Ricochet Page 20

  She squeezed his hand. “I’m happy for you. I’ve had a few realizations of my own. I’ve had this crazy fear of making stupid mistakes and turning out the same way my mother did. It’s why I wanted to keep you at a distance. To run back into the arms of someone who I thought had abandoned me would make me seem weak. But I’ve realized that you didn’t really abandon me, Nick. We both needed time to grow up and figure out who we were. God brought us back together at the perfect time. His timing is always right.”

  “His timing is perfect.” Nick’s expression turned serious. “I know you think that your relationship with the doctor made you seem weak, but I really think it showed your strength, Molly.”

  “How so?”

  “Because if you were weak, you would have stayed with him. Instead, you stood up to him. You remained firm against his charm. That shows strength.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I think I am.” He smiled. “Well, you asked me this, so how about you? You’re going to stick around, aren’t you?”

  “If there’s a place for me.”

  “Oh, there’s a place for you.” He got down on one knee. “I realized last night that I never wanted to lose you again. Molly Hamilton, I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife. And together, I want us to work at Camp Hope Springs.”

  Molly threw her arms around him. “Nothing would make me happier. I love you, Nick White.”

  “I love you, Molly Hamilton.”

  EPILOGUE

  Molly adjusted the wildflower bouquet in her hands one more time before stepping from the nurse’s quarters into the cafeteria. It was amazing how the room had been transformed into something casually elegant. White tablecloths draped the tables; flowers and ribbons decorated their tops. Gauze hung in swags over the windows.

  This was really happening, Molly realized.

  Laura stuck her head into the cafeteria and grinned when she spotted Molly. “It’s time.”

  Molly brushed some microscopic lint from her white sundress and stepped outside into the glorious late-summer afternoon. In the distance, she heard a guitar plucking out a familiar melody. Slowly, she made her way down a little hill toward the vespers area at Camp Hope Springs.

  This was the very place at the camp where Molly had dedicated her life to serving God ten years ago. How appropriate that today she would be getting married here and beginning a new journey here at Camp Hope Springs.

  Just a few weeks ago, this camp had been practically falling apart. But with the money the camp had received from the black walnut trees, they’d redone the entire area. Now it looked like something from a fairy tale.

  Various people who’d attended camp this summer sat on the wooden, hillside benches. She passed Cody, the sheriff and several board members from the camp. She hardly saw them. Instead, she saw Nick standing at the end of the path wearing khakis and a white button-down shirt. He’d never looked so handsome.

  Beside him stood his father, the Bible open in his hands as he readied himself to perform the marriage ceremony.

  Molly reached the end and took Nick’s hands into her own. He leaned toward her. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  She glanced at the front bench where Mrs. White sat. The woman flashed a grin toward Molly. Thank goodness their differences had finally been mended. Now Nick and Molly could move forward with his parents’ blessings. Another answered prayer.

  As his dad began the ceremony, Molly felt the familiar tap on her palm.

  I love you.

  Molly smiled. She interrupted the ceremony as she leaned forward and gave Nick a quick kiss. The audience burst into laughter, as did Nick’s father.

  “I don’t say this very often, but this time I truly believe it,” Mr. White said. “You two are a match made in heaven and I know you’re going to do great things here at this camp. And without further ado, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride...or the groom...or each other. Again.”

  Chuckles filled the air around them. Nick and Molly sealed their marriage with a kiss and began their sweet new life at Camp Hope Springs.

  Nick’s grandfather had been right. Hope could spring from even the direst of circumstances. All one had to have was a little faith.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Threat of Darkness by Valerie Hansen!

  Dear Reader,

  I grew up going to Christian summer camp and have so many good memories of my time there. After high school, I traveled, representing my college on a music and drama team for two summers and ended up back at Christian summer camps throughout the Midwest. Camp can be such a life-changing place. But I still do remember some of those campfire stories. Before I started writing this book, I started asking myself the golden question of “what if....” That’s when this book was born. I hope you enjoyed Ricochet and remember that, with God on our side, we truly can bounce back from hard circumstances and come out stronger than before.

  Christy Barritt

  Questions for Discussion

  1. Did you ever go to summer camp? What are some of your favorite memories of your time there?

  2. Where’s a place that positive life change happened for you—if not at camp, then maybe a retreat or church service or mission trip? What brought about that life change?

  3. In Ricochet, Nick’s parents have discounted Molly without even getting to know her. Has anyone ever judged you like this? How did it make you feel?

  4. Have you ever discounted someone without getting to know them? Why?

  5. How can we push past other people’s perceptions of us and become the person God’s created us to be? What holds you back from being who you were created to be?

