Loree Lough - Out of the Shadows

“What am I gonna do with you?” he sighed into her hair. “You’re as bighearted and pigheaded as they come. And while that’s a tempting combination, I can’t be—”

“So who asked you to be my protector? I told you, I can take—”

“—care of yourself,” he finished for her. “I never meant to insult you. It’s just that, for some reason, you worry me.”

Patrice couldn’t help admitting that she was touched by his concern. “There’s no need for that. I’m fine.”

“Something is happening here,” he whispered, lifting her chin. “And I don’t know whether to run from it or straight at it.”

Patrice trembled in his arms. If he isn’t the guy for me, Lord, she prayed, speak now or forever hold Your peace….

A full-time writer for nearly fifteen years, Loree Lough has produced more than two thousand articles, dozens of short stories and novels for the young (and young at heart), and all have been published here and abroad. Author of thirty-seven award-winning romances, Loree also writes as Cara McCormack and Aleesha Carter.

A comedic teacher and conference speaker, Loree loves sharing in classrooms what she’s learned the hard way. The mother of two grown daughters, she lives in Maryland with her husband and a fourteen-year-old cat named Mouser (who, until this year—when she caught and killed her first mouse—had no idea what a rodent was).

www.millsandboon.co.uk

…yea, in the shadow of Thy wings

will I make my refuge….

—Psalms 57:1

Out of the Shadows is dedicated to all the “real”

Patrices out there who dedicatedly devote

themselves to children in hospitals

all over the globe; my hat’s off to you all!

Dear Reader,

Tragedy…

Sooner or later, each of us has a head-on collision with it. If we’re strong when it hits, we pick up the pieces and move on. If not, we throw up our hands and demand “Why, Lord?”

But Christians are taught “Don’t ask why. Just have faith.” Easier said than done! Because suffering tests more than our mettle, it burrows into the foundation of our faith, making us question God’s promise: “Let all those who put their trust in Thee rejoice; let them ever shout for joy, because Thou defendest them.” (Psalms 5:11)

There’s a line in an old song that goes something like “into each life a little rain must fall.” As Wade and Patrice discovered, the Creator defended them from the rain when He said, “I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a token of a covenant between Me and thee.” (Genesis 9:13) Alone, each was blinded by life’s briny storms, but when He brought them together, their eyes were opened to the rainbow that led them out of the shadows…to the soft, warm light of enduring love.

May you bask in that same tender radiance, all the rest of your life!

All my best,

P.S. If you enjoyed Out of the Shadows, please drop me a note c/o Steeple Hill Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, New York 10017. I love hearing from my readers and try to answer every letter personally!

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Fifteen years ago, Halloween Night

If not for that lousy D on his last report card, he’d have a car to protect him from the biting late-October wind. His mother’s stern lecture echoed in his head: “If you’re not responsible enough to get decent grades in school, Wade Michael Cameron, you’re not responsible enough to maneuver two tons of steel on the road!”

Angry—at his mom for making the stupid “C Average Required to Get a Driver’s License” rule, at Mr. Woodley for giving him the low grade in Biology, at himself for not turning in the report that would’ve earned him that C—Wade dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his windbreaker.

Scowling, he hunched his shoulders and walked faster. Why hadn’t he grabbed a heavier jacket when his mom suggested it? Well, another block and he’d be home. And hopefully when he got there, there’d be leftover lasagna in the fridge…

Ear-piercing sirens and the red-and-white strobes of fire trucks and ambulances shattered his train of thought. Sounded to Wade as though the commotion was coming from the cemetery.

His get-home-quick pace stalled as the turmoil near the railroad tracks mounted. He ran for a closer look.

The blades of a helicopter whipped dry leaves and grit round and round him, making Wade feel like he’d been trapped in a minitornado. Forearm shielding his eyes, he ducked behind the trunk of a massive oak.

To the adventure-hungry sixteen-year-old, it looked like a movie set, what with the headlights of a dozen cop cars crisscrossing against the revolving strobes of emergency vehicles. Dark-uniformed policemen bolted up and down the polished railroad tracks, hollering and yelling, some aiming flashlights into the woods, others marching through the underbrush looking for…

Looking for what? Wade wondered, suddenly forgetting how cold he’d been a moment ago.

“Found a boot over here,” one cop shouted above the whirlybird’s rotors.

“Got me a flannel sleeve,” bellowed another.

A boot? A shirt sleeve? Wade’s pulse pounded in his ears.

“Hey! Get a gurney over here, stat!” shouted a female paramedic. “The engineer is in full cardiac arrest!”

All activity now concentrated on the front of the freight train. Men and women who’d been searching on and around the tracks moved in. Soon, Wade couldn’t see a thing past broad-shouldered cops, EMTs and fire-fighters.

