Diamond Lake Series: Complete Series (Bks 1-7) Boxset

by T. K. Chapin

  "Look, Brody." Pastor Walter leaned back in his seat, taking off his glasses and placing them on the desk. "This life is full of surprises and curve balls, but God is never surprised by any of it. He knew Peter was going to be dropped on your doorstep a few days ago. Even before you were thought of by your parents, he knew about Peter coming to you. God's in control, and His Word sustains us through the trials. Let God rule you."

  Nodding, I let out a sigh and turned away from his eyes. "I'm just worried."

  "I know. Listen. Matthew 6:27 says, 'Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?'" Leaning forward to the desk, he looked me dead in the eyes as he clasped his hands together. "Don't worry, Brody. God will guide and direct your steps."

  My eyes gravitated to the papers on his desk that he had shoved away quickly. He joined my gaze, then softened his expression as if a lightning bolt of truth had struck him right there in his seat.

  The pastor reached for the papers and pulled them out. Shuffling them in the midst of quietness, he shook his head, surveying the papers. Pausing, he looked at me. "Sometimes, God sends someone into our lives to help us with an area He's working on within us." He peered down again, then back at me. "Like He did with you coming here today." He set the papers down. "I've been stressing out about getting a mortgage on the church to help build a gymnasium for the kids. As you know, we just paid the church off last year. I've been so stressed. Then you walked into my world. We both need to trust in God and give it to Him."

  "Elders make the decision, don't they?" I asked.

  "Well, yeah, but they seek my input before anything gets brought up officially to them and then to the church for a vote."

  Smiling at Pastor Walters, I nodded. "We just need to trust in God."

  **

  That afternoon, I took a late lunch and went over to Dixie's Diner to sit and eat my favorite dish they served—Philly cheese steak and fries. Ponce had finally tracked down Mrs. Jamison. She had been gone most of the day visiting a friend in Spokane. He was over at her house now, attempting to get more information.

  Sitting in a booth near the window that looked out onto the sidewalk, I had a clear view of the courthouse a block up the road. Townsfolk crowded the sidewalks everywhere, all enjoying the remaining nice weather. We all knew the sunshine would soon come to an end with October closing in by the day. Soon, the sidewalks would be empty and cups of coffee full as the crisp fall air moved in.

  Miley came over and refilled my coffee. Glancing up at her, I flashed a courtesy smile to her. She in turn flashed a quick, fake smile. Though she had forgiven me for the abrasive side I had shown earlier in the year, there was still a hint of lingering resentment there. I didn't blame her. She had good reason after what happened. "How's Hunter doing with his new job?" I asked, knowing he had started working at the VA in Spokane. Charlie had mentioned it the other night.

  "My husband is really happy. Thanks."

  Watching her turn and go to another table, I thought back on our relationship years ago. She was so clingy I couldn't stand it. It did make me happy that she had found someone. That barely mattered, though, after all I had put her through. A moment later, thoughts of Jess came rushing back to the tip of my mind. The video footage, the guy, and the ring. My eyes caught sight of Miley, her smile falling away as she looked at me. I need to stop pursuing Jess. Maybe if I let Jess and her personal life go, I could avoid another disaster like what had happened with Miley. Maybe I could keep myself from being hated by Peter's mother. Dipping my chin to my chest in Dixie's Diner right then, I gave it to God through prayer. “Lord, help me walk in the Spirit and not in my flesh. Help me to mind my own business and have wisdom to know what You would have me do. Though I struggle with wanting to know everything and try to fix it, it’s not always up to me. I pray these things in Your blessed and holy name, Jesus. Amen.” Lifting my head, I felt an easiness settle into my soul and the weight of burden lift from my shoulders. God was in control as I cast my anxious thoughts and feelings to Him.

  At the station that afternoon, I received a call from Ponce asking me to meet him at Newport High. Arriving to the western side of the parking lot, I spotted his cruiser parked near a group of student vehicles. I parked and got out, approaching him with a set of raised eyebrows. He looked rattled, shaken.

  "What's got you upset?"

  He adjusted his footing and rested his hand on the red truck he was standing beside. "This is the truck that carried the bell."

  Laughing, I patted his shoulder and said, "This is a good thing, Ponce. Let's go inside and find out whose truck it is."

  "Already did. It's Jeremy Fisher's." A last name that carried more weight at the precinct than the President of the United States.

  "Seriously?" I asked. Jeremy Fisher was none other than the son of Eric Fisher, the infamous lawyer who lived in town and was tougher than the iron in the furnace of the courtroom. He did a lot of work in Spokane for a high-priced firm, but he also worked out in Newport on occasion. The term 'jerk' didn't begin to describe him. He even began the appeal process for Serenah's ex-husband to get him out of prison before he passed away by the hand of another inmate. The almighty dollar was this guy's god, and he wouldn't put up with anyone messing with his son, Jeremy. "Well, he's not above the law, so we just have to be careful how we go from here."

  "Yeah." Ponce paused, swallowing before he continued. "I've heard about him."

  "Still a lead, Ponce." Patting him on the shoulder again, I nodded. "You did good here. Let's go talk to the kid."

  Going inside the high school, we waited in the office for him to be pulled from class and brought down to talk. During our wait, Ponce told me that Don was very welcoming on his return visit with the search warrant. He explained to Ponce that the resistance was all based on principle and how if we give up too much of our freedoms without a fight, society as a whole would crumble. Don, in his typical way, gave him an earful while Ponce conducted his search of the property.

  "That's Don for you," I said. "He's a character if I ever saw one, but he's a good guy." Seeing Jeremy walk through the door, we both stood up. "Jeremy," I said, extending a hand.

  He crossed his arms and smirked. "Smells like bacon in here."

  Ignoring his attempts to upset me, I asked, "Where were you on the night of August fifteenth?"

  He laughed. "I don't know. Probably hanging out with friends. Do you remember where you were?"

  "Well, we have a witness who spotted a truck matching the description of yours with a large object in the bed of it heading down old Ernst Road. It's important that we know where you were."

  "You have someone who saw a red truck driving down a road? Wow . . ." He shook his head and looked away for a moment. He smiled and looked back at me. "You guys are really good. I don't know what this town would do without you. I gotta get back to class—unless there's something more?"

  Resisting the urge to slap him, I said, "Go ahead."

  Jeremy left the office area. Ponce turned to me, perplexed. "Why'd you do that?"

  "Just need to plant the seed in his head to let him know we're onto him. I've seen this play out dozens of times." Thanking the ladies in the office for their cooperation and time, we walked back to our police cruisers in the parking lot.

  Chapter 6

  THROUGHOUT THE REMAINDER OF my shift at the precinct, I thought of Peter. After meeting Jeremy, I knew exactly the kind of kid I didn't want raised. Thankfully, he was only seven, so I had plenty of time to teach him to be a good man, to fear the Lord, and to abhor all appearances of evil. I still hadn't told him I was his father.

  Picking him up that evening from Dylan and Charlotte's, I decided I would tell him.

  We drove right past the driveway and continued up Heister Street. Peter's eyes perked up, and I flashed him a smile in the rear-view mirror. Raising my chin, I said, "We're going somewhere I enjoy visiting every once in a while."

  Not far up the road, I pulled off onto a small patch of grav
el and let him out. As he stepped out, his eyes soared to the tops of the trees that started a thick patch of forest that nestled a park area. It wasn’t much of a park as it only had a bench and a rickety old playground that was rusted. Putting my arm around his shoulder, I led him through the wooded area and toward the park.

  Twigs broke beneath our steps as we continued several yards in. Sounds of wildlife and critters buzzing filled the atmosphere around us, wrapping us in the natural beauty of the forest. Arriving at my favorite thinking spot, the bench, we sat down. Evening was quickly approaching and the sunset shone through the branches and tree limbs, casting a shadow of the playground across the moss-covered and broken cement. It’d be only a short bit of time before darkness would come.

