Through the Tears (Sandy Cove Series Book 2)
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Through the Tears
Sandy Cove Series Book Two
Rosemary Hines
Copyright © 2014 Rosemary Wesley Hines
www.rosemaryhines.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is coincidental and not the intent of either the author or publisher.
Formatting by 40 Day Publishing
www.40daypublishing.com
Cover photography by Benjamin Hines
www.benjaminhines.com
Printed in the United States of America
To our children, Kristin and Benjamin
“I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord.
“Plans for good and not for evil.
Plans to give you hope and a future.”
Jeremiah 29:11
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Author’s Note to Readers
Out of a Dream
(Sandy Cove Series Book 1 Sample)
Into Magnolia
(Sandy Cove Series Book 3 Sample)
Acknowledgements
BOOKS BY ROSEMARY HINES
PROLOGUE
Michelle Baron sat on the edge of the couch, heart racing as she looked at the envelope in her trembling hand. I guess this is it, she thought. The return address seemed harmless enough. Fairfield Lab, Portland, Oregon. But this envelope contained information that could change her life forever.
Once Steve knew the results of the DNA test, he might change his thinking about their daughter, Madison. Her heart ached because of the distance between her husband and their new baby. Madison was a gift. A gift from God. And now she and Steve would know the truth.
The baby whimpered softly from her cradle. “It’s okay, Maddie,” Michelle cooed as she gently stroked her daughter’s wispy hair.
Why couldn’t Steve just accept Madison as their daughter? She gazed down at the three-month old child, who was now sleeping peacefully again. Her fair coloring and rosy cheeks reminded Michelle of the first time she met Steve in the university library. Glancing over at the wedding picture that stood on the end table, she smiled momentarily. “Guess opposites really do attract,” she said as she reached toward the nape of her neck and began twisting a strand of her supple black hair.
Everywhere they went together as a family, people commented on the uncanny resemblance between baby Madison and Steve. “A real clone,” was Steve’s law partner’s first remark. “Did you have any part in this?” he had asked jokingly, looking at Michelle.
Though the world had no problem assuming he was Madison’s father, Steve remained insecure. It was obvious from Roger’s comment that he had not confided in his trusted associate and friend. His withdrawal and detachment frustrated Michelle as much as it hurt her. This was a time they should be celebrating. But the tension between them was a thick fog that threatened to suffocate their love for each other and destroy the family they had begun.
“Oh Lord,” Michelle sighed, gazing at the unopened envelope through the tears that filled her eyes. “Help me.”
The presence of God wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
I know the plans I have for you, plans for good and not for evil. Plans to give you hope and a future.
Michelle took a deep breath. “Thank you, God.” Her quivering hands placed the envelope on the coffee table.
CHAPTER ONE
Two years earlier in a hospital in Bridgeport, CA
John Ackerman slowly opened his eyes. Piercing, needle-like pain shot through his pupils filling his head as the fluorescent lighting bombarded his senses. A scream struggled to escape, but the only sound he heard was a soft moan.
Suddenly a face appeared to hover over him. It was blurry and distorted, but the voice was familiar. “Daddy?” it asked anxiously. He tried to reach up from the bed and touch the face, but his arm was like lead and his fingers barely flickered. Almost immediately, he felt a warm touch as his hand was squeezed gently.
“Daddy? Can you hear me?”
John struggled to speak. Nothing. He strained his eyes to focus on the face, but it remained a blur. Where was he? Why couldn’t he move? Who was this face with the familiar voice? Confusion and panic gripped him.
“Someone come quick!” the voice called out. Another face joined the first one. It spoke loudly and clearly.
“Can you hear me, John?”
Beeping sounds next to his head contributed to his anxiety. He wanted to answer the face, but no words came. Again he moaned. His lips moved as he tried to speak, but only garbled sounds emerged. His eyes widened as fear consumed him.
The first voice spoke again. “It’s Michelle, Dad. I’m right here. You’re in the hospital.”
Hospital. Michelle. John was desperately trying to make sense of what he heard. Icy fingers were pressing on his wrist. He felt chilled and began to shake.
“Let’s get another blanket on him,” the second voice said.
John felt his body being covered with something warm and soft. He closed his eyes momentarily.
“Daddy! Don’t leave us. We need you,” urged the familiar voice.
