Lauren cupped his cheek and gently turned his face toward her. “You’ve changed my thinking about trust and about faith. If we don’t hang on to those things—especially trust and faith in God—any of us could wind up doing what these people have done.”
Kent covered her hand with his. “You’re a wise woman, you know that? Compassionate, brave and strong. I thank God we met.”
Color unfurled across her cheeks. “Me, too. Are you game for thanking God for each other for a long time to come?”
“Try lifelong.” He grinned.
She smiled back, jade eyes dancing. “We could work on that.”
“But sometime in the near future, how about a juicy cheeseburger?”
Lauren shook her head and chuckled. “Toast and gelatin or applesauce to start with, mister.”
Kent scowled. “Okay, but could I talk you into something more substantial first?”
Her eyebrows rose.
“I’m starving for a kiss.”
“Anything for my hero pilot,” she murmured as she leaned close.
The tenderness of her lips on his sank deeply into his heart. Yes, he understood he was signing on for an adorable, scheming mother-in-law. The sooner, the better, because then Lauren would be his wife.
EPILOGUE
Six Months Later
“I’m excited and terrified at the same time,” Lauren told her mother, who was sitting across from her in Kent’s new Challenger 350 charter jet.
His insurance had finally done the right thing and replaced his plane.
“I don’t blame you for either emotion,” Mom answered with a smile and a pat on Lauren’s knee. “But I can’t think of any two people more deserving.”
Lauren wrinkled her nose. “You’re a bit prejudiced.”
Mom laughed. “Can’t blame a mother for that.”
Lauren inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly as she allowed her attention to drift toward the window. Bright sunshine illuminated the beehive of traffic and the structures below that were Washington, DC. They were descending toward Dulles International Airport in preparation for landing.
“Everyone doing okay back there?”
Kent’s strong, deep voice from the cockpit sent a thrill through Lauren.
“We’re doing great,” Mom answered. “Very smooth flight, as usual.”
Lauren grinned. She and Kent had been a couple ever since the rescue, and her appreciation of him had done nothing but grow. He was the real deal—solid and dependable. Actually, in her opinion, he alone should receive the Presidential Citizens Medal, rather than sharing the spotlight with her this afternoon at the award ceremony.
Not that either of them cared about the recognition. It was just something that happened in this day and age when extraordinary events like what had taken place in Trouble Creek occurred.
The media storm had been a mind-bending ride. One that wasn’t over yet, but it hadn’t been entirely terrible. Public fascination with their ordeal and the capture of a wanted fugitive had given rise to a wide variety of news agencies and other communications companies courting them for interviews and book and movie deals. Unsettling to the quiet life they both preferred, but good things were happening as a result.
Lauren and Kent had engaged the services of a Christian agent to help them deal with the intense scrutiny—not in order to leverage the attention for personal gain, but to carefully and wisely manage their time and their choices for media exposure. So far, they had done a smattering of tastefully orchestrated interviews, signed a book deal with a publisher whose reputable ghostwriter would do fine things with the story and allowed a Christian-based production company to option the movie rights.
Whatever anyone else chose to believe about their much-touted courage, Lauren and Kent wanted the glory for their survival to go to God, not their human efforts. In addition, the profits from the book and the potential movie were set up to funnel into a foundation to help victims of white-collar crime get back on their feet. Too often these innocent people were suddenly left destitute and without hope of recouping even the smallest portion of what had been stolen from them.
Lauren turned her head and smiled at the freshly minted director of that foundation. She couldn’t think of anyone more ideally suited in temperament and experience to oversee the operation of the charitable organization than her mother. The responsibility was already proving therapeutic for her.
In a few short minutes, Kent brought the plane into a smooth landing, and Lauren unbuckled her seat belt in preparation to exit.
“Hold it!” Kent’s urgent tone froze her in place. “Hang on a minute.”
He emerged from the cockpit and stepped toward her, looking smart and professional in his pilot’s uniform of black slacks and white shirt, but his face was grim and pale.
Lauren’s heart plummeted. “What’s the matter?”
Mom swiveled toward him, eyebrows raised.
“Nothing.” Kent stopped beside Lauren’s seat and gazed down at her. Those gray depths still managed to make her feel swept away into the clouds. If only this moment didn’t suggest a storm was coming from somewhere.
“Well, I hope nothing.” He shifted from one foot to another, his gaze sliding away toward the roof of the plane.
“Kent Garland,” Mom said, rising, “I’ve never seen you unsure of yourself. What on earth is going on?”
Color crept from beneath the collar of his shirt and up onto his chiseled cheekbones. “You’re right.” He looked at them. “I’m sorry. I’m scaring you with my jitters, and that’s the opposite of what I intend.”