  6. Molly gives up her career and flees to Camp Hope Springs after a false accusation is made against her. Has anyone ever said anything about you that isn’t true? How did you handle it?

  7. Nick feels like he’s spent his life in a fishbowl—a place where everyone is constantly watching him. It comes to the point where he doesn’t know if his faith is real or if he’s just going through the motions. Can you relate? How do you keep your relationship with God fresh and real?

  8. Nick has also made a lot of life choices based on his parents’ expectations of him. Have you ever made a choice based on others’ expectations? How did it work out?

  9. Are there any unfair expectations that you’ve put on others around you? Is this something you need to change?

  10. Are there any life circumstances that you need to bounce back from? What are they? What’s the first step in moving past them?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.

  You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

  We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com

  Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Harlequin and Mills & Boon are joining forces in a global search for new authors.

  In September 2012 we’re launching our biggest contest yet—with the prize of being published by the world�
��s leader in romance fiction!

  Look for more information on our website, www.soyouthinkyoucanwrite.com

  So you think you can write? Show us!

  ONE

  The keening wails echoing down the usually quiet halls of the Serenity Medical Center made the hair on the back of Samantha Rochard’s neck prickle. Every natural instinct told her to flee. Instead, her experience as a registered nurse sent her racing toward the sound of misery.

  A doctor, white coat flying behind him, shoved her aside and burst through the curtain into an E.R. exam cubicle. She heard him start to speak. Then, his words were abruptly cut off.

  A sixth sense brought Samantha to a skidding halt before the weighted curtain had stopped swinging behind him. Was that scuffling? Fighting? A thud?

  She peeked through a slit between the panels. Dr. Weiss, the physician who had elbowed her out of his way, lay on the floor, moaning. A thin, scraggly figure she judged to be male stood with his back to her. The only thing about him that caught her attention and held it was the small, silver-colored revolver he was waving.

  Samantha wheeled and flattened herself against a nearby wall. Hands trembling, she pulled out her cell phone, called 911 and cupped her hands around the instrument to muffle her speech.

  “We need help at the medical center. Hurry.”

  “What’s the nature of your emergency, ma’am?”

  “I don’t know.” Samantha wanted to shout instead of whispering. “I heard a scream and…”

  When the dispatcher interrupted to ask, “Is that you again, Ms. Rochard?” she figured her report wasn’t going to be taken seriously. So what else was new?

  “Look,” Samantha said, “we’ve got a guy in our E.R. with a gun. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Okay. Stay where you are and let us handle it.” There was a rumble of conversation and beeping noises in the background before the dispatcher returned. “We have units on the way. Stay on the line with me.”

  Samantha was about to reply when someone grabbed a fistful of her shoulder-length, dark hair and jerked her off her feet. The cell phone hit the floor with a splintering crack. She was being dragged backward into the exam area where Dr. Weiss lay!

  Her scalp felt as though it was on fire. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t reason. All she could do was keep screaming “No! No!” and try to regain her balance enough to fight back.

  The attacker flung her aside like a sack of dirty laundry. She landed hard. The instant she looked up she knew who had manhandled her. It was one of the teenage Boland boys. What’s his first name? Why can’t I remember? Marty, Jimmy, Bobby? It was Bobby. Bobby Joe. At least that sounded right.

  Shying away while her thoughts whirled, Samantha stared at the young man in the tattered jeans and T-shirt. His eyes were wide and darting, their pupils dilated. He was under the influence for sure, which made him even more unpredictable. His demeanor reminded her of an animal caught in the jaws of a steel trap and willing to chew its own leg off to escape.

  She licked her lips and found her voice. “Hey, it’s me. Samantha Rochard. You’re—you’re Bobby Joe, right? I used to go to school with your big sisters. Remember?”

  His eyes flickered. His body was shaking so uncontrollably his hand kept jerking. The hand with the gun in it. “I—I know,” he stammered. “I came to see you ’cause you’re a nurse.”

  “Okay. I’m here,” Samantha said with forced calm. “I’m going to get up now, Bobby. Will you let me do that?”

  His nod was quick, twitchy. “Yeah.”

  Using the edge of the exam table to steady herself she kept her concentration on the teen’s face, waiting for him to do something else irrational thanks to his drug-induced paranoia. The biggest plus of the whole situation was the fact that she knew all of the Boland kids had been raised with strong morals and lots of love, even if they hadn’t had much else.

  Samantha took a deep, settling breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m listening,” she told the skinny, long-haired teen. “Why did you want to see me?”

