Page 59 of A Whim and a Prayer

“True,” Amy said as she poured the lemonade and gave each of them a glass, “but oh, those homecomings!” Heat toasted her cheeks as she mimicked Gabe’s eyebrow dance.

“Amen to that!” Gabe raised her glass in a toast, clinking all three with a cheeky grin. “Look at us—three lovesick newlyweds, head over heels.”

“I’ll say.” Amy jumped up to retrieve the envelope from her purse, opening it on her way back to her chair. “I still can’t believe it because with a hotshot like Henry used to be, I never dreamed he would ever settle down.”

“Bren either,” Hope said with a starry-eyed look.

Gabe chuckled. “Gee, will you look at that. God used both of you good girls to reform bad boys, and then a good boy to reform me. Either way, I’ll tell you what.” She raised her glass in a toast to the ceiling. “When the Big Guy says to delight in Him and He’ll give you the desires of your heart?” She shook her head with a mile-wide grin. “He sure knocks it out of the park!”

“Noooo!” Amy screamed and dropped the envelope on the table as if she’d been burned, fingers shaking while she stood, staring in horror at the sheet of paper she’d pulled halfway out.

“Amy, what’s wrong?” Hope cried as she shot up to comfort her sister-in-law.

Amy tried to speak, but her lips were trembling so much, the words wouldn’t come as tears blurred hot in her eyes.

“What in Sam Hill …?” Gabe grabbed the envelope to pull the paper all the way out and then caught her breath, the sound harsh in the silence of Amy’s small apartment. A lump dipped in her throat as she handed it to Hope, whose face went whiter than the sheet in her hand.

“Do you know what your husband’s doing when he’s out of town?”

“Oh, God help us, please …” Hope’s words quivered as the sheet silently slipped from her hand onto the table face up, burning Amy’s gaze all over again.

A picture of Henry naked in a bed.

With another woman.

Amy started heaving, sobs and tears coming so hard, she could barely see, but even so, the image branded her brain like a hot poker, searing her mind.

No, God, please ….

Not again.

The pain of betrayal she’d felt once before with Dan—the man she was to marry before Henry—returned with a vengeance, cramping both her stomach and her heart as Hope gently helped her to sit.

“I don’t care what it looks like—I don’t believe it,” Hope whispered, slapping the photo face down before retrieving a box of tissues for Amy. She finally sank into her own chair, apparently refusing to believe that her once womanizing twin was back to his old tricks. “Henry loves you so much, Amy—he not only changed for you, he turned to God for you.”

A sob caught in Amy’s throat. But did he? Really?

Gabe snatched the envelope up. “There’s no return address, but the postmark is New York.” She glanced up at Hope. “Is Hayden still in New York?”

“No, he’s at Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in Kansas,” Hope said, reminding Amy of Henry’s former best friend who was convicted of child trafficking along with his boss—because Henry turned them in. Hope reached to rub Amy’s arm. “Amy, don’t believe this—it’s just a cruel joke.”

Amy looked up, her body as crushed as her hope. “Don’t believe my eyes?”

“Yes,” she said with a gentle shake of her arm. “Don’t believe your eyes because this is nothing more than a horrific hoax—it has to be!”

“What if … it’s not?” Amy’s whisper sounded dead—like her faith in Henry at the moment. “This was second nature to him once, Hope.”

“Yes, it was.” Hope banged a fist on the table, her voice steeled with conviction. “But not anymore, Amy, because I know my twin brother. He loves you too much—and God—to ever return to his old ways.

Amy sagged back in her chair with a glazed stare, her voice trailing off. “But I can’t help but wonder if I know him that well, Hope, and that scares me.”

“Look, Amy”—Gabe scooted in to fix Amy with a sharp look—“Henry ratted Hayden and his lowlife boss out, so no doubt this is just payback. We all know that Henry was involved in the FBI sting, which only happened because he was able to spend weekends at the lowlife’s island.” A muscle in her throat shifted as she stared at the back side of the photo. “I know it looks bad, but I’m sure Henry can clear it up.”

“Gabe’s right.” Hope bludgeoned a finger to the back of the vile picture with its hodge-podge letters clipped from magazines and haphazardly arranged. “For pity’s sake, this looks like a ransom note, just to make Henry pay.”

“You think?” Amy bit her lip, still not completely reassured, not with a picture of a woman sleeping next to Henry.

“Humph … I know,” Hope said with a thrust of her chin, shoving the paper away. “Because almost the same thing happened to Bren before we were married”—she cocked a brow—“remember, Gabe?”