by Diane Moody
“Grady, don’t do this,” he shouted.
“Sorry, man. It’s too late to turn back now.”
“It doesn’t have to be. We can work something out. Just help us get away from Elliot and I swear—we’ll leave you out of this completely.”
“No way.”
“You’re not like him! You could never be as evil as Elliot! He’s using you! Can’t you see that?”
“You’re wrong, Michael. By eliminating you from the picture, I return a huge favor to Elliot, and get rid of a life-long bur under my saddle—you. Killing two birds with one stone, you could say. Now, one more time, old man. Drop the gun.”
Doc lowered his rifle to the ground, rising back up with hands uplifted.
“That’s better.”
Michael raised his good arm toward Max. “Help me up, Max, okay?” With great effort, Max helped lift Michael to his feet.
“Michael, I’ll only warn you once. Don’t do anything stupid,” Grady cautioned in a slow, menacing cadence.
Michael nodded in compliance. “Listen to me, Brewster. Think about what you’re doing. There’s no way you’ll come out of this clean and you know it. Tell me, man—what’s Shari gonna think when she finds out your dirty little secrets? Huh? And what about Molly and Jason? Oh, they’ll be real proud to tell their friends about their jailbird daddy—”
“Shut up!”
“Nice work, Grady.” The smug compliment interrupted them as Elliot stepped into view, his own rifle now aimed at them alongside Grady’s. “I never doubted for a moment that I could count on you.”
Michael’s eyes tracked back to Grady. Cautiously ignoring his father-in-law, he tried again to appeal to his life-long friend, hoping somehow to get under his skin. “You can’t possibly want to bring this kind of shame to your family. Think of them, man! You’ll break Shari’s heart—”
“I said shut up!”
“All that stuff you said about me—it was true,” he pressed on. “I know it now. But you’ve got it all wrong. You’re the one who had it all. In the end, you came out on top. Don’t you see? You have a wife who loves you. You have two kids—Grady, you’re their hero! Think about them. Think about what you’re doing! What will happen to them when this all goes down? What will they think of you then?”
“Shut up, Michael!”
“Don’t throw it all away! Don’t ruin their lives with this ridiculous attempt at revenge—”
“I said SHUT UP!”
“Shari will leave you. You know she will. She’ll never put up with—”
“LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!”
“Don’t be an idiot, Brewster!” Michael yelled.
“I SAID SHUT UP!” A string of expletives followed his final warning before Grady snapped his shotgun straight up into the air and fired a shot. The blast echoed against the mountains, bouncing in deathly repetition.
He narrowed his eyes in contempt, lowering his weapon back at Michael, aiming it right between his eyes. “The next one has your name on it.”
“I think it’s about time we put an end to this little soiree once and for all,” Elliot announced as if ending some boring business meeting.
At first, it sounded like an amplified, prolonged ripping . . .
“What was that?” an unseen voice shouted above.
“Shhhh!” another hissed in response, from the lip of the ridge above them. “Listen!”
The ripping grew louder and louder until it roared all around them. Elliot and Grady lifted their faces, their eyes widening in terrified symmetry. Michael and Doc looked at each other in confusion. Annie clung to Max as the strange noise filled them with compounded fear.
“AVALANCHE!”
Like a runaway freight train careening off its track, the furious mountain broke off a wild, enormous slice of ice and snow. No doubt angered by the unwelcome assault of the shotgun blast, it spewed a raging landslide of white thunder from above.
Tucked beneath the protective overhang of the mountain shelter, Doc’s entourage flattened themselves against the wall of the carved-out refuge. They watched in horror as the massive wedge of blinding snow bore down before them. Marcus and Grady flew past them like a couple of rag dolls, their arms and legs flailing in futile motion, their cries buried in the roar. The momentum lifted Grady and Elliot off their feet, flinging them out of sight into the wall of white.
The avalanche rumbled on and on, cutting a path of destruction and uprooting frozen trees like so many matchsticks.
The four of them grasped onto each other, holding on with every ounce of strength as the barrage continued around them.
And then—silence. They stood, stunned in the aftermath of what they’d just witnessed.
“Michael! This is part of your miracle!” Annie turned, grabbing his arm. “Remember how you said it would take a miracle to get out of your mess? Well, God did it—again! He gave you another miracle, don’t you see?” Tears of joy streamed down her face. “He saved you! He saved all of us!”
She pulled back, turning to her son. “Max? Oh, sweetheart!” She cried in the arms of her son whose own tears slipped down his reddened cheeks.
“I know, Mom. I know.”
An eerie silence slipped around them. The calm after the storm. No more threats. No more gun fire. No more explosions cascading down this mountain. The rush of nature’s fury now rested.
God’s little remnant of survivors held onto each other once more as the reality of their survival sunk in. Doc looked over his shoulder at the newly rearranged landscape. His lips parted as he tried to speak, then clamped shut, his chin trembling. He sniffed, obviously embarrassed by his emotion even as gratitude wrinkled his brow.
Max, too, found it difficult to speak. Annie knew a long list of unanswered questions still pounded at his heart’s door, smothered in the wake of this moment. She watched as he stole glances at Michael. His father.
Moments passed. Then Michael blinked away tears as he smiled at her. “You’re right, Annie. Except your count is off. The way I see, it, we’ve experienced three miracles here today.” He briefly turned misty eyes toward the young man clinging to his side, then winked at her.
“Three miracles,” she marveled, shaking her head. “Such amazing grace.”
