River Of Secrets. Lynette Eason

      When the sun finished its climb, she pulled out her Bible and just sat without opening it. Instead, she went straight to the point. What do I do, Lord? What do I say? Should I talk to Lucas and ask him what to do? Would it do more damage to Micah—er, Juan—no, Micah, if I bring up the past and… She groaned and dropped her head in her hands.

      “Problems?”

      She jumped. It was Micah’s voice—but it wasn’t. It was deeper, with a rasp he didn’t used to have. Due to the damage from smoke inhalation, no doubt.

      Amy turned and looked up at him, seeing the resemblance all over again. She’d noticed it in the beginning, but had never entertained the possibility that he might actually be Micah. Because Micah was dead. Only now he stood looking at her with a frown creasing his forehead.

      She frowned back. “Problems? A few. God and I were just having a conversation about them. Well, actually, I was talking and He was listening.” Then she smiled. “What are you doing here so early?”

      Micah sighed and dropped his head. “Looking for you. I was wondering if I could join you.”

      “Sure.” Amy could see he had something on his mind. “What’s up?” She did her best to sound cheery and carefree. No need to let him see her turmoil until she could talk to Lucas and get in touch with his family. Surely one of them would see she’d tried to call and call her back. She’d gotten a satellite phone, and both Cassidy and the ambassador had the number. Hopefully, he’d check in with his office and they’d give him the message that she wanted to talk to him.

      Micah sat down beside her, crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped loosely in front of him. Silent, he stared down in the muddy water.

      Amy waited and inhaled his freshly showered scent. He looked good this morning, muscles gleaming in the morning sun. He had on short sleeves and didn’t seem to mind the scars prominently displayed on his left arm. Silent, she remained patient, allowing him to find the words he seemed to be searching for.

      Finally, he blew out a breath and said, “I’m sorry if my scars offended you.”

      Was that what he thought?

      “Oh, no,” she reached out impulsively and laid a hand on his scarred left hand. “Why would you think that?”

      He looked her in the eye, “Because of the way you reacted in the woods after the dart incident. You were…repulsed. And I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me these last few days.”

      Amy caught her breath and stemmed the tears that threatened to fall. Although she had been avoiding him, it wasn’t because of his scars. She protested, “I wasn’t offended or repulsed, I…hurt for you. I can’t believe what you’ve been through. You…you’re…I wish…” She stopped, sucked in air and said, “I can’t even explain the feelings that went through me yesterday. I wish I could, but, please believe me, your scars don’t bother me. No, they’re not pretty, but they represent your strength, your courage. The fact that you can even walk shows what a fighter you are.”

      A thought occurred to her, and she grabbed her Bible, flipping the pages, “Here, I want to read you something. It’s in I Samuel 16:7. The last part of the verse says, ‘The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.’”

      Micah reached out and ran a finger down the page in her Bible. Softly, he asked, “And you think He’s looking at my heart?”

      Amy nodded. “I know He is…and I promise, I am, too.”

      Light flared in his eyes, hope, tenderness…fear. Micah stared back out over the water, clearing his throat. “Thank you. Amy, I know we haven’t known each other that long, and I’m not sure what the future holds for me, but…” He caught her eye, and Amy sucked in a breath at the look. No, no, she couldn’t let him say anything. Not yet. Not until she told him everything.

      “Here,” she blurted, “this will help. Start with John.” She handed her Bible over to him. He took it reluctantly, obviously wanting to finish what he’d started to say. She stood. “I’ll just leave you and God to have a talk.”

      He hefted the Bible and smiled up at her. “You don’t have to leave.”

      “I need to go in and help get the little ones ready for breakfast anyway. You can give me the Bible later.”

      “All right. I think maybe I will just sit here for a while—see what God has to say.”

      Amy walked up the dock and turned up the path, passing the gymnasium. She looked back to see Micah sitting with the Bible in his lap. At least it was open. She whispered a prayer. “Reveal Yourself to him, Lord. Show him Your love and goodness.”

      Only a few steps later, she heard a rumble in the distance and saw the jeep heading back her way, occasionally catching a glimpse of it between the trees. Jonathas must have finished with the cows early. She picked up her pace, stopped and looked back. The trees were in the way, but it looked as if the jeep had stopped on the dock. The front faced the end where Micah still sat. How strange. It just sat there, idling…no, wait, it was moving. Why would some one drive the jeep on the dock? She moved to get a better look.

      Then the vehicle was rolling on the downward sloping dock, down toward the end where Micah sat. Picking up speed quickly, soon it would be right on him!

      “Juan!” she screamed.

      Surely, Micah would feel the vibration of the dock and look up, hear it as it got closer. Who was driving? A quick glance showed an empty driver’s seat. Horror swept over her. Sure enough, the jeep was bearing down on Micah and he had no where to go except into the river where the caimans still swam.