked, jittery as a June bug. “I’m coming, silly boy.” All he could do was laugh. This was going to be the best Christmas ever! He could feel it. Miraculous wonder hung in the air. “Come on, come on,” he said, nudging her shoulder again. “You did hear me say it’s snowing, right?” Jo stopped mid-stride. “How about you get everything ready in the great room, while I get me ready? How’s that?” Paul reached his arms around her and squeezed.

“Paul, please. I haven’t been to the restroom yet,” she said. “And there is enough pressure on my bladder, without you making it worse.” “Oh, sorry. I’m just so excited this Christmas.” “Why is this one different?” “You know exactly why this one is different. We’ve never been pregnant before! But I don’t know. It’s more than that. But I do know it’s going to be the best Christmas ever!” Paul kissed his wife on the cheek and squeezed her from the side, with one hand at her lower back and one resting on her baby belly. “This Christmas feels magical. Even though we couldn’t be with family this year. I’m glad they had the opportunity to get in a skiing vacation. Not even sorry I’m not with them. Where they are, snow is a regular ol’ thing. God gave it to us as a special gift. “At least they’ll be back in time for baby Sam’s arrival. Anyway, you’ll see I’m right about this Christmas being different. I don’t know how or what yet, but you’ll see.” He smiled big and kissed her cheek again. “You’re acting like a child. Go, so I can get dressed.” “Yes, ma’am. But hurry.” “Promise.” “Good.” Josephine Sterling Baldwin stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, a huge grin lighting up her face. “It’s been eight and a half months, Lord, and I can still hardly believe it.” Awe and gratitude rushed through her, making her warmer than the room. She rested her right hand on her stomach and stared at herself. The Lord had granted

her fondest wish. At the time, she had not even considered pregnancy might be the cause for her missed cycles. She had attributed it totally to stress. But back in April, when a new set of kids with attitude had been causing trouble at the center and she was struggling with her job, her mind everywhere except on babies, the Lord had given them a child. A boy-child. Her second fondest wish. A boy to carry on her husband’s name, with a chance to absorb his father’s finest characteristics. She had not experienced any symptoms of endometriosis. Not once. Another miracle. So much to be grateful for. So much. “Jo!” she heard from far away. “Paul!” she shouted back, with a grin. “I’m coming. I’m coming.” But the grin that spread across her face showed zero signs of impatience. Her grown-up husband had reverted back to the wonder of an eight-year-old boy who didn’t know what to expect from the myriad of packages that rested under the Christmas tree. From the gift of snow at Christmas. Family or not, they would be together, and at the moment, that’s all that mattered. The sun had barely begun to rise when Jo entered the great room. She stood facing the large plate-glass window. The sight before her sucked the air out of her lungs. “Oh.” “I told you,” said Paul. He took her hand and pulled her closer to the window. “Look at that. Snow everywhere. And we have no particular place to go.” “Ha,” said Jo. “Isn’t it lovely?” “Yes. But not as lovely as you.” Paul rested a hand on her belly. “How’s our son doing today?” “He was wrestling with something all night,” she said. She started to say something else, when her eyes got huge. “Paul, we do have a particular place to go.”

“I don’t think so. I was very thorough when I went to the grocery store.” She wanted to laugh, but now wasn’t the time. The puddle at her feet told her they’d better get to the hospital, snow or no snow. “Paul, listen to me very carefully.” “What’s up?” he said, not looking away from the vision of loveliness outside their window. “We need to get to the hospital. My water just broke.” Paul turned slowly away from the window. “What did you say?” “My water just broke.” “Oh. Oh!” he shouted, when realization hit him. Then he started scrambling. He handed Jo his cell phone. “Call the doctor. I’ll get your bag. And I’ll drive,” he said. “Thanks,” said Jo, with a chuckle. “I appreciate not having to drive myself to the hospital.” “Stop joking, Jo. This isn’t funny.” “Sorry.” “No, I’m sorry. Sit down. Or something. We’ll be out of here in five.” He couldn’t believe it. Their baby was coming early! His instincts had been right. This was going to be the best Christmas ever. Take care of my wife and child, Lord. You know they mean everything to me! On the ride to the hospital, Paul kept the vehicle busy, calling family , and the pastor. Just as he made the final call, they pulled up to the emergency room doors.

Paul started screaming as soon as he got out of the car, as if the nurses inside the building would come running out. He ran around the hood of the truck and raced over to Jo, who was climbing down out of the truck by herself. “Jo! Wait.” She smiled at him, and climbed down anyway, a little too smug for his taste. What if she fell and made things worse? What if she broke a leg because she slipped on the ice? He tried not to growl, but she was taking chances with her life, with their baby’s life. “What do you think you are doing?” “I thought I might go have a baby.” At least her attempt at humor helped calm him down a little. “Very funny,” he said with a chuckle, reaching for her arm. But just as he touched her, she cried out in pain and doubled over. He reached an arm around her back in . “Paul, this is getting serious.” Adrenaline kicked in and Paul picked up his very pregnant wife and carried her inside the hospital. Adrenaline pumped through his veins so hard he thought he could have picked up the truck and carried it inside, if that’s what it took. As soon as he cleared the doors, Paul started shouting for help. A nurse approached. One who didn’t seem happy to be working on Christmas Eve. But Paul did not let her demeanor faze him. “My wife is having a baby!” The nurse did not respond to that declaration, just rolled a wheelchair over to them. “Set your wife in this wheelchair, sir, and we’ll get her taken care of. You need to go to the issions office and give them your personal and insurance information.” Her voice sounded like the repeat of a monologue she had stated, in a matter-of-fact tone, over and over. Like his wife was nothing special. “Don’t worry. Someone will come find you shortly. Your wife is in good hands.”

