by Sharon Dunn
Merci’s thoughts moved at light speed. Hawthorne might keep her alive long enough to get the book, but as soon as she told him, even if it was a lie, he’d shoot the other two. She saw murder in his eyes. Her throat had gone dry. “Why do you want it so bad?”
“That book is unaccounted for because it disappeared for sixty years. I’m in the antiquities and rare books trade. I could say I found the book at a bookseller’s stall just like your father did, no one will ask any questions, and I would be a couple million richer.”
She flexed her hands while he talked. If she made a run for it, would he chase her or simply shoot Nathan and Celeste? Lorelei continued to stand back in the shadows by the hallway. Merci focused on the doorknob shining in the dark living room. It wasn’t that far to the door. She could cry out for help. Maybe Hawthorne would run rather than risk exposure.
In an instant, she jumped out of the chair and bolted toward the living room. She took long strides. She heard a scream of indignation behind her. A gun was fired and then she felt fingers clawing her back.
She reached out for the doorknob, her hand inches from it. Just as she turned it, a heavy weight fell on her back, knocking her to the ground. Her stomach hit the floor with a hard thud. Hawthorne was on top of her. She screamed and struggled to get away. His hand went over her mouth.
And then, he stood up and backed away.
Merci turned over and struggled to her feet. Hawthorne had seen the stack of books and was walking toward it. He still held the gun. Her heart rate soared as her mind raced. Now there was no reason for any of them to be kept alive.
Nathan burst out of his chair and tackled Hawthorne just as he picked up the book. Lorelei must have cut him free, too. The two men wrestled. The gun skittered across the floor, and Merci picked it up.
“Stop right there, Hawthorne.” Both her voice and her hands were shaking.
While Hawthorne’s attention was drawn to Merci, Nathan subdued Hawthorne and held his hands behind his back.
Outside, Merci saw flashing lights. The policeman had come back. He must have suspected something was up.
“Here, take the gun, Nathan,” she said.
Merci ran to her aunt who was huddled in a corner. There was no sign of Lorelei.
“That girl left out the back door after she cut Nathan free,” said Aunt Celeste.
Outside a car pulled up. Merci ran to the door and opened it. The police officer who had come by earlier came up the walkway. A moment later, a highway patrol car pulled to the curb, and Daniel got out along with the officer.
Once Hawthorne was in cuffs and secured in the police car, Nathan walked over to Merci where she stood on the sidewalk. “You were right about Lorelei. There was something redemptive in her.”
“I imagine the police will catch her. She’ll go to jail. I’m going to try to at least visit her. We can’t give up on people.” Merci turned toward him and looked into his brown eyes. Then she looked over at Daniel who was making a statement to the local police officer.
“I agree.” He placed his hand in hers. “That was enough excitement for the day, huh?”
“Enough excitement for a lifetime.”
Aunt Celeste came up beside them and wrapped an arm around Merci. “I think we could all use a quiet morning after all that drama. How about I make us all some breakfast?”
“I’ll see if Daniel wants to stay,” said Nathan.
As Nathan walked toward his brother and slung an arm around him, the genuine warmth she saw between them touched her deeply.
The four of them made their way back up the stairs. Nathan’s hand slid easily into hers as they stepped inside.
TWENTY
Daniel and Aunt Celeste’s laughter floated out from the kitchen as they prepared breakfast together. The aroma of bacon sizzling and cinnamon filled the living room where Merci and Nathan snuggled on the couch.
A faint smile crossed Merci’s face. “Your brother really likes to cook.”
“Yes, he does.” Nathan settled into the plush couch and drew Merci closer. “In fact, that’s what he is going to do up at the ski hill when we reopen, be the head cook in the cafeteria and at the camp. He doesn’t want full responsibility. We’ll have to work everything out on paper, but he said I could gradually give him financial control of his share of the property.”
“I think the way he came to our aid at the car wreck reveals a lot about who your brother is,” Merci said.
“I agree, but this is the way he wants to do it. He wants to prove to me that he is trustworthy.” Nathan let out a heavy sigh. For the first time in three days, he felt as if he could let his guard down and truly relax. Hawthorne, whose real name was Jonathan Drake, was the son of an antiquities dealer who had been on campus to give a lecture the day that Merci had received her package from her father. Jonathan Drake was in custody, and the thugs were already in a jail cell.
As Merci turned to face Nathan, her wide green eyes held a question. The same question that had been on his mind since they had gotten off the mountain.
“So, after breakfast, when it’s time for Daniel and me to go…?”
Her expression communicated confusion.
Nathan slapped his forehead. He was really messing this up. “I guess what I’m saying is I know three days in not enough time for people to fall in love.”
She pulled away from him, scooted back on the couch and looked directly at him. “Fall in love?”
Fear crept into his heart. Was she about to tell him it couldn’t work out between them, that the need to stay alive on the mountain was what had kept them together? He rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand. He wasn’t going to let her go that easily. “But we’ve been through more trauma and trials than most people face in a lifetime.”