An image shot through John’s mind. It was a dark-haired girl on a porch swing. She was smiling and laughing as she played with a kitten. Michelle. My little girl. She needs me. John forced his eyes to open again. He tried hard to focus. Though she was still a blur, he could tell this young lady was much older than the girl on the swing.
“I’m right here, Dad. I won’t leave you.”
A tear trickled down John’s cheek. He wanted to respond, but was trapped in a body of lead.
“Please go find my mo
m,” he heard her ask, as she dabbed his cheek with a soft tissue.
John felt his hand being caressed again by the warm touch. It helped to calm him. The voice continued to speak.
“You’re going to be okay, Dad. Hang on. Don’t give up. I know you can make it through this. We’re all here. We’ll help you, Dad. Just please don’t leave us.”
Another face appeared over him a minute later. He knew this face, even in its blurry state. His heart beat frantically as the face spoke.
“It’s me, John, Sheila. You’ve been asleep for a long time,” she said, gently placing her hand on his face. She began to quietly cry.
John wanted to reach out and embrace her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and say he loved her. All he could do was moan.
“It’s okay, honey. Don’t worry. We’re here for you. Don’t try to talk right now. Just rest,” she said between sniffles.
Mother and daughter collapsed into each other’s arms. They were both crying, half from exhaustion and half from elation. “He’s going to make it, Mom. I just know it,” Michelle said, wiping her eyes.
“Go find your brother, Michelle.”
Before leaving, Michelle squeezed her father’s hand. “I love you, Daddy. I’ll be right back.”
Sheila took her daughter’s place in the chair beside her husband’s hospital bed. As she held John’s hand, she thought about all that had taken place in the past few weeks. First his struggles with the court case, then his disappearance, and finally the discovery in the motel that he had shot himself.
“Dear God, help us,” she prayed silently but fervently.
Joan was sleeping soundly on the motel bed across the street from the hospital when the phone startled her. Before she could rouse herself fully, her husband Phil was answering it. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his as he spoke to their daughter.
“Oh, Sheila -- that’s wonderful!”
Joan swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up beside him, watching his expression as she tried to read the conversation from one side.
“Should we come over there?” Phil asked, glancing over and smiling at his sleepy-eyed wife. He nodded as he listened. “Okay. We’ll see you around 5:00 then. I’m so glad you called, honey. This is great news.”
A moment later Phil was replacing the phone on its receiver. He grabbed her in a joyous embrace. “John opened his eyes! He’s beginning to respond!”
“Thank you, Jesus,” was all Joan could manage as her eyes filled with tears.
After another hug, Phil explained to her that Sheila said they should go back to the hospital at 5:00 that afternoon. Dr. Jeffries would be making his rounds around 4:30, and they would have more information after he examined John.
Glancing over at the open Bible on the bed, Joan knew Phil had been reading his Bible and praying for their son-in-law while she slept. She watched as relief washed over her husband’s tired body. He stretched and yawned, a peaceful smile radiating from his weathered face.
“You need a nap, Pastor,” said Joan, smiling and patting him on the back. “Here, stretch out on the bed for a little while. We still have a couple of hours before we go back over there.”
Phil nodded. “You’re probably right,” he replied with a weary smile.
He eased himself onto the bed and within a few minutes, he was snoring softly. Joan smiled and snuggled down beside him. “Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful man and for making me a part of his life,” she whispered before drifting back to sleep.
Tim and Steve were silently staring off into space when Michelle found them sitting at a table in the lounge. “Dad opened his eyes!” she exclaimed excitedly.
“What?” Tim asked, standing in response. Steve quickly joined him on his feet.
“He just opened his eyes. He’s trying to respond to us, but he can’t talk. He just keeps moaning. Mom sent me to find you,” she continued, her words tumbling out excitedly.
“Let’s go,” Tim replied.
The three of them hurried back to the ICU. Finally. A piece of hope. Michelle grabbed her husband’s hand. She seemed so young and vulnerable with her tousled hair and sleepy eyes. He squeezed her hand and smiled, praying that God would somehow bring good out of this after all.
A voice of darkness penetrated John’s consciousness. You are mine, John Ackerman. You belong to me.
“Dear God, help me,” John prayed silently from his prison of flesh. From somewhere in the darkness, a force of peace enveloped him and calmed his racing heart. He could see his wife sitting beside his bed. She looked into his eyes intently. How could he tell her he loved her, and he never intended things to end up this way? He tried to speak, but the words were beyond his grasp. He struggled to reach up and touch her face, but his hand only flickered slightly by his side.