It wasn’t what she said, but the way she said it that irked him. Josephine Baldwin wasn’t just another woman having a baby; she was his wife. Maybe this nurse didn’t get that. His wife, who had not been expected to have children. A wife who had risked her life for the life of a child. The nurse didn’t know any of that, sure, but Paul thought she should treat Jo with the respect and dignity any new mother deserved. But he didn’t voice any of that either. Getting Jo upset at this point, would be uncalled for. He didn’t need to make things worse. Once Paul had Jo settled into the wheelchair, he shoved a hand through his hair, his heart racing, his palms sweating. No complications, no complications, no complications. He leaned over and kissed Jo on the forehead before Atilla the Nurse pushed her away from him, into the unknown. “Don’t worry, Babe,” he called after her. “I’ll come find you. No one will be able to stop me.” If the unpleasant nurse had turned to look at him he would have glared at her, maybe even stuck out his tongue. He stood there, watching, until Jo was no longer in his line of vision. Then jumped when someone touched his elbow. “The office is right this way,” said the voice. “If you’ll follow me.” The voice guided his footsteps, or he would have been lost. His mind was not in this hallway. Two doors down on the right, Paul was left alone with the office staff, who also did not seem happy to be on duty this amazing, miraculous Christmas Eve. What was wrong with these people? Didn’t they know God had worked a huge miracle? Couldn’t they read it all over his face? Josephine Baldwin had conceived and carried the child to full-term, with zero complications. A blooming miracle! In all of Paul’s biblical studies, he had yet to ascertain exactly the time of year when the Lord Jesus Christ came to Earth in the form of a babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. It could have been summer, just couldn’t be positive about it. He did know, however, that many religious circles, including his own ecclesiastical congregation, celebrated the birth of Christ at Christmas. For, without Christ, Christmas would be nothing but a mas. And regardless of the actual date of birth, December was when folks asked questions about the Christ-child. Asked what all the hubbub was about. Christmas brought

good will and unbridled joy, unspoken charity, and unexplained miracles. And miracles made headlines. The one time of the year when miracles trumped mayhem. A large segment of the population celebrated the birth of Christ at Christmas. And celebrate, he would. Especially on this particular Christmas, when God had answered a huge accumulation of months and months of prayers. When Paul emerged from the istrative hallway, he found Julio and Marcus standing at the information desk. “Hey, guys,” said Paul. “So good to see you here. I didn’t even notice how treacherous the roads were, driving in. My mind was in a fog.” Julio and Marcus walked toward Paul, with big grins on their faces. Paul had let himself get a little antsy, knowing his extended family would not be at his son’s birth, after all. But the sight of these two lifted his spirits, immensely. Their business had done well and they both volunteered in the youth department at church. Pride filled his chest as he watched them approach. “So, can you hang around for a while? I have no idea how long this will take.” Nerve bumps skittered up his arms and made his scalp tingle. He really hadn’t realized how much he did not want to be alone, while Jo was in delivery. But wait, he had planned to be in the delivery room with her, so she would not be alone. Still, knowing that Julio and Marcus would be in the waiting room, would make the whole process feel less stifling. “Sure, Mr. B,” said Marcus. “We’re not leaving until we’ve met Mr. B Junior.” A rush of air swooshed out of him, as Paul let that news settle over him. He would not be alone if something went wrong. He would not be alone after his son was born. He would have someone to share the good news with. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to have you here.” “I’m pretty sure Pastor Jacob will be out to see the baby tomorrow,” said Julio. “Super great,” said Paul. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find where they’ve taken Jo. Follow me, and I’ll show you were the maternity waiting room is. There’s usually coffee up there, and a vending machine down the hall.”

“Thank You for this miracle of miracles,” said Paul, as he gazed down at his son in the hospital nursery, fourteen hours later. “I will make sure, Father, that Samuel Paul Baldwin knows how special a night he was born on. Jo and I are well aware that we have been granted a Christmas miracle. Thank You for trusting him into our care.” Paul felt Jo’s hand on his arm before he saw her image reflected in the glass. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he said, glancing down at her with glassy eyes. He could use some rest, too, but was having a difficult time leaving Sam on the other side of that glass. “Nah. All the excitement’s out here,” said Jo. “You feelin’ okay?” Paul pulled Jo into his side then planted a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m good,” said Jo. “A little tender, but nothing compared with what was going on twelve hours ago. I’ll be fine. We have a handsome son, do we not?” “Yes, ma’am. Our very own Christmas miracle.”

THE END

The Power of Prayer

He (Epaphras) always prays hard that you may fully know what the Lord wants you to do and that you may do it completely (Colossians 4:12 CEV). Are you praying just for yourself, or do you have a heart for others? If you don’t have a heart for others, ask God to give you a burden for the lost, comion for those around you who may be sick, mourning, or trapped in a desperate situation, separated from love and from the Lord. Trust Him. Prayer changes things. Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone (Colossians 4:5-6 NIV). On a spiritual level the battle is fierce. Angels of Heaven’s Armies battle the demons who bow to Satan. They fight for us, for those we pray for. They fight for freedom on a scale that would pale a world war, in comparison. Victory comes when we pray and believe that God wills for us to have our petitions. Cry out to God and change a life—forever. Cry out to God and watch miracles happen. Cry out to God and bask in the spiritual rain He longs to release into your life—and the life of someone you love—or the life of someone you’ve never met—or unto the salvation of our nation. Cry out to God. He’s waiting to hear from you—and His angels are at the ready to move mountains!

Kathy Highley