Page 31 of Hide My Heart
Beck huffs and grunts, starting to cry as soon as the car stops. He’s probably hungry again.
“Hold on, little guy.” I reach over and ruffle his head, tugging the snowsuit tighter and tucking in the blanket. “I got to go check out the truck and see if you’re mama’s waiting for me.”
I step out of the car and my feet slip out from under me. The snow is encased in a sheet of ice. It’s cracked underneath the weight of the car, which is why I was able to drive it with the chains, but from the looks of it, Hunter didn’t put chains on his truck.
I grab a flashlight and shine it at the truck. There’s no movement and no one shoots at me.
The icy pellets falling from the sky bombard me as I make my way over to investigate.
“Amber,” I call out. “Are you okay?”
No answer.
I feel my way around the truck and notice the driver’s door is damaged. It’s also unlocked and there’s no one inside.
Amber must have decided to walk now that the rain has turned into sleet. I hope she has waterproof clothing, because anything that gets wet will freeze when the temperature drops.
There’s a suitcase on the passenger seat and a garbage bag of what feels like clothes. I collect them and toss it into my trunk.
Beck’s cries are louder and shriller, and his little face is red with anger. I get back into the car and creep slowly up the road to the cabin.
“It’s not too much farther,” I say to Beck. “You’ll get some food soon.”
I make it to the top of the ridge and decide not to turn down the drive as it dips toward the cabin. It’s too steep and the car might not make it back up.
It’s dark down there, which means, Amber hasn’t turned on the generator—not that she knows where it is. I also have to turn the valve for the propane tank and get a fire lit in the wood stove.
Beck’s screams have subsided somewhat, probably tiring out. I take him out of the car seat and bundle him up with an old blanket.
“Amber?” I shout as I slip and slide, buffeted by freezing rain and wind, barely staying on my feet.
She doesn’t answer, and when I arrive at the porch I can see why.
Icicles crust her hair, and her clothes are covered with a thin coat of stiff ice. She’s passed out on the stoop right in front of the door.
EIGHTEEN
Amber
I’m so cold I don’tknow if I have fingers or toes left. Ice crystals decorate the hair hanging over my face, and I fall on my knees when I see the shadowy house underneath tall, towering trees.
Daggers of ice drop from the branches above me, piercing my back and shoulders. I slip and slide, falling down the drive. My entire goal is to get into the cabin.
It’s dark and quiet—the only sounds are my labored breathing and the squeaks of pain I make as I struggle. One numb hand in front of the other.
I can’t find the key. Left the note in the truck. It’s a miracle I found the cabin. What if it’s not the right one?
I pound on the door, hoping someone’s home.
No one answers.
Spears of pain stab me in places I can still feel, and I cry out to God.
Forgive me my sins, for I am lowly and cursed. Please don’t let Hunter die, and let Beck and Nate be safe, even if they don’t come to me. Please heal my Grandma of her cancer, and let her not suffer. Bless my mother and father and my brothers and all my family. Look after my friends, and please save Gina and Tammy and let my witness to them bear fruit. But as for me, let me be cleansed, and wash away my sins. Forgive me, oh Lord God, like you forgave your servant David and all those who put their faith in the Lord Jesus.
My mind is numbing out, and I want to make peace with God. It’s too late to go home and ask my parents to take me back. Too late to see my grandma. Too late for anything but absolution.
Save me, Jesus.