“And we worked together and kept each other alive.” She leaned toward him “Do you think we could handle just an ordinary boring life together?”
He searched her green eyes. She did understand. “I’d like to try.” He took her hand in his.
“I won’t graduate until May. We’ll be in different towns.”
“I like driving, and I have a feeling there will need to be a manager for that ski hill about the time that you graduate.” Nathan gathered her into his arms.
“I think I would like boring and ordinary.”
“Me, too.” He pulled her close and kissed her, pressing harder and relishing the fruity scent of her hair and the softness of her skin as his whiskers brushed over her face.
From the kitchen, Daniel said, “Chow is on.”
“Breakfast will have to wait just a minute.” Nathan kissed the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with one more time.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of Threat of Darkness by Valerie Hansen!
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed taking this exciting and sometime harrowing journey with Nathan and Merci as they struggle to get off the mountain and away from the thieves. Zero Visibility is a novel about survival. While there is an obvious need for Nathan and Merci to stay alive physically, I think the book is also about emotional survival. All of us have to make decisions and be discerning in order to have healthy and supportive relationships. Some relationships can destroy people and who God meant them to be. A relationship like the one Lorelei had with Hawthorne was incredibly destructive because it led Lorelei to do illegal things.
We all need discernment when it comes to letting people into our lives. Nathan had to learn to trust his brother again and needed clear evidence that his brother had changed from the selfish person he used to be. Finally there was great emotional risk when Nathan and Merci open their hearts to each other after only knowing each other for a few days, but having lived a lifetime in those days. As you face your own relationships trials, I pray that you will have discernment when it comes to seeing people for who they really are.
In Love,
Sharon Dunn
Questions for Discussion
What were some of the dangers Nathan and Merci faced and how did they work together to stay alive?
What was the most exciting scene in the book for you?
Merci never gives up hope that Lorelei will redeem herself. Have you ever struggled to remain hopeful when someone in your life was making destructive or hurtful choices?
Why is Nathan reluctant to keep the mountain acreage he and his brother have inherited?
Why is Merci’s relationship with her father strained?
Are you more like Merci, willing to trust and see the best in everyone to the point where she is taken advantage of? Or are you more like Nathan, afraid to trust because of past hurts?
Both Merci and Nathan have low points where they want to give up hope that they will get off the mountain? When were those low points?
Though most of us haven’t been in life-threatening
circumstances like Nathan and Merci, all of us have had to face other struggles that went on for a long time. Can you think of a struggle you have had? How did you remain hopeful when it looked as if there was no hope?
Nathan has fond memories of his boyhood in the summer camp. Is there a place or a time that holds the same kinds of memories for you?
The character of Hawthorne is a man driven by greed. What evil things does he do because of that greed?
What does Daniel do to win back his brother’s trust?
Have you ever been in a situation where you had to be discerning about another person’s character? How did you handle it?
What qualities does Merci have that are admirable?
Throughout the book, there are scenes where God provides something or someone that helps Nathan and Merci stay alive. Can you think of some examples of God’s provision?
Do you think it is true that hope is the most important element for survival?
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.
You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.
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ONE
The keening wails echoing down the usually quiet halls of the Serenity Medical Center made the hair on the back of Samantha Rochard’s neck prickle. Every natural instinct told her to flee. Instead, her experience as a registered nurse sent her racing toward the sound of misery.
A doctor, white coat flying behind him, shoved her aside and burst through the curtain into an E.R. exam cubicle. She heard him start to speak. Then, his words were abruptly cut off.
A sixth sense brought Samantha to a skidding halt before the weighted curtain had stopped swinging behind him. Was that scuffling? Fighting? A thud?
She peeked through a slit between the panels. Dr. Weiss, the physician who had elbowed her out of his way, lay on the floor, moaning. A thin, scraggly figure she judged to be male stood with his back to her. The only thing about him that caught her attention and held it was the small, silver-colored revolver he was waving.
Samantha wheeled and flattened herself against a nearby wall. Hands trembling, she pulled out her cell phone, called 911 and cupped her hands around the instrument to muffle her speech.
“We need help at the medical center. Hurry.”
“What’s the nature of your emergency, ma’am?”
“I don’t know.” Samantha wanted to shout instead of whispering. “I heard a scream and…”
When the dispatcher interrupted to ask, “Is that you again, Ms. Rochard?” she figured her report wasn’t going to be taken seriously. So what else was new?
“Look,” Samantha said, “we’ve got a guy in our E.R. with a gun. Isn’t that enough?”
“Okay. Stay where you are and let us handle it.” There was a rumble of conversation and beeping noises in the background before the dispatcher returned. “We have units on the way. Stay on the line with me.”
Samantha was about to reply when someone grabbed a fistful of her shoulder-length, dark hair and jerked her off her feet. The cell phone hit the floor with a splintering crack. She was being dragged backward into the exam area where Dr. Weiss lay!
