15

GOD HAD ANSWERED HIS PRAYERS without him even asking. The miracle of that stole Ben’s breath as he awoke to a golden dawn sliding over the pool area of the Village Motor Inn. He’d never seen anything so breathtaking.

Kacey, her eyes closed in sweet slumber, her face relaxed, a few remnant childhood freckles on her nose. Ben propped himself up on his arm, two fingers twining Kacey’s copper red hair as the sun caught the highlights, turning them to gold. She slept on her side, tucked into his chest, her hands clasped in front of her, as if praying.

God had certainly heard the moaning of his heart to bring Kacey back to him. Now Ben had to figure out the rest.

She stirred in his arms, probably cramped from sleeping on the lounger by the pool all night, but he hadn’t known what else to do.

Bringing her back to his room wasn’t an option. Not with the way she kissed him, the very real memories of the summer nights now rekindling the fire inside him.

They’d waited this long to make things right, and he needed to be able to face himself in the morning. To be a true and real husband to her, not just the counterfeit he’d been before.

And traveling in the middle of the night seemed foolish.

But today . . . “Let’s get our daughter, your dad, and find a preacher.” He could barely think past that sentence still shooting fireworks in his head.

However, between the explosions of joy there was . . . the band. His other life—the one that he’d sweated over. He could take the music with him to Mercy Falls, but his band depended on him.

Ben blew out a breath even as she made a noise deep inside her body, her hand finding his chest and palming it. He caught it and brought it to his lips. She relaxed against him, and he closed his eyes, relishing the luxury of this moment, the kiss of the sunrise, the smells of summer, the sparrows greeting the morning.

Every day, just like this, please.

He must have sunk back into slumber because the nudge at his feet roused him, and he blinked awake to find Moose standing over him.

His drummer had bloodshot eyes and was bare chested and wearing sweatpants, as if he’d just risen. “Boss, get up.”

Kacey raised her head to the words, and perhaps the tone.

“What’s going on?” Ben said as Kacey sat up, blinking, looking just a little self-conscious at the tangle of their legs under the sheet he’d stolen from the hotel room.

Moose had probably left his own tangle, although less innocent than the one Ben shared with his fiancée. Yeah, he’d been right to escape Moose’s party last night.

“Hey, Kacey,” Moose said, even as he glanced up toward his room.

The blonde from last night stood at the rail, wearing one of Moose’s oversized shirts.

Yeah, if he’d given in to Moose’s shenanigans last night, this morning would have looked much different.

“Um . . . is Audrey here too?”

A weird question coming from Moose, and it had Ben sitting up. Kacey grabbed the sheet, cocooning it around her as she climbed off the lounger.

“The TV was on and I woke to the morning news.” He blew out a breath, glanced at Kacey. “A tornado hit Minnesota last night.”

Ben stood up. “Where?”

“It looks like it was near Chester—”

“What?” Kacey stared at him. “Were there casualities?”

Oh, God, please—

“I don’t know. But I thought Ben should—well, I guess both of you—should know.”

Kacey had shucked off the sheet and was now catching her hair back and winding it up behind her head. “Thanks, Moose.”

Moose offered a small smile with an apology in it as Ben grabbed his phone.

He couldn’t fault Moose for a life Ben might have just as easily fallen into, had not the memory of Kacey told him he could have more.

And with God’s help, he’d found it, had held it right there in his grasp until he let the music—no, the fear of his own ghosts—pull him away.

“Voicemail,” Ben said. “Either my dad’s phone is off, or the towers are down.”

“I can’t get ahold of Audrey, either.” Kacey held the phone to her ear.

“It doesn’t mean they’re hurt,” Ben said. He pocketed his phone. “Let me get my stuff and we’re gone.”

Moose glanced at him, a flash of panic in his eyes. Moose had been his backbone, best friend, the guy who understood his music, his cues, who riffed off Ben’s rhythm like they’d been born to play together.

“I’m sorry, Moose—I gotta go.”

“Of course,” Moose said and stepped back, a hand cupped around the back of his neck as if he were trying to figure out what to do with himself.

