Expect the Sunrise (29 page)

“He thinks we’re all terrorists—that’s why.” Andee kept her voice low.

“What?”

“He’s FBI. He thought that one of the passengers was a terrorist, going to blow up the pipeline. That’s why he watches everyone like a hawk.” She cast her gaze onto Nina, who lay with her back to them, rolled up in a sleeping bag.

“You’re kidding me.”

“No. He found a map marked with drawings of the pipeline and a two-way radio. We tried to contact help but got nothing. He, of course, thought it was part of some sinister terrorist plot. That’s why we had to hike out, although I’m thinking it was the right decision. I haven’t seen any planes overhead in the last three days, which means that the rescue teams don’t know where to look. We could be ice cubes sitting in that bowl, without food or water if he hadn’t forced us off the mountain.”

“You wanted to hike out alone, didn’t you?”

Sarah knew her too well, knew that she’d risk her life before she risked the lives of others.

Andee said nothing, tucking the blanket around Sarah’s shoulders. “You need to get some rest. We’ll be at the homestead by this afternoon and in Fairbanks by tonight.”

“You know, you could stay in Alaska, Andee. You don’t have to go to Iowa.”

The statement stopped her movements. She studied Sarah’s face and saw she meant her words. “My mother needs me.”

“Your mother is the head of family practice of her own clinic. Somehow she’ll survive.”

Andee closed her mouth, looked away.

“I think you need her more. This running back and forth between your parents has to stop. And don’t tell me you’re not doing that. Everyone can see between the lines, trace the paths of regret. The fact is, you can’t erase time. Or heal your parents’ hurts. Maybe you can learn from them. In the end, you can only go forward and trust God that He’ll take care of it.”

Andee closed her eyes, wishing Sarah’s words didn’t burn.

Sarah continued. “When I think of people with past hurts, I think of Rahab, the woman who hid the spies. She heard of God and wanted to trust Him. Even though everyone around her told her she was a fool, she acted on faith that God would save her. And God took her and her entire family out of Jericho and put her right in the middle of the lineage of Christ. Transformed her and gave her a new life despite her ugly past.

“Don’t you think we all have regrets—choices we wish we hadn’t made or that others hadn’t made for us?” Sarah said. Her eyes shimmered with memories that Andee knew gave her a foundation from which to speak.

“But we have to trust that God’s going to redeem us, our mistakes, and our choices,” Sarah continued, her voice soft. “Lacey and Micah are learning that. Dani and Will are learning that too. You can’t let regrets—yours or others’—keep you from going forward. You gotta trust God one step at a time, expecting Him to work it out. Remember our psalm?”

Psalm 42. The one they quoted when life got darkest, when after fifty hours of searching they still hadn’t found the victim. “‘Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God!’” Andee quoted.

“Hope in God, the One who has a perfect view of our lives. You need to face the sunrise, Andee, not the shadows behind you. God loves you, and you can expect Him to guide you because you’re His child. If you seek Him, He’s not going to let you screw up.”

“I like what I do,” Andee said. “I like flying, and I like being an EMT—”

“I know. But you also want a family, Andee. Dani and I know that better than anyone. We saw your face when Micah and Lacey got married, when Emily jumped into Micah’s arms. It made me hurt for you.”

Andee swallowed through her thickening throat. “I’m happy for them.”

“Of course you are. But be happy for yourself too. Out there is a great guy. And after the chaos clears, he might just be the one. But not if you don’t give him a chance.”

Andee sat up, making ready to leave. “It’s not about chances. Mac is an FBI agent, all the way through to his bones. I don’t think he’s going to give that up for me, despite what he says.”

Sarah caught Andee’s arm and pulled her back into her line of vision. “Don’t judge Mac by Gerard’s standards or weaknesses. Have a little faith.”

Andee smiled and patted Sarah’s hand. Faith. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe God, but she’d seen what faith in her father had done to her mother.

She climbed out of the shelter. The rising sun had begun to burn off the clouds. The cool air raised the hair on her neck, but the day looked hopeful, with a swipe of lavender across the sky. A day for hope, for going home. The sound of the river flowing against the rocks and the smell of the campfire still lingering in the air gave a surreal picture of a family camping trip. She stretched, working out the kinks in her arms, feeling a little like a mole with all this dirt caked on her. She needed to wash her face, brush her teeth, and hopefully soon she’d be able to take a whirlpool bath some place with room service.

She looked upriver, wondering about breakfast, and was surprised to see a large figure sneaking northward. The person disappeared behind a spruce tree, then moved away.

Mac. What was the man doing? Creeping up on a caribou? Or on another wild-goose chase?

See, she’d been right to believe that the sly FBI thing wouldn’t leave his body on a whim or a command. She turned away, intending to bank the fire and start the coals when she heard movement behind her.

Nina probably.
“Can you help me find some firewood?” she asked, turning.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t.” Nina held the killer whale for her son in one hand and Andee’s Glock in the other. “Because, you see, we have other plans for today.”

Mac should have suspected Phillips had an agenda the moment the big man started spouting off missionary speak. All that mumbo jumbo about breaking free of bondage, of resurrection of spirit. Mac should have seen through it to the code. New world governments, breaking the bondage of American capitalism, raising the spirit of revolution—that’s what Phillips had meant.

Mac watched Phillips steal through the morning mist, climbing over the rocks, escaping the riverbed and their motley cast of survivors.

Where was he going? Mac hated that his cynicism couldn’t see past this little early morning excursion to some other excuse other than a rendezvous with Phillips’s terrorist buddies. Maybe Andee had been right last night about the job being so much a part of him that he’d never break free.

