FIRST Chapter: Yesterday's Promise by Vanessa Miller

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Vanessa Miller

and the book:

Yesterday’s Promise (Book One in the Second Chance at Love Series)

Whitaker House (April 6, 2010) 

***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Vanessa Miller of Dayton, Ohio is a best-selling author, playwright, and motivational speaker. She started writing as a child, spending countless hours either reading or writing poetry, short stories, stage plays and novels. Vanessa’s creative endeavors took on new meaning in 1994 when she gave her life to Jesus. Since then, she’s focused on themes of redemption, often using characters caught up in struggles common to contemporary culture. Readers and critics alike have responded with overwhelming affirmation. Vanessa’s novels have topped the Essence Magazine’s Bestseller’s Lists, and received numerous awards, including “Best Christian Fiction Mahogany Award” and the “Red Rose Award for Excellence in Christian Fiction.”. Her work has also been nominated for the NAACP Image Award for Christian Fiction and as the Black Expressions Book Club Alternate Selection for the past three years.

Visit the author's website.



Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Paperback: 400 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (April 6, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603742077
ISBN-13: 978-1603742078

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the women who have ever struggled to preach the gospel.

Know that God hasn’t forgotten your labor of love. I salute you.











One

Standing before the congregation of Omega Christian Church, Melinda Johnson preached a message on God’s precious gift of salvation. Her mission in life was to tell as many people as possible about a Man named Jesus. Preaching the gospel had become her greatest joy. “Don’t wait until it’s too late,” she told the congregation. “The Lord Jesus wants to fellowship with you right now. He loves you and desires only good things for you.”

Melinda continued in that vein until her voice cracked and tears ran down her cocoa-cream face. She never tired of talking about God’s ability to do the impossible, or how He could take nothing and make something miraculous out of it. She usually avoided making public displays of emotion, but this message was more important than her image. As the tears continued to fall, she gave an altar call and watched as dozens of men and women left their seats and rushed toward the front of the sanctuary. Repentant souls stood around the altar weeping as they raised their hands in surrender to God. Melinda prayed to God on behalf of each and every one of them.

After the service, Melinda stood by the sanctuary door and shook hands with most of the people as they left the church. This was something that her father, Bishop Langston Johnson, always did. Since he couldn’t be there today, Melinda wanted to make sure the job was still done.

“Thanks for your wonderful message, Sister Melinda,” Janet Hillman said on her way out. “My son was one of the people who came down to the altar today.”

For the past three years, Janet had spent her lunch hours in noonday prayer on behalf of her son. Having joined her on numerous occasions, Melinda was aware of the addictions and incarcerations that Janet’s son had been through. However, Janet had kept the faith—she’d kept believing that her son would one day serve the Lord.

Melinda beamed. “You prayed him through, Janet. I should give you my prayer list, because I know you’ll stay on the job until it’s done.”

When Janet walked away, Bob Helms, the head elder, came up to Melinda and said, “You brought down the house with that sermon.”

“Thank you, sir, but I can’t take credit. That message was God-given,” Melinda said. After a short pause, she asked, “Do you know why the elders weren’t at prayer this morning?” The church leaders met for prayer on the first Sunday of every month, but Melinda had noticed that none of the elders had been in attendance that morning.

“Your father had asked that all the elders meet with him this morning,” Elder Helms told her.

“Oh,” was all Melinda said. She had been with her father the night before, and he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting with the elders in the morning. The situation seemed odd to her because she had always been included in his meetings with the elders. Moreover, it was essentially understood by the entire church leadership that Melinda would assume her father’s position once he retired. Right now, her father was in the hospital, recuperating from what he’d thought had been a heart attack. Now that Melinda thought about it, he had been given strict instructions to rest, which probably explained why he hadn’t told her about the meeting. He knew that she wouldn’t want him worrying about church business right now.

Elder Helms interrupted her thoughts. “The Bishop did tell me to make sure that you left church right after preaching the message, Melinda. He wants to see you immediately.”

It seemed like Elder Helms knew something Melinda didn’t, and it scared her. “Did something happen to Dad this morning?”

Shaking his head, Elder Helms reassured her, “No, no. Nothing like that. The Bishop is doing fine. He just wants to see you.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Elder Helms,” she said. “I’ll head over there now.”

***

Anxious to see her father and make sure he was all right, Melinda rushed down the hospital corridor that led to his room. He had been admitted to the hospital three days prior, complaining of chest pains. After several tests, the doctor had confirmed that no sign of a heart attack had been detected. Melinda was thankful that her father was recuperating and doing well. She was also excited to tell him about some wonderful, unexpected news she had received that morning.

Her father’s eyes were closed when Melinda walked into his hospital room. As she approached his bed, she noticed for the first time that his hair was no longer salt-and-pepper but completely white. The wrinkles beneath his eyes, which had long made him look distinguished, were now more pronounced and distracting. When did all of this happen? Melinda wondered as she picked up her father’s frail hand and pressed it to her cheek.

Bishop Johnson’s eyes fluttered as he turned toward his daughter. “Hey, baby girl. When’d you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get here earlier.”

“You had to handle my responsibilities at the church. Don’t worry about it. I had plenty of visitors this morning.”

Melinda sat down in the chair next to her father’s bed and hung her purse on the arm of the chair. “I have some good news, Daddy. I’ve been asked to speak at the Women on the Move for God conference in August!”

“That’s great, baby girl! But I have even better news.”

Melinda raised her eyebrows. “What, the doctor gave you a clean bill of health and said that you’ll live to be a hundred?”

Bishop Johnson shook his head and then blurted out, “I found you a husband.”

“Excuse me?” Melinda said in as even a tone as she could manage. After all, she was a thirty-seven-year-old woman living in the twenty-first century. Fathers didn’t go out and find husbands for their daughters in this day and age. “Please tell me you’re joking, Daddy.”

“No joke to it,” Bishop Johnson said as he hoisted himself into an upright position. “I’m an old man, Melinda. I haven’t got many years left. I’d like to see at least one of my grandchildren before I die, you know?”

Melinda couldn’t deny that her father was showing signs of aging. But that didn’t mean death would sneak into his hospital room and suck out his last breath while she stood there and watched. “You talk as if you’ll die tomorrow.”

“I could. The next heart attack could be my last.”

Melinda rolled her eyes. “It was an anxiety attack, Daddy. Stop being such a baby. The doctor says you’re fine.”

Bishop Johnson shook a shaky finger at Melinda. “Now, you listen to me. I’m eighty-two years old. I know what’s best for you, and that’s why I called Steven Marks.”

Melinda bolted out of her chair and moved away from her father’s bed. She put a hand to her mouth and shut her eyes, trying to block out the same feeling of humiliation she’d experienced when Steven had dumped her ten years ago. This has to be some kind of horrible joke, Melinda thought. But her father was a serious man who rarely joked with anyone.

“Calm down. It’s not as bad as you think,” he said. “I didn’t come right out and tell Steven I wanted him to marry you. He’s a smart young man…he’ll come to that decision on his own.”

“Why are you even talking to me about Steven, Daddy? That man walked out on me and married someone else. Do you really think I’d want him back now, just because his wife is dead?”

“Pride goes before destruction, Melinda.”

She really hated it when her father tried to rein her in by quoting Scriptures. “What does being prideful have to do with not wanting to marry a man who rejected me?”

“I have more to tell you. Would you please sit back down?”

Melinda inched back to her seat and slowly settled into it. If this marrying Steven Marks thing was supposed to be a buffer for the rest of her father’s message, then she was truly petrified. She glanced at her father with a look of apprehension.

“This last hospital stay has convinced me that I need to retire.”

Melinda rolled her eyes. “I’ve been telling you for years now to retire. I can pastor Omega, and Pastor Lakes can take over as bishop.”

“Let me finish,” Bishop Johnson said, holding up a hand to silence Melinda. “I know the ministry goals that you have. I also believe that there is a way for you to do God’s will and also have a family. Plus, Steven’s church did not support him during his grieving process. They want him to leave, Melinda. So, after prayerful reflection, I’ve asked him to take over for me as bishop.”

Melinda must not have heard him right. He couldn’t have just said that Steven Marks—the man who’d called off their wedding because she’d refused to give up her dreams of preaching the gospel—was going to be the new bishop of Omega Christian Church. In Melinda’s mind, this could mean only one thing: her sin had finally caught up with her.

***************************

Publisher’s note:

This novel is a work of fiction. References to real events, organizations, or places are used in a fictional context. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.


All Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version, © 1979, 1980, 1982, 1984 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.




