explosion.
“Amy?” The hurt and confusion in his voice made her wince.
“Welcome back, Micah,” she said softly.
“Why?”
She understood every question he had condensed into that one word. Sucking in a deep breath, she stood and placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll explain it to you later. We need to get Lucas to check your head.”
Micah waved her off. “I’m fine.” He struggled to his feet jerking away from her touch. He glared at her. “I don’t think I can afford any more of your help.”
Pain like an arrow through her heart nearly sent her back to her knees. Aware of the many eyes still on them, she started, “Micah…”
“Never mind. I need to look at something.” He limped over to the fallen wood, looked at the pieces for a moment then leaned over to pick up the end of a length of rope. He pulled the rest of it from under the lumber. By this time, Lucas had arrived, called from the medical mission just a boat ride away.
Amy watched him stride over to Micah. “What kind of trouble are you in now? You know, I…Good grief, man, what happened to your head?”
Micah held up the rope. The smooth edge taunted him. “This.”
Lucas took the rope and examined it. He raised an eyebrow. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Probably.”
Amy walked up, looked at the smooth edge of the rope and gasped. “That was cut!”
Lucas quirked a smile at Micah. “Guess she thinks like us, Juan.”
“My name’s Micah.”
Lucas jerked around. “What?”
Amy whispered, “He remembers everything.”
Shock rippled across the doctor’s features. He took in the bandaged place on Micah’s forehead. “Getting knocked on the head brought it all back?”
“Nope.” He glared. “Amy calling my name did the trick.”
His bitterness hurt, cut her to the quick.
Lucas’s eyes darted back and forth between the two. “Okay, obviously there’s something going on that you’re not saying. Right now, I’m going to pretend I don’t sense the undercurrents. Has anyone contacted the police?”
Amy forced her attention away from Micah. Her heart hurt, and she felt the terrible tug of guilt for not saying something earlier. “No, we’re just getting ourselves together. I’ll make the call.”
Anna laid a hand on her arm and said, “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.”
The two men were deep in conversation. Amy slipped away to her room and shut the door. She fell across the bed to pour her heart out.
Oh, Lord, help me here. Someone just tried to kill Micah again. Who, God? Why? How do I go about helping him? He remembers, and I’m so glad for him, but God, he’s going to remember the e-mail he sent my mother, then he’s going to have questions. How do I tell him she’s the one that betrayed him and caused him to lose two years of his life? He’s so angry with me. And I don’t really blame him. Soften his heart, his anger. Keep reaching out to him. Show Yourself to him.
A knock on the door brought her to her feet. She opened it to find Carlita standing there, bunny tucked snuggly under her arm. Amy’s heart lifted as she leaned over to say in Portuguese, “Hello, little one. What can I do for you?”
Carlita shifted, looked down the hallway. Amy followed her gaze, but saw nothing. “What is it, Carlita?”
Slowly the little girl pulled her hand from behind her back and held it up to Amy. A piece of paper fluttered in her tight grasp.
“For me?” Amy asked.
Carlita shook it at her and Amy took it. “ Obrigada, sweetheart.”
A little smile crossed the girl’s bow-shaped lips, and then she walked toward the room she shared with her brother. She looked down at the note—and gasped. Slipping back into the room, she shut the door. Curling up on the bed, she read, “You’ve been looking for me. I will be at the little chapel in the jungle tomorrow at six o’clock in the evening. Come alone. If you bring authorities, you will die.”
Another note. Could she believe it? Trust that
“Amy?” The hurt and confusion in his voice made her wince.
“Welcome back, Micah,” she said softly.
“Why?”
She understood every question he had condensed into that one word. Sucking in a deep breath, she stood and placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll explain it to you later. We need to get Lucas to check your head.”
Micah waved her off. “I’m fine.” He struggled to his feet jerking away from her touch. He glared at her. “I don’t think I can afford any more of your help.”
Pain like an arrow through her heart nearly sent her back to her knees. Aware of the many eyes still on them, she started, “Micah…”
“Never mind. I need to look at something.” He limped over to the fallen wood, looked at the pieces for a moment then leaned over to pick up the end of a length of rope. He pulled the rest of it from under the lumber. By this time, Lucas had arrived, called from the medical mission just a boat ride away.
Amy watched him stride over to Micah. “What kind of trouble are you in now? You know, I…Good grief, man, what happened to your head?”
Micah held up the rope. The smooth edge taunted him. “This.”
Lucas took the rope and examined it. He raised an eyebrow. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Probably.”
Amy walked up, looked at the smooth edge of the rope and gasped. “That was cut!”
Lucas quirked a smile at Micah. “Guess she thinks like us, Juan.”
“My name’s Micah.”
Lucas jerked around. “What?”
Amy whispered, “He remembers everything.”
Shock rippled across the doctor’s features. He took in the bandaged place on Micah’s forehead. “Getting knocked on the head brought it all back?”
“Nope.” He glared. “Amy calling my name did the trick.”
His bitterness hurt, cut her to the quick.
Lucas’s eyes darted back and forth between the two. “Okay, obviously there’s something going on that you’re not saying. Right now, I’m going to pretend I don’t sense the undercurrents. Has anyone contacted the police?”
Amy forced her attention away from Micah. Her heart hurt, and she felt the terrible tug of guilt for not saying something earlier. “No, we’re just getting ourselves together. I’ll make the call.”
Anna laid a hand on her arm and said, “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.”
The two men were deep in conversation. Amy slipped away to her room and shut the door. She fell across the bed to pour her heart out.
Oh, Lord, help me here. Someone just tried to kill Micah again. Who, God? Why? How do I go about helping him? He remembers, and I’m so glad for him, but God, he’s going to remember the e-mail he sent my mother, then he’s going to have questions. How do I tell him she’s the one that betrayed him and caused him to lose two years of his life? He’s so angry with me. And I don’t really blame him. Soften his heart, his anger. Keep reaching out to him. Show Yourself to him.
A knock on the door brought her to her feet. She opened it to find Carlita standing there, bunny tucked snuggly under her arm. Amy’s heart lifted as she leaned over to say in Portuguese, “Hello, little one. What can I do for you?”
Carlita shifted, looked down the hallway. Amy followed her gaze, but saw nothing. “What is it, Carlita?”
Slowly the little girl pulled her hand from behind her back and held it up to Amy. A piece of paper fluttered in her tight grasp.
“For me?” Amy asked.
Carlita shook it at her and Amy took it. “ Obrigada, sweetheart.”
A little smile crossed the girl’s bow-shaped lips, and then she walked toward the room she shared with her brother. She looked down at the note—and gasped. Slipping back into the room, she shut the door. Curling up on the bed, she read, “You’ve been looking for me. I will be at the little chapel in the jungle tomorrow at six o’clock in the evening. Come alone. If you bring authorities, you will die.”
Another note. Could she believe it? Trust that
Similar Books