Mac ducked behind a black spruce while Phillips topped the ridge above him and disappeared. He waited, counting his heartbeat, feeling the seconds spiral out, imagining Phillips as a terrorist, maybe even planted in New York when the towers collapsed. He wouldn’t be surprised if Al-Qaeda, Hezbollah, or even the newest cell he’d read about, Hayata, had thousands of sleepers in America.

Waiting.

The thought spurred him to action, made him crouch and steal quietly up the rock. Maybe he did have FBI in the blood. Maybe he could never shake free of the desire to do something meaningful, to save lives, or—as Andee had accused—to save the world.

Was that so horrible?

“I can’t take loving another man who lets me down.”

He’d mulled those words over and over and over in his head during the night until they had finally driven him into a nightmarish litany of missed anniversaries, births of nephews and nieces, Christmases, and especially birthdays. A thousand memories he’d sacrificed for his job. Perhaps Andee had been right in turning him away.

What did he expect from her? Being in any branch of the military or protective government agency meant sacrificing for the big picture. It meant a guy sometimes missed out on the essentials of life. Like friends. Even a family.

Mac’s foot spilled stones out, and he froze, listening to them bounce on the shelf of rocks.

Okay, he could admit that maybe he’d been about protecting himself also. He’d just never been any good at investing in someone, remembering their needs, thinking beyond himself. Because the minute he invested, he started to care. And when he cared, he left himself open for the sucker punches in life. No, Andee had hit right on the spot. He couldn’t handle letting another person down either.

He climbed to the edge of the ridge, then shrank back. He saw Phillips not far away, sitting on a rock, his back to him.

Did he have a radio?

Mac eased over the edge, listening.

Aye, the man was speaking.

Mac launched himself over the top of the cliff and dived at Phillips, blitzing him. He landed with his knee in the man’s spine, his arm pinning his neck. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” Phillips choked out. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Where’s the radio? I know you’re contacting your people.”

Phillips lay there, eyes wide, mouth open in shock. “I … don’t have people. I was praying.”

Praying?
Mac scanned the area, looking for the radio or a GPS. Nothing. He cringed and pushed himself away from Phillips. He couldn’t even bear to give the man help up from the ground. He backed away from him, a hand to his head as he shook it.

Andee had been right. He needed to get as far away from himself and this job and who he’d been as fast as he could.

Phillips stood and brushed himself off.

“I’m sorry, man. Are you okay?”

“Are
you
okay?” Phillips asked. “I’m not the one sneaking up on people like some sort of thief.”

“I thought you were … a … terrorist.” Now that Mac said it aloud, he realized how stupid he sounded. He should go bury his head in a glacier or something.

“I’ve been called a lot of things. Nosy. Preachy. A wise guy. Even idealistic. But never have I been called a terrorist.”

“Sorry.” Mac stuck out his hand in apology.

Phillips took it, the expression in his dark eyes matching the forgiveness in his grip.

“So you were praying?”

Phillips nodded, turned, and opened his arms to the expanse around him. In the west, the sunlight reflected against the jagged peaks, turning the snowcaps to glitter. Farther away to the east, a shredded veil of low-hanging clouds covered more mountains. In the valley below was Disaster Creek, a wild jumble of white water and rock, and just past that, the Dalton Highway, a strip of dirt that parted the mountains. “I thought this might be the perfect place to greet the morning with God. What do you think?”

Mac breathed in the pine-scented air and felt the sunshine warming the day. He nodded. “Looks like the perfect day to hike back to civilization.”

“I knew God would save us. Can you believe that only four days ago Ishbane thought we’d freeze to death and eat each other?” Phillips said.

Mac chuckled. “Aye. Except Ishabane’s fears were unfounded—he doesn’t have enough meat on him to make an appetizer.”

“Unlike me,” Phillips said, laughing. “Only I was thinking a different kind of meat. I’ve been beefing up on Scripture for a year, getting ready for my trip.”

“Where are you going again?”

“Resurrection, Alaska.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Is that near Deadhorse?”

Mac sat on the boulder Phillips had been perched on before he’d tackled him. He scrubbed his face. “It’s about forty miles west, I guess. I investigated a murder there once.”

“Were you a cop?”

Mac nodded. “In a former life. I thought I could make a difference back then. Maybe help people.”

“Why did you become FBI?”

Mac held out his hands in a sort of surrender. “Idealism. Again, I thought I could make a difference.” But his words felt hollow. No, he’d become FBI because he’d wanted to be more than just a small-town cop. He’d wanted to matter, to be needed, to make a difference in someone’s life.

“I know this is a personal question, but I thought I saw you sneak off with Andee last night. You and she … ?” Phillips raised his eyebrows and smiled. “She’s a sweetheart.”

Mac let a small smile escape. “Aye.”

“But?”

“But she’s not interested. Thinks I’m already over-committed to my job.”

Phillips shot him a look.

“Stop. The fact is, she’s right. I can’t balance both a job and a family. I’ve seen other guys try and get burned. Besides that, I’d make a horrible husband. I’m a big-picture kind of guy—not the flowers-and-chocolate type.” Although seeing Andee’s face last night when she saw his birthday treat had churned up a bevy of new feelings. Her smile had been worth his fear that she might break into hysterical laughter at his attempts. He’d never been a guy who remembered the details, but now he wondered if he’d just never found the right lady for whom he’d be the poetry-quoting kind of guy. The one for whom he’d make the effort to remember a birthday or anniversary. To whom he might come home to on a faithful, regular, first-priority basis.