Yesterday’s Promise
Book One in the Second Chance at Love Series


Vanessa Miller

www.vanessamiller.com


ISBN: 978-1-60374-207-8

Printed in the United States of America

© 2010 by Vanessa Miller


Whitaker House

1030 Hunt Valley Circle

New Kensington, PA 15068

www.whitakerhouse.com



Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data


Miller, Vanessa.

Yesterday's promise / by Vanessa Miller.

p. cm. — (Second chance at love ; bk. 1)

Summary: “When Melinda Johnson’s father, the bishop of Omega Christian Church, goes back on his word and appoints her ex-fiancé, Steven Marks, as his successor instead of her, Melinda must decide whether to pursue her call to preach elsewhere or to stay at Omega and rekindle a relationship with Steven—even though he opposes female pastors”—Provided by publisher.

ISBN 978-1-60374-207-8 (trade pbk.)

1. African American churches—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3613.I5623Y47 2010

813'.6—dc22

2009042889

FIRST Chapter: Yesterday's Promise by Vanessa Miller

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Vanessa Miller

and the book:

Yesterday’s Promise (Book One in the Second Chance at Love Series)

Whitaker House (April 6, 2010) 

***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Vanessa Miller of Dayton, Ohio is a best-selling author, playwright, and motivational speaker. She started writing as a child, spending countless hours either reading or writing poetry, short stories, stage plays and novels. Vanessa’s creative endeavors took on new meaning in 1994 when she gave her life to Jesus. Since then, she’s focused on themes of redemption, often using characters caught up in struggles common to contemporary culture. Readers and critics alike have responded with overwhelming affirmation. Vanessa’s novels have topped the Essence Magazine’s Bestseller’s Lists, and received numerous awards, including “Best Christian Fiction Mahogany Award” and the “Red Rose Award for Excellence in Christian Fiction.”. Her work has also been nominated for the NAACP Image Award for Christian Fiction and as the Black Expressions Book Club Alternate Selection for the past three years.

Visit the author's website.



Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Paperback: 400 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (April 6, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603742077
ISBN-13: 978-1603742078

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the women who have ever struggled to preach the gospel.

Know that God hasn’t forgotten your labor of love. I salute you.











One

Standing before the congregation of Omega Christian Church, Melinda Johnson preached a message on God’s precious gift of salvation. Her mission in life was to tell as many people as possible about a Man named Jesus. Preaching the gospel had become her greatest joy. “Don’t wait until it’s too late,” she told the congregation. “The Lord Jesus wants to fellowship with you right now. He loves you and desires only good things for you.”

Melinda continued in that vein until her voice cracked and tears ran down her cocoa-cream face. She never tired of talking about God’s ability to do the impossible, or how He could take nothing and make something miraculous out of it. She usually avoided making public displays of emotion, but this message was more important than her image. As the tears continued to fall, she gave an altar call and watched as dozens of men and women left their seats and rushed toward the front of the sanctuary. Repentant souls stood around the altar weeping as they raised their hands in surrender to God. Melinda prayed to God on behalf of each and every one of them.

After the service, Melinda stood by the sanctuary door and shook hands with most of the people as they left the church. This was something that her father, Bishop Langston Johnson, always did. Since he couldn’t be there today, Melinda wanted to make sure the job was still done.

“Thanks for your wonderful message, Sister Melinda,” Janet Hillman said on her way out. “My son was one of the people who came down to the altar today.”

For the past three years, Janet had spent her lunch hours in noonday prayer on behalf of her son. Having joined her on numerous occasions, Melinda was aware of the addictions and incarcerations that Janet’s son had been through. However, Janet had kept the faith—she’d kept believing that her son would one day serve the Lord.

Melinda beamed. “You prayed him through, Janet. I should give you my prayer list, because I know you’ll stay on the job until it’s done.”

When Janet walked away, Bob Helms, the head elder, came up to Melinda and said, “You brought down the house with that sermon.”

“Thank you, sir, but I can’t take credit. That message was God-given,” Melinda said. After a short pause, she asked, “Do you know why the elders weren’t at prayer this morning?” The church leaders met for prayer on the first Sunday of every month, but Melinda had noticed that none of the elders had been in attendance that morning.

“Your father had asked that all the elders meet with him this morning,” Elder Helms told her.

“Oh,” was all Melinda said. She had been with her father the night before, and he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting with the elders in the morning. The situation seemed odd to her because she had always been included in his meetings with the elders. Moreover, it was essentially understood by the entire church leadership that Melinda would assume her father’s position once he retired. Right now, her father was in the hospital, recuperating from what he’d thought had been a heart attack. Now that Melinda thought about it, he had been given strict instructions to rest, which probably explained why he hadn’t told her about the meeting. He knew that she wouldn’t want him worrying about church business right now.

Elder Helms interrupted her thoughts. “The Bishop did tell me to make sure that you left church right after preaching the message, Melinda. He wants to see you immediately.”

It seemed like Elder Helms knew something Melinda didn’t, and it scared her. “Did something happen to Dad this morning?”

Shaking his head, Elder Helms reassured her, “No, no. Nothing like that. The Bishop is doing fine. He just wants to see you.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Elder Helms,” she said. “I’ll head over there now.”

***

Anxious to see her father and make sure he was all right, Melinda rushed down the hospital corridor that led to his room. He had been admitted to the hospital three days prior, complaining of chest pains. After several tests, the doctor had confirmed that no sign of a heart attack had been detected. Melinda was thankful that her father was recuperating and doing well. She was also excited to tell him about some wonderful, unexpected news she had received that morning.

Her father’s eyes were closed when Melinda walked into his hospital room. As she approached his bed, she noticed for the first time that his hair was no longer salt-and-pepper but completely white. The wrinkles beneath his eyes, which had long made him look distinguished, were now more pronounced and distracting. When did all of this happen? Melinda wondered as she picked up her father’s frail hand and pressed it to her cheek.

Bishop Johnson’s eyes fluttered as he turned toward his daughter. “Hey, baby girl. When’d you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get here earlier.”

“You had to handle my responsibilities at the church. Don’t worry about it. I had plenty of visitors this morning.”

Melinda sat down in the chair next to her father’s bed and hung her purse on the arm of the chair. “I have some good news, Daddy. I’ve been asked to speak at the Women on the Move for God conference in August!”

“That’s great, baby girl! But I have even better news.”

Melinda raised her eyebrows. “What, the doctor gave you a clean bill of health and said that you’ll live to be a hundred?”

Bishop Johnson shook his head and then blurted out, “I found you a husband.”

“Excuse me?” Melinda said in as even a tone as she could manage. After all, she was a thirty-seven-year-old woman living in the twenty-first century. Fathers didn’t go out and find husbands for their daughters in this day and age. “Please tell me you’re joking, Daddy.”

“No joke to it,” Bishop Johnson said as he hoisted himself into an upright position. “I’m an old man, Melinda. I haven’t got many years left. I’d like to see at least one of my grandchildren before I die, you know?”

Melinda couldn’t deny that her father was showing signs of aging. But that didn’t mean death would sneak into his hospital room and suck out his last breath while she stood there and watched. “You talk as if you’ll die tomorrow.”

“I could. The next heart attack could be my last.”

Melinda rolled her eyes. “It was an anxiety attack, Daddy. Stop being such a baby. The doctor says you’re fine.”

Bishop Johnson shook a shaky finger at Melinda. “Now, you listen to me. I’m eighty-two years old. I know what’s best for you, and that’s why I called Steven Marks.”

Melinda bolted out of her chair and moved away from her father’s bed. She put a hand to her mouth and shut her eyes, trying to block out the same feeling of humiliation she’d experienced when Steven had dumped her ten years ago. This has to be some kind of horrible joke, Melinda thought. But her father was a serious man who rarely joked with anyone.

“Calm down. It’s not as bad as you think,” he said. “I didn’t come right out and tell Steven I wanted him to marry you. He’s a smart young man…he’ll come to that decision on his own.”

“Why are you even talking to me about Steven, Daddy? That man walked out on me and married someone else. Do you really think I’d want him back now, just because his wife is dead?”

“Pride goes before destruction, Melinda.”

She really hated it when her father tried to rein her in by quoting Scriptures. “What does being prideful have to do with not wanting to marry a man who rejected me?”

“I have more to tell you. Would you please sit back down?”

Melinda inched back to her seat and slowly settled into it. If this marrying Steven Marks thing was supposed to be a buffer for the rest of her father’s message, then she was truly petrified. She glanced at her father with a look of apprehension.

“This last hospital stay has convinced me that I need to retire.”

Melinda rolled her eyes. “I’ve been telling you for years now to retire. I can pastor Omega, and Pastor Lakes can take over as bishop.”

“Let me finish,” Bishop Johnson said, holding up a hand to silence Melinda. “I know the ministry goals that you have. I also believe that there is a way for you to do God’s will and also have a family. Plus, Steven’s church did not support him during his grieving process. They want him to leave, Melinda. So, after prayerful reflection, I’ve asked him to take over for me as bishop.”