“What do you intend?” Lauren stood and met his gaze.
“I can’t wait,” he said. “I meant to hold off until tonight after the banquet, but I think I’ll go nuts if I don’t know your answer before we do all the pomp and circumstance.”
“Shall I step outside while you talk to my daughter?” Mom asked.
Kent flickered a smile in her direction. “No, that’s fine. You should be here for this.”
Lauren frowned and shook her head. “Do you mind helping me escape the pins and needles with a little explanation?”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Just don’t laugh at me or think this is too corny, but I’m going to be old-fashioned.”
He grabbed both of Lauren’s hands in a firm grip and went down on one knee.
Mom gasped.
Lauren gaped.
Kent’s gaze captured hers with sober intensity. “Lauren Carter, I love you more than my next breath. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife at the earliest possible moment?”
Stunned, Lauren slid a glance toward her mother.
“This has to be your choice, dear,” Mom said, hands spread, palms up.
A brilliant smile crept from Lauren’s heart onto her face. “There is no choice. It’s a done deal. I love you, Kent Garland, and I can hardly wait to be your wife.”
A bass whoop left Kent’s lips, and he lunged to his feet, pulling a small velvet-covered box from his pocket. A gold ring topped with the glitter of a large diamond in a cluster of smaller diamonds made its way onto the appropriate finger.
Before she could examine the precious symbol of forever, Lauren found herself crushed in a happy embrace, warm lips on hers. She gladly answered Kent’s kiss, as sweet peace and total trust mingled with the excitement of the new chapter opening in her life. Their life...together.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this book, don’t miss these other exciting stories from Jill Elizabeth Nelson:
EVIDENCE OF MURDER
WITNESS TO MURDER
CALCULATED REVENGE
LEGACY OF LIES
BETRAYAL ON THE BORDER
FRAME-UP
SHAKE DOWN
Find these and o
ther great reads at www.LoveInspired.com
Keep reading for an excerpt from LANCASTER COUNTY RECKONING by Kit Wilkinson.
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Dear Reader,
How deeply does it affect us when someone intimately close abandons us? Does such abandonment plant seeds of rejection and bitterness deep within our hearts? How could it not? Even many who have faith in God struggle with the tragic legacy of abandonment.
Broken families—fathers or mothers walking away from their responsibilities as parents—is an epidemic in our society. We need look no further than today’s news, the neighbors down the street, or perhaps our own households to see the consequences in terms of unhappy lives, inability to trust in others or God, or even a myriad of addictions or criminal behaviors.
In this story, Lauren needs to work through serious abandonment and trust issues that have deeply affected her. It wouldn’t be truthful to say that she’s figured it all out and all wounds are healed by the end of the story, but she’s headed in a healthy direction.
Health and wholeness, my friends, is God’s will for each of us—if we will put our trust in Him. The alternative is to become in some fashion like Rolly and Ray (Neil/Marlin). I pray that you experience God’s faithfulness and walk the healing road.
I enjoy hearing from readers so feel free to contact me through my website at www.jillelizabethnelson.com. You can also connect with me on Facebook at Facebook.com/JillElizabethNelson.Author.
Abundant Blessings,
Jill Elizabeth Nelson
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.
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Lancaster County Reckoning
by Kit Wilkinson
ONE
Thomas Nolt spotted the bright red car the second he entered the clearing. It made for such an odd sight on his neighbor’s land, in the middle of their Amish community, that he pulled up on the reins of his gelding. The sudden stop of the horse threw the weight of the satchel his grandmother Ruth had loaded up with baked goods and preserves for his “Uncle Jesse” against his back.
Not really an uncle but his close neighbor of twenty years and considered part of the Nolt family, Jesse Troyer had asked Thomas to come take a look at his well at lunch. So it seemed a bit odd that someone else was visiting at the same time. Not that it was unusual for Jesse to have any visitors, but most of his acquaintances drove the typical Amish horse and buggy—not cars. And certainly not a fancy, brightly colored automobile like this one.
To be sure, Jesse had not always been Amish. Thomas had been just a child when Jesse had joined their community twenty years earlier, but he remembered how hard the man had worked to embrace the plain life and leave his Englisch ways behind. Ever since, Jesse pretty much stuck to his friends in the Ordnung. He had never mentioned keeping in touch with anyone in the Englisch world.
Thomas wanted to tell himself that it was nothing to worry about. In all likelihood, the red car’s driver was a tourist who had gotten lost and had stopped at Jesse’s home for directions. Christmas was approaching and tourists seemed oddly fascinated by the simple, minimal decorations with which the Amish commemorated the holy season. Yes, there was surely nothing ominous about the appearance of the red car at all. And yet Thomas could not deny that he felt strangely unsettled.