Ben headed to his room, Kacey on his tail. He reached for her and she filled his grip with hers.

They hit the second floor, and the blonde from last night stepped away, worry in her eyes.

He gave her a quick, polite smile and entered the room.

Oh my. An empty bottle of Jack sat on the table, crushed beer cans littered the floor. His guitar case was open, and the Gibson was propped against the wall.

He’d heard Joey’s low tones last night, crooning out one of Ben’s covers. He stalked back to the bedroom, where the television played. Kacey stood, arms folded across her chest, watching the news as he grabbed his duffel, shoved in the sweaty, dirty clothes from last night and a few toiletries he’d left in the bathroom.

He stopped beside her when the newscaster came back on and gave a report of the storm. He couldn’t tell if it had reached the Marshall family farm, but the funnel had hit the southern edge of Chester.

No casualties reported yet, but the morning had just dawned.

“Let’s go,” Ben said.

Kacey just stood there, and only then did he see her face. “Kace, are you having a panic attack?”

She shifted her gaze to him, almost unseeing. Okay, yes.

He’d seen it a few times over the past two years, the residue of an attack in Afghanistan that had earned her a medal but left her ragged and unable to sleep.

PTSD.

He took her by the shoulders, centered her in front of him, and met her beautiful green eyes. “Listen to me. Kacey, eyes on me.”

It worked. She stared at him, blinking, her eyes glazing with tears.

“We’re not going to panic. We’re not going to assume the worst. We’re going to hang on to what we know—that God is good. And he loves Audrey as much as we do. And whatever is going on, he is with her. And will be until we find her.”

She nodded.

“And no matter what happens, we’ll handle it together. I’m not leaving you, ever again.”

Ever again. In the resoluteness of his tone, peace swelled into the core of his body.

Yes. Because if God had brought them back together, he would also provide. Ben didn’t have to be the one who figured it out . . . he just had to trust the God who knew the deepest cry of his heart and loved him. Loved them.

Ben pulled Kacey tight against him, held her trembling body, and let his warmth calm her. “It’s going to be okay, babe.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and her breaths evened out.

“That’s right. Just hold on.”

She finally leaned away, met his eyes, and because he needed it too, he kissed her, hard and sure, pouring out all the truth he knew.

They could face anything if they stayed together.

“Let’s go.”

He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and walked into the front room to pack up his guitar.

Moose stood there, wearing a shirt, his hair tied back, looking fierce and unmoving in his path. Behind him, Joey was still scrubbing sleep out of his eyes, and Buckley came into the room with Duke.

“You’re not leaving—”

“Hey—”

“Without us.”

Oh.

“We’re family too, Ben.” Moose raised an eyebrow as if in challenge.

Yes, yes, they were. Besides, the guy stood two inches taller than Ben and had played a defensive position on his college football team.

“Thanks, Moose,” Ben said, his throat thickening. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Brette, wake up.”

She’d like to wake up like this every day of her life. Ty’s arms around her, the feel of his whiskers against her cheek, his fingers entwined with hers.

“We’re alive.”

And that brought her back to the reality that they’d spent the night trapped in a library. Her clothing was still soggy on her aching body. But all the same, she felt warm. She lay on her side, her head in the crook of Ty’s arm, her arms wrapped over his chest.

She’d clung to him and never felt so safe in the middle of destruction and chaos.

The chaos had finally passed over them, dying out until only the hum of the rain remained against the distant shudder of thunder.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Ty had flashed his light around the room to survey the debris. A giant tree had shoved through the window, as if trying to escape the storm, and branches and brick and glass littered the room. The fallen bookshelves blocked the entrance. “We might be here for a while,” he’d said and cocooned her against him in the dark.

Now she reluctantly pushed herself away and sat up. Her hair was probably sticking up on end, and she made a face and tried to tame it.

“It’s cute,” he said.

“Hardly.”

“Trust me.”

She made a face again, wanting to believe him. And then, why not? Because he looked at her with such sweetness in his eyes.

Except . . .

“We need to get out of here and find those kