by Jeri Odell
Copyright
ISBN 978-1-60260-065-2
Copyright © 2008 by Jeri Odell. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.
Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. Niv®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
Prologue
Kendall Brooks rose before dawn, not a difficult task since she’d barely slept. Somewhere in the midst of her sleepless frustration, she had decided to spend her last day in Mexico alone with her bike, her thoughts, and her God. As she slipped into her blue and yellow riding gear, she convinced herself that she wasn’t avoiding anyone. She was just spending her final day enjoying her favorite pastime—solo. Shoving her thick dark mane of hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck, she tiptoed through the house, scribbling a quick note for her mom and laying it on the kitchen counter.
Holding her breath, she exited through the back door, praying the squeaking didn’t arouse one or both of her parents. They, of course, hoped she’d spend the day with them and Javier, but Kendall couldn’t force herself to comply. She had to get away.
Lifting her bike from the porch, she straddled it, buckled her helmet in place, and pedaled away fast, skipping her usual memorized preride checklist. Off to the east, the sun’s first rays lit the dark sky with tiny traces of orange. Kendall arrived at the bus depot and purchased her ticket, catching a ride north from her home village of Teotitlán. Strapping her bike to the rack on the front of the bus, she boarded and rode the twenty-five miles to Benito Juárez. Out the window, she watched rich orange hues explode across the horizon. Breathtaking. Lord, Your creation is simply amazing. One of her favorite things about Mexico was the sunrises, and this one didn’t disappoint.
After an hour of jolts and jostles, the bus pulled into Kendall’s destination. Unloading her bike, she rode to her favorite restaurant for breakfast. This small community of six or seven hundred people made their living growing flowers and selling them at the market in Oaxaca, so tourism played an important role in their economic survival. The tiny town boasted three diners, one having the highest elevation of all the restaurants in the Sierra Norte mountain range. Kendall parked her bike in front of the small establishment and settled at a cozy table in the corner.
“Gunaa huiini Brooks!” the waitress greeted in her native Zapotec. “Ra riaa stibe binni lidxi? Stibe xombre?”
Where is your family? Your man? Kendall’s brain automatically translated the questions into English before she answered that they were still sleeping. Most people in the eight villages making up the Pueblos Mancomunados of the Sierra Norte mountains in Oaxaca knew the Brooks family, so Kendall wasn’t surprised by the personal questions. They’d been missionaries in the area all but two of her twenty-six years. She’d grown up here among the Zapotec people, spoke their language, played with their children, and knew many of them personally.
Kendall attempted a casual smile, hoping to sound and look normal, though inside she felt anything but. She’d trapped herself into a life that wasn’t hers, a dream she didn’t dream, and now it was too late to escape. Promises had been made, deals sealed, and she no longer controlled her own destiny. The worst part—she wasn’t sure God did, either.
“Dxita bere ranchu.” Kendall ordered eggs Mexican style, served with beans, chilies, and cheese. She toyed with her spoon, avoiding curious eyes.
“Candaana, ya?”
Kendall nodded. She was hungry and would need the energy riding to El Mirador—the high peak.
The waitress smiled and retreated to the kitchen.
Kendall pondered her ride and the view at the end. As a silly romantic girl, she’d dreamed of a man proposing to her up there as they gazed out over the vista. She wondered what it would be like visiting that spot with a man she truly loved. Having never been in love, she could only imagine. She glanced down at the slip of gold circling a long chain dangling from her neck. She never wore the ring on her finger. Javier seemed satisfied with it hanging somewhere near her heart. Now she would never ride to the summit with someone she’d fallen in love with, for her chance at that was forever gone.
Kendall said a quick prayer, ate her spicy breakfast, and contemplated her decision to forgo the emotion of love and trade passion for practicality. If only she had some semblance of peace, all of this would be easier, but for reasons unknown to her, peace evaded her.
After paying for her meal, she stretched and remounted her bike. Benito Juárez was where the wonders of the Mexican Sierra began making themselves known. Kendall rode to the local community leader to gain permission to enter the Sierras. This was the custom in the area since they limited visitors to protect the environment. Permission was granted, and she began her trek along the mountain peaks, pedaling at a slow and easy cadence. The view never failed to amaze, and she could see for what seemed like days away. Her legs burned after several kilometers of mostly uphill pedaling, but she pressed on. Part of the trail reminded her of a wild roller-coaster ride through a densely wooded forest. Out here her problems vanished as she concentrated on the ride and the beauty surrounding her. She sucked in deep breaths of the clean, cool, fresh air, and her gaze drank in the pine-tufted mountaintops, the wildflowers, and the occasional squirrel that scampered across her path.
A couple of hours later she reached her destination—almost two miles above sea level. Laying her bike down, she took the seat nature offered on the edge of a boulder and drank in the spectacular views of the Tlacolula Valley. Her heart pounded, her legs throbbed, and her lungs burned, but the end result made the journey worth it.