His eyes moved over Jesse’s house, and he finally realized what seemed off. It was a cold December day with a biting wind...and yet no smoke rose from Jesse’s chimney. The old man was home. Jesse’s little bay-colored Morgan horse was enclosed in her paddock and his buggy was parked, as always, next to the house. So why hadn’t he lit a fire? An emotion washed over Thomas. It was a feeling deep in his gut—a feeling that something was wrong.
He nudged King into a gallop over the open field, only slowing when they’d reached the back of the house. Thomas dismounted with one smooth swing of his leg and rushed around to the front porch, where he came to a full, screeching halt.
“Who are ye?” The words flew out of his mouth before his brain could rephrase them into something more courteous. He took a slow step back as if he’d encountered a rattlesnake. It might as well have been seeing as what stood in front of him rattled his brain. It was a young woman. A young Englisch woman with modern clothes and styled hair and a face painted to a glossy fashion magazine’s idea of perfection. She was petite but looked agile and adept.
“Who are you?” she countered in a flat tone. She looked down at the bench and snatched up a fancy little handbag, which she stuck under her arm as if to keep it safe.
This was no tourist. If she was simply passing by, she would have assumed Thomas was the home’s owner, and would have launched into her explanation of where she was trying to go and how she’d gotten turned around. Her expression made it clear that she knew this wasn’t Thomas’s house. And that meant she was looking for Jesse specifically. But why? She looked at him with equal reservation. Tension exploded between them.
At least he belonged there. Thomas crossed his arms over his chest.
From the top of her coiffed head to the bottom of her designer boots, she looked as out of place as a chicken swimming in the river. “Are you lost, ma’am?” he asked, hoping he’d read her wrong. “I can tell you how to get back to the highway.”
“I’m not lost,” she retorted.
Thomas scratched his head. “Well, then, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here?”
“I don’t see what concern that is of yours.” Her voice was edgy.
His eyes locked on hers. “Well, I’m a neighbor of the folk that live here and I’ve never seen you before. I am just looking out for my neighbor.”
Thomas noticed that the front door had been cracked open. “Have you been inside, ma’am?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then why is the door opened?” Thomas didn’t mean to accuse her, but Jesse was a responsible man—he wouldn’t have left his door open like that. He would, however, have left his door unlocked. Doors were rarely bolted in their close-knit community and Jesse in particular was known to keep his home accessible. He was unbothered by visitors at any hour who wanted his help or to borrow a tool or simply to sit and share a cup of tea. If this woman had wanted to let herself in, she could have easily done so.
“The door was opened when I got here, which was about a minute before you did. I didn’t touch it. I didn’t even look in. I was just...” She stopped and pressed her glossed lips together. She shook her head and glanced at her watch. “I was just waiting for Jesse. We had an appointme
nt. You don’t happen to know where Mr. Troyer is, do you?”
“Jesse was expecting you?” Thomas could feel the muscles in his face tightening. Why? Why would Jesse have a meeting with an Englisch woman? He wanted to ask but held that thought at bay. “I assume he is inside. Did you knock?”
“Of course I knocked.” She backed out of the way as he moved toward the front door. “Since the door was already opened, I thought maybe he stepped around back or something. I was going to go check when you arrived.”
“Jesse?” Thomas called.
He pushed the door open wide and stepped inside the small cottage. She followed him in as if she feared to be left by herself on the porch. Although what he found inside might have been worse. It was chaos. Everything inside had been turned upside down. Furniture toppled. Drawers emptied. Jesse’s belongings had been scattered from one end of the home to the other. Behind him, the tiny woman gasped and threw a hand over her gaping mouth.
“Ach! Had ye seen this?” he asked.
“No. I told you I didn’t go inside.” Her gray eyes were wide with alarm.
“And you’re alone? You came here alone?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said. Her voice was breathy and low. “Like I said, I just got here. I was supposed to meet Jesse at noon. I—I was a few minutes late. I knocked on the door and called inside. No one came, and then you were here.”
Thomas didn’t know whether or not to believe a word she was saying but the astonishment in her voice sounded genuine. “And you haven’t seen anyone coming or going?”
“Just you.” Her gaze flowed from one end of the room to the other, surveying the damage. “Whoever you are. You never told me your name.”
“You never told me yours.” Thomas unloaded the sack of food on his back. It landed with a clunk in the center of Jesse’s kitchen table. He looked back into the woman’s dark gray eyes. “I’m Thomas. Thomas Nolt. I live next door.”
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