  Peter's hands were together in his lap, but his fingers fidgeted and his thumbs twirled. He seemed a bit uneasy, uncertain. We both shared that. With tomorrow approaching quickly and his mother set to come back, this could very well be our last conversation, at least for a while.

  "Your mom is coming back tomorrow and—"

  "She is, right?" He nodded.

  "Yes, but—"

  He interrupted again, leaping to his feet. "I was so scared you were going to tell me she wasn't coming back. I've been dreaming about her every night since she left. I miss her so much, Brody."

  "Listen." Touching his arm gently, I said, "Take a seat. We need to chat."

  He sat back down beside me.

  "You know how we went to the doctor the other day?"

  "Yeah." His hand came up, caressing the spot where they drew the blood. "What about it?"

  My lips pressed together firmly as the knot in my chest tangled around my heart. "Remember how I told you that the doctor needed to check your blood to see how it was?"

  He nodded.

  "They were seeing if you were my son, and it turns out that you are."

  Peter's eyes widened, then furrowed. "Wait. I thought Anthony was my dad."

  Unsure of how to proceed in regard to Anthony since I had no clue about the guy, I shrugged. "He might very well be your dad—the one who raised you. But I'm your biological father, which basically means I helped bring you into this world—with your mom."

  "Oh. So, do I need to call you Dad?"

  Shaking my head, I said, "You don't need to. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before your mom comes tomorrow. Things are going to get a little interesting after tomorrow."

  He went quiet.

  Scooting a little closer to Peter on the bench, I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. "It's all going to be okay, Peter."

  Suddenly, I felt his hand come up and press against my back. A smile broke across my heart. This kid was just now starting to warm up to me, and it was almost time for him to leave. The future ahead was uncertain for us, but I was thankful to God for sending him into my life. The knot of anger in my chest I held toward Jess loosened as a longing for a different reality that involved him and me set into me.

  **

  The moon replaced the sun and night took over. Sipping on a cup of tea later in the evening, I found my way out to the back porch. Peter had his nose in a copy of Sports Illustrated for Kids I had picked up at the gas station the day before for him. Nothing was visible but the brim of the black New York Yankees cap of mine he had found stuck under a couch cushion earlier that evening. Handing him the cup of cocoa I made for him, I said, "Here you go."

  Lowering the magazine, I saw a smile on his face as the cap rode his eyebrows. "Thanks."

  Taking a seat in the wicker rocking chair beside him, I took a deep breath in through my nose, letting the appreciation fill my lungs. These kinds of quiet moments I once shared alone will soon be lonely once again. Though I wasn't sure what kind of environment Peter came out of, I knew he had a good heart. "You looking forward to tomorrow?" I asked, eyeballing him as he set the cup of cocoa down on the little green wicker table beside him.

  Raising an eyebrow, he tilted his head and nodded. "I like being here, but I miss my mom."

  Nodding slowly, I said, "I understand."

  Peter paused, appearing to be mulling something over in his little mind.

  "What is it?"

  He looked over at me, his eyebrows pushing together to meet in his forehead. "Will I see you again, Brody?"

  "Of course." The thought of not seeing Peter again rippled dismay through my existence. Turning to him, I placed a hand on his shoulder and lowered my eyes to meet his. "No matter what, we'll see each other again. You don't need to worry about that."

  Peter didn't pray that evening, but I think he wanted to as he hesitated a moment before saying no. After tucking him into bed and leaving the door cracked, I turned to the living room for another cup of tea and a stint of Bible reading. My soul was feeling a bit drained from the tug of the impending reality of what tomorrow held. There wasn't going to be a kid in my guest room after tomorrow . . . there wasn't going to be my son in my guest room after tomorrow.

  Sitting down with my cup of tea, I took a drink and set it on a coaster atop the coffee table. Relaxing back into the cushions of the couch, I flipped open the Word of God and turned to Isaiah and flipped through chapters until I came upon a portion I had highlighted years ago—Isaiah 41:10.