Sheila reached down and took his hand in hers. “I love you, John,” she repeated, her voice trembling.
He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, a young man was sitting by the bed.
“It’s me, Dad. Tim.”
John tried to discern the features of the face next to him. Tim. Their baby. But this was not a baby. This was a grown man. He felt confused, exhausted, and overwhelmed by frustration. His strength was spent, and he closed his eyes as he escaped into a fuzzy darkness.
CHAPTER TWO
Steve couldn’t get his mind off Michelle during his trip back to Sandy Cove. Her father’s attempted suicide was like a surreal nightmare. If only he could have stayed at the hospital in Bridgeport. But Roger had already covered for him all week, and the law firm was getting backlogged with several new cases. Besides, he really wanted to try researching John’s case to see if he could help clear him of the charges that had driven him to such desperation.
An eerie silence engulfed Steve as he went into the house. The place seemed cold and empty, darkened by the closed blinds and draperies in every room. He thought about how Michelle was always the one to open up the house each morning after he left for work, closing the window covers after dark, as if lovingly tucking in the house. The smell of dinner cooking and the sound of her voice usually greeted him at the end of each day.
Now Steve heard only his own footsteps echoing on the wood floor. Even the cat was gone, taken care of by Michelle’s friend, Monica. Sure am glad I’m not single, Steve thought, wondering how guys felt coming home to this emptiness every day.
He flicked on several lights, picked up the pile of mail that had accumulated on the floor of the entryway beneath the mail slot, and plunked himself down on the couch. A framed wedding picture on the end table caught his eye. Picking it up, he touched Michelle’s face with his finger.
His mind flashed back to their wedding. How beautiful she looked coming up the aisle on her father’s arm. Then he remembered her drawn expression as she leaned over her father’s hospital bed in Bridgeport. “Oh, babe,” he sighed aloud, slumping forward on the couch and cradling his head in his hands.
Michelle’s life was turned upside down by her father’s attempted suicide. Steve knew that she would never be the same carefree girl he had married. A part of him grieved, yet he firmly believed God was going to bring good from this trial in her life.
Meanwhile, Steve had a lot of business, both personal and professional, to attend to. First, he decided to call Monica to have her bring the cat back home. Though Max could be a pain in the neck at times, he knew the little fellow would help fill the empty house.
Monica answered the phone on the first ring. “Hi, Monica. It’s Steve.”
“Hi, Steve. How’s everything going?”
“Well, I guess you’d say it’s going as well as can be expected,” he replied. “Michelle’s dad is holding his own, and he appears to be responding somewhat.”
“That’s great,” she replied. “How about Michelle? How’s she doing?”
“She’s doing okay. Her family’s very close. They’re all there together.”
“I’m glad. Tell her hi an
d that Beth is praying for her dad.”
“Beth?”
“Yeah. My mother-in-law, Beth. She’s staying with us for a while.”
“Oh. Okay, I’ll tell her. Thanks. Tell Beth we can use all the prayers we can get.” Steve heard Max meowing in the background.
“I guess Max wants to say hi too,” Monica observed.
“Well, actually, that’s what I’m calling about. I’m back home right now for a while, and I wondered if I could come over and pick him up. The house is really empty,” he added, his voice dropping slightly.
“You sound tired, Steve. I’ve got to run over to the store in a few minutes anyway. I’ll drop him off on the way.”
“Thanks, Monica.”
“No problem. See you in a flash.” Steve surveyed the pile of mail again, but was too exhausted to tackle it. He wandered into the kitchen. “Dinner...” he mumbled to himself, pulling open the freezer. Nothing looked very promising. He tried the pantry. A can of chili caught his eye. That would work for tonight. He was just opening it when the doorbell rang.
He found Monica and Max waiting for him on the front porch. Max was struggling to free himself from her hold as he wailed mournfully. “He really hates the car, doesn’t he?” she observed with a grin.
Steve nodded, retrieving the disgruntled animal from her arms, shaking his head as he patted Max. “Come on in.”
“Let me get his stuff from the car,” she replied. “Be right back.”
Max leapt from Steve’s arms and bolted inside. “Glad to be home, buddy?” he asked. Monica returned, carrying a basket bed filled with toys and cans of cat food. “Where did that come from?” Steve asked, eyeing the unfamiliar bed and play objects.