After catching her breath, Kendall lay back against the rock and let the sunshine warm her face. “God, am I making the biggest mistake of my life? Even if I am, it feels like it’s too late.” The rest of her life was already in motion, and the momentum grew each day. “I’m so confused, so uncertain.” Yet she found herself running just to keep up with the plan. “There doesn’t seem to be any way to stop, evaluate, or change the course.
“But the truth is, what I’m doing is selfless, and that’s what You are all about—so this must be right, must be Your will.” For the millionth time Kendall wrestled with her destiny but didn’t come up with any concrete answers—only more muddle.
After another barrage of questions thrown at God, with no answers returned, Kendall assumed she must keep moving forward with their plans—her dad’s and Javier’s. She shut her eyes against the bright sunshine, and the bike ride and sleepless night took their toll. She dozed under a bright, clear sky.
Sometime later, Kendall—barely awake—swatted at a bug against her cheek. When her hand connected with another hand instead of a fly, her eyes popped open, and she jerked to a sitting position. Her vision took a moment to adjust to the bright sunlight, and she was unsure whether to fight or flee.
“I am so sorry, amor. I did not mean to frighten you.” Javier ran his fingers across her cheekbone. His familiar broken English calmed her. But his touch never did. She pulled back slightly, and he dropped his hand to his side.
“We walk, yes?” He rose and held out his hand to pull her to her feet.
She accepted, but as soon as she was stan
ding, she tugged her hand away to straighten her hair.
“You need to talk?” His heavy accent laced each word.
Kendall shook her head and followed Javier down the well-worn path. What could she say? I don’t love you. I never have. Your touch leaves me cold. All I want to do is run as fast and far from you as I can. No, she’d suffer in silence. After all, their match pleased her parents, and Javier adored her. She kept asking God to change her heart, to bless these plans.
Javier stopped and gazed out over the land he loved. “You seem—” He searched for the correct word and glanced in her direction. “Troubled.”
She licked her lips, keeping her gaze glued to the valley below for fear he’d see the lie. “I’m okay.” Her voice was high and flat. She turned and quickly led the way down the trail, hoping to end this discussion once and for all.
“Your father and I have almost finished translating the book of James in a third dialect.”
Kendall paused, and he stumbled into her, taking the opportunity to wrap her in his arms.
“That’s wonderful.” She slithered out of his embrace. “Only fifty-seven or so dialects to go.”
“Thankfully, we are not the only ones working on the translating.” He smiled at her, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Her guilt increased. The trail was now wide enough for them to walk side by side. “I’m proud of how hard you and my dad work—the difference you make in people’s lives.”
He seemed pleased with her praise, and they walked in silence for a while—both deep in thought. He seemed to sense the growing distance between them but didn’t appear to know how to fix their problems. Javier, a physically demonstrative man, only intensified Kendall’s need for space. He again reached for her hand, and Kendall accepted his offering, fighting the urge to pull away. His calloused fingers intertwined with hers, and she forced herself to oblige him. He seemed content with the quiet as long as he could touch her in some way. So they walked on in silence, his hand caressing hers.
Stopping, he pulled her around to face him. “Ti gunaa stinnne`.” He whispered the endearment he often used, my one woman. His eyes spoke of a deep, abiding love, and guilt nearly strangled her. She looked past him, resting her gaze on the lush green mountains surrounding them. With the tips of his short brown fingers, he brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. He leaned toward her—his lips caressing her cheek in a featherlight touch.
Kendall held her breath, and more guilt weighed her down. Please don’t kiss me. Please. . .
His lips found hers, and though she begged God almost daily to fill her heart with feelings that matched Javier’s, they never came. His respectful kiss left her feeling strangely empty and somewhat disappointed. Never did she savor his touch; she only tolerated it and prayed to love him, truly love him—as a woman should love her man, her hombre.
When he pulled back, she smiled, hoping to make up for her lack of response. His earnest brown eyes searched her face. She wondered if he knew, if somewhere within he sensed her distance, her lack of passion, her lack of love. Surely he must suspect, since she had yet to tell him she loved him.
“We should get back to the village.” Kendall pulled free of him and hustled up the trail, hoping against hope that someday she could offer Javier the same deep love he so freely bestowed upon her.
Once they reached the bikes, they headed for home. They wouldn’t catch the bus back but would coast down the mountain road from Benito Juárez to Teotitlán. Side by side they rode—their lives woven together with an irrevocable future, yet their hearts miles apart.
One
The firehouse tone blared. Brady Cooper threw the kitchen towel on the counter and ran to his locker. The repetitive actions came as naturally as breathing. After a decade, he could get ready for a call in his sleep and honestly had a few times.
Mitch slid behind the wheel and started the ambulance. Brady jumped into the passenger seat, their medic equipment stocked and ready for the call. The sun had set about an hour before, and darkness blanketed the streets.
“Hit-and-run,” Mitch yelled over the siren. “Off of College and Sierra.”
