Healing Waters by Stephen Arterburn, Nancy Rue

just happened to die from unknown causes and drop a plane that just happened to explode on impact for no apparent reason.” She pressed her palms on the tray. “There were explosives on your plane, Mrs. Cabot. I need you to help me find out who put them there.”
    I wanted to hurl myself from the room and lose everything I’d packed inside myself, because I couldn’t take this one more rotten piece of information. But I looked at Sonia instead, and saw as stubborn an expression in her body as she could ever have accomplished on her face.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” Sonia said. “It’s a hideous job that you have to do, but I can’t help you. I have to focus on what God’s doing in this.”
    Deidre Schmacker closed her portfolio and tucked it neatly under her arm. “It’s a lot to take in,” she said. “I’ll be back when you’ve had a chance to process it.”
    â€œIt will be a waste of your time,” Sonia said.
    The liquid gray eyes went steely. “I’ll be back,” she said.
    I barely waited for the door to close before I was on Sonia. If I didn’t say this now, it was going to get crammed in with everything else.
    â€œSonia, I don’t think you can—”
    â€œI can do whatever God wills, Lucia.” The cream in her voice curdled. “Would you please get Marnie? And tell her to get Egan on the line before she gets here—and find Dr. Abernathy for me.”
    â€œWhy?” I said. “Why Dr. Abernathy?”
    â€œBecause I have to get back to Nashville before this thing gets out of control.”
    She was too late. It already was.

CHAPTER TEN
    S ully lowered himself onto one of the red and gold chintz love seats in Porphyria’s sitting room and pulled out his cell phone. Too bad he’d already keyed the number into his contacts. Also too bad he’d charged the battery and had good reception in the lodge for once. Too bad he’d run out of excuses not to call Sonia Cabot.
    Holy crow. At one time confidence had shimmered out of his pores like sweat. Even three and four months ago, when he’d been fighting off freaking out, he could’ve still made a phone call to an old friend.
    Besides, if Sonia still held on to her faith statement, she would just be eager to tell him how God was blessing her with a miracle. That would be the end of it.
    He grunted to the empty room. The miracle would be if she wasn’t shaking her fist at heaven and denouncing every praise-word she’d ever sung or spoken from a platform. Anger at God would be healthy, but it would also mean she’d need somebody to guide her through.
    Sully flipped the phone open. Well, there you go. He’d tell her he knew how much she must hurt, and he’d offer to set her up with one of his best therapists. Or even Dr. Ukwu.
    Feeling the kind of relief usually reserved for post dental work, he pulled up the number for Sonia’s room at Crozer Medical Center and pressed Send. If every step back into the real world was this hard, he might not get there for years. Decades.
    Though he wasn’t sure Sonia would still have the luscious voice that reminded him of whipped cream, the one that said hello was flatter and colder than he expected. He felt his hopes wobble.
    â€œSonia,” he said. “Sullivan Crisp.”
    â€œThis isn’t Sonia,” the woman said. “Who did you say this was?”
    â€œSullivan Crisp.”
    â€œOh.” The voice gave in slightly. “She’s talking to her doctor at the moment. I can have her call you back.”
    She bordered on brusque, which wasn’t like anybody Sully knew on Sonia’s staff. They were all so schooled in Southern hospitality they practically offered you a mint julep over the phone. He couldn’t resist asking, “And who am I talking to?”
    â€œLucia Coffey,” the woman said. “I can just give her a