Melinda must not have heard him right. He couldn’t have just said that Steven Marks—the man who’d called off their wedding because she’d refused to give up her dreams of preaching the gospel—was going to be the new bishop of Omega Christian Church. In Melinda’s mind, this could mean only one thing: her sin had finally caught up with her.

***************************

Publisher’s note:

This novel is a work of fiction. References to real events, organizations, or places are used in a fictional context. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.


All Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version, © 1979, 1980, 1982, 1984 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.




Yesterday’s Promise
Book One in the Second Chance at Love Series


Vanessa Miller

www.vanessamiller.com


ISBN: 978-1-60374-207-8

Printed in the United States of America

© 2010 by Vanessa Miller


Whitaker House

1030 Hunt Valley Circle

New Kensington, PA 15068

www.whitakerhouse.com



Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data


Miller, Vanessa.

Yesterday's promise / by Vanessa Miller.

p. cm. — (Second chance at love ; bk. 1)

Summary: “When Melinda Johnson’s father, the bishop of Omega Christian Church, goes back on his word and appoints her ex-fiancé, Steven Marks, as his successor instead of her, Melinda must decide whether to pursue her call to preach elsewhere or to stay at Omega and rekindle a relationship with Steven—even though he opposes female pastors”—Provided by publisher.

ISBN 978-1-60374-207-8 (trade pbk.)

1. African American churches—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3613.I5623Y47 2010

813'.6—dc22

2009042889

FIRST Chapter: Prevailing Love by Loree Lough

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Loree Lough

and the book:

Prevailing Love: 3-in-1 Collection: Sealed With a Kiss, the Wedding Wish, Montana Sky

Whitaker House (January 2010) 

***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

A prolific writer, Loree Lough has more than seventy-three books, sixty-three short stories, and 2,500 articles in print. Her stories have earned dozens of industry and Reader’s Choice awards. A frequent guest speaker for writers’ organizations, book clubs, private and government institutions, corporations, college and high school writing programs, and more, Loree has encouraged thousands with her comedic approach to “learned-the-hard-way” lessons about the craft and industry. Loree and her husband split their time between Baltimore suburbs and a cabin in the Allegheny Mountains.

Visit the author's website.



Product Details:

List Price: $9.99
Paperback: 496 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (January 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603741666
ISBN-13: 978-1603741668

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Prologue

May 31, London


Sam Sylvester was dying, and he knew it.

When he closed his eyes, he could picture the huge red truck careening around the corner on two wheels, its chrome bumper aiming straight for the convertible’s windshield.

Right before the impact, he’d glanced at Shari. As usual when they were driving, she’d had her nose buried in the pages of a romance novel. “It helps keep my mind off all the dangerous drivers,” she’d once said. It doesn’t get any more ironic than that, Sam thought.

He wondered where Shari was now. He’d seen the paramedics load her, bloodied and unconscious, into one of the ambulances at the scene. Had the Lord, in His infinite mercy, decided to take her home then and there, to spare her any suffering?

It was a struggle just to open his eyes, but Sam forced himself. Nothing in the bustling emergency room could possibly be as horrible as the pictures in his mind.

“Look ’ere, doctor,” came the mask-muffled Cockney accent of a nurse. “’e seems to be coming round.”

The broad, beefy face of a doctor peered at Sam from behind a surgical mask. “You know where you are, sir?” he asked, bushy brows drawn together in a frown.

Under other circumstances, Sam might have chuckled, because the doctor’s breath was causing the pleats of his white mask to puff in and out like the bellows of a tiny accordion. Instead, Sam tried to muster the strength to nod. Yes, he knew exactly where he was—on his way to heaven.

But you can’t go, he told himself. At least not yet. There was so much to do, so much to say, so many questions to ask before—

“M-my wife….” The words scraped from his parched throat like sandpaper across roughened wood. “W-where’s my wi—?”

“Down the hall,” said the nurse, patting his hand.

“Is she…is she—?”

The expression on her face told him everything he needed to know. Shari had already joined their Maker in Paradise. But maybe, just maybe, he’d read the blue eyes above the mask wrong….

He ignored the pain—pain that seemed to have no particular source, throbbing in every joint and every muscle. He screwed up his courage. He had to know for sure before he let go of this earthly life.

“Did she make it?”

In the moment of hesitation and silence that followed his question, Sam felt his own lifeblood seeping slowly onto the gurney beneath him. The doctors and nurses surrounding him were all perspiring, so why, he wondered, did he feel so cold?

Drowsiness threatened to take him far, far from the ER, but he fought it. “Did she make it?” he repeated with force.

“No, Mr. Sylvester,” said the whisper-soft voice of the nurse, “I’m afraid she didn’t.” Another gentle pat. “But I can promise y’ this—she didn’t suffer.”

Sam closed his eyes as a curious mix of gratitude and regret propelled a slow, groaning breath past his lips. Gratitude that his precious wife wouldn’t be “up there” alone for long. Regret because their sweet little girl would have to live the rest of her days without them.

At least Molly will have Ethan, thank God.

Ethan…every bit as alone in the world as Molly would soon be.

For the first time since he’d regained consciousness, Sam felt a profound fear pulse through him. Ethan…. They need to contact him right now because Molly’s going to need him!

With a strength that belied his condition, he gripped the nurse’s wrist. “What…what did they do with…where are my things?” he choked out.

“In a locker, just down the hall.” She fished in the pocket of her surgical gown as the corners of her eyes crinkled with a sympathetic smile. “I ’aven’t ’ad a chance yet to file it,” she said, withdrawing a key.

The way it caught and reflected the light made it look like a silvery cross, if only for an instant. In that instant, Sam pictured Jesus welcoming Shari home. “In my wallet,” he said, struggling for air now, “there’s a business card, and—”

Her blonde brows knitted with concern. “Please calm yourself, Mr. Sylvester.”

“Why?”

He watched as she blinked and tried to come up with a rational reason for him to calm down. His mind started to wander, and he recalled how he’d been a volunteer EMT in Maryland before moving to London. He’d witnessed enough accident scenes to know what impending death looked like. He knew that the remainder of his life could be numbered in minutes, and that he had just one reason to conserve his remaining strength: Molly.

He thought about the joy she’d brought into his life, into Shari’s. From the moment they’d picked up their round-faced infant at that crowded Korean orphanage eleven years ago, she’d enchanted them with her dancing brown eyes and elfin smile. And the first thing every morning since, Sam and Shari had thanked the Almighty for blessing them with their beautiful, raven-haired angel.

Life from now on would be hard for her. Very hard, especially at first. But Molly knew the Lord, and He would help her through those first sorrow-filled days. And she’d have her uncle Ethan to look out for her.

Molly adored Ethan, and Ethan had always loved Molly as much as if she were his own. Sam and Shari had discussed it dozens of times. The way he looked at Molly, the tenderness in his voice when he spoke to her—that was the reason they’d decided to make him godfather and guardian to their only child.

This would be hard for Ethan, too, Sam knew. But he’d be a good father to Molly. Sam was as certain of that as he was of God’s boundless love.

From out of nowhere, a line Sam had read somewhere reverberated in his head: In knowledge, there is power. Knowing Molly would be in good hands gave him enough physical power to persist with the nurse. “The card,” he said again, “will you…get it…for me?”

The doctor nodded his approval, and the nurse left to collect Sam’s belongings. He closed his eyes. Father, he prayed, let me hold on a little longer, for Molly’s sake….

“Is this it?”

Squinting, Sam smiled crookedly at the card held between the nurse’s thumb and forefinger. “After all that fuss,” he croaked out, “I’m ashamed to admit I…to admit that…that I can’t focus enough….to read it.”

“It says ‘Burke Enterprises,’ and under that, ‘Ethan Burke, President and CEO.’”

A relieved sigh rattled from his lungs. “Praise God,” he whispered. “Praise Jesus!”

For a moment, an odd stillness settled over the cramped, brightly lit cubicle, despite the blips and hums of the equipment monitoring his heart rate and pulse, despite the nonstop efforts of the medical team to repair his broken, battered body.

“What’s your name?” he asked the nurse.

She raised her eyebrows high on her forehead, her stethoscope bobbing, as she pointed to her chest.

“Yes, you.”

“Tricia Turner.”

Reaching for her hand, he said, “Will you call him for me, Tricia?” Sam squeezed her hand.

“I’ll see it gets done, soon as—”

Another squeeze, tighter this time, interrupted her. “I’d like you to do it.” Sam spoke slowly, knowing he had to conserve his waning strength until he could be sure Molly would be with Ethan as soon as was humanly possible. “You know as well as I that I’m not walking out of here, Tricia, so say you’ll grant me this last wish.”

She blinked once, twice, and then said, “I—I’ll try.”

“No,” Sam all but barked. “Promise me, before I die. Because my wife and I chose Ethan, there,” Sam said, nodding toward the card, “to be our daughter’s guardian, should anything happen to us. She’s only eleven, you see, and I—”

“I understand. And you have my word. I’ll phone him for you.”

“I have your word?”

She nodded just once, but it was enough. A feeling of great peace settled over Sam, and, smiling, he let go of her hand. “Thank you. And bless you, Tricia, for your kindness…for giving me peace.”

When she began to fade from view, Sam thought, Not a good sign. Not good at all. Good thing he’d given Molly an extra-big hug and an especially big kiss that morning. Good thing you told her how much you love her. And how you taught her to turn to God in times of trouble. The girl would need it—soon.

Soon, soon, soon, he chanted in his mind as a drowsy, dizzy sensation wrapped around him. The pain was gone now, and he felt nothing but the feathery weight of the stick-on patches that held the heart monitor wires in place on his chest. Sam closed his eyes and listened to the high-pitched one-note whine of the monitor.

“Code blue!” someone hollered.

“Crash cart, stat!” yelled someone else.

Their shouts didn’t startle him. Sam was beyond fear now. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his conscious mind, he remembered his days as a paramedic, when he’d seen the flat line on the monitor signal the end of a life.

This is the last time you’ll have that memory…last memory you’ll have, period!

Did the saints in heaven remember their days on earth? And if they did, were they granted permission to visit their former world? Sam hoped so, because he wanted desperately to know that he could look in on Molly from time to time.

The lead surgeon on the team applied electric paddles to Sam’s chest, then bellowed “Clear!” as Tricia prepared a syringe for one last-ditch effort to save him. But Sam knew it was pointless. Soon, they’d realize the futility of their efforts, and by the time the doctor called time of death, he’d be with his Father, and with Shari, in Paradise.

Sam said one last prayer:

Lord Jesus, be with Ethan now. Guide his steps and his words, for Molly’s sake, as well as for his….





Chapter One

Same day, Potomac Hills, Maryland


There’d been a time when Ethan had enjoyed hosting parties—the bigger, the better—especially right here on his own riverfront estate. But his heart wasn’t in this one. Hadn’t been “in” much of anything lately.

Not so long ago, his parties had been described in the society pages as “colorful affairs.” But there hadn’t been much color in his life lately, either. Even the sun setting over the Potomac seemed drab and washed out.

Ethan stood on the pier, hands in his pockets, and looked back toward the great expanse of lawn, where no fewer than a hundred well-dressed guests meandered from tennis court to swimming pool to dual-level deck.

You’ve got it all, he thought, frowning. And from all outward appearances, he did have it all—a successful, self-made business; a big, beautiful house on three acres of prime Maryland real estate; seven automobiles—a sleek, high-priced sports car (for impressing the ladies), a classy, imported sedan (for impressing clients), and five roadsters of various vintages to impress himself…and neighbors who were rich and famous, to boot.

So why did he feel like something was missing? Something meaningful, something vital?

There were two bright spots in Ethan’s life: Burke Enterprises and his Korean-born goddaughter, Molly. The mere thought of the pretty preteen raised his spirits a bit. In another couple of weeks, Molly and her parents would arrive for a long, leisurely vacation, and already, he was counting down the days until the family would leave London for their annual trek to Maryland.

A woman’s shrill voice broke into his thoughts. “Peewee-than!” she hollered. “There you are!”

It was Kate, the six-foot, blonde marketing manager his vice president had appointed a couple months back. She waved a hand of red-taloned fingers above her head, and he sent a halfhearted salute in return, then faced the slow-surging river and ran both hands through his hair. He’d been neatly dodging her blatant flirtations all afternoon, pretending the ice bucket needed to be refilled or feigning a must-have conversation with someone across the way. But now he felt trapped, like a captive standing at the end of the gangplank on a buccaneer ship.

Her high-heeled sandals clickity-clacked as she pranced across the wide, weathered boards of the pier. “Ethan, what are you doing over here all by yourself? People are looking for you.”

Of course they were. And why wouldn’t they be? Somebody, somewhere, was always seeking him out for any one of a hundred reasons—a favor, a raise, a piece of advice, an introduction to another mover and shaker. With shoulders slumped, he shook his head. Quit feeling sorry for yourself, pal, he chided. As his mother would have pointed out, God had blessed him with a lot—materially and otherwise. But He’s taken away a lot, too….

“Ethan?”

You’ve got two choices, m’friend, he told himself, grinning slightly as he looked at the water swirling darkly around the pilings. Jump, or pretend you’re pleased to see her.

Turning, Ethan took a deep breath and fixed a practiced smile on his face. “Kate, darling,” he said smoothly, taking the goblet of iced tea from her hand, “looks like you need a refill. Let me get—”

Laughing lightly, she patted her flat stomach. “Please,” she gasped, “one more ounce of anything and I’ll positively pop!”

There was an awkward pause, and Ethan knew she was waiting for him to fill the void with some form of flattery about her figure. Unable to think of a single truthful thing to say, he let the moment pass.

A quick glance at his Rolex told him it was nearly four in the afternoon. Another hour or so and the party would be over. The crowd had already thinned considerably; once the last of them had gone, he’d call Sam and Shari to see if they’d made their airline reservations yet. Last time they’d talked, he’d promised to have a car pick them up at Baltimore-Washington International Airport. They were the closest thing to a family he’d likely ever have, so nothing but the best for them!

Kate linked her arm through his and led him back toward the house. “It sure was nice of you to throw a Memorial Day barbecue for Burke employees and their families,” she purred. “I want you to know…I’m especially happy to be here.”

Yeah, I’ll just bet you are, he thought.

His vice president, Pete Maxon, had told Ethan what he’d overheard Kate say two days prior: “If I play my cards right,” she told the gaggle of gals gathered near the water cooler, “I’ll be Mrs. Ethan Burke by this time next year!”

Mrs. Burke, my foot! “Couldn’t very well invite everyone else and leave your name off the guest list, now, could I?” was his bland reply.

By the time Sam and Shari had made him guardian of their only daughter six years earlier, Ethan had pretty much accepted the idea that Molly was the closest he’d come to having a child. He would have loved kids—a house full of them—but a man needed a wife for that. And every female he’d met so far had been like Kate, keeping her tummy flat and her sights firmly fixed on his checkbook. Hardly mother material!

“You look very handsome today,” she said, then threw back her back and laughed. “Which isn’t to say you don’t always look handsome. I just meant that in those jeans and that white shirt—”

A gale of robust laughter interrupted her. “Ethan, m’boy! There you are! Seems I’ve walked every inch of this plantation you call a home looking for you.” The silver-haired gentleman fixed his gaze on Kate. “Well, now, no wonder I couldn’t find him,” he told her, wiggling his eyebrows. Leaning in close, he lowered his voice to add, “I’d make myself scarce, too, if my date was as lovely as you.”

Ethan heard the phone ringing in the distance. Without knowing why, he tensed. Everyone who might have a reason to call him at home had been invited to the cookout. “Kate isn’t my date, Dad,” he said distractedly. “She’s—”

“Dad?” Kate interrupted. “This attractive young fellow is your father?” She flung an arm over his shoulders. “Why, you don’t look nearly old enough to have a son Ethan’s age,” she cooed.

The older man attempted a W. C. Fields imitation. “My dear, you’re an outrageous flirt!”

Kate kept her eyes on Ethan’s father. “Now I see where you get your good looks and your charm, Ethan.” She turned slightly, aiming a haughty expression at her boss. “We-e-e-ell?”

His stiff-backed stance and tight-lipped expression spoke volumes. At least they should have. Kate didn’t seem to notice at all how much her presence irked him.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Poor Kate, he thought. She somehow got the idea that Dad has more money than Donald Trump. Shoving both hands into his pockets, he stared at the close-cropped lawn in an attempt to hide his grin. If this is going where I think it’s going, you two deserve each other. “Dad, this is Kate Winslow,” came his bored monotone. “Kate, meet Sawyer Burke.”

During the introductions, he noticed that the phone had stopped ringing, and he wondered if Maria had answered it or if the machine had taken the call. Wondered, too, why a sense of foreboding still churned in his gut.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear,” Sawyer said, bowing.

Her hands clasped beneath her chin, Kate giggled like a silly schoolgirl. “Oh, but the pleasure is all—”

“Meester Burke! Meester Burke!”

All heads turned toward the deck, where Ethan’s housekeeper was leaning over the railing with a portable phone pressed to her aproned bosom. “Hurry,” she yelled, waving him closer. “Muy importante!”