Only two blocks from the City of Reno Fire Station Number Four, where they spent a large chunk of time each week. They were at the site in a matter of minutes. Brady hopped out of the cab and ran toward the victim, his adrenaline pumping. Her crumpled bike lay a few feet away from where she was sprawled on the pavement. Assessing the situation, he radioed St. Mary’s emergency room.
“Female. Midtwenties. Unconscious. Pulse weak. Breathing shallow. Possible broken bones.” Brady lifted an eyelid. “Pupils dilated. No ID or medical bracelets.”
“Transport immediately,” a deep male voice echoed back to him.
“Roger that.”
Mitch helped Brady slide the backboard under the young woman. Then they lifted her onto the gurney and rolled her into the back of the ambulance. Brady rode with the patient while Mitch navigated the few blocks to downtown, where St. Mary’s Hospital was located. On the ride over, the victim quit breathing. Brady moved quickly, bagging her and squeezing air into her lungs. “Don’t die on me,” he whispered, staring at the pale but swollen face. Had they not been so close in proximity and had the response time taken longer, she’d have died on the side of that road.
Anger hit Brady squarely in the chest. “How could someone do this to you?” he asked the still form. Why would anyone leave her mangled form in the road to die? Her arms and legs were covered with minor lacerations. A cut gaped near her left eye, and the whole right side of her face was bruised and swollen.
A shiny piece of silver jewelry draped around her wrist caught Brady’s eye. He untwisted it and laid it flat against her sun-darkened skin. Kendall was engraved in script on the bracelet. “Kendall, you hang in here. We’ll find your family, so don’t give up.”
Once they hit the ER, nurses and doctors rushed the patient out of sight through the swinging doors and down the hall for a thorough exam. Two of the policemen from the scene had arrived right behind Brady and Mitch.
“Did you find any identification, a wallet, anything?” Mitch questioned.
Both men shook their heads.
“Her name is Kendall—at least that’s what her bracelet says,” Brady informed them and the admitting nurse. “No other info at this time, but two other officers are combing the scene for clues.”
“So for now she’s Kendall Doe.” The nurse typed the information into her computer. “Someone will come looking for her. My guess is she’s a college student and her roommate will notice she’s missing sooner or later.” The nurse sounded so matter-of-fact.
Surely she matters to someone. Brady shrugged, glancing at his partner. “Looks like we’re done here.”
Brady and Mitch signed off on the case and headed back out into the night. Their shift had just ended, so they drove back to the firehouse to gather their things and go home for a couple of days of R & R.
Brady climbed into his metallic gray SUV and drove up Virginia Street, past McCarran, to his condo sitting on a hillside at the far north end of Reno. Feeling restless but tired, he did some channel surfing in his room after preparing for bed, finally settling on the news. The newscaster shared a few facts about the earlier hit-and-run, asking viewers to contact police Sergeant Frank Cooper Jr. if they knew anything or if a young woman in their lives ended up missing.
“Oh good, Frankie’s on the case.” Not only did having his older brother involved give him peace of mind that the investigation would be thorough, but Frankie would keep Brady apprised of the progress.
He couldn’t get Kendall off his mind and kept remembering when he’d wrecked his dirt bike as a young teen and knocked himself out. When he came to, he was lying in heavy brush, feeling disoriented and quite alone. Finally, Frankie and Cody had found him, but that aloneness had haunted him ever since, and he hated the thought of anyone waking up hurt, alone, and afraid. Did anybody know yet th
at she’d been hospitalized? Did anybody care? He punched his pillow, hit the Power button on the remote, and rolled over on his side. However, sleep evaded him much of the night.
The next morning Brady gave Frankie a call. “Hey, bro, what up?” His brother’s voice boomed over the line.
“Any new info on Kendall—the hit-and-run?”
“Naw. I saw from the report that you were the medic at the scene. I’ll keep you posted. Probably in a couple of days her roommate will figure out she’s not just shacking up in the guys’ dorm—”
“Frankie, you don’t even know her. Why assume the worst?” First the nurse and now his own brother. He felt like the poor girl needed somebody on her side.
“Whoa, bro. A little touchy there, aren’t you? You don’t know her, either.”
“That’s right, so I won’t make character assumptions.”
“Suit yourself, but for a large percentage of college kids, sex is nothing more than a recreational sport. Hey, I’m getting a beep, so I’ll let you go and get the other call.”
The line went silent after Frankie clicked over. Brady hung up the phone, deciding to grab a shower and head over to the hospital. Maybe Kendall would be awake, and he could help her get in touch with someone.
An hour later, Brady parked his SUV in the lot across from St. Mary’s Hospital. He went to the information booth and requested a room number for Kendall Doe. The attendant directed him to the critical care unit on the fifth floor.
Brady followed her instructions. Much of the hospital had been remodeled, leaving everything looking fresh and clean, but he didn’t care for the new purple and green color scheme. After his elevator ride, he followed the long hall and breezed through the double doors leading to CCU.
“Hello, Brady.” The greeting came with a warm smile.
“Lucille.” He returned the grin. She was one of his favorite nurses. He’d worked this area of Reno for so long that many of the hospital personnel knew him by name.