EPILOGUE
Weber Creek, Colorado
The seductive aroma of Mary Jean Williamson’s fresh-baked cinnamon rolls wafted through the general store now crowded with a horde of welcomed guests. She and Bob hosted each and every one of them with beaming smiles, hot drinks and plates full of the piping hot confections.
David remained close at his wife’s side, his arms wrapped tightly around her as they enjoyed the warmth from the stone fireplace. Annie relaxed, nestled snugly against him, thanking God to be back where she belonged—secure in her husband’s arms.
She hugged him hard. “I love you, David. I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Good. I just hope you still say that a year from now. I’ve decided to take the next twelve months off. We are now officially on sabbatical. You and I are going to travel and spend a whole lot of time together. A fresh start, Annie. Figure out how to do a better job of this life we’ve chosen. How does that sound?”
She turned to face him, hardly believing the words she’d just heard. Then, with a burst of laughter, she jumped into his embrace, showering him with tears of love.
The questions, heartaches, and doubts that first led her to this remote mountain stayed tucked away in her heart as the healing process began. Reassured through the startling events of the past several days, Annie kept laughing, basking in the sweet relief of God’s faithful sovereignty in her life. The whys and hows seemed insignificant now. In their place, God’s strength upheld her with His promises. He had delivered her safely back to David, reminding her once again of His eternal hedge of protection.
When Sheriff Patterson, his deputy, and a small posse of the locals rescued them from their oasis, Annie was overcome wi
th joy to find David waiting anxiously for her at the top of the cabin steps. He explained that Pete Nardozzi had persuaded a fellow officer—a former Navy combat pilot—to fly them to Colorado in his private jet despite the weather conditions. They arrived in Weber Creek just as Patterson and his crew were heading up to Eagle’s Nest. Before they could piece together the apparent drama that preceded their arrival, a shotgun blast boomed through the winter sky. They rushed to the cabin’s balcony just as the avalanche slid down the mountain beneath them.
In the aftermath, the lifeless bodies of Congressman Elliot Thomas and Grady Brewster were eventually dug out from the fallen debris covered by a shroud of snow. Their accomplices, Gus Rainey and Marcus Simmons, survived the avalanche. They were transported by ambulance to the nearest hospital some thirty miles away under heavy guard of Colorado State Patrolmen.
Now, as the group recovered in the safe haven of Williamson’s General Store, Max and Michael talked quietly together, their rocking chairs pulled away from everyone else. Michael, his wounds freshly dressed at Doc’s office, had refused an ambulance ride to the hospital. He needed to be here now. Still stunned by the wonders so graciously bequeathed to him, he also yearned for a chance to get acquainted with his son.
Then would come the long-overdue explanation of Max’s lineage. Here, with the security of Annie and David so close by, Max agreed to hear the truth at last; the initial shock that sent him bolting out of the cabin, all but forgotten. Unbridled fear has a way of leveling out the playing field of emotions.
“Glory! I can’t ever remember having so much commotion in our quiet little town!” Mary Jean handed Doc a fresh mug of coffee. “I feel like we’ve been through the grinder. At least four or five times! Don’t you, George?”
Doc gave her a weary smile. He accepted the mug into his still trembling hands. “Yes, MJ, I do at that.”
“How can I ever thank you? All of you?” Annie asked, her voice husky.
Bob draped his arm over Mary Jean’s shoulder. He waved off Annie’s gratitude, but his blush acknowledged her appreciation. Mary Jean simply smiled, happy as a mother hen with all her baby chicks safe and sound.
The bell on the front door clanged again as a gust of cold air whipped through the store, announcing another arrival. They all turned to see who it was. The newcomer entered, pulling off a red knit cap. Long blonde tresses fell downward, spilling over a navy wool coat. Shaking the hair out of her face without looking up, she called out, “Mary Jean! Bob! It’s me, Christine!”
Shuffling her way to the back of the store, Christine made her way to the swarm of people all frozen in their tracks staring at her. Her smile slowly faded as she took in the cast of characters. One by one, she looked at them, her blue eyes widening in recognition of each face. Then, at last, her eyes turned to the two rocking chairs off to the side. She gasped, her gloved hands covering her mouth.
Max stood up, holding out his hand to help Michael to his feet. Michael wrapped his good arm around the shoulders of his son. They broke into smiles before looking back at Christine.
As the silence grew unbearable, Annie whispered a moan. “I think I need a vacation . . .”
“NO!” David and Max shouted in perfect unison.
Perplexed for a split second, Annie began to laugh, the roll of her laughter contagious as it swept through the small crowd.
Nose to nose, forehead to forehead, David warned his wife. “No more vacations, Annie McGregor. At least, not without me!”
THE END
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About the Author
Born in Texas and raised in Oklahoma, Diane Moody writes both fiction and non-fiction. Her first book, Confessions of a Prayer Slacker, released in 2010 followed by Don’t Ever Look Down: Surviving Cancer Together in 2011, co-authored with Dick & Debbie Church. Her first novel, The Runaway Pastor’s Wife, debuted in 2011 as well. Tea with Emma and Strike the Match the first and second installment in a series called The Teacup Novellas, published by OBT Bookz. Blue Christmas, the first of her newest series, The Moody Blue Trilogy, released in the fall of 2011, and quickly became a bestseller on Amazon Kindle.
A former pastor’s wife, Diane and husband Ken now live in the rolling hills just outside of Nashville, Tennessee. They are the proud parents of two grown and extraordinary children, Hannah and Ben.
Visit Diane’s webpage at www.dianemoody.net.
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BLUE CHRISTMAS
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TEA WITH EMMA
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STRIKE THE MATCH
Book Two
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