Maria had worked for Ethan for years. The only other time he’d heard her carry on that way had been last Christmas, when the warmth of the fire had brought hundreds of praying mantis nymphs to life in the branches of the twenty-foot Douglas fir that dominated the living room. His heart pounding with fear and dread, Ethan took the steps two at a time.

There were tears in the eyes of the plump, gray-haired woman when she said, “Oh, Meester Burke…poor leetle Molly….”

Not Molly, Lord, he prayed silently. Please don’t let anything have happened to my sweet Molly….

With a trembling hand, he accepted the phone and slowly brought it to his ear. “Ethan Burke here….”

“Mr. Burke? Um, my name is, ah, Tricia Turner, and I’m a nurse at ’ampton ’ospital in London? I, uh, well….”

He had a yard full of guests, so why was the little Brit hemming and hawing? But the instant she finished her sentence, Ethan wished he’d never rushed her, even in his mind. Because not even her crisp Cockney accent made it easy to listen to the rapid-fire dispensation of information that followed. Sam and Shari had been killed in a car crash at Trafalgar Square, and their daughter was home alone with her nanny.

“She hasn’t been told yet?”

The long pause made him wonder if they’d been disconnected. But then she said, “No. Before Mr. Sylvester passed on, he told us you’re the child’s guardian. He said you’d take care of everything, including breaking the news about her mum and dad.” Another unbearable pause ensued before she added, “’e was one brave chap, that pal of yours, ’oldin’ on till ’e knew ’is li’le one would be in good ’ands….”

Ethan slumped into the nearest deck chair, one hand in his hair, the other gripping the phone so tightly his fingers ached. The nurse’s tone of voice rather than her words themselves told Ethan that Sam had suffered in the end. But how like him to bite the bullet until all the loose ends were tied up.

Suddenly, the full impact of the news hit him. Sam and Shari, gone? Ethan struggled to come to grips with the stunning reality—the finality—of it.

“Mr. Burke? Are y’there?”

The oh-so-British voice snapped him back to attention. “Yes. Yes, sorry.”

“’ow long d’you suppose it’ll take you to get ’ere? I don’t mean to be crass, but there’s the matter of…of….”

“Identifying the bodies?”

“Yes. Rules, y’know.”

The bodies. The funeral arrangements. Ethan was at a loss for words.

“So you’ll be ’ere soon, then…?”

Ethan hung his head, shading his eyes with his free hand. Sam and Shari had trusted him to do what needed to be done should anything like this ever happen. Of course, he hadn’t expected there would ever be a need for him to follow through; they’d always been so full of vim and vigor, always so alive.

The word reverberated painfully in his brain. If he’d known, when he’d signed the documents making him executor of their estate, that the prospect of making those hard, under-pressure decisions would turn his blood to ice, he might have suggested they hire a lawyer instead. An outsider. Someone who didn’t love them.

“How soon d’you think you can be ’ere, sir?”

A mental image of Molly, alone in the Sylvesters’ London flat with some barely-out-of-her-teens nanny, flashed through his head. She needed him, and if he had to pull every favor owed him, if he had to charter a private jet, he’d get there by morning. “I’ll be on the next London-bound plane leaving Baltimore,” he said. And, thanking her, Ethan hung up.

Propping the phone on the arm of the deck chair, he stared out at the Potomac. It wouldn’t be easy filling Sam’s shoes. The guy had made fatherhood look as natural as breathing. No matter how tired or overworked he had been, Sam had always dug deep and found the energy to spend time with his little girl.

Molly had told Ethan no fewer than a dozen times that he was her favorite grown-up. It was one thing playing part-time uncle. Being a full-time dad was something else entirely.

For that precious child’s sake, he hoped he was up to the task.

***

Three months later


Through the two-way mirror in the waiting room, Ethan watched the therapist working with Molly. Miss Majors had been recommended by Pastor Cummings. Ethan had prayed before making the decision, and he prayed now that it had been the right one.

He’d been at his wit’s end wondering how to cope with Molly’s sad, stoic silence. Then Maria had suggested he turn to his church for help. He might have thought of it himself, except that church hadn’t exactly been at the center of his life for the past few years. If not for Molly’s refusal to speak, he might not have started attending again. But he’d had no choice. Her condition was his fault—no ifs, ands, or buts.

His head in his hands, Ethan closed his eyes, unable to watch the child’s sorrowful expression a moment longer. He loved her as if she were his own flesh and blood; loved her the way he’d loved his sister Bess, his mother….

Why did it seem that whomever he loved deeply suffered?

With his eyes still squinted shut, he couldn’t see into the next room, but he could hear every word thanks to the speaker overhead. The pretty, young counselor was pulling out all the stops. She’d tried everything short of a song and dance act to this point, yet Molly hadn’t uttered a syllable.

Ethan slouched on the sofa. He kept his eyes closed and let his mind wander back to that terrible morning in London when he’d broken the tragic news to Molly. Despite the speech he’d practiced over and over during the red-eye flight into Heathrow Airport, he’d messed up big time when the moment finally came.

When he’d arrived at Sam and Shari’s, it had been easy to smile as Molly skipped around him in a slowly shrinking circle, clapping her hands and squealing with glee that her uncle Ethan had come to visit. They’d played this welcome game since she had been old enough to stand on her own, and he cherished every giggly moment.

That morning, she’d wrapped her arms around him, just as she’d done a hundred times before…and then stopped. “Mommy and Daddy haven’t called….”

Worry and fear were etched on her little face, and even as Ethan had prayed for the right words to erase them, he’d known no such power would be granted him that day.

“They always call,” she’d said, looking up into his face. “There must be something wrong….”

He’d perched on the edge of the sofa, invited her to sit down beside him, and then, with one arm resting on her slender shoulders, looked into those dark, trusting eyes…and lost it.

What kind of a man are you? Ethan had demanded of himself as tears coursed down his face. You’re blubbering like a baby…. It’s your job to comfort Molly, not the other way around! He’d never felt more like a heel than during those long, harrowing moments when she’d patted his shoulder, saying, “It’ll be okay, Uncle Ethan. Don’t cry. Won’t you tell me why you’re so sad?”

A minute or so later, after his carefully chosen words had been uttered, Ethan realized that in the space of a minute, maybe two, he’d completely destroyed her safe little world.

He hated the old adage that said, “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.” However, looking into her shocked, pained eyes made him understand the truth of it as never before. He’d prayed for a kinder, gentler way to break the news. So, why hadn’t God delivered on His “ask, and ye shall receive” promise?

He should have been gentler. Should have eked out the information more slowly. Should have brought in a professional to help deliver the awful, life-changing news….

The ugly memory made him groan aloud and drive his fingers through his hair. The all-business attitude that had kept his nose to the grindstone while building Burke Enterprises had given him the drive and motivation to work until he thought he might drop, watch the market with a shrewd eye, and study his competitors even more closely. “Tell it like it is” had become watchwords—no exceptions. Straight talk had never let him down before, but it had backfired miserably that morning with Molly. He wondered what Miss Majors would say about his pathetic performance as a parent.

Well, at least he’d done one thing right—he hadn’t gone into detail about the accident. He’d been to the morgue and seen his friends’ battered, lifeless bodies. The poor kid sure didn’t need the image of that in her head for a lifetime!

Ethan didn’t think he’d ever forget the way her dark lashes had fluttered as her deep-brown eyes filled with tears. She’d begun to quake, as if each tremor was counting the beats of her breaking heart. “B-but…but they promised,” she’d whimpered.

“Promised what, sweetheart?”

“That…that they’d never leave me. Th-that they’d be here for me, forever.” She’d punched the sofa cushion. “They can’t be dead. It isn’t true! It isn’t!”

Not knowing what to say, he’d simply held out his arms, his own eyes filling with tears again as he sent a silent message with one nod of his head: Yes, it’s true.

For a moment, she’d simply sat, staring. Then she’d thrown herself into his arms, and they’d cried together. Ethan had no idea how much time had passed—minutes? half an hour?—before her rib-racking sobs and shirt-soaking tears subsided. Then, Molly had sat back, dried her eyes with the hem of her plaid skirt, and sucked in a huge gulp of air. “It’s my fault,” she’d whispered, staring blankly ahead.

She hadn’t said a word since.

And now, despite Miss Majors’ valiant efforts, Molly sat stiff and straight in the bright-red armchair, ankles crossed and hands folded primly in her lap, staring at some indistinct spot on the floor.

It would feel good, actually, to confess his faults and frailties to this stranger; it would feel equally good when she gave him the tongue-lashing he deserved, not that taking his lumps would change anything.

