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Guilt knuckled her as she imagined how all of them—Simon most especially—would feel in the wake of her abandonment. Maybe she could prepare him without giving away any details. Those she could not give, for there wasn’t any question that Amos would try to stop her.
CHAPTER12
The following afternoon, Amos arrived home in poor spirits. Lieutenant Carrigan had come back to him with the CIA’s decision about leaving Amos in-country after their op: It wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t need the reasons explained to him. The country was at war. He could potentially be captured, though SEALs were trained to resist to the point of death rather than submit to the enemy.
No doubt the CIA was aware of what had happened to their XO, Jonah Mills, who’d been captured in the very same setting where the SEALs were headed. He’d been tortured mercilessly for information before his miraculous escape. Obviously, nobody wanted anything like that to happen again.
Amos would have to come up with a different plan.
Grace’s car was not under the carport when he arrived home.That’s probably for the best, he acknowledged, as he wasn’t in the best frame of mind. Letting himself into his houseboat, he hung up his keys and started to prepare their dinner, racking his brain, all the while, for some other way to fetch Mateo.
Their dinner that night had been marinating in a soy sauce, sherry, brown sugar, and ginger mixture since dawn. He washed his hands and proceeded to toss a salad together before carrying the salmon outside onto his deck for grilling.
Once atop his boat, the warm breeze and the water views conspired to put Amos in a better mood. One thing he had learned from his experience with losing Simon was that God had a timetable all His own. If Amos was meant to collect Mateo and deliver him into Grace’s arms, God would make a way. A rescue op in Venezuela had seemed like the perfect opportunity, but Amos couldn’t see the future, and God could. It was simply a matter of trusting that the Lord of the universe knew a better way.
By the time Grace’s car appeared at the big house, the salmon was perfectly cooked. Amos fixed a pleasant smile on his face. He would greet her and Simon with a healthy meal and an attentive ear while listening to them relay their adventures of the day. All the while, Amos would relish the experience of sharing a meal at the table, just like a real family, the one he’d always dreamed of.
But then he pictured the empty spot reserved for Mateo, and his contentment dwindled. He knew deep down that until Mateo was there to bring fulfillment into Grace’s eyes, she would never give her heart to Amos—as he had been the one to break it.
He blew out a breath.God will find a way.
* * *
Grace lay in the cozy belly of the boat, listening to Simon’s steady breathing as he slept with his head close to hers. Never would she have thought the sound of water sloshing against the gunwale—Amos had taught her that word—could be lulling. The soft blue glow of the track lighting in the floorboards created the perfect ambiance for sleep. Knowing Amos was near made her feel like nothing bad could happen. Even so, sleep eluded her as her conscience took her to task.
She had told no one except her nephew of her impending departure. If Grayson kept his word, then her sister would find out on Friday why Grace hadn’t shown up to watch him and Olivia. Recalling Grayson’s grave promise not to say anything to his mother until after Grace’s departure, her chest tightened with remorse. She should not have put that on him.
And then there were Amos and Simon, neither of whom had any clue that she was about to vanish. Just that evening, Amos had admitted he would be gone over the weekend—back to Colombia for some last-minute training.
“I thank you in advance for watching Simon.”
His words and the warmth in his gaze had tied her stomach into knots. Who would watch Simon if they were both gone that weekend? Perhaps she could arrange for Simon to sleep over at her sister’s. But leaving her sister in charge of yet another child while Grace ran off to Venezuela would be hugely unfair. Also, Simon was bound to feel abandoned with both of his caretakers gone. And then there was Amos, who might never forgive Grace for vanishing on him. Plus, she doubted she would be back before Monday, which meant Amos would have to take Simon to daycare, after all, assuming he came back as planned.
Stifling a groan, Grace rolled toward the glossy planks that lined the walls of the bunk room. The temptation to pray was just too much.
Lord, please help me. I don’t want to hurt the people I care for. But I have to get Mateo before war keeps us apart forever. Someone has to watch Simon, but it can’t be me. Please, take this burden from me.
Feeling moisture on her pillow, she remembered the gallons of tears she had cried over her stillborn son and her broken marriage. God hadn’t answered her prayers then. What made her think He would answer them now?
* * *
The following morning, six hundred miles away, Emma Moulton bent over the gray-haired woman sitting in an armchair.
“Thank you, Stacy. It was sure good seein’ you again.” She had to pry Baby Carter’s fingers away from Stacy’s beaded necklace.
“You too, dear, all of you.” While only in her late fifties, Stacy had been diagnosed with leukemia—hence her move to a facility where she could get immediate medical assistance. Unfortunately for Emma, that meant they couldn’t live with Stacy even for a short time.
“Give Grandma Stacy a hug, boys.” She fought to keep her tone cheerful. Things could be worse. Stacy had paid for them to stay at a hotel nearby. The boys loved it, as it came with a pool. Colton had learned to swim, and they were all tanner than ever.
“Sweet boys,” Stacy crooned, accepting their affection with regret in her hazel eyes. “I will miss you all so much. Now, Emma, you’ll call me and let me know where you end up.”
“Yes, ma’am. And as soon as I can afford my own phone plan, I’ll let you know.” Stacy had insisted on adding a line to her existing plan, so Emma’s cell phone worked.
“I know you will, Em. I’m not worried about that. I only wish I could help more. Would you pass me my purse, dear? It’s right behind you.”
Wary of accepting any more handouts, Emma found the purse in question and handed it slowly to Stacy. She grew rigid as Stacy pulled out her billfold and cracked it open.
“I don’t need your money.”
