A Matter of Destiny

A MATTER OF DESTINY

Prologue

"Joseph, it's time for you to return to earth."

Joseph stood before his superior, Head Guardian Serena, and

wondered how he could change her mind. An ethereal mist swirled around them with the ever present sound of music filling the air.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, "and it won't work."

"But..."

"That's not a good reason, either."

Joseph drew himself into a meditative pose to protect his thoughts. He knew his vulnerable points, his shortcomings, when it came to dealing with earthlings. Mainly, he was far too "human" himself. He'd painfully proven that point.

Joseph was fascinated by all that humans experienced, and often wondered where they found their strength. He knew the answer to that, but they seemed to struggle on, even without benefit of the Knowledge.

He remembered the time he'd argued that the Knowledge
should
be bestowed, but his opinion was in the minority in the heavenly realm. After all, hadn't Adam and Eve squandered their chance?

When he opened his eyes, Serena was waiting with an amused expression. Her kindness shone through her astounding beauty. Golden curls cascaded to the hem of her gown, and her eyes were as blue as a cloudless summer sky.

"Madam, I want to do my share with the earthlings, but I don't think I'm the right guardian for this mission." He'd felt a prickling on the back of his neck ever since he'd been summoned.

Serena smiled her all-knowing smile. "Oh, but you're wrong, Joseph. You're perfect for this particular assignment. I'm not saying it will be a simple one. Her name is Sharon Quinn."

Chapter One

Tom was in bed beside her, his callused, yet gentle hands stroking her naked body as she arched toward him. It was always good between them. She wanted more. Sharon stirred, and her arms closed around an oversized pillow.

Her eyes fluttered open as she waited for the dream to become reality. But there was no Tom, she remembered with a tightening in her chest. Not since the accident last spring.

Sharon got up and dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and a bright pink sweatshirt. After brushing her chestnut hair back, she wound it into a knot on top of her head and pulled a knit cap over it.

Her body ached for activity after the frustrated longing of her dream.

Dawn crawled along the horizon as Sharon slipped out of the house and paused on the front porch to breathe in the brisk morning air.

The sun rose steadily upward and cast a rosy glow over the sleeping town. Pink and blue clouds stretched across the morning sky.

How long would the dreams continue to invade her sleep? Sometimes a week or more passed without them, but they always returned.

Sharon hoped that going for a walk would rid her of the feeling she was about to fall apart. She propped the squeaky gate against the faded fence and headed off at a slow pace toward the river.

The main street of Hollow Bend was well above the water, which kept it safe from flooding.

Sharon strolled along the path beside the Kootenai for about half a mile before the haunting images crowded in upon her again.

Slowly at first, she began to run, then faster and faster.

If she could run fast enough, maybe she could leave her tormented thoughts behind, but memories drummed into her head like the pounding of horses' hooves on dry land.

Her cheeks grew hot as she ran down the path beside the river. "Faster, Sharon, run faster," the demons seemed to say.

Suddenly, there was someone in the path, but she didn't react quickly enough. She tumbled head-on into the man, pushing him backwards to the ground.

"What the..." was all he managed.

As the imagined demons retreated, Sharon's consciousness began to clear. She lay on the ground, entangled with a stranger whose arms were wrapped around her. She could hear the loud beating of his heart against her ear.

For a moment, Sharon tried to believe it was Tom and allowed herself to revel in his warmth, but only for a moment.

She struggled to her feet and looked down at the person she'd run over. Offering him a hand up, she grimaced apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you... Say, aren't you Luke's new Math teacher?" Luke had pointed him out once.

"Yes, I am," he said, standing. "You were running like someone or something was chasing you. What was it?"

The ascending sun filtered through the tamarack's golden leaves overhead. Sharon lifted her gaze to his as he brushed soggy leaves from his gray sweat pants.

"Nothing was chasing me," she answered. "I just felt like running."

He studied her for a moment, then said, "The name's Joe Reardon, Mrs. Quinn. I'm sorry about your husband."

"Thank you." A strange sensation swept through her as his dark penetrating eyes seemed to look deep inside.

"If you need anything, I'd be happy to help."

Sharon nodded, though she had no intention of asking for anyone's help. No one could bring Tom back to her.

"Take care," he said, and pushed off to continue along the path.

Sharon watched him go, marveling at how effortlessly he picked up speed, his feet barely touching the earth.

Puzzled by her own interest, she began to jog in the opposite direction, needing to stop every ten minutes or so to catch her breath.