The counselor stood up and walked over to the two-way mirror, flipped a switch on the wall, and tapped on the glass. Up to this point, Ethan had been able to see and hear everything that was going on in the exam room without being visible to its occupants. But now, Miss Majors and Molly could see and hear him, too. The counselor’s beautiful green eyes zeroed in on his, and she smiled softly. “Mr. Burke, I realize Molly’s session has ended, but I’m hoping you’ll stay a few minutes to talk with me.”

Ethan blinked, unnerved by her intense scrutiny. Here it comes, he thought, the dressing-down of your lifetime. “I—uh, well, sure,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair. He had the sudden feeling that this nervous habit betrayed a deep psychological disorder, and she must have read his mind, because Miss Majors tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

She opened the door in the exam room that led to the waiting room, then walked past him purposefully to her office, tossing Molly’s file on the blotter on her desk. He followed and stood in the doorway. “She’ll be fine in there,” the counselor assured him. “As you can see, Molly is all wrapped up in a book she found on the shelf.”

He glanced back into the exam room, where, sure enough, Molly was sitting in that same red chair with an open book in her lap. How long was I lost in thought? he wondered. “She hasn’t been that interested in anything since I brought her home,” he admitted, meeting the therapist’s eyes. “How’d you get her to do that?”

“It’s my job,” she said in the same no-nonsense tone he remembered from the telephone conversations that had led up to this appointment. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

She gestured to an upholstered armchair facing her desk.

As comfortable as a body can get in a contraption like this, he thought, sliding onto its seat. Ethan immediately leaned forward, balanced elbows on knees, and said, “So, can you help her or not?”

Miss Majors was standing behind her chair, her pale pink-painted fingernails drumming on the wood-trimmed headrest. When she smiled, the room brightened. He was taken aback until he realized why her smile looked so different, so special. It wasn’t a flirty grin intended to knock him for a loop or a seductive smirk meant to advertise her availability, which were the types he’d grown accustomed to receiving from women of all ages. Her smile was honest, unpretentious. She was offering herself, all right…but on a caring, professional level.

Ethan found his respect for her growing, and he’d opened his mouth to compliment her when she said, “Yes, we can help her. But it’ll take time, perhaps a lot of it, to find out why she stopped talking.”

Pausing, she plopped into her chair. “And it’ll take a major time commitment from you, Mr. Burke.”

Her voice was soothing, rhythmic, like the calming sound of the Potomac lapping at the piling that supported his pier. Ethan sat back and crossed his legs, resting an ankle on his knee. “I intend to cooperate in any way I can. Tell me what to do, and it’s as good as done.”

Miss Majors wrote something in Molly’s file, then stood up and walked around to the front of her desk. Perching on one corner, she said, “I’m glad to hear that.”

His mind began to wander as she matter-of-factly outlined a course of treatment. She’s not much bigger than most of her clients, he mused. His gaze shifted from her big, green eyes to the mass of long, carrot-colored curls framing her face, making her look like a cross between Julia Roberts and Pippi Longstocking. And really, what kid wouldn’t be attracted to a woman like that?

Earlier, as she’d walked ahead of him into her office, he’d felt like a cartoon character floating along on the delectable scent of flowers and sunshine. The aroma reminded him of the hedgerow behind his childhood home…lilacs? Honeysuckle?

Ethan shifted in his chair, suddenly angry with himself. What sort of person was he, anyway, having thoughts like that about the woman who would help his little Molly escape her self-imposed prison of silence?

“If you’re agreeable, I’d like to hold all future sessions at your house,” she was saying. “At least, until we make some headway.”

It appeared she hadn’t noticed how far his mind had wandered from Molly, and after a quick prayer of thanks, he nodded.

“I think she’ll benefit from being in familiar surroundings.”

“I agree.”

Miss Majors lifted her chin a notch and tilted her head slightly as those bright eyes zeroed in on his face. “I think it’s important for you to be available for the first few sessions, if at all possible.”

“Of course, it’s possible,” he blurted out. “Nothing is more important than Molly.”

“Not even Burke Enterprises?”

He clenched his teeth. Hadn’t he just said that Molly came first? What did she mean by that crack, anyway? “Not even Burke Enterprises,” he affirmed.

She’d said it to put him to the test. He could see it in her eyes, in the way one eyebrow lifted at his response. He’d used the tactic himself plenty of times during hard business negotiations. And from the looks of her approving smile, he’d passed.

“Good,” she said matter-of-factly. She returned to the other side of her desk, sat down, and opened her daily planner. “Three times a week, an hour at a time, for starters,” she said, clicking a ballpoint pen into action. And without looking up, Miss Majors added, “Mornings are usually best for the kids.”

Most of Ethan’s business meetings were scheduled first thing in the morning. But he’d just underscored that nothing was more important than Molly, and he aimed to prove it. Reaching into his suit coat pocket, Ethan slid out his electronic calendar. “Nine o’clock?” he asked, hitting the On button.

The upward curve of her full, pink lips told Ethan she hadn’t expected him to agree so quickly.

“I owe you an apology, Mr. Burke.”

Confused, he blinked. “What? But…why?”

“For appearing inflexible.” She shrugged. “I’ve been at this long enough to know that people rarely say what they mean. Especially people like you—with plenty of money—who can hire others to do what….”

It seemed to Ethan that she hadn’t intended to be quite that open and honest. Maybe that would teach her not to judge all her wealthy clients by the abysmal behavior of a few.

“Most parents say they want to help,” she continued, “and that they understand therapy will take time, and patience, and cooperation. But what they really want is…for me to perform a miracle. Like I’m equipped with a magic wand that’ll fix everything with one quick stroke.” She gave another shrug. “It’s not an altogether fair tactic, but I’ll do anything, say anything, go to any lengths, to help my kids.”

Her kids? Was that something all the self-professed child experts said to worried parents? Half a dozen other specialists had said the same thing…and had failed to draw Molly out of her shell.

Still, there was something about Miss Majors that made Ethan believe she could no more look him in the eye and lie than leap from the roof of this three-story building and fly to the parking lot! It made him want to give her a shot, if for no other reason than that time was running out. The longer Molly remained in her wordless world, the harder it would be to coax her out of it.

“You’re the expert,” he conceded. “So even when it’s inconvenient, or difficult, I’ll make whatever changes are necessary to help Molly.”

With pen poised above her book, she smiled. “Just so we can get things started sooner rather than later, what do you think of my coming to your house at seven tomorrow evening? And when we wrap things up, we can schedule dates and times that work for all of us.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Without knowing it, she’d spared him having to cancel and reschedule tomorrow’s early-morning meetings. Ethan got to his feet and extended a hand. She stood up, too, and reached across her desk to shake it. The power of her grip surprised him, especially considering her slight frame. If her ideas about helping Molly were as solid as her handshake, things would right themselves in no time.

Ethan pulled a business card out of his pocket and plucked a pencil from a mug on her desk overflowing with writing implements. “It’s tough to find my driveway if you don’t know what to look for,” he said, sketching a small, crude map on the back of the card, “so this should make it a little easier. Just watch for a gray mailbox.”

Accepting the map, she thanked him and, nodding, watched him as he left her office and entered the exam room. He felt her eyes on him as he took the girl by the hand and led her down the hall. If he hadn’t glanced over his shoulder as he and Molly were waiting for the elevator, he’d never have seen her wiping tears from her gorgeous green eyes. The sight of it touched something in him, though he couldn’t say what, couldn’t understand why. Her reaction should have roused deep concern. After all, weren’t therapists supposed to remain aloof and unemotional if they hoped to obtain successful results?

It wasn’t like him to let go of a suspicion that quickly, that easily. He’d sealed many deals with nothing more than gut instinct to go on. So no one was more surprised than Ethan when he said a silent prayer asking God to help him figure out if he’d made the right choice for Molly—or if he simply wanted to believe he had—because something about the pretty counselor called to something desperately lonely deep within himself….

Don't Quit in the Pit -- FIRST Chapter & Review

Today's Wild Card author is:

Danette Crawford

and the book:

Don’t Quit in the Pit

Whitaker House (March 2, 2010)

***Special thanks to Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Danette Crawford is an author and evangelist who founded Joy Ministries in 1989 and serves as the organization’s president. Danette earned a Bachelor of Arts in psychology and a minor in Bible from Lee University and a Master of Arts in counseling from Regent University. Joy Ministries, based in Virginia Beach, Virginia, and focuses on serving the needs of low income women and families. Her television ministry, Joy in the Morning with Danette Crawford, is syndicated around the world, reaching over 165 million homes each week. She has been featured on ABC, CBS, NBC, and TBN programming and has appeared on the 700 Club, Living the Life, and Paula White Today.

Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 288 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (March 2, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603741844
ISBN-13: 978-1603741842

Don't Quit in the Pit by Danette Crawford

wer to Change Your Life!

Have you ever been in the destructive pits; of life-abuse, rejection, divorce, or financial hardship?

Danette Crawford has been there and knows exactly how painful these situations can be-and how God can turn any situation around. With great empathy, candor, and scriptural teaching, she shares how you, too, can:
Overcome rejection and betrayal.
Learn to trust God in all things.
Extend forgiveness and receive healing.
Survive-and even thrive-in times of financial stress.
Eradicate bitterness and unforgiveness.
Experience God's favor.

God did it for Danette. He will do it for you, too!

My rating: 4 of 5 stars 

Honestly by the cover, I never would have picked up this book. As a FIRST Assistant Director, I get a copy of almost all our books for tour and of course do not have time to read all of them, but I am trying to at least skim most of them to get a partial opinion out there. As I set out some of my books that are scheduled from various tours and publicists to read this week I noticed a theme. A Hope and a Future: Overcoming Discouragement and Lord, I Just Want to Be Happy as well as this one Don't Quit in the Pit. You'd think with the recurring theme that God is trying to tell me something. The first of the books that I tackled was this one. The plan was to skim, but I was brought in and read most all of it and way more than I anticipated. Danette Crawford has a powerful faith and plenty of advice on how to find a similar one of your own. Life is rough and has pits and pot holes and it is up to us as believers in Christ to follow his lead and truly trust in his timing and not our own. This book has given me a lot to chew upon and goals to grow. So many aspects of life and hardships are touched on and I really believe that her heart is in the right place. True not all chapters or sections rather relate to my life, but for those that do they are right on key. Many times I read a non fiction and finish it with a thought of "that's nice" and go on with my day or my life. This one makes me ponder and reach for my Bible. I recommend it for anyone at any point in their life. 


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AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Don’t Quit in the Pit
Are you in a storm the size of Texas? Are you looking up from a dark pit with high walls but see no ladder in sight? I want to extend a rope of hope to you!
If you feel like you’re in a pit, relax. You’re not the first person to find yourself looking up from within what feels like a deep, dark hole. In the first book of the Old Testament, Genesis, we read about a guy who found himself in his own pit—literally! His name was Joseph, and he was the eleventh son of a great patriarch named Jacob. The worst thing about Joseph’s pit was that Joseph’s brothers were the ones who threw him in there. Talk about rejection! For Joseph, that pit looked like a dark dead end, but it was truly a pathway to the palace—a direct route, at that. (See Genesis 37:11–37; 39:1–6, 20–23; 41:39–44.)

In the New Testament, we read about the apostle Paul, a respected Jewish leader who became a Christian, won souls for Jesus, and consequently found himself in his own pit. You see, being in a pit is a situation common to everyone—rich and poor, male and female, young and old, privileged and blue-collar. Paul’s pit was in the shape of a ship in a raging storm. Everyone wanted to jump off that ship, but God told Paul, “Don’t abandon ship—you’ll come through this!” (See Acts 27.)

I want to encourage you today—don’t abandon ship! Yes, you may be in the midst of the biggest storm of your life. Yes, your pit may seem overwhelming. But I can promise you that it’s only temporary. This too shall pass. It’s temporary as long as you make good choices and wise decisions as a result of your obeying Father God and doing what He tells you to do.

No, you are not alone; the Lord is with you no matter how deep and dark your pit may be. And no, you are not the only one who has ever been in that pit!

GRAB AHOLD OF THE WORD—YOUR ROPE OF HOPE
Both Joseph and Paul needed a rope of hope. There’s a rope of hope for you, too! It’s here right now in front of you. The other end of your rope is tied directly to the Word of truth—the Bible. God’s Word provides a map to guide us out of any and every pit that we find ourselves in. Psalm 34:19 says, “Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all” (nkjv). In other words, we all experience “pits” in our lives, but we must grab ahold of the rope of hope and be determined to climb out.

John 8:32 says, “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” The truth on its own doesn’t set you free; it’s the truth that you know that sets you free. Our map to get out of the pit is the Word of God, but we must read the map. We must study the map, or we could stay lost in the pit. I travel a lot by car, and I always study the map before I leave. (I don’t like to use a GPS!) If I don’t study the map or refer to it during my trip, I’m just about guaranteed to get lost. Finding my way is as easy as reading the map, but I have to read it. I can’t obtain the knowledge by osmosis. The same is true with our map out of the pit.

(Insert call-out box) READ IT…’CAUSE YOU’LL NEED IT!

The good news is that every pit has the potential to be temporary because the Word assures us that God will deliver us from every affliction. One important key I have learned is that I must never quit; I must never give up. If I never quit, if I never give up, I can never be defeated. But if I decide to quit and give up, I will spend the rest of my life in the pit. The choice is really up to me. If I have a pity party in my pit…well, I’ll be there for a while! But if I grab ahold of the rope of hope every day, I can climb out of the pit and be back on the path to the palace.

DON’T LET THE LOCUST STEAL FROM YOU
What the locust swarm has left the great locusts have eaten; what the great locusts have left the young locusts have eaten; what the young locusts have left other locusts have eaten. (Joel 1:4)

As an adult, I can look back and recall many times when the enemy sent locusts into my life to eat away at the blessings and the life that my heavenly Father had for me. These “locust attacks” became pits, and I had to choose not to allow them to be permanent states or seasons in my life.

Years ago, I was reading the Bible when I came across the above Scripture, Joel 1:4. I didn’t really understand it at first, but then the Lord started showing me that it described my life—one locust attack after another. And those locusts had stolen years of my life from me.

The locust of rejection had eaten away at my joy and self-confidence. The locust of anger had eaten away at my peace. And the locust of unforgiveness had eaten away at my very being. What wasn’t stolen in one locust attack was stolen in another. Years of joy, peace, and happiness were stolen from me when I was in the pits of abuse, divorce, and abandonment. I then began looking to the people who had hurt me to repay me for all of my losses.

Joel 2:25 says, “I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten.” In other words, we are assured that the Lord repays us for all the years that the locusts have stolen from our lives. Other people can never repay us for years that have been stolen—only the Lord can. In reality, it’s not people who have stolen from us but the hand of the enemy. When we look to other people to repay us for our pain, we dig a deeper pit due to the unforgiveness and bitterness in our hearts. That’s a dangerous place to be, because unforgiveness prevents us from ever getting out of the pit!

EVERY CHOICE CREATES INCREASE OR DECREASE
Every day of our lives, we make hundreds of choices. Those choices always produce either increase or decease in various areas of life. For example, when I decide to get up early and exercise, I make a choice that increases my health, even though it may decrease the amount of sleep that I get. Stop and think about it. Every decision creates increase or decrease. We must be led by the Holy Spirit and choose wisely.

When we panic in the pit, we often grab ahold of anything we can get our hands on—anything that we think might keep us from going deeper into the pit. Actually, the opposite usually proves true. If we panic in the pit, the thing we grab on to actually serves as a shovel and takes us deeper.

You’ve probably seen this before—a person who grabs on to, for example, a new relationship in an attempt to get out of a relational pit. What happens? Instead of getting out of that previous relational pit, she winds up going even deeper into it. Or perhaps you know someone who grabbed a drug or a drink in attempt to numb the pain from his pit, only to find himself in a deeper, darker, even more painful pit. Don’t panic in the pit. The key is not to react out of our flesh, or carnal instincts, but to act out of our spirits!

ACT, DON’T REACT
A good example of acting rather than reacting is found in the twentieth chapter of 2 Chronicles. Jehoshaphat, the king of Judah, heard from some of his men that a vast army was coming against him, and that they weren’t far away. They weren’t just an army; they were a vast army—a really, really, really big army! And they were not only coming after Jehoshaphat; they were also coming to destroy the whole city and everyone in it. They were advancing quickly. (See 2 Chronicles 20:1–2.)

It’s one thing when a storm or a battle is coming, but it’s a whole different thing when that storm is the size of Texas! The Word tells us that Jehoshaphat was alarmed, yet he did not react out of his flesh. Rather, he acted out of his spirit, meaning he took a deep breath and went to God with his troubles. (See verses 3–12.)

When we react out of our flesh, we freak out. We cry, we scream, we yell, we emit any other series of unproductive responses. Some people even run away from God at the very time when they need to run to God the most. Jehoshaphat didn’t react out of his flesh; he acted out of his spirit. Verse three tells us, “Jehoshaphat resolved to inquire of the Lord, and he proclaimed a fast for all Judah.” And in verse four, we read, “The people of Judah came together to seek help from the Lord.” In the midst of the biggest battle or storm of Jehoshaphat’s life, he inquired of the Lord. He didn’t inquire of his friends, his pastor, his boss, or his spouse. He came before the Lord in fasting and prayer, and he encouraged those around him to do the same.

