Not by Sight by Kathy Herman

Foot Mountain that she and Jay had named “the slope.” She stopped at the giant oak tree that offered the only shady spot and spread a worn patchwork quilt on the ground beneath it.
    She set the two sacks from Sammie’s Subs on the quilt, then sat, hugging her knees, the warm breeze tussling with her hair. She looked down at Beaver Lake—nestled in the lush, rolling Ozark hills and dazzling in the noonday sun like a treasure chest of diamonds. Over twenty-eight thousand acres of sheer beauty, this pristine expanse never ceased to stir something deep inside her.
    Abby spotted a fleck of white—an osprey. She watched the magnificent bird hover in midair before dive-bombing into the choppy water and flying off with a fish wiggling in his talons. “A master fisherman,” Daddy used to say.
    Daddy. She blinked away the image she had conjured up of the remains. Abby refused to believe the skull was her father’s. He was alive. So was Riley Jo. She was sure of it.
    A rather large sailboat caught her attention, the yellow-and-white mast crisp and colorful against the marine blue of Beaver Lake. The vessel seemed to glide effortlessly across the water as the skipper rode the wind.
    Abby loved the feeling of the wind on her face.
    She closed her eyes and just let the warm breeze flow over her. She imagined the spirit of God in the wind and relished His touch.
    Father, I have faith even if Mama doesn’t trust You anymore—
    Abby heard a familiar whistle and turned around. Jay was making his way down the sloping hillside, carrying his art portfolio under his arm.
    “Sorry I’m a little late,” he said, sounding out of breath. “Traffic in town was backed up. I guess tourist season is in full swing.”
    “I haven’t been here long.”
    “I got your text messages and have been following the news. When will you know if it’s your dad and sister?”
    “They’re not finished searching,” Abby said. “But you know I don’t believe Daddy and Riley Jo are dead. My family’s really stressed. I can’t allow myself to think that way.”
    “What a shock, though.” Jay sat cross-legged on the blanket and laid his portfolio next to him. “I’m sorry y’all have the uncertainty hanging over you. Frankly, I was surprised you didn’t cancel this.”
    “It’s too important to cancel. Now let’s change the subject before I lose my appetite.”
    Abby passed him his sub, said a silent prayer of thanks, then bit into her sandwich, savoring every delectable flavor. “So what did you bring?”
    Jay smiled, his five o’clock shadow looking both masculine and artsy. “Voila.” He opened his portfolio and revealed a sketchpad and dozens of colored pencils. “I printed out some pages of facial features I found on one of those ‘learn to draw’ websites.” Jay held up a small stack of images. “Eyes, eyebrows, noses, mouths, chins, cheekbones. Thought it might help you to look through them.”
    “Okay.” Abby bit into a Sun Chip. “I kind of remember how he looked, but maybe once you start sketching it’ll come together.”
    Jay took a bite of his sandwich, his dark eyes seeming to study her.
    “What?” she said.
    “You have the most amazing coloring, Abby. Especially up here on the slope. Your auburn hair and blue eyes are stunning against the green. Let me paint your portrait sometime. If you like it, I’ll frame it for your mother.”
    “I’m flattered you want me for a subject, but I’m uncomfortable drawing attention to myself. People are always complimenting me about my looks. I want them to see there’s more to me than that.”
    “They’d have to be blind not to. You’re as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside. But there’s no shame in being pretty. Beauty is something to be captured and enjoyed. At least think about it.”
    “Not today,” Abby said, hoping Jay wasn’t starting to feel attracted to her. “We’ve got work to do.”
    Abby brushed the crumbs off the quilt and stuffed the