Page 24 of Dangerous December (Northern Pines Suspense #8)

He broke off sharply and leaned his head against the wall above his chair, his face stricken.

Beth’s heart twisted at the depth of pain he felt, far beyond that of any battle wound or surgery, though he’d endured those as well. She let the silence between them lengthen, letting him think. Hoping he might start talking again.

But he stared up at the ceiling as if she weren’t there, one minute after another.

“Tell me,” she said quietly.

He shot her such a disparaging glance that she felt as if he’d scorched her skin. She was tempted to get up and walk away.

But something made her sit still. “If you think I won’t be able to understand what you’ve been through, you’re wrong. It may tear at my heart, but it’s a part of you. I want to know.”

“You think so, but you’re wrong.”

Silence lengthened between them. Five minutes. Ten.

“It’s been years, now, but I will never forget.

” He closed his eyes. “We were on a reconnaissance mission in a remote, rugged area outside of Kabul. It’s no place you’d want to be.

Scorpions, vipers, cobras, and some of the roughest terrain you’ll ever see.

We came under fire and took position in a bombed-out village—not much more than a pile of rocks. ”

His voice faded to another long silence.

“There was a woman hiding there, with two kids. She was so young, so scared—you could see it in her eyes. She’d created a shelter for those little boys, and you could see she was doing the best she could for them. When we showed up, we brought trouble right to her door.”

He sighed heavily.

Beth could guess the horrifying outcome. She didn’t want to hear the words. But she also knew it was more important for Dev to finish what he was saying than to keep it inside.

“Please—go on.”

“When we came under fire again, I urged her to take her children to shelter at the rear of the compound. I figured the enemy would have to get past us before she’d be in any danger.”

Beth could imagine all too much.

He closed his eyes. “They must have seen me go back there. Maybe they thought we had a cache of weapons inside. They used a grenade launcher and reduced it to a pile of rubble in minutes.”

He met Beth’s gaze, his eyes filled with immeasurable grief.

“There isn’t a day or night when I don’t hear those children screaming, and hear their poor mother desperately calling for help. But they were all dead when we got there. And it was because of me.”

“Is that where you got hurt?”

He tipped his head in acknowledgment.

From his silence, she knew he hadn’t just hidden in a safe place during the attack. He’d probably risked his life trying to save the lives of those civilians and nearly lost his own in the process.

It was a miracle that he’d survived.

“In war...you aren’t responsible for everything that happens. You can’t know what the outcome will be, even if you do your best. It wasn’t you who launched the grenades.”

“I was praying like crazy when that attack started, yet my decision led those children to their deaths. Today, I tried to save Frank from being hit, but my desperate prayers didn’t help, either. So tell me. Where was God in all of this? He sure doesn’t listen to me.”

She closed her eyes briefly. God, please give me the right words.

“Let me tell you what I believe, Dev....”

She hesitated, expecting he might launch to his feet and walk away, but he didn’t move. Was he even listening?

“God never promised us that life would be fair. That good people would have perfect lives. Or bad people would face perfect justice here on earth. I believe men have free will to do good or evil, and if they do something evil, it isn’t God’s will. It’s their own.”

Dev made a noncommittal sound deep in his throat.

“God does listen to prayer.”

“Right.”

“Sometimes, He answers in ways we don’t understand, or we don’t like, or in His own good time.”

When he didn’t respond, she took a deep breath and dropped her gaze to her hands, searching for the right words.

“Sometimes, it’s a small and perfect answer—one of those little miracles in life.

Sometimes, like when my dad died, it isn’t that He cures the fatal disease or stops the runaway train or fixes the terrible injury.

He brings us peace and comfort and healing. ”

Dev still didn’t respond, so she soldiered on.

“Sometimes He brings the answers and support we need, through each other. I can’t tell you how many ‘random’ things happened after my dad died—chance meetings or phone calls, the support of strangers—that helped me through those days.

I wish I’d kept a list. Each one was a blessing. ”

She ventured another look at Dev, hoping to see acceptance and understanding. Instead, he’d leaned back again, his eyes closed, and her heart fell.

But with that came the realization that she’d been right. He already carried a heavy burden of grief and guilt in his heart. And nothing could change the past.

A nurse in scrubs appeared at the door, a surgical mask dangling from her neck. She looked weary, her eyes already telegraphing a message Beth didn’t want to hear.

Dev straightened instantly at the sound of her footsteps, his attention riveted on her.

“Are you two here for Mr. Ferguson?”

Dev nodded.

The nurse hesitated. “We can’t talk to anyone except family, unless we have a signed release. But the gentleman has nobody on record in either case.”

“He never married, I know that much. Devlin and I manage Sloane House, where Frank lives.”

“He also works for me,” Dev added. “And he’s a friend. Can you tell us anything at all?”

“He is in recovery. If he becomes lucid enough to sign the proper releases, then I can tell you more.” She jotted down their names, then turned and disappeared down the hall, her shoes squeaking rhythmically on the gleaming tile floors.

“ If he recovers enough?” Dev’s voice was low and raw. “She might as well have said that he won’t make it, because that doesn’t sound good at all.”

“And that, Dev, is why I’m praying.”