(Insert call-out box) DON’T PANIC IN THE PIT

Jehoshaphat was alarmed when he learned that a vast army much larger than his was coming to make war with him. He was alarmed, but he did not panic. He did not react. He acted. Many times, we react emotionally to our pit or to the crisis at hand. As a result, we waste all our time and energy, and we don’t help the situation at all. As a matter of fact, we may even make things worse.

After waiting many, many years to get married, I found myself in an abusive marriage to a man who had a sexual addiction. After dating for a year, we got married, and I immediately saw a side of him that he had never allowed me to see.

It took me a few years to realize that my husband had a sexual addiction, but as soon as I did, I panicked in the pit! I didn’t act out of my spirit by any stretch of the imagination. I reacted out of my flesh with a full-blown panic attack in the pit.

By His grace, God had supernaturally kept me hidden under His hand of protection, even though I had been raised in a fatherless home. I was very naïve in many areas, and I was vulnerable to my husband’s deception as a result.

When we find ourselves at the edge of a deep, dark pit, reacting out of our flesh is the worst thing we can do. When we react, we react out of our flesh, our emotions, or our natural minds. Reacting to the pit or the battle you are up against acknowledges how big and how powerful the enemy is. But when we act out of our spirits, we acknowledge how big and powerful God is. This enables us to come successfully out of every pit that dares to entrap us.

Unlike me, Jehoshaphat acted. Jehoshaphat proclaimed a fast that he might hear from God on how to handle the situation at hand. Not only did Jehoshaphat seek the Lord, he proclaimed a fast for all Judah. Everyone in the surrounding towns came together to fast and to seek God’s direction. The people responded according to how Jehoshaphat handled the situation. If Jehoshaphat had panicked and had come unglued, the people around him would have done the same thing. When we react out of our emotions and we don’t act out of our spirit, we give place for the enemy to defeat us. But, if we act out of our spirit, if we look to the Lord for how to handle the situations we face, then we always come out on the winning side.

(Insert call-out box) DETERMINATION WILL GET YOU WHERE YOU NEED TO GO

“Jehoshaphat resolved to inquire of the Lord.” To resolve essentially means the same thing as to determine. So, Jehoshaphat determined to inquire of the Lord—not his friends, not his coworkers, not his family, but the Lord! And think about Joseph. That young man was totally alone in his pit, without a friend or brother in sight. So, whether we are alone in the pit or sitting there with the opinionated words of others swirling about our heads, our first and best option is to inquire of the Lord and get His opinion on things.

When the people of Judah all gathered at the temple, Jehoshaphat stood up and prayed. He started his prayer by acknowledging God as the all-powerful, all-knowing God. He prayed, “Power and might are in your hand, and no one can withstand you” (2 Chronicles 20:6). When we acknowledge God for who He is, we don’t have any trouble letting Him be in control. But when we forget what He’s done for us in the past and doubt what He will do for us in the future, we start acting out of our own strength; we want to take control ourselves.

Jehoshaphat acknowledged God in his situation. As a result, he looked to God for the solution to the problem. The Bible instructs us, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight” (Proverbs 3:5–6). We need to recognize and acknowledge who God is in the midst of our pits and battles. Sometimes, we can get so caught up in acknowledging how big the opposing army is or how deep our pit is that we get distracted and forget that God is bigger and is still in control.

When we panic, we try to do in the flesh what can be done only in the Spirit. When we get in the flesh, we can dig an even deeper pit. It is my desire that you will refuse to grab a shovel but grab the rope of hope instead and determine to climb out, no matter how deep your pit may seem today!

Jehoshaphat was determined to inquire of the Lord. Determination will get us just about anywhere we want to go. If we are determined to go in a direction that’s opposite from God’s direction for our lives, we can. It won’t be pretty, and it won’t be fun, but our determination can take us in that direction—at least for a little while.

DETERMINATION—A GREAT GIFT
The Bible is full of great stories of men and women of God who went from pits to pinnacles in their personal lives or careers. Have you ever heard someone comment, “Today was a Jonah day”? When someone says that, you know she means that she’s had a very hard day or experienced an above-average rough time! Well, let’s look at how rough it got for Jonah.

The Lord directed him to Nineveh, where he was to convict the people of their wickedness. But Jonah was determined to go to Tarshish instead—and that’s exactly where he set out to go! His trip didn’t last long, and it wasn’t pretty, but that’s the direction in which his determination took him.

The word of the Lord came to Jonah son of Amittai: “Go to the great city of Nineveh and preach against it, because its wickedness has come up before me.” But Jonah ran away from the Lord and headed for Tarshish. He went down to Joppa, where he found a ship bound for that port. After paying the fare, he went aboard and sailed for Tarshish to flee from the Lord. (Jonah 1:1–3)

Jonah paid the fare to go in the opposite direction from the Word of the Lord. At the time, the fare seemed cheap, but the fare for disobedience is always extremely expensive. Sometimes, it can cost us everything, including our lives.

Because of God’s great love, He sent a violent storm to give Jonah another opportunity to use his determination to take him in the right direction. The storm was so violent that the ship on which Jonah was traveling threatened to break up. As the seas became rougher and rougher, Jonah admitted that everyone on the ship was going through the storm as a result of his disobedience.

Storms can come in our lives as a result of our disobedience, other people’s disobedience, or directly from the hand of God to prune us and cause us to be even more fruitful. Job is an excellent example of this.

When we walk in disobedience, God often allows storms to come into our lives to get us back on track. Not only does He allow storms to get our attention, but He supernaturally provides a way out of the storms, as well.

After Jonah confessed his culpability for the storm, he directed the sailors to throw him overboard. So, “they took Jonah and threw him overboard, and the raging sea grew calm. But the Lord provided a great fish to swallow Jonah, and Jonah was inside the fish three days and three nights” (Jonah 1:15, 17). After the storm subsided, Jonah woke up in the whale’s stomach with his head in a tangle of seaweed. Now, that’s a pit! What was the first thing Jonah did when he realized his predicament? He prayed.

ALWAYS PRAY IN THE PIT

Always pray in the pit! If you aren’t sure how to pray, you can borrow a few words from Jonah!

From inside the fish Jonah prayed to the Lord his God. He said: “In my distress I called to the Lord, and he answered me. From the depths of the grave I called for help, and you listened to my cry. You hurled me into the deep, into the very heart of the seas, and the currents swirled about me; all your waves and breakers swept over me. I said, ‘I have been banished from your sight; yet I will look again toward your holy temple.’ The engulfing waters threatened me, the deep surrounded me; seaweed was wrapped around my head. To the roots of the mountains I sank down; the earth beneath barred me in forever. But you brought my life up from the pit, O Lord my God. When my life was ebbing away, I remembered you, Lord, and my prayer rose to you, to your holy temple. Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs. But I, with a song of thanksgiving, will sacrifice to you. What I have vowed I will make good. Salvation comes from the Lord.” (Jonah 2:1–9)

Immediately after praying, Jonah was delivered from his pit. “The Lord commanded the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto dry land” (Jonah 2:10). God repeated His command for Jonah to preach His message to the people of Nineveh, and this time, he obeyed.

The Lord brought Jonah up out of the pit, and He will do the same for you today. It doesn’t matter how or why you got in the pit. The important thing is that you don’t quit in the pit, but you grab ahold of the rope of hope and climb out.

(Insert call-out box) FROM PITS TO PINNACLES

There’s nothing like a pit to get you to pray. Some of the best prayer meetings that I have ever had have been while I was in a pit! Don’t quit in the pit, but pray like you have never prayed before.

If we are determined not to quit, we can successfully make it out of whatever pit we find ourselves in. As a young Christian, I felt as though I didn’t have any gifts that I could use to bring glory to God. I told God, “I can’t sing, I can’t play the piano…God, I don’t have any gifts.” It was years later when the Lord said to me, “Danette, your gift is the gift of determination.”

Well, I had never considered determination a gift. But all of us have gifts that we don’t even realize. God gives us whatever gifts we need to fulfill His call and purpose for our lives. As I look back over my life, I can definitely say that God gave me the gift I needed the most—the gift of determination.

Perhaps it will help you if I share some of my very personal “pit stops.” Or, maybe I should say “pit pauses,” because I had to remain determined not to stop at the pits. My prayer is that this book will encourage you to make your times in the pit temporary seasons. Yes, we all have pit experiences. So, in the following pages, I want to teach you what I have learned over the years. But most important, I want to encourage you to be determined never to quit in the pit but always to grab on to the rope of hope—God’s Word. And remember, the Word promises us double for all of our trouble! (See Job 42:10.)