Tomorrow's Sun (Lost Sanctuary) - By Becky Melby Page 0,33

a slab of smoked sidepork wasn’t where she’d put it? He hated the deception, but there would be no place for him under his parents’ roof if they thought he sympathized with the abolitionists. If Da knew what he was doing tonight, Liam might well find himself swinging from a limb of the twisted oak that shaded the chicken coop.

He lifted the pine boughs off the canoe then stood still, trying to shake the feeling he wasn’t alone. Fallon’s nicker broke the night silence. And a branch snapped behind him.

CHAPTER 9

Numbly brushing eraser crumbs off the side of her hand, Emily stared at the empty chair lying on its back, flat against the floor where it had fallen. Lexi. “Did he hurt you?” Call 911. The fragments piled one on top of the other, triggering her own haunting memories.

Sierra? Are you okay? Can you hear me? Can you…? Blood, orangey-red in the afternoon sun, streaked across her forehead, into her hair, and onto the snow. Eyes—brown, dull, lifeless—staring, not seeing. Sierra! The scream hurt, ripped along her spine, black lines slithered before her eyes, blocking the sun.

A soul-deep shudder roused her. She pulled her sleeve back from her watch. Jake had been gone half an hour. She stood and righted the chair.

Focus on what you know to be real in the here and now. Crossing her arms over her chest, she paced to the window then back to the table. Two floor plans lay side-by-side on the table. One professional, the other drawn in pencil on graph paper. One a series of little boxes, the other wide-open and airy. One old, almost unchanged, the other new, innovative.

Was she describing renovation plans or people? She didn’t know all that much about Jake, the professional keeper-of-the-same. Other than college, he’d lived in Rochester all his life. She’d never lived outside of Michigan, so they had that in common. But she’d traveled, seen the world. Had he? A town this size would make her claustrophobic. She craved new tastes, smells, views. The accident had reduced her life to a series of orderly little boxes. It was time to smash some walls.

She looked at her watch. Only four more minutes had passed. What was going on? He’d told Lexi to lock the door and asked if she’d been hurt. Who was after her? Would he call her when he knew something? Lord, take care of her. Comfort Jake. The prayer, so much like all the others she’d uttered in the past months, came naturally. Did God tire of hearing nothing but 911 calls?

Rolling her shoulders back, she circled the table, shaking the tingling out of her hands. Damp spots on her sleeves marked the spots her hands had clamped. “Go to your happy place, Emily.” She’d laughed every time her therapist said it. No matter what was tearing at her insides, the psychobabble brought a laugh. Leaning her forehead against a windowpane, she closed her eyes.

She had a happy place. And she’d never even been there.

California…Monterey…light and airy…waves hitting rocks… lulling, soothing… Where the blue-dome sky kissed the horizon. Where a beachfront room awaited her.

Someday.

She paced into the kitchen, picked up a handful of almonds. They tasted like river rock. She looked again at her watch. “God is our refuge and strength.” The words scrolled through her mind. She needed to know the rest of it.

She climbed the stairs and lifted the lid from the bin that held the letters. She’d arranged them in order on a stack of T-shirts to avoid touching them and reread the words of the letter dated November 3, 1852.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear.” She read the verse out loud. Lord, be Lexi’s refuge and Jake’s strength. With an inexplicable need to commit it to memory, she read the verse over, and then again. “A very present help in trouble.” From the church pew, she contemplated the iron rods on the wall—converging in the center, flattened at the ends. She stood and crossed the flowered linoleum and stroked the cold metal with her thumb.

Thunder rumbled, rattling the windows, and her phone rang. BRADEN IMPROVEMENTS flashed in white letters.

“Jake?”

“Lexi’s okay. She had an asthma attack and she’s in the ER. She’s going to be fine.”

“Thank God.”

“Yeah. Hey, I won’t get back to your place today. I’ve got a situation. Lexi’s cat ran off, and I think it’s too scared to go home.” His sigh sent a chill from