He requested both police and ambulance, then disconnected the call. “How are you doing?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t even hear anything.”
“The gun had a silencer.” He pulled her against his side. She was shivering, maybe going into shock.
She swiveled her head to look at him. “What did you mean not again?”
He’d said that out loud? Probably that and more. He had no idea what all had come out of his mouth.
She didn’t wait for him to answer. “That was how she died, wasn’t it? She was shot.”
He could feel her eyes on him but didn’t meet her gaze. He couldn’t. “Yes, my wife, Angela. She was shot. She died in my arms.”
Several seconds passed before she spoke. “How can you still go to church and read the Bible like you do after all that’s happened?”
“You’re wondering why I’m not angry at God? That’s a good question.” He let his arm fall from her shoulders and leaned back on his hands. “A lot of times people let circumstances keep them away from God. But it’s during the tough times that we need Him the most. When my wife was killed, I was devastated. Again and again, I asked God why. But I don’t think I was ever really angry. Not at God, anyway.”
“How could you not be angry?”
“God didn’t take her from me.”
“But He allowed her to be taken. He could have stopped it and didn’t.”
He drew in a deep breath. “We live in a fallen world, so we’re going to have heartaches. But God walks us through them. He gives peace in the storm, strength when we think we can’t make it another day.”
A siren started up nearby, piercing the early evening silence. The police would arrive in moments. She didn’t try to rise. Her eyes were beginning to glaze over, and her face didn’t hold much more color than her sweater did.
He put his arm around her again. “You know, Jess, you don’t have to be alone anymore.”
She didn’t respond, just stared off in the distance, absorbing everything he’d said. If only she would believe it. If only she would open her heart to the God he knew.
He pushed himself to his feet. The siren had grown louder, and strobing red and blue reflected off their surroundings from somewhere just out of sight. He held out a hand and helped her to her feet. A police cruiser, then an ambulance came into view and stopped at the edge of the road. As he and Jess made their way in that direction, he supported her, and she leaned into him. Two paramedics rushed toward them wheeling a gurney. Jess allowed them to help her onto it.
But the look of contemplation never left her face.
Slivers of breaking day sifted through the slats in the mini-blinds. Jessica tried to raise both hands skyward, but stabbing pain stopped her mid-stretch. The events of the prior evening tumbled back on her, bringing instant awareness to her sleep-laced brain. She’d been shot. After spending several hours in the emergency room, she was home, with her shoulder bandaged and her arm in a sling.
Getting shot wasn’t the only event that had shaken her world last night. Shane had held her and kissed her. The memory alone sent a rush of heat through her body. All along, she’d known it wasn’t her he was holding. He was stuck somewhere in the past, holding a memory.
She had kissed him back, partly because she didn’t know what else to do, but mostly because it was what she had wanted, more than anything in the world. Even if she was borrowing another woman’s kisses.
After a single-armed stretch, she threw back the covers. She didn’t have to get up for work. Shane had seen to that last night, calling BethAnn from the hospital to let her know what had happened. BethAnn had insisted she take the day off, that she would man the store by herself. At least that was Shane’s story.
But Buttons wasn’t giving her the luxury of laziness. The instant Jessica moved, the dog knew she was awake, so he kept nuzzling her arm. When she still didn’t respond, a wet tongue slurped up her cheek.
“Oh, yuck.” She pushed herself up with one hand and wiped her face on the edge of the sheet. Slobbery kisses. She still wasn’t used to them.
After shooting off a quick text to Shane, she slipped her feet into her fuzzy slippers. A return text came back immediately.
He’d insisted last night that she not step outside the house, even to take Buttons out, without him standing guard. His demands had seemed a little overkill during broad daylight, but she’d finally relented. Actually, her agreement had been a compromise. At first, he’d wanted her to stay away from Harmony Grove altogether until after Prissy’s killers were caught. Since both her job and her home were here now, that hadn’t been an option, but she could at least humor him as far as Buttons’s walks were concerned.
She removed her sling long enough to slide her arms into her robe, then headed toward the front door. Hopefully the dog would make it quick. She needed a strong cup of coffee. That was typical—she always needed coffee to wake up. But today she needed it bad.
She hadn’t slept well at all. Her preferred sleeping position was curled on her side, alternating between her right and left. The right was fine. But several times during the night, she’d tried to roll onto her left, and the pain had brought her instantly awake.
When she hadn’t been fighting with sleeping positions, dreams of a faceless menace waiting in the shadows had ravaged her sleep. The fear that had gripped her when the searing pain shot through her shoulder had seized her anew with each nightmare.
The doctors had said she was lucky. Shane had said God was watching out for her. Wherever credit was due, she was thankful. What she’d gotten was
