Page 44 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Molly closed her eyes, the same panic starting to rise in her chest again. “So I dive in to save him, but all of a sudden, he’s gone and everything’s quiet again, like it never happened.” She gouged shaky fingers through her hair, her breathing accelerating. “In the dream, I think to myself, well, I guess I just imagined it. But when I swim to shore and see his towel lying on the beach, I break out in a cold sweat because now I know it was real!”

Her chest pumped wildly as she stared at Brec, grasping his hand like a lifeline. “It was real, Brec, so very real!”

He placed his large hand over hers, engulfing it with his warmth. “It’s okay, Molly. It was just a dream …”

“No, Brec, it’s not just a dream,” she shrieked, “because the next thing I know someone’s smothering me with that towel, and I can’t breathe …”

“What? Who?” Brec demanded, his voice cracking along with her composure. “The Miami Vice boy?”

“I … I don’t know.” She started to hyperventilate, the smothering feeling still clawing at her throat even now as her words spilled out in a sob. “I … I didn’t see him.”

“Shhh, it’s okay, Mol.” He scooped her into his arms, holding on as he gently rocked her back and forth, soothing her in a hushed tone that made her feel so very safe. “You’re okay, sweetheart,” he whispered, “just breathe. I’ve got you now, so nobody’s going to hurt you.”

Her heaves slowed as she buried her head against his chest, the clutch of her fingers in his shirt gradually relaxing as Psalm 91 drifted through her brain.

Under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night …

Her eyelids lumbered closed, so very grateful for God’s protection and provision and especially His Word, her most powerful weapon in times of trouble.

And Brec? In times of trouble? Panic finally dissipated, she realized that he, too, was becoming a help in times of trouble—first with Miss Lilly and now with her.

Suddenly aware she was in his arms, she jerked away. “You must think I’m an awful baby,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes as she awkwardly repositioned herself against the headboard.

“Not when one of the most independent and able women I’ve ever met quakes in fear over a dream—with a gun under her pillow, no less.” He reached to tuck a finger beneath her chin, gently lifting her gaze to his with a teasing smile. “I’m just glad you didn’t shoot the ceiling full of holes—or me, for that matter.”

A chuckle popped from her lips, making her feel some better.

He tipped his head in question. “I know it’s the middle of the night, Goldie, but I’m up for a little poker if you want to chase the willies away.”

She smiled, tempted way more than she liked. Both with Brec and the need to lighten the awful burden of her nightmares with someone who cared. She hesitated, peeking up through hopeful eyes. “Not poker, maybe, but there is something else I’d like to get off my chest if you don’t mind …”

He raised his hands in self-defense, brows arched high. “If I kissed you while sleepwalking like Aunt Lilly, I’m not responsible.”

She grinned as she patted the gun beneath her pillow. “No, you’d be dead.”

His Adam’s apple ducked while he offered a little-boy smile. “Good to know.”