crystal.
"It's never going to stop, Francine." Staring glumly through the windshield, Laney accepted the inevitable and wriggled out of her wool cardigan so she'd have something warm and dry to put on after changing the tire. Then heaving a sigh that, if not for the pounding rain, might have been heard as far away as the Twin Cities, she opened her door and stepped out into the deluge.
She was rounding Francine's hood to inspect the right-front tire when the slender heel of one of her pumps sank into a patch of mud. The shoe stuck, but her foot kept going and she lost her balance.
She pitched forward and fell hard, crying out as tiny stones bit into her tender flesh and pain ripped through her left shoulder, which she had injured the previous night.
Fighting tears, she pushed up to her feet and gingerly brushed gravel from her scraped palms and her muddy, bloody knees. As frigid rain pummeled her, she recovered her shoe and limped resolutely to Francine's trunk.
In situations like this, Christians usually sought divine assistance. But Laney had been on the outs with God for a couple of months now, so she didn't feel right about asking Him for anything.
"I can handle this," she breathed through clenched teeth as she opened the trunk and located the tools she needed. Hadn't Jeb always insisted that she was clever and stubborn enough to achieve anything she set her mind to?
Jeb .
He hadn't been home in more than a year, and it had been three months since his last phone call. Laney was hurt by his neglect, but she was also desperately worried.
The psychological wounds Jeb had suffered as a child had rendered him wary of making emotional connections with people. He had no family and Laney was his only real friend, so wherever he was and whatever he was doing right now, he was completely alone—and entirely at the mercy of his own savage spirit.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Laney pushed that awful thought aside. She had enough troubles without worrying herself sick over Jeb.
She positioned her flashlight on the ground, crouched beside the flat tire, and used the sharp end of her lug wrench to pry off the hubcap. Discovering that the lug nuts had been over-tightened by whichever hulking mechanic had put on Francine's last set of tires, she almost gave up. But she was already soaked to the skin, and annoyance fueled her determination to meet this challenge.
Grimly ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she used her whole body as leverage on the wrench and was finally able to loosen the nuts. She had a little trouble operating the jack and exchanging the heavy tires, but she finished the job.
A lightning bolt of pain shot through her shoulder as she heaved the flat tire over the lip of Francine's trunk.
At last she slithered back into the car. The sodden fabric of her skirt slapped and squished against the vinyl seat as she adjusted her position behind the wheel. She sighed over the ripped sleeve of her favorite silk blouse, and then she turned on the engine and the heater. The air that blasted her was not yet warm, so she shivered hard as she pushed dripping curls away from her face and put on the dry cardigan.
"Hot bath, here I come," she muttered, reaching for the gearshift.
Eric .
She squinted at her watch in the dim light and emitted a shriek of dismay. "Thanks a lot, Francine. By now he's thinking I just blew him off."
Laney felt terrible about not being home at the agreed-upon time for their date, but apart from calling the man earlier, what could she have done differently?
She'd just started getting dressed when the very pregnant Megan had appeared on her doorstep with a cranky toddler who needed to go potty. Their car had broken down nearby, and Luke couldn't get there for at least an hour. Since Laney hadn't been expecting Eric—who, according to Sarah Jane, was an amazingly handsome widowed dentist—for another forty-five minutes, she'd driven Megan and her daughter home.
She'd thought there would be plenty of
"It's never going to stop, Francine." Staring glumly through the windshield, Laney accepted the inevitable and wriggled out of her wool cardigan so she'd have something warm and dry to put on after changing the tire. Then heaving a sigh that, if not for the pounding rain, might have been heard as far away as the Twin Cities, she opened her door and stepped out into the deluge.
She was rounding Francine's hood to inspect the right-front tire when the slender heel of one of her pumps sank into a patch of mud. The shoe stuck, but her foot kept going and she lost her balance.
She pitched forward and fell hard, crying out as tiny stones bit into her tender flesh and pain ripped through her left shoulder, which she had injured the previous night.
Fighting tears, she pushed up to her feet and gingerly brushed gravel from her scraped palms and her muddy, bloody knees. As frigid rain pummeled her, she recovered her shoe and limped resolutely to Francine's trunk.
In situations like this, Christians usually sought divine assistance. But Laney had been on the outs with God for a couple of months now, so she didn't feel right about asking Him for anything.
"I can handle this," she breathed through clenched teeth as she opened the trunk and located the tools she needed. Hadn't Jeb always insisted that she was clever and stubborn enough to achieve anything she set her mind to?
Jeb .
He hadn't been home in more than a year, and it had been three months since his last phone call. Laney was hurt by his neglect, but she was also desperately worried.
The psychological wounds Jeb had suffered as a child had rendered him wary of making emotional connections with people. He had no family and Laney was his only real friend, so wherever he was and whatever he was doing right now, he was completely alone—and entirely at the mercy of his own savage spirit.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Laney pushed that awful thought aside. She had enough troubles without worrying herself sick over Jeb.
She positioned her flashlight on the ground, crouched beside the flat tire, and used the sharp end of her lug wrench to pry off the hubcap. Discovering that the lug nuts had been over-tightened by whichever hulking mechanic had put on Francine's last set of tires, she almost gave up. But she was already soaked to the skin, and annoyance fueled her determination to meet this challenge.
Grimly ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she used her whole body as leverage on the wrench and was finally able to loosen the nuts. She had a little trouble operating the jack and exchanging the heavy tires, but she finished the job.
A lightning bolt of pain shot through her shoulder as she heaved the flat tire over the lip of Francine's trunk.
At last she slithered back into the car. The sodden fabric of her skirt slapped and squished against the vinyl seat as she adjusted her position behind the wheel. She sighed over the ripped sleeve of her favorite silk blouse, and then she turned on the engine and the heater. The air that blasted her was not yet warm, so she shivered hard as she pushed dripping curls away from her face and put on the dry cardigan.
"Hot bath, here I come," she muttered, reaching for the gearshift.
Eric .
She squinted at her watch in the dim light and emitted a shriek of dismay. "Thanks a lot, Francine. By now he's thinking I just blew him off."
Laney felt terrible about not being home at the agreed-upon time for their date, but apart from calling the man earlier, what could she have done differently?
She'd just started getting dressed when the very pregnant Megan had appeared on her doorstep with a cranky toddler who needed to go potty. Their car had broken down nearby, and Luke couldn't get there for at least an hour. Since Laney hadn't been expecting Eric—who, according to Sarah Jane, was an amazingly handsome widowed dentist—for another forty-five minutes, she'd driven Megan and her daughter home.
She'd thought there would be plenty of
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