Surely these guys didn’t think the pumpkin-headed dummy Wade and his pals made had been real…. He leaned left and right, wishing for a better look. He soon discovered it wasn’t the boys’ Halloween dummy on the stretcher, but a real-life human being. The man’s face, contorted with pain, was white as the fleecy blanket covering him.

He and the guys had made the dummy, then thrown it onto the tracks to see how far the train would drag it. Evidently, the engineer had mistaken it for a real person, and radioed for help to find the “man” who was missing after he hit him.

Wade found it difficult to swallow past the hard, dry knot in his throat. His breath came in short, harsh gasps and he knuckled his eyes. Wade and his pals Luke, Travis, Buddy and Adam had done some pretty outrageous things in the past, but nothing so terrible as this!

A flurry of activity captured his attention as several men lifted the gurney and ran, full steam ahead, toward the waiting helicopter. Seconds later, the machine shot straight up into the black sky.

“Lord,” he whispered, “let that guy be okay….”

Not much chance God would listen to someone like him—especially considering…. Still, Wade repeated his prayer, just in case.

“The engineer told me he saw a guy on the tracks,” he heard a cop say to a firefighter. “Said he braked for all he was worth, but couldn’t stop in time.”

Wade squeezed his eyes shut, admitting the obvious. What the engineer had mistaken for a homeless man was nothing but an assemblage of items Buddy had ordered the guys to bring to the cemetery—an old shirt, tattered trousers, beaten-up boots—stuffed with week-old newspapers and topped by a jack-o’-lantern head, and a ragtag fedora.

Swallowing, he stepped out from behind the shrubs and walked up to the nearest emergency vehicle. Assuming his best curious-kid expression, he said, “Hey, mister, what’s goin’ on?”

The paramedic looked up from his gear and frowned. “What’re you doin’ out this time of night, son?”

Wade shrugged. “I live right over there. So what happened?”

The paramedic went back to stuffing equipment into the side of his ambulance. “Engineer had himself one doozy of a heart attack.”

Heart attack.

Wade’s heart thudded wildly. Slapping a palm over his eyes, he groaned.

“Aw, don’t get your britches in a knot over it,” the paramedic said. “Stuff like that happens hundreds of times a day.” He shrugged. “Hard as we try to save ’em, there’s nothing we can do about it sometimes.”

Maybe so, Wade thought as guilt swirled in his gut. But sometimes, they did save people. “Y’think he’ll be okay?”

“Hard to say.” He slammed the compartment door. “Doesn’t look too good, though.”

Wade swallowed. “So where will they take him?”

The paramedic slid behind the steering wheel. “University Hospital.” He fired up the truck, then met Wade’s eyes. “Now go home and get to bed. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

Nodding, Wade dug his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “Yessir.”

And the instant the man was out of sight, Wade stuck out his thumb, intent on hitching a ride into Baltimore with the first driver headed for the city.

Wade waved his thanks to the truck driver who’d dropped him off at the hospital, and shoved through the emergency room doors.

The silence was almost eerie, and the reception area was illuminated only by the dim, flickering fluorescent lights above the nurses’ station. In the waiting area, a man flapped the pages of his raggedy newspaper, and directly across from him, a young girl sat on the edge of her chair, hands clasped tightly on her knees and eyes glued to the doors that read No Admittance: Staff Only.

Wade walked up to the nurses’ station. A nurse met his eyes. “Can I help you?”

“I, uh, I’m here to see how that guy is doing…the one they just brought in on the helicopter?”

She raised one eyebrow. “You a relative of Mr. Delaney?”

Wade gulped. So the engineer had a name: Mr. Delaney. “N-no, I’m a—”

“Friend of the family?”

Hardly, Wade thought, but he nodded, anyway.

“Wait over there,” the nurse said, using her chin as a pointer. “Lemme see what I can find out.”

Wade slumped into a chair, two down from the young girl. He leaned forward, scrubbed both hands over his face and shook his head.

“Who are you waiting for?” the girl asked.

From between his fingers, Wade looked over at her. She appeared to be ten or twelve years old, wearing a faded pink sweat suit and fuzzy bunny slippers. “Just some guy.” Elbows on knees, he laced his fingers together. “You?”

“My little brother, Timmy.” Her big eyes fixed on the No Admittance doors. “He’s been in there forever.”

Wade sat back, propped an ankle on a knee. “What’s wrong with him?”

She sighed, kicked one foot until the bunny ears flopped. “He was born with this weird heart condition. We have to bring him in here two or three times a month, usually in the middle of the night.” Another sigh. “I’ll bet he’s slept here a couple hundred times.”

“That stinks.” Wade didn’t think he’d ever seen a sadder face. He wished he had enough change in his pocket to buy her a soda, maybe a package of chips or a candy bar. “You always wait out here alone when your folks bring him in?”

She nodded. “It doesn’t usually take this long, though.” She glanced at the big double doors again. “Something’s wrong.”