Driftwood Bay (Hope Harbor #5) - Irene Hannon Page 0,9

her awake more nights than she could count.

After all they’d survived, Thomma was not going to give up.

She wouldn’t let him.

God, help me console and encourage him. Show me how to reach him. Please help him find new meaning and hope.

It was the same prayer she uttered every day.

So far, it hadn’t had any effect—but perhaps here, in this small seaside town so far from everything they had known, her son’s heart would begin to heal.

“You have to eat.” She walked over to him.

“I told you, I’m not hungry.”

“Your daughter is.” If she had to use Elisa to break through his shell of grief, she would.

“The kitchen is stocked. You can feed her.”

“You’re her father.”

“You’re her grandmother.”

“She needs you, Thomma.”

“She has you. That is enough.”

“No, it is not. A grandmother is not a father.”

He didn’t respond.

Letting out a slow breath, she lowered herself to the bed beside him. “We have all had more than our share of tragedy, my son. But Elisa has her whole life ahead of her. You and I must work together to give her the opportunity to be all that God wants her to be.”

“God.” He nearly spat out the Almighty’s name, and a flash of fury kindled in his dull eyes. “Where was God when our church was bombed? Why did he take all the rest and leave us?”

It was a question without an answer.

“I don’t know—but we must trust there is a reason.”

He shot to his feet and began to pace in the small space. “Trust? You want me to trust a God who would allow terrorists to kill my wife and son and brother and father? What kind of loving deity would permit such tragedy?”

“I can’t see into the mind of God, Thomma.” The chronic knot in her stomach tightened. “But we cannot lose our faith along with everything else.”

“I left my faith in our bombed-out church in Syria.” Bitterness scored his defiant declaration.

Mariam’s heart sank. He’d never before admitted what she’d long suspected.

“Whatever your personal feelings about God, you owe your daughter a fresh start.”

“You can give her that as well as I can.”

“No, I can’t. No one can take the place of a father. You are grieving your wife, but she is grieving her mother—and she is also grieving you. If you noticed her, you would see how she watches you.” Mariam swallowed, struggling to control her emotions. “She doesn’t understand your distance. She yearns for your love and care, but you ignore her. It’s as if you are lost to her too.”

He stopped pacing and turned toward her, his face awash with anguish. “I have no love left to give. My heart is numb.”

“I too am numb—but for Elisa’s sake, we must try to carry on and create a home for her here.”

“This will never be home, ’Ami.” Weariness and dejection weighed down his words.

“Home isn’t a place. It’s people. And our family is here now.”

He gave her an uncomprehending stare. “How can you move on so easily after everything we’ve been through?”

An ember of anger sparked to life deep within her. “You think this is easy for me? Nothing about starting over in a new country is easy for anyone. But no matter how much we wish it, our homeland is not the place we once loved. Nor will it ever be again. And we cannot bring back the people we have lost.” Her voice broke, and tears blurred her vision.

“Ah, ’Ami.” Contrition softened his features as he crossed to her and grasped her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I know how much you must miss our old life. And I appreciate all you’ve done to care for me and Elisa these past months. I wish I was as strong as you are.”

“Strength comes from faith—and from believing that tomorrow can be better than today.” She cupped his cheeks in her hands, as she’d done when he was a young boy in need of consoling. “We must take this day by day and be grateful we have a chance to create a new life. Most of the people we left behind in that camp will never have this opportunity.”

“I know.” His face crumpled, and he swallowed. “But I can’t help wishing everything was the way it used to be.”

“I share that wish. But dwelling on the past is futile. Our future is here—and we must make it the best it can be.” The doorbell chimed, and she swiped her fingers under her damp lashes. “That will be Susan. I don’t know

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