  He stepped aside so Samantha could view the occupant of the narrow gurney for the first time. A homemade quilt wrapped a frail, blond child about two years old. The little body lay quiet. Too quiet.

  Whipping her stethoscope from around her neck she pushed the teen aside, threw back the edges of the quilt and began to check the child’s vital signs. There was a heartbeat! Thank You, God.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “I don’t know. I was just watchin’ him for a friend and…”

  “How long? How long has he been like this?”

  Instead of answering, the gunman stepped back and began to weep as if his heart was breaking.

  Samantha was no longer concerned about anything except the ill child. “Talk to me, Bobby Joe. Tell me everything.”

  Sobbing was all she heard so she doubled her efforts. “Listen. Time matters. If you think he swallowed something I need to know what and when. Talk to me. Help me save him.” She was searching for injuries on the little body as she spoke and finding none.

  The young man sank to the floor near Dr. Weiss’s feet. Samantha heard him mumble something about a stash and the little boy being too curious. That was enough to get started. She threw aside the curtain surrounding one end of the exam area and found herself staring at a trio of quaking coworkers.

  “Narcan,” Samantha shouted. “And find me a doctor who’s conscious enough to give the order to administer.”

  “I can do it,” Weiss said, rolling onto his hands and knees and pausing before pulling himself erect. He cast a wary glance at the assailant who was still babbling incoherently, then nodded at a middle-aged nurse who stood outside the immediate area. “You. Alice. You heard her. Meds. Stat. And somebody order a chopper. We’ll transport to Children’s in Little Rock as soon as we stabilize.”

  “Respirations are slow, pulse rapid and weak,” Samantha told him.

  “That figures.” Weiss blew a sigh. “I’ll start an IV while you give him half the dose IM. If the problem isn’t opiate-induced, Narcan won’t hurt him.”

  “Right.” She administered the injection while other nurses and the doctor worked on the opposite side of the gurney.

  The sound of approaching sirens caught her attention. Tensing, she eyed Bobby Joe. He apparently hadn’t noticed that the police were almost there.

  “Vitals are improving. Somebody take my place for a second,” Samantha said before leaving the patient in other capable hands and going to crouch beside the distraught teen.

  “We’ve given the boy an antidote and he’s starting to respond. It’s going to be okay.” Reaching for his weapon and closing her hand around it, she made sure it was pointing in a safe direction, then exerted steady pressure. “You can let go. Give me the gun, Bobby Joe. Everything’s under control.”

  Relieved beyond words when he did as she asked, Samantha stood, holding out the small, silver pistol, butt first and muzzle direction safely diverted, just the way she’d taken it from its owner.

  Several police officers were already approaching warily when she turned to face them. Their guns were drawn, their expressions deadly serious so she announced, “You can relax, fellas. Everything’s under control. I got his gun away from him for you.”

  One deputy sidled past her to cuff the addict while another stepped up and took the pistol from her hand.

  If Samantha hadn’t already been so keyed up that she could barely think straight, she might have shrieked when she saw that cop’s face. Her jaw did drop and she was pretty sure her gasp was audible. His light brown hair and eyes and his broad shoulders were all too familiar. It couldn’t be him, of course. It simply couldn’t be. She hadn’t had one of these déjà vu moments for months. Maybe years.

  Her
pulse leaped as reality replaced imagination. She couldn’t catch her breath. This was not another bad dream. John Waltham, the man who’d broken her heart so badly she’d wondered if she’d ever recover, was standing right in front of her, big as life.

  Before she could decide how to greet him, he set the mood of their reunion. His “What did you think you were doing?” was delivered with such force it was practically a growl.

  That attitude stiffened her spine and made it easy to answer, “My job.”

  “You’re a nurse, not a cop.”

  “Oh, so I’m supposed to just stand there while you and your buddies waltz in here and start shooting?”

  “If necessary, yes.”

  “Don’t be silly. I knew Bobby Joe wasn’t going to hurt me,” she insisted, wishing she fully believed her own assertion. When an addict was under the influence there was no way to predict what he or she might do.

  Handling the pistol expertly, John unloaded it and passed it to one of his fellow officers to bag as evidence before turning back to Samantha.

  She noticed that his expression had softened some but it was too little too late. She was already bristling. “What are you doing back in town?” She eyed him from head to toe. “And why are you dressed like a member of our police force?”

  “Because that’s what I am. I’ve come home,” he said flatly.

  Samantha couldn’t believe her ears. After all he’d put her through, all the tears she’d shed after he’d left her high and dry, he had the unmitigated gall to return and go back to work as if nothing had changed. How dare he!