“What’s going to happen to her?” I asked.
“She’s my niece. I’ll take care of her.”
Before I could respond, Arless stepped in.
I stiffened.
Blake moved close to the bed. “What do you want, Arless?”
Arless hesitated, then placed an envelope on the tray next to my bed. “I can’t apologize enough for all the damage Blanche did. I would like to ask you to forgive me and take this as your earned fee.”
“I forgive you, Arless.” I waved at the envelope. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do.” He just as quickly turned and left.
I reached for the envelope to tear it up, but Blake caught my hand. “Don’t. You did earn it. And you might just need some money. None of your clothes, art supplies, identification, or possessions have shown up.”
“Just Thelma and Louise.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Thinking about cancer treatments or my daughter’s education, I slowly nodded.
Blake continued to hold my hand until I fell asleep.
The next morning Aynslee was already dressed by the time I woke up. “There’s stuff for you on that chair,” she said.
“Have you seen—”
“Nope. Blake hasn’t shown up.”
I had to wait until the nurse arrived and removed my IV line before I could check out the white bag Aynslee had indicated. Inside were jeans, a sweater, slip-on shoes, and underclothes along with a note from Lindsay. Thought you could use these.
I tried not to feel disappointed it wasn’t from Blake. With Aynslee’s help, I got dressed.
A nurse showed up with a mess of paperwork requiring signatures, scrawled prescriptions, and last-minute instructions. I thought about the bill for our treatment. Oh, Lord, how will I ever pay for this too? After she left, I gathered up the cards from the flowers and peeked at the envelope Arless left the day before.
My legs became rubber. I sat on the bed.
“What?” Aynslee asked.
I couldn’t answer. I just looked at her. Arless had given me enough money for Aynslee’s college. Or my cancer treatment. Or to let me finish the house.
When my mouth worked again, I cleared my throat. “Shall we go?”
Before I could get out of my room, an orderly with a wheelchair appeared and insisted I sit in it. He pushed me onto the elevator and out the main doors.
I felt like an idiot, so I gave queenly waves to arriving visitors until we reached the street. I tried not to think about the check, focusing on what I’d need to do before I could get home to Montana. I could get Beth to express me my passport so I had some identification, book a flight—
“Mom!” Aynslee pulled on my arm.
I glanced over to the car parked on the curb. Blake was standing beside an open door. “Need a ride?” He caught my swift glance into the car. “They’re not releasing Sarah until tomorrow.”
My pulse raced. “Sure.” He helped me out of the wheelchair and into the passenger’s seat, then rounded the car and slid into the driver’s side.
He placed a cell phone in my lap. “I told you I’d get you a new one.”
“Oh, wow!” Aynslee said over my shoulder. “The latest iPhone. Just out—I mean, just out.”
“Oh, Blake, I don’t even know how to turn this thing on.”
Aynslee reached over and snatched it up. “Like this. But it needs a password to work.” She handed it back.
I glanced at Blake. He grinned at me. I typed N-e-a-n-d-e-r-t-h-a-l. A new screen came up with a bewildering array of icons. “And, um, how do I find the list of contacts?”
Blake took the cell and tapped the screen, then handed it back to me.
His number was the only one listed.
Heat rose up my neck and I kept my head down to hide the blush.
The phone vibrated in my hand and the name Kumar came up on the screen.
I jerked. “Who gave him this number?”
“I did. The hospital wanted a contact number.”
The phone vibrated again. I answered. “Gwen Marcey.”
“Ah, Gwen, good. I got hold of you. I mentioned your Dr. West wanted me to run a few more tests.”
I tried to get some spit into my mouth.
“He said I should call you.”
“Couldn’t this wait until I—”
“I don’t think so. Your tests came back clear.”
“What does that mean?”
“According to Dr. West, every indication showed your cancer had returned. Now”—he cleared his throat—“I went over everything with your oncologist several times. There’s no sign of anything out of the ordinary. We need to be cautious and retest in a month. It could be a cycle, or . . .”
“Or a miracle.”
He was silent for a moment. “Or a miracle.”
I hung up and laid my hand over the phone. I remembered my thought when viewing Shelby Lee, the first victim. Oh, Lord, we need to catch this guy. I could still feel the hands of the holiness people on my back. Touch her, Lord. I thought of my petition for an escape from the cave. My whispered hope that the racing horse wouldn’t fall, the prayer to walk among the snakes to rescue Sarah, my plea not to get dragged to death or shot by Blanche.
