Escape to Morning

by Susan May Warren

  “Sorry about your pal.” Micah said. “That can be hard to live with. I saw my best buddy die about eight years ago. I even saw the person I thought did it. I spent my life trying to track her down and send her to prison.”

  Wasn’t that interesting? “Did you find her?”

  Micah chuckled, and it sounded like regret. “Yeah. I found her and I’m going to marry her in about a month.”

  Will went still. His mouth opened long before words emerged. “Excuse me … did you say marry?”

  “I did. Because what I’d seen wasn’t the truth. It only felt like the truth. And when I realized that, I was able to see what really happened—she had only taken the blame for the crime. The real killer stalked her for years. It wasn’t until she confronted him and won that we both escaped our pasts.”

  Will nodded, staring out into the dark forest, dodging the accuracy of Micah’s words. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” Micah stretched out his legs. “It feels pretty good, knowing that we finally found the truth. Sorta like we made it through a dark night to morning. She has a little girl. I’m going to adopt her.”

  Will managed a smile. “My buddy Lew had three girls. His wife is getting remarried this weekend.”

  “Lew?”

  “Yeah, Lew Strong.” Will dredged up his courage. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Micah. It’s me, Wild Masterson.” Only not me. Not really.

  Micah stayed silent. Crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m getting old. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

  Will shrugged. “That’s my specialty. Hiding from people.”

  Micah nodded. Will couldn’t read his silence. Then, “Sorry to hear about Lew. He was a good soldier. A good man. You came after him in Iraq with Lacey, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. Lacey and John Montgomery. They got married after that.”

  “I know.” Micah gave a wry smile. “She’s the one I’m marrying next month.”

  Will had no words for that. He just stared at Micah, who smiled, a lot more warmly than Will had expected.

  “Things have changed a little for both of us.” Micah glanced toward the cabin. “You like Dannette.”

  Will didn’t answer.

  “Dannette told me you’re a Christian. That’s not part of your cover, is it?”

  “Listen, I know you want to protect Dani from the Wild Will you used to know. But the fact is, he’s gone. I’m just trying to keep her alive and do my job. And I don’t need to confess any sins, so you can take off the priest’s collar. I promise, I’ve been a good boy.”

  Micah raised his eyebrows, and the look he gave Will told him that his defenses had shifted to alert status. Still, Will wasn’t under his command, and he didn’t need a chaperone. All he needed was Micah doing his job and making a successful skedaddle back to Moose Bend with Dani, maybe kicking mad, but alive.

  He’d deal with the fallout later—or never. Because he’d be on a plane to DC.

  Suddenly, Micah’s tone changed, became commando captain. Of course he wasn’t going to stop at the raised eyebrows. “Listen and listen good, Wild. Dannette’s been through a lot and she likes you, so don’t mess up. I don’t want her heart dragged through some minefield by a guy who knows how to turn on the charm. Maybe you don’t need a priest. Maybe you need a friend. But make no mistake; I will be neither if you break her heart.”

  So now he’d been warned in stereo. Good grief, he should be counting his blessings that he’d gotten two days with Dani without getting pummeled.

  “I’m not going to break her heart. In fact, as soon as I track down my target, I’ll be double-timing out of Dani’s life. Have no fears.” Will clenched his jaw, trying to stem his flow of words, but he was tired, frustrated, and sorry, and he wasn’t going to let a blast from the past turn the very gentlemanly way Will had been conducting himself into something tawdry. “For your information, Dani’s not easy to shake, which I’ve been trying to do for two days. Yes, I am out here for a reason, and you’ll just have to trust me on that. If you care about her, you’ll head home at first light. And for your information, yes, I do miss Lew. I do feel like I blew it. So what? That’s life, and I know it.”

  “But you don’t know where to go from here.”

  Will blinked, frowned. Micah’s soft, calm voice dazed him more than if he’d punched him. “What do you mean?”