I've got to get in better shape, she thought each time she paused. Sharon felt as if she'd run twenty miles by the time she'd rounded the loop back to Main Street, but she'd only gone about two miles total.

Hollow Bend was waking now. A door slammed in the distance, a dog barked. From down the street came an answering bark. Sharon wanted to avoid meeting anyone else, so she turned toward home.

A slight morning breeze hurried her on her way.

The image of Joe Reardon remained with her. He seemed nice, but one was conditioned to be wary of strangers in a small town. She'd have to ask Luke about him.

There was something about the man she couldn't quite put her finger on it...

Several nights later, Sharon woke suddenly and sat upright. She'd broken out in a cold sweat and tried to recall what had frightened her. Then she remembered.

In her nightmare, she was the only barrier between her boys and a deep fiery pit.

With a long, rawhide whip, she'd fought off unimaginable terrors to protect them. It had seemed so real she could still feel the scorching heat of the flames.

She slipped out of bed and padded across the cold hardwood floor to the window. Her green eyes searched the moonlit clouds, but she heard only the distant hooting of an owl.

Sharon wasn't ready to go back to sleep. She'd come to the deep part of the river, she realized, and had to decide whether to sink or swim. After silent meditation, she vowed to salvage her life.

As a first step, Sharon went into the guest bathroom and filled the old-fashioned tub with hot bubbly water. When ready, she stepped into it. The wallpapered room soon misted with the fragrance of honeysuckle.

A bath never failed to calm her nerves. Leaning back, she felt her muscles relax for the first time in months. Sharon allowed the warmth to permeate her body and refused to think about anything. Not consciously, anyway.

Later, when she'd crawled back into bed, Sharon gave her thoughts free rein.

She wanted to live. Even without Tom,
forgive me, Tom,
her survival instincts were strong.

The silent promise of tomorrow became a soothing balm to her grief-stricken heart rather than a frightening monster. One day at a time, she vowed before falling into a dreamless sleep.

The sun shone brightly the next morning, a bonus during the season when the sky was usually overcast.

When Sharon went downstairs and checked the refrigerator, she was surprised to find it so barren, as if she'd just awakened from a deep sleep. She discovered enough bacon and eggs for one meal and a little leftover stew from the night before.

With a prolonged sigh, she turned on the flame under a black iron skillet and arranged bacon slices into it.

The boys came straggling downstairs as the aroma of sizzling bacon drifted upward. They were off school for the day due to a teachers' seminar. Fair-haired Luke grinned, as usual.

"Mornin' Mom," he said, sneaking a piece of bacon.

What a gift to wake up with a smile, she thought. Her fourteen-year-old was as husky as his father had been.

Dark-haired David, two years older than Luke, was thin and quiet, always serious. He wore one of Tom's old shirts, and it hung loosely on his adolescent frame. She gave them both a kiss before turning back to the stove.

"Who wants to go to the grocery store with me?" she asked.

A duet of groans answered her. "Do we have to?" said Luke.

David was slower to reply, but obviously found the suggestion just as distasteful. "If you want."

Sharon remembered when a trip to the store was a treat for them, especially when they were allowed to pick out their favorite breakfast cereal. She supposed they were too old now for such simple pleasures.

"Okay, guys, I'll do the shopping, and you can split some firewood. It'll never be dry in time if it isn't split and stacked. I'm glad your father bought a good supply before..."

A short stab of pain raced through her. She took a deep breath and it subsided.

They'd have to talk about Tom more often, until it became a comfort. She remembered, too, that Tom had always been late getting the wood ready, but pushed the disloyal thought aside.

"That's even worse," Luke said, his mouth turning downward.

"I'd rather go shopping...I think."

"Too late, you had your chance. I want you to work on the firewood anyway. It has to be done. We'll have to remember all the things that need to be done before winter."

She glanced out her kitchen window, checking for signs of an early storm, grateful when there were none.

Luke shrugged good-naturedly. "Okay."

David nodded in agreement.

Sharon lifted the crisp slices out of the pan and drained off the grease, then poured in a fluffy mixture of eggs and milk. The simple act of cooking a meal had become a dreaded chore after they'd lost Tom, but she was trying to get back into the habit.

After they'd eaten, Sharon went upstairs to dress. She pulled on jeans and a pale blue pullover. She noticed she'd lost more weight. Little wonder.

Sharon plaited the sides of her hair and clipped the braids together in the back, letting the rest hang loosely. She used little makeup, just mascara and lipstick. The dark smudges under her eyes were disappearing, but the hint of sadness was still visible.