Page 129

“Get in line,” he said.
She stared at him. “What?”
He glanced at her. “My fiancée died on our wedding day. And I was going to be a missionary. So what does that say about mattering to God? Clearly, not much.”
It took a minute. “You believe that?”
“Not for a minute.”
Oh.
“But I did. Or I wanted to.” He sighed. “But the truth is that bad things happen to good people. To God’s people. And it’s not because he doesn’t love us or we don’t matter to him.”
She wiped her face. “Feels like it.”
He glanced at her, then, “Yep.”
Oh.She’d sort of hoped...
“That is exactly what evil wants us to believe. That somehow God doesn’t care and we’re better off without Him.”
She looked out the window.
“But the truth is, I’m not. I desperately need God’s grace to carry me because I can’t do it on my own. Even though I’ve spent years trying.”
She nodded.
“And God does care. He says, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Sufficient strength, sufficient hope.Sufficient.So, somehow, when I wake up to a new morning, God’s grace is just enough to carry me through. I just have to hold on. At least... that’s my new game plan.”
They’d reached the road to Esperanza, and he hit the brakes.
Skeet and North piled out and joined their other security guy, along with Hamilton and Ranger. She spotted a number of Jeeps and cars on the side of the road.
“What’s going on?”
Doyle put the truck back into Drive and left them there.
“Doyle.”
He bumped up the road toward Hope House. “When I woke up and found you missing...” He glanced at her. “You, not Juliet, I... I lost it. I couldn’t believe Sebold had won. After everything, evil won.”
“Evil did win.”
“The Jamesons showed up about then. They wanted to talk to me about Kemar and how they wanted to adopt him, but I was... I was frantic. Rosa found a note in the kitchen that said they’d trade the treasure for you, and of course... Yes.”
She shook her head, her mouth tight.But what could he have done?
He pulled into Hope House and put the truck into Park. Turned to her, his voice low. “You remember Hunter Jameson?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know what he used to do for a living?”
“No.”
“He was a JSOC tactical operator.”
“I don’t even know what that is.”