Guarding Jeannie

need your help. Jeannie closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks that Manton was alive and conscious enough for the two of them to communicate. We're in the eye of the storm, and Reeves doesn't realize that we can't sail to the mainland. Sam will die without my help.

You must overpower Reeves, Manton told her.

But how? she asked. I'm not strong enough.

Yes, you are strong enough. Far stronger than you know. Reach inside yourself Draw strength from the depth of your love for Sam, Manton said. Concentrate. Focus all your energy on saving Sam, on saving his life.

Can you help Sam? Jeannie asked. Are you able to move?

Not yet. But soon. The feeling is returning to my body. Be strong, little one.

Reeves licked Jeannie's face. She cringed.

'If you won't listen to me, won't believe what I'm telling you about the storm—' Jeannie looked heavenward, wondering just how long they had before the eye passed and the storm's fury consumed the island once again '— then at least consider the possibility that we'd be safer in my cruiser than in your small boat.'

Reeves licked her face again. 'I can taste the evil in you, but I can also taste the power. The power that will soon be mine.'

'We'll never make it to the mainland alive in your little boat.'

'Perhaps you're right about taking your cruiser.' Gripping her painfully about the waist, Reeves tugged her in the opposite direction, toward the other side of the island.

Manton?

Yes, Jeannie?

I have to find the strength to stop Reeves and save Sam.

Your love for Sam is your strength. No power on earth is greater.

Jeannie focused on the incredible power surging through her body. She had to overpower Reeves; it was the only way she would be free to go to Sam and save his life. Nothing mattered except saving Sam.

She felt the tightening of her muscles, the hardening of her biceps. She could hardly believe what was happening to her. A few times with Sam, she had realized she was absorbing a small fraction of his strength, but nothing this forceful. Manton had been right. There was no power on earth greater than love.

Jeannie grabbed Maynard Reeves by his shoulders, tightening her hands, lifting him off his feet and away from her. He yelped aloud, fear and amazement bright in his eyes.

'Put me down, you demon-possessed witch!'

Jeannie flung Reeves from her. His body landed on a muddy patch of ground several feet from her. Jeannie slumped to her knees, her crippled legs as weak as ever.

Rising into a sitting position, Reeves glared at her. 'I am not afraid to fight the devil, for the Lord—' Reeves lifted his arms toward the sky '—will give me the victory.' Reeves stood, his once charismatic, boyish smile twisted into an evil leer.

Raindrops hit Jeannie on the face. The wind whistled through the trees. The eye had passed quickly; the storm would be upon them again in a matter of minutes.

Reeves took a step toward Jeannie. She looked to his left, where a row of palm trees swayed in the wind, bending their heads as if awaiting execution. Lightning crackled in the sky, followed by the rumble of thunder. In the distance, Jeannie heard the storm's deadly roar.

Reeves took another step, and then another. Jeannie scooted backward. Concentrate on saving Sam, on the depth of your love for him, she told herself.

When Reeves was upon her, Jeannie prayed for help. A bolt of lightning hit the enormous old live oak directly behind Reeves, splitting it apart as if it had been hacked in two by a giant ax. Jeannie watched in honor and fascination as one half of the tree uprooted and toppled, crushing Maynard Reeves in its downward path. He screamed once, then fell silent. Blood oozed from his mouth. His sightless eyes stared off into space.

Jeannie's battle with Reeves had ended. A higher power had indeed decided the outcome.

Jeannie crawled toward the unmoving man lying beneath the weight of the severed tree. She placed her fingers on the pulse point in his neck. She sighed. Maynard Reeves was dead.

Sam! She had to get to Sam. In her frustration, she struggled to connect her mind to Manton's. God had granted her one miracle. Would he grant her another?

Help me. Please help me get to Sam before it's too late.

She crawled away from Reeves, knowing there was only one way to reach Sam. She would have to crawl, on her knees, back to the stables. The rain poured down, drenching her. The wind toppled her, facedown, into the saturated grass. She lifted herself and continued crawling across the vast front lawn, away from the ocean and toward the house.

She'd made her way to within twenty feet of the front veranda when she saw an enormous dark form running toward her. Manton! She stopped, the pain in her knees radiating up her thighs and into her body.

She lifted up her arms. Manton hauled her up, pressing her wet body against his.

I'm still groggy from the tranquilizer, Manton told her. I'm weak, and my brain is fuzzy.

I'm so thankful you're all right, she said. Now, please, take me to Sam. I can't lose him.

Manton carried her to the stables, depositing her beside the rubble burying Sam Dundee's big body. Manton cleared the boards off Sam. Jeannie laid both her hands on Sam's back. Tears gathered in her eyes.

Manton picked up a piece of splintered board, laid it over his knee and broke it in half, then handed it to Jeannie.

Use this as a cane. We need to get to the storm shelter. I'll carry Sam.

The wind and rain attacked them mercilessly on their trek from the stables to the house. Completely drenched, their skin bleeding from blowing-sand cuts, they went down the dark flight of stairs leading to the storm shelter in the basement, Manton carrying Sam.

The storm must have damaged the generator, Manton said. We have no power of any kind. Try to find the kerosene lamps and light them. A box of matches will be beside one of the lamps.

Once inside the shelter, Manton and Jeannie felt their way around in the pitch-blackness. The fronts of Manton's calves bumped into the cot. He laid Sam down gently. Jeannie found the matches, struck one to find the kerosene lamp on the table. She removed the globe, lit the wick and turned to seek out the other lamp. Manton took the matches from her, nodding toward Sam.

Jeannie hobbled over to Sam and sat down on the floor. She lifted his hand, encompassing it in hers. Concentrating totally on making the connection, she focused her every thought on entering Sam's body, on linking herself to his injuries.

Manton lit the other lamp. The two sources of light, situated on opposite ends of the room, cast a soft glow that illuminated the entire twelve-by-twelve storm shelter. Walking over to where Jeannie sat on the floor, Manton placed his hands on her shoulders.

Sam is very weak, she said. Rising up on her haunches, she reached out and wiped away the blood trickling down Sam's bruised and cut forehead. She wiped the blood across her skirt. He's bleeding, and his ribs are broken.

I know you want to save him. Manton squeezed her shoulders gently. But you must not endanger your life and your child's. Sam would not want you to sacrifice yourself and the child to save his life.

I cannot—I will not—let him die!

Releasing her shoulders, Manton stepped away from her and sat down in a chair at the table.

Jeannie knelt over Sam, embracing him. The faint pulses of his pain seeped into her body. She moaned as the pain increased, moving gradually out of Sam and into her.

Sam's eyelids fluttered. Still embracing him, Jeannie lifted her head and looked at his pale, blood-smeared face. He opened his eyes.

'Hello,' she said.