It was precisely the solitude she so desperately needed. She needed the time to pray. The time to figure out why she’d suddenly been so filled with fear. Was she sensing danger? Was God warning her? Or was it the devil sneaking in to deceive her. She couldn’t let him… she wouldn’t. Turtle Cove was the only place she felt safe and there was no way he’d ever find her there. She had made certain of it. While she kneeled next to the flowerbed to clear out some weeds her shoulders felt burdened as if it was weighted down by something. She was tired. Tired of hiding.

  “You okay? You look like you haven’t slept a wink.” Mary-Jo plopped herself down next to her and busied herself with a garden trowel.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Must be the heat,” Elsbeth answered, which started a casual conversation about the unusually hot weather that had arrived early. Mary-Jo was in her mid-twenties and had been volunteering her summers at the mission since she left school. Her uninvited effervescent presence annoyed Elsbeth, but she held back from telling her and put up with her chatter. Elsbeth watched the girl’s long, tanned arms move nimbly through the soil and couldn’t help thinking how innocent life was at that age. She was reminded of her twenties and how naive she was. Or just plain stupid! If only she could go back and do it all over again. She’d have been married with at least three kids and half a dozen grandkids by now. It was a regret she still found hard to let go of. Elsbeth pushed the thoughts from her mind. She had much to be grateful for. She had Adam and even though he wasn’t her own, she had loved him with all her heart from the first day he and his parents came to the island. What happened to him was awful but there wasn’t a day she didn’t selfishly thank God that he had given her a son to love as if he were her own. And the joy she felt the day Abigail was born was one she likely would never experience again. Her life was full of grace; yet, here she was, still living in fear, unable to get away from her past.

  “Miss Elsbeth, you haven’t heard a single word I said. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Mary-Jo’s voice cut through her thoughts.

  “Oh, yes, dearie, I’m so sorry. How rude of me. Perhaps I should run up to the house and get something to drink. I think the heat is just getting to me today.”

  And before Mary-Jo could argue—or interrogate her as she so often did when her curiosity got the better of her—Elsbeth dashed across the lawns. When she got to her front porch she tossed her sunhat on the deckchair and reached to open her front door, catching her heart in her throat when she saw that the door stood ajar. Panic flooded her veins. She didn’t move, didn’t know what to do. She knew she had closed it behind her earlier. Her legs were paralyzed, stuck to one spot as she stared through the narrow opening into her chalet. She couldn’t remember the scripture that had brought her solace the night before, sending another wave of fear up her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut. Lord, help me! She had no idea how long she stood there, frozen to one spot, but when courage finally came upon her and she managed to draw enough oxygen into her lungs to keep her from fainting, her hand slowly moved toward the door. The rustic wood stung her trembling fingers as if it had injected her with poison. The same poison that suddenly sat bitter on the back of her tongue. How did he find her? She’d been so careful. Why now, after all these years? Familiar feelings she had worked so hard to bury instantly flooded to the surface. She thought of running but she had already stepped over the threshold. Her eyes frantically searched through the cabin’s interior. There was no one there. That left only two places he could be: the bathroom or her bedroom. The floorboards beneath her feet groaned under her fragile frame. She drew in a sharp breath and remained fixed to the spot. Listening. The sudden thought that he might be behind the door waiting for his chance to pounce on her had her heart skip three beats. Her hand went to the small gold cross around her neck, rubbing it between her trembling forefinger and thumb. An unexpected noise came from the bathroom and sent a fresh surge of fear through her legs. Every cell in her body was on high alert, tingling, burning, filling her with dread. She swallowed, annoyed at how loud it suddenly sounded. Whether it was curiosity or Mary-Jo’s naivety that had rubbed off on her she didn’t know, but she found herself moving toward the bathroom, unable to stop herself. You stupid woman! What are you doing? She knew she’d be exposed, vulnerable, powerless if she came face to face with him, just like all those years ago. But somehow, at that moment, with God’s strength, she believed she’d be able to withstand him. She was older now, stronger. As she slowly walked toward the bathroom, her eyes caught sight of the kitchen knives on the countertop. She didn’t hesitate and dashed to draw one from the block. Armed with earthly strength and superficial courage, she held the knife out in front of her. Her knuckles lay white against the black handle, her skin in a cold sweat. She was certain she smelled his cheap cologne. It was a stench she’d never forget. She felt sick to her stomach. Moving closer, one featherlike foot at a time, her heart raced against her chest. She tried to calm her nerves by praying but all her favorite scriptures had escaped from her mind. All she felt was terror. Another sound echoed from the bathroom, instantly jolting her to one side. He was waiting for her. Waiting until she was close enough. So he could hurt her again. Not this time! Not today!

  She tightened her fingers around the carving knife, locked her elbow so her arm extended firmly out in front of her. When she was ready she leapt the last few feet and burst into the bathroom, waving the knife as if she was swatting a fly, screaming at the top of her lungs like the Romans did when they attacked their enemies. She heard his cries, crying for her to stop. Saw his tall body tower over her before his big hands grabbed the knife from her and threw it to the floor.