  Micah blew out a breath. “My friend John and I were inseparable. We grew up together, played football together, got in trouble together. When he was killed, I thought someone had scooped out my insides and stomped on them. I poured myself into being the best Green Beret out there. I lived and breathed dangerous missions, and if it had a zero factor of success, I was your man. Problem was, I didn’t realize I was only digging myself deeper into grief. I didn’t know that God had bigger plans for me until I let Him have His way. He pulled me out of that grief, gave me another chance. I don’t know what’s eating you, Will. But God is all about second chances. He’s about making all things new.”

  Will sighed, anger dissipating from his knotted chest. He lowered his voice. “Okay, here’s the deal. I was pretty torn up when Lew bought it. I sorta figured that I would get to heaven by association. Lew was one of those sold-out Christians, a guy who had that Galations 2:20 Jesus-in-me concept nailed. He was always preaching to me, and despite my mistakes, he never made me feel like a loser. It’s because of him I didn’t die of a drug overdose or drive my car into a wall during high school.”

  Will breathed out, a hot breath of sorrow, before he continued. “He never gave up on me. So when he died, I hit bottom. I realized that I’d held out all my life because I thought Lew was the only salvation I needed. But without him … well, I went back to the church and had it out with God. I said, ‘Fine, I’ll do it Your way.’ I asked Him to forgive me and start over.”

  He glanced at Micah, who was watching him without a blink. So, that hadn’t hurt as much as he figured. Maybe …

  “The thing is … I’m not really sure where to go from there. That was three years ago, and yes, I still feel a lot like I did at that moment—dazed, confused, aware that something is different but unable to get my hands around it. I want to be God’s man, like Lew was, but frankly, I don’t know how.

  “My friendship with Dani is the first time I haven’t let my desires get in the way of what I know is right. I mean, I’ve dodged the opposite gender since Lew was killed, so it isn’t like I played with fire, but Dani, she snuck in under my skin and now … just take her home, okay?”

  Micah nodded, looked out into the darkness, unfazed, thankfully, by the emotion in Will’s voice.

  Will swallowed hard, not sure why he’d unloaded all that but feeling lighter somehow. Maybe now Micah would take him seriously, not pry, and haul Dani away.

  Silence threaded between them, woven with the sounds of the night and the soft breeze that picked at Will’s hair.

  “You know,” Micah said finally, “I guess I never thought how hard it might be for someone to learn how to walk in faith, especially if he never did it. I was raised in the church. It felt like second nature.” He angled a look at Will. “Are you familiar with the story of the ten lepers?”

  Will shook his head.

  “So, Jesus is on His way to Jerusalem, and He passes this colony of lepers. They have to live outside the city because the disease is contagious, smells bad, and is disgusting. Not only that, but the lepers are required to cover their mouths and shout, ‘Unclean, unclean’ as people pass by.”

  Will winced. Sometimes he still felt like yelling, “Unclean!”

  “Here comes Jesus, and the lepers yell out to Him, ‘Have mercy on us!’ They want Him to cleanse them. Of course, Jesus does have compassion for them, and He says, ‘Go show your-selves to the priest.’ In those days, in order to be declared clean you had to wait for a priest to check you over. Except it took a miracle to make a person clean, because leprosy was incurable, so it wasn’t like the priests made
regular visits to the leper colonies. At Jesus’ command, the men break all the rules, go into the city, and show themselves.”

  Will nodded. “I can relate to that leper thing.”

  Micah gave a soft chuckle. “We all can. But here’s the great part. When they left to show the priest, they still had leprosy. They were cleansed on the way. Their lives were restored as they obeyed God. And you know, that is the Christian life. They were healed as soon as Jesus spoke the words, but it didn’t show in their lives until they’d begun to obey Him. We don’t break free from our pasts until we start walking with Him, abiding with Him. One day at a time. That is how you become a guy like Lew. Or like Jesus.”

  “It is good for people to submit at an early age to the yoke of discipline.” The words from Lew’s Bible blazed in Will’s mind. Yes, this is what Lew had done, and it had turned him into a man who’d lived for God.