I looked down, my good hand folded over my bandaged one, and smiled. You made Your point, Lord. Thank You.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
Review Mark 16:17–18. Serpent handlers point to this passage as a sign that they are followers of Christ. Many have the words signs following in the name of their church. What do you think about this?
Kentucky is the only state in the Union that specifically mentioned religion when they made it illegal to handle snakes. Contrast that with the First and Fourteenth Amendments that prohibit laws created to curtail the free exercise of religion.
Gwen struggles with her prayer life throughout this book, reasoning that God, who knows everything, should already know what she will pray for. Reflect on this.
Gwen is diagnosed as having cancer again in the beginning of the book, yet is free of the disease at the end. Do any other miracles occur in this story? Do you know someone who has had a miraculous recovery?
Aynslee got baptized in the mountains. Gwen wanted to talk with her afterward, but couldn’t. What do you think Gwen might have said? What would you have said?
Though Gwen thinks of herself as open-minded and fair, she judges Elijah, Ruby, the serpent handlers, and Blake. What does she think of them before knowing more about them? What changed her mind?
When Gwen can’t find a way out of the cave, she becomes angry, then bargains, then is depressed before finding a solution to her imprisonment. Discuss this.
Gwen goes through several changes (character arcs) during the book. What are they and how did she change?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ONCE AGAIN A VARIETY OF FOLKS, BOTH KNOWINGLY and unknowingly, helped me with this book. I’ll start with my dear husband of twenty-seven years, Rick, who brought me the idea of looking at the serpent handlers as a possible story line. Sssssssuper idea! A HUGE thank-you to Barbara West (Bobbi), from the Kentucky State Police, who suggested we come to Pikeville, then shared the great history and the beauty of fall in the Eastern Kentucky Appalachian Mountains. To Paul Glodfelter, the author of the play Sleep in Safety, the story of Octavia Hatcher, and to the members of the very talented cast, thank you for your inspiration.
To Betty Tackett of Dreamz Stables, thank you for inspiring me with your steep mountain trail ride on your Tennessee Walkers. I was transported back to my teen years of riding on our ranch in Idaho.
My husband, Rick, Bobbi, and I researched the serpent handlers by attending the Apostolic House of Prayer in Lord Jesus’ Name, in Bug Hurley Hollow in Jolo, West Virginia. We found the congregation to be warm and caring, and Reverend Tommy Addair to be most helpful. The five-foot rattler they pulled out to show us, however, still gives me the heebie-jeebies.
Colleen Coble,
it was such fun to have our characters meet. I know Gwen loved to visit Folly Shoals and meet Mallory in your suspenseful novel Mermaid Moon.
I want to thank my forensic art students for the caring attention to even the smallest detail of the life and times of Gwen Marcey. In this spirit of thanking everyone, I want thank Carrie Doss for suggesting adding peas to Gwen’s famous tuna noodle casserole. And a special thanks to Lindsay Moore for suggesting a beautiful, dimple-cheeked, biracial character. Thanks to Kari Seibel and Ernest Oropeza for loaning me their names and suggestions on how to write the police report. To Jason Tapp, my favorite snake expert, thank you for (shudder) snake suggestions. To Trish Hastings and Michelle Garlock, thank you for lending me your names and letting me kill you.
Olivia Garlock, you darling young lady, thank you for sharing your fourteen-year-old perspective on how to annoy your mom. Without you, I would never have had the much-needed, digitally obsessed, whatever, eye-rolling charm of Aynslee.
To the beta readers, thank you for all your help in developing this story. I appreciate you taking the time from your busy lives to suggest the holes in the plot.
Frank Peretti, once again you’ve proved why you were named the dean of Christian fiction. You saw in a heartbeat what was wrong with the story and what would make it better. I’m forever grateful to you and your lovely bride, Barb. Dinner soon? No zucchini.
Finally to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, in whom all things are possible.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ANDREA KRAMER, KRAMER PHOTOGRAPHY
CARRIE STUART PARKS IS AN award-winning fine artist and internationally known forensic artist. She teaches forensic art courses to law enforcement professionals and is the author/illustrator of numerous books on drawing. Carrie began to write fiction while battling breast cancer and was mentored by New York Times bestselling author Frank Peretti. Now in remission, she continues to encourage other women struggling with cancer.
Visit her website at www.carriestuartparks.com
Facebook: CarrieStuartParksAuthor
Twitter: @CarrieParks
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