  “No! You’re not going to hurt me! Get away from me!” Her body had lost all fear. Today she would fight, with everything she had in her.

  “I’m not going to hurt you! Elsbeth, calm down! What has gotten into you?”

  In the distance, her mind recognized his voice, but she didn’t stop. She slammed her fists into his chest, never once looking up into those eyes. The eyes that used to tell her how pathetic she was. The eyes that showed what a disappointment she was. The eyes that told her he was the one in charge.

  She heard the voice again. The voice told her to open her eyes. She tried to resist the instruction but couldn’t. She was too weak. He’d won… he’d won.

  Chapter Eight

  But the eyes she saw weren’t the ones she’d expected to see. With her wrists gripped between his strong hands, she stared up into eyes filled with confusion and questions. She wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or angry. Did she want it to be him? So she could kill him. So she could finally live out her days without fear. At that moment Elsbeth realized her heart was filled with hatred. She hadn’t forgiven him. She hadn’t forgiven herself. Defenseless against her raging emotions she allowed her body to relax and tears freely flowed down her flushed cheeks.

  “There we go. You’re okay. I’ve got you, Elsbeth. I’m not going to hurt you. No one is here to hurt you.”

  Jim let go of her hands and ushered her back into the kitchen where he set her down at the small four-chair dining table. When she had downed the glass of sugar water he had given her she spoke for the first time.

  “What are you doing here, Jim? I thought you were… I thought you were an intruder.”

  Jim, who had sat in the chair opposite her, answered her in the gentlest of tones.

  “I was fixing your tap in the shower, remember? You asked me to have a look at it, last night when we were having dinner.” He paused then spoke again. “Is everything okay, Elsbeth? Who did you think I was?”

  Elsbeth sat frozen in her chair, staring at Jim as he explained his presence. She couldn’t remember asking him. Yet, there he was. And she did have a leaking tap in the shower. Was she losing her mind? She moved out from behind the table and briskly walked over to the kitchen sink. Her fingers were still trembling as she opened the tap and ran water into her cupped hands. It was cool and sobering when she splashed it over her face. Afterward, she stood there staring into the empty sink, her back turned to him, feeling like such a fool, before she finally spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Jim. I don’t know what came over me.” Fear came over you! You’re a Peter. You sank between the waves! She recalled the story of when Jesus called Peter to walk to him on the water. Had she lost her faith? Had she allowed the enemy to steal her faith?

  “Why are you so afraid, Elsbeth? What’s going on? Talk to me, I can help you.”

  Jim was a good man. He had been at The Lighthouse since before she even came there. They were the same age and they’d been friends ever since. She was there for him when his wife died. She knew she could trust him. Still something inside her fought against it. She couldn’t trust anyone. Not with this.

  “I’m fine. It’s nothing. The heat just got to me, that’s all.”

  “It’s not the heat, Elsbeth, and you know it. You almost killed me back there.”

  Elsbeth buried her face in the tea towel she had fumbled between her thin fingers.

  “I know, Jim, and I’m really sorry. It was nothing but a moment of temporary insanity. I’ll be alright.”

  She hung the tea towel back on a tiny hook in the wall and straightened her hair, collecting herself.

  “Did you manage then?” she asked as if nothing had happened.

  Jim rose and placed his big, callused hands on his hips.

  “What?”

  “The tap. Did you manage to fix it?”

  She busied herself with washing out the sugar water glass.

  “If you think your life is in danger, Elsbeth, you ought to tell me. We don’t need another incident on our hands.”

  Jim’s words stung as she stood at the sink. The tone in his voice added suspicion to his words.

  “What do you mean another incident? The fire was an accident. What does that have to do with what happened here today?”

  She had turned to face him now.

  “I’m just saying. Things happen, and if there is a way to prevent it, we should.”

  Elsbeth’s questioning eyes held Jim’s in a firm grip. He knew he had said too much. That she was smart enough to know he was hiding something.

  “Spit it out, Jim. What do you know?”

  Jim drew a deep breath through his nose and held it in his lungs for a brief moment before he let it go.

  “They don’t think it was an accident. They think it was started deliberately.”

  His words left her cold and she stared at him, now leaning her backside against the sink.

  “What are you saying, Jim? Someone killed them?”

  “We don’t know. Not for certain. But it looks that way.”

  “Why would someone want to kill Ruth and Abigail? They’ve never said or done anything to anyone. She was a child for goodness’ sake!”

  Elsbeth caught her breath.

  “Unless—” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to. Jim had reached the same conclusion the moment they told him.

  “Does Adam know?” She knew it was a silly question to ask since he was away on the fishing trip.

  Jim shook his head. “Not yet. I don’t know if I should even tell him. Chief Perry only let me know this morning. You’re the only one I’ve told.”

  Elsbeth shook her head in disbelief.

  “Who would want Adam dead? This doesn’t make any sense.”

  Jim shrugged his shoulders.

  “I don’t know, but I’m not sure we should tell him, or anyone else for that matter. Not until the chief has conclusive evidence. I’ve tightened up on the security and I have guys installing a fence down by the beach later today.”