  “I believe you when you say you’ve changed, Will. You’re not Wild anymore, at least the Wild we knew. When Dannette described you, well … suffice it to say it wasn’t a description I’d ever pegged for you. God has been about changing that guy you were, one day at a time. Maybe that’s why I didn’t recognize you.” Micah smiled when he said it.

  Will let those words resonate in his soul. Just what had Dani said? He felt a painful mix of euphoria and shame. “Lew also said that God was his portion. I never got that.”

  Micah nodded. “It means God was his all. It means that when he went to meet Him, Lew was rejoicing.”

  Rejoicing. Yeah, Will could see that.

  So, why was it so hard for those left behind?

  “How did he do it?”

  Micah frowned at him.

  “Made God his portion.”

  “Oh. Well, I think the answer is in Acts 17:28: ‘In him we live and move and exist.’ ”

  Will didn’t want to sound like an idiot, but huh? “And that means … ?”

  “Just trust God one day at a time, Will. That’s a good place to start.” Micah reached for the Colt Commando. “I promise not to shoot you in your sleep.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.” But Will released the rifle and watched as Micah strolled out into the night.

  One day at a time. If they made it to morning, he just might try that.

  Chapter 17

  FADIMA PULLED UP her knees and locked the blanket around her shoulders, clenching it tightly in her fist. Fatigue lapped at her like the soft waves of the Aral Sea, rushing at her, leaving its fingerprints on her hungry, tired resolve. Dawn ran golden threads across the sky, as if parting the dark cloth of night. She needed to get up, to push ahead … but to where?

  She should crawl back to the cabin, throw herself on the mercy of the searchers. Yes, one had looked like he might cuff her and send her back to her homeland gift wrapped for Hayata, but the others—especially the blonde woman with the dog—looked compassionate.

  Fadima felt she might sell her soul for compassion right about now. Or maybe a pile of plov or even a campfire, flickering into the velvet expanse of sky over the Kolsai Lakes back home in Kazakhstan, warming her hands, her face. She imagined her mother’s voice, humming a folk tune, and Kutsi playing with their baby sister. She remembered other campfires, other voices humming in the night—some gruff, others soothing. Faces weathered by cold and a rough way of life filled her mind—Baki’s, her crippled cousin who had taught her how to read their tribal language, and Mama Emine’s, who knew herbs and medicines that made a person healthy … or sick. Did they miss her?

  A twig snapped. She bolted upright, jerked to the brutal present, the cold breath of early morning pressing into her pores. Sucking her breath into her chest, she strained to hear above the blood pounding in her ears.

  Nothing.

  Her stomach growled and she pressed against it. She thought of the cans of food back at the cabin. She should have grabbed them, tucked them in her backpack. She’d been foolish, so foolish to leave her hideout without supplies. Kutsi would have yelled at her, called her doraka.

  In her stupidity, she would die out here; the dogs would find her bones and the birds would pick them clean. And her father would never know what had happened to Amina. His instructions had been simple: Wait for Hafiz.

  Instead, she’d run. Based on what? The word of a terrorist? Panic had deceived her, and now it would drive her to her death. Her father’s death. Kutsi’s death.

  For sure, it had killed her mother, Saiba. Saiba had been sent to hide. Only she’d known about the planned massacre and betrayed Hayata, saving thousands of lives but costing her own. The one event that her father had intended to use to enable his wife and daughter to make their escape, and Saiba hadn’t been able to stifle the panic or the pain of watching unknowns perish. In the end, she’d fled right back into the unforgiving grasp of Hayata. As if they’d been waiting for her all along.

  Papa, I’m sorry.

  She would return to the cabin. Wait until they left, find food.

  Despair crashed over Fadima. Then what? She pulled the blanket closer, starting to shake. She wrapped her arms around her waist, hunched over, and tried to quiet the betraying sobs that rushed over her.

  Soggy to her bones and hungry enough to eat a sacred white leopard, her options felt as frail as the pale dawn filtering through the forest.

  Better to die, however, than to let Hayata find her.

  Shivering, she curled again into a ball in the grass. Later. She’d figure out what to do later, after the warm waves of sleep had found her, had run up her legs, covered her with soft swells.