Her scalp felt as though it was on fire. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t reason. All she could do was keep screaming “No! No!” and try to regain her balance enough to fight back.
The attacker flung her aside like a sack of dirty laundry. She landed hard. The instant she looked up she knew who had manhandled her. It was one of the teenage Boland boys. What’s his first name? Why can’t I remember? Marty, Jimmy, Bobby? It was Bobby. Bobby Joe. At least that sounded right.
Shying away while her thoughts whirled, Samantha stared at the young man in the tattered jeans and T-shirt. His eyes were wide and darting, their pupils dilated. He was under the influence for sure, which made him even more unpredictable. His demeanor reminded her of an animal caught in the jaws of a steel trap and willing to chew its own leg off to escape.
She licked her lips and found her voice. “Hey, it’s me. Samantha Rochard. You’re—you’re Bobby Joe, right? I used to go to school with your big sisters. Remember?”
His eyes flickered. His body was shaking so uncontrollably his hand kept jerking. The hand with the gun in it. “I—I know,” he stammered. “I came to see you ’cause you’re a nurse.”
“Okay. I’m here,” Samantha said with forced calm. “I’m going to get up now, Bobby. Will you let me do that?”
His nod was quick, twitchy. “Yeah.”
Using the edge of the exam table to steady herself she kept her concentration on the teen’s face, waiting for him to do something else irrational thanks to his drug-induced paranoia. The biggest plus of the whole situation was the fact that she knew all of the Boland kids had been raised with strong morals and lots of love, even if they hadn’t had much else.
Samantha took a deep, settling breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m listening,” she told the skinny, long-haired teen. “Why did you want to see me?”
He stepped aside so Samantha could view the occupant of the narrow gurney for the first time. A homemade quilt wrapped a frail, blond child about two years old. The little body lay quiet. Too quiet.
Whipping her stethoscope from around her neck she pushed the teen aside, threw back the edges of the quilt and began to check the child’s vital signs. There was a heartbeat! Thank You, God.
“What happened?” she demanded.
“I don’t know. I was just watchin’ him for a friend and…”
“How long? How long has he been like this?”
Instead of answering, the gunman stepped back and began to weep as if his heart was breaking.
Samantha was no longer concerned about anything except the ill child. “Talk to me, Bobby Joe. Tell me everything.”
Sobbing was all she heard so she doubled her efforts. “Listen. Time matters. If you think he swallowed something I need to know what and when. Talk to me. Help me save him.” She was searching for injuries on the little body as she spoke and finding none.
The young man sank to the floor near Dr. Weiss’s feet. Samantha heard him mumble something about a stash and the little boy being too curious. That was enough to get started. She threw aside the curtain surrounding one end of the exam area and found herself staring at a trio of quaking coworkers.
“Narcan,” Samantha shouted. “And find me a doctor who’s conscious enough to give the order to administer.”
“I can do it,” Weiss said, rolling onto his hands and knees and pausing before pulling himself erect. He cast a wary glance at the assailant who was still babbling incoherently, then nodded at a middle-aged nurse wh
o stood outside the immediate area. “You. Alice. You heard her. Meds. Stat. And somebody order a chopper. We’ll transport to Children’s in Little Rock as soon as we stabilize.”
“Respirations are slow, pulse rapid and weak,” Samantha told him.
“That figures.” Weiss blew a sigh. “I’ll start an IV while you give him half the dose IM. If the problem isn’t opiate-induced, Narcan won’t hurt him.”
“Right.” She administered the injection while other nurses and the doctor worked on the opposite side of the gurney.
The sound of approaching sirens caught her attention. Tensing, she eyed Bobby Joe. He apparently hadn’t noticed that the police were almost there.
“Vitals are improving. Somebody take my place for a second,” Samantha said before leaving the patient in other capable hands and going to crouch beside the distraught teen.
“We’ve given the boy an antidote and he’s starting to respond. It’s going to be okay.” Reaching for his weapon and closing her hand around it, she made sure it was pointing in a safe direction, then exerted steady pressure. “You can let go. Give me the gun, Bobby Joe. Everything’s under control.”
Relieved beyond words when he did as she asked, Samantha stood, holding out the small, silver pistol, butt first and muzzle direction safely diverted, just the way she’d taken it from its owner.
Several police officers were already approaching warily when she turned to face them. Their guns were drawn, their expressions deadly serious so she announced, “You can relax, fellas. Everything’s under control. I got his gun away from him for you.”
One deputy sidled past her to cuff the addict while another stepped up and took the pistol from her hand.
If Samantha hadn’t already been so keyed up that she could barely think straight, she might have shrieked when she saw that cop’s face. Her jaw did drop and she was pretty sure her gasp was audible. His light brown hair and eyes and his broad shoulders were all too familiar. It couldn’t be him, of course. It simply couldn’t be. She hadn’t had one of these déjà vu moments for months. Maybe years.