  He caught the look on Elsbeth’s face. It was very evident she was relieved to hear about the additional security measures. But he decided not to query her on it for fear of sending her off on another tangent. Deciding to focus on his own secret, for now, he forced her eyes on his.

  “You can’t tell anyone yet, Elsbeth. Not until we know what we’re dealing with. For Adam’s sake.”

  Her gaze met his.

  “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t tell anyone either.”

  Jim knew she wasn’t referring to the fire. Her eyes had made that clear.

  “Fine. I won’t tell anyone how you almost killed me today, but if you suspect something that could put the mission in danger, you tell me. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  Adam lay staring at the near fading stars through the netting of the tiny skylight in his tent. With his internal clock habitually wired, he had woken up just before sunrise. No matter how hard he fought it, he’d wake up like clockwork every morning as he had done for nearly a decade. It was as if God was nudging him to rise and go to the place he had always met with him each morning—between the crisp ocean waves where the sun’s warm light brushed his face. He sat up, his shoulders slumped forward and his head in his hands. It had been nearly three months since the accident and he hadn’t been able to face God yet. He couldn’t. He had so many questions that remained unanswered. Why did God let it happen? Why did they have to die? What did he do to deserve this? The lyrics of one of his favorite songs suddenly rang in his head. It spoke of suffering and pain, and turning it into praise. Of gratefulness in times of trouble, and clinging to hope even when you’re crushed beyond what you can bear.

  The words played in a loop in his head. Just three months ago his world was all it should be, and he’d praised God for it every morning. For his grace and his mercy. For the blessings he poured out on him. For his heart that overflowed with joy. But now his road was marked with suffering. The Lord had given and he had taken away. He was a pastor of a great church, a mission ordained to teach others about God’s mercy and love, yet he couldn’t turn his own suffering into praise. He couldn’t sing the words to the song he had belted out so often. His mind jumped to Job. How did he do it? How did he praise God in the midst of his suffering? Job never lost faith. He kept his eyes on God. He put God first. He trusted him.

  Adam’s heart was heavy. His spirit conflicted. The words echoed loudly in his mind. He knew what he had to do. There was no more running. No place he could hide.

  As if driven by an unseen force, he unzipped his tent and stepped out into the crisp early morning light that peeked through the tall trees. The sun would be up very soon. Around him the other men were still asleep, their camping spot quiet. God had provided the perfect opportunity. Now, it was up to him. He didn’t hesitate and set off toward the water. His bare feet hit the trail with urgency. He needed to get there before the sun came up. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t on his surfboard. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t out in the open ocean. All that mattered now was that he got to the inlet on time. He had an appointment, a spiritual meeting he couldn’t miss.

  He ran faster down the hill toward the water’s edge, his body pushing forward. His torso leaning further than his legs allowed. The sharp edges of tree roots sliced into the soles of his feet. A branch smacked him across his cheek, leaving a burning sensation in its place. Still he didn’t care.

  Nearing the small clearing at the water’s edge, he briefly looked up. The sun just about peeked out from behind the horizon and cast its early rays across the tranquil water. This was why he loved Cedar Creek so much. As far as he was concerned it was the golden pathway that led directly east before it opened up to receive the most glorious sunrise known to mankind. His heart leapt with joy. His heart thumped against his chest and he found himself properly smiling for the first time since the accident. He was almost there. He’d meet with his Savior again. He’d be able to ask for forgiveness, receive his mercy. Thank him for his grace. Surrender his heart, his suffering, his guilt.

  Just about at the water’s edge, he leapt over the final few yards ready to dive into the creek. In a brief moment, when the water just about touched his feet, his weight propelled his body off balance. His legs tried to catch up. His arms flailed like two flags in the wind. A jolt of adrenalin momentarily froze all his internal organs as his brain warned him of what was to come. As if he watched his body from somewhere high above his head, he saw how his right foot hit the edges of a large round rock that was covered in moss, moments before it slipped off and wedged sideways, slamming his body flush with the water’s surface. The crisp water hit the back of his eyes and pushed into his nose and mouth, almost at the same time as he felt something hard slam against his head just above his right temple. In the short moments between consciousness and his subliminal mind, his body felt weightless as the water swept over it and slowly pulled him under. Then suddenly, everything around him went dark.

  Chapter Nine

  In the distance, a bright light beckoned him to go toward it. He saw Ruth and Abigail, their arms stretched out to him, their hair glistening in a golden light. Abigail was calling his name, her big smile exposing her two missing front teeth. The light lured him to join them. Oh, how he wanted to hold his little girl again. See his wife. But something was holding him back. He couldn’t go forward. He cried out to Ruth to take his hand, to help him. Somewhere to his right, he heard his mother’s gentle voice. He turned to face her. Her eyes were as blue as the last time he stared into them before the car crashed in between the trees. He called out to her. Where was his father? He looked around for him but couldn’t see him. Ruth and Abby were slowly fading, withdrawing into the bright light. No! No, come back, his mind cried out.