Excerpt
Chapter One
An occasional rain drop splattered the windshield as Deborah Loren drove southeast down Interstate 78 under a heavily overcast sky. The dreary weather matched her thoughts. She pushed her dark hair away from her face and rubbed her troubled brow. An expression in her amber eyes clearly revealed her fears.
Deborah was on her way to the little Mississippi town of Vestige Springs. From there, she would go out into Dorsey County’s rural countryside where the isolated old house named Twilight was located.
While struggling with her decision to go alone, she prayed. “Lord, I believe what You say in the Bible about spiritual warfare with the powers of darkness. Am I crazy to ignore the warning and go there alone? Am I strong enough to handle this? Should I turn back and wait until someone can go with me?” She wasn’t a brave person, never had been. In her twenty-eight years, she had never done anything alone. Someone had always been near to depend on for strength and courage. Even as she asked the Lord about going, she knew, deep down in her being, that it wasn’t the Lord directing her. Instead, it was her own reckless, impulsive decision.
Three years earlier, her husband, Paul, had died in an accident at Twilight, leaving her alone with a broken heart and to raise, without a father, their three-year-old daughter, Beth.
At the time, Deborah had been only twenty-five years old, but it felt as if her life was over. How many times over those past three years had she thought, if only he hadn’t gone. Her life would never be the same because he did go, and the happiness they had shared was gone forever.
Her memory concerning all the events during the time of Paul’s death was sketchy. Paul’s friend, Edward, had called the week prior to the accident, inviting Paul to his home in Vestige Springs. They would spend the week deer hunting on the county’s wooded land.
The fatal accident had occurred on that last morning before Paul was to return home. He had risen early and went alone to hunt on his Uncle Henry’s land surrounding Twilight. The police told her that Paul’s foot had caught on a tree root causing him to trip. As he fell, his gun discharged killing him instantly.
The preparations for his funeral were a complete blur. However, she could still remember the same crushing, burning, pain in her throat and chest that she had felt during Paul’s funeral. Time had healed some memories, erasing them from her mind. Others, she knew, would never be forgotten. Those same hot, stinging tears still welled up in her eyes when she allowed her mind to dwell too long in the past.
At his grave site, someone, she didn’t know who, had handed Beth and her each a flower. She had heard Beth’s small, sad voice say, “Thank you.” As she looked down at her child’s tear-covered face and into her sky-blue eyes that were so much like Paul’s, she knew her life was not over; she had a reason to go on living. Her little daughter had needs that only a mother could fill.
Deborah remembered her own dear mother and how no one could have taken her place, although her sister, Elizabeth, had tried to fill in the gap for Deborah’s sake. The precious words from the Bible came to her mind, ‘“Her children arise up, and call her blessed. . . .”’ Yes, she could go on living and be the kind of mother to her daughter that her own dear mother had been to her—the kind of mother that Paul trusted to raise his precious little one.
For weeks after his death, Beth, not realizing that death was final, asked when her daddy was coming home. Deborah explained over and over that her daddy couldn’t come home. His new home was in heaven with Jesus. “Tell me again, Mama, about heaven where Daddy lives. I wish we could write him a letter.”
Deborah’s voice had been soothing as she had taken Beth in her arms, “Honey, you tell Jesus what you want your daddy to know, and ask Jesus to tell him for you.” Night after night, Deborah, forcing herself to be strong, had put her own crushing pain aside while she gently rocked her three year old daughter listening to her cry herself to sleep.
For three long, lonely years since Paul’s death, Deborah had put her whole heart and energy into raising Beth and into her work as a nurse. Deborah was a devoted mother and a dedicated nurse, and she enjoyed being both, but as of late, she had felt restless for something more. Maybe her time of mourning was over, or maybe the restlessness was just spring fever; she didn’t know. Whatever it was, she knew that she was ready for a change—a break from her mundane existence. She was ready for an adventure.
“I can handle this!” she said confidently. “I’m a Christian, and I trust the Lord. But, I’ve never had to depend on Him completely, so how much do I trust Him?” she questioned as her confidence began to waver. Was this really the adventure that her boredom had been craving?
Was it wise to continue this journey? It was as if she were being drawn into a black hole. Although her common sense begged her to turn the car around and go home to her safe, secure lifestyle, an uncontrollable curiosity forced her on toward the unknown.
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