  So do not fear, for I am with you;

  do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

  I will strengthen you and help you;

  I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

  My eyes warmed with tears and I peered up at the ceiling as a heavy, relieved sigh came from my lips. Mouthing the words 'thank you', I began praising the name of Jesus through prayer. Though the words were written thousands of years ago, they felt real, alive, and for me right in that moment of need. Spending the rest of my evening in Isaiah, I fed on the Word until my eyes waxed heavy and my tea became cold.

  Chapter 7

  SUNSHINE STREAMED BETWEEN THE CURTAINS, lighting my eyelids and waking me from my slumber. The day was here. Setting my Bible on the coffee table, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and got up to go into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Jess left so fast the day she dropped Peter off that I didn't even get a mention of what time she'd be returning. Peter didn't know either.

  Glancing at the clock that hung on the wall next to the coffee pot, I saw it was a little after six o'clock. She could be there anytime. She did drop Peter off at seven in the morning.

  The time I had spent in my Bible did my soul well, but it didn't eradicate all the anxiety inside me. Peter would be gone and no longer under my watchful care. That didn't bode well, no matter how many prayers I prayed. Grabbing the coffee container from the top shelf, I set it on the counter and scooped the grounds of energy into the basket.

  "She here?" Peter said behind me, catching me by surprise.

  Turning half of my body, I flashed him a half-smile and shook my head. "Not yet, bud. She will be though."

  He smiled and headed over to the table. He already grew accustomed to a bowl of cereal in the short few days he had been here. After I finished putting on the coffee, I poured him and myself a bowl of cereal. Sitting down, we both ate together. After my bowl of cereal, I went into the living room to do a bit more Bible reading—I felt I needed God more than I needed air on a day like today.

  Finishing his breakfast a short while later, Peter climbed up beside me on the couch and peered over my arm, trying to see the words. Noticing his attention being drawn to the Scripture, I stopped and looked over at him. His eyebrows shot up and then he recoiled into his frame. He seemed nervous.

  "Do you want to know what I'm reading?"

  He nodded, scooting closer as he leaned again over my arm.

  Pointing to the words, I read them aloud. "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you."

  "Who cares?" Peter questioned, perplexed by the statement.

  "God."

  "Why would He care?"

  A deep question even philosophers struggled with from the lips of a child. "Well, we a
re His creation, Peter. He loves us so much that He gave up His only Son to die on the cross so we can be saved. It's through faith in Jesus that we are saved."

  "God's son died? Why?"

  Adjusting in my seat, I closed the Bible and turned to him on the couch. "Do you know what a sin is?”

  He shook his head.

  “Sin is anything that is wrong and against God. A lie, disobedience to your parents, and so on. Sin causes pain and separated us from God.

  “Okay. Why did God’s son have to die?”

  “God is perfect, and to save us people from death, He had to send His only Son to earth to die for us. He was the ultimate sacrifice."

  "What's a sacrifice?"

  Rubbing my forehead, I felt the weight of the conversation deepening on levels I wasn't prepared to share with a seven-year-old, but that didn't stop me from trying. I let my hand fall to my side. "Well, Peter, God required an animal sacrifice for sin. Animal sacrifice was something from the old days. The last sacrifice was Jesus on the Cross. He was perfect. Through Jesus's death, burial and resurrection, we can have salvation if we put our trust and faith in Jesus. God, being perfect, can now look at those who believe and trust in His son because He sees Jesus standing in between us and Him. It also allows us to have an intimate relationship with God, because Jesus repaired the broken relationship between men and God."

  The doorbell rang, interrupting the over-the-top conversation I knew was probably going over his head. Peering over at the door, I knew it was done. It was over. The time with Peter was coming to an end. Praying quietly within, I stood up and reached a hand out to Peter. "You ready to go home?"

  He nodded. "Yes. I miss my mom. Also, I miss Mr. Wiggles very much so. He probably misses me too."

  "Dog?"

  "Stuffed teddy bear." Reaching his hand out, he grabbed mine and we walked to the door.

  Opening the door, I was taken aback when it wasn't Jessica—it was Charlie and Joe.