  Her eyelids dipped into the sweet abyss.

  Another snap.

  She froze. Then a hand clamped roughly over her mouth, crushing her lips to her teeth.

  She jerked her head, flailed.

  The smell of unwashed breath choked her, a body pressed her into the earth, soaking her blanket through.

  “Fadima,” said a low voice, “you’ve been a bad girl.”

  Dani startled awake, her heart racing in her ears. Something … she dangled her arm over the bed, felt Kirby on the floor curled in slumber. Early morning pressed through the windows, pouring gold across the wood floor. She felt punky, and sleep tugged at her, like a friend calling her. But she couldn’t deny the lurch in her heart, something … amiss.

  She pushed herself up. She hadn’t slept under the covers—that felt way too invasive and she already felt like a burglar here. Instead, she’d piled her coat over her and tried to stay warm.

  She’d obviously slept hard from the way the lines drove across her face. She felt them as she rubbed her cheek, then combed her fingers through her hair. Okay, that was useless. She stood, and Kirby raised his head, searched her actions with his molasses eyes. “Shh,” she said and stepped over him, walked to the window.

  She couldn’t see the sunrise, but from this angle, she saw the dent of morning against the dome of night in streaks of pale yellow and gray. The trees, which last night seemed to close in and knit together like praying hands, opened their gnarled white fingers in the wan daylight. Dani wondered where the girl was and if she’d found shelter somewhere in their grip.

  Micah’s warnings and hesitations about her search undulated in the back of her mind. She shook them off, picked up her day pack, and cracked open the door.

  A stopover in the bathroom to brush her teeth told her just how terrific she looked. Probably it was time to drag out her bandanna and tuck her hair into a scarf. Oh, well. SAR work wasn’t a fashion show, but it would have been nice to look good for Will.

  Then again, he’d already seen her at her worst—dragging out Missy, red-eyed, tired. And that hadn’t stopped him from … what? Being kind? Perhaps she was reading too much into his friendship.

  He hadn’t said much to her last night as they’d put together a paltry supper. In fact, if she were to scrutinize his actions, she might have labeled him aloof.

  Or … secretive? He had hinted at another agenda. Still, when Conner ret
urned from his stroll around the yard, he’d told her that Will was only trying to do his job. Maybe she should have asked exactly what job that was. Because she didn’t know any reporters who dressed like special-ops guys to get a story.

  Okay, what about war correspondents?

  See, she was letting her curiosity get her into trouble. Just like it had when she was six. Again, she should simply trust him.

  Micah had bedded down on the floor, Conner on the ratty sofa. Both men were fully dressed and rolled onto their sides, blanketless. They too had felt more than uneasy about taking up residence in this cabin. The owner was likely to find a large windfall and a thank-you/apology note in his or her mailbox before the week’s end.

  She patted her leg. Kirby jumped to his feet and eyed her. When she put a finger to her lips, the dog walked obediently to the front door and waited for her.

  Conner opened one eye while she tiptoed across the room. She made a walking motion with her fingers. He hesitated, looked around the room, then seemed satisfied, nodded, and closed his eyes again as she cracked open the door.

  The morning wind gusted through her coat. She didn’t feel quite so grimy when the air smelled like fresh pine and lake water. To the east, over the lake, a brilliant orange sun barely peeked over the horizon, simmering as it consumed the night. She walked down the porch steps, vaguely aware that she hadn’t seen Will yet, and trekked down to the beach. Crouching at water’s edge, she splashed water over her face, and it dripped off her chin. The cold snap of lake water opened her pores and made her feel as if today might bring mercies.

  “Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.” Sarah’s words from Scripture sang in her mind, and she let them settle in her heart as she turned to return to the cabin and maybe some grub.

  A figure caught her eye. She looked down the shore and saw Will sitting on a large boulder, watching the dawn. He’d washed off his funny face paint and held his gun across his lap. Sitting there like that—quiet, pensive, hidden—he appeared lonely. Even … sad. She saw him as he’d been yesterday on the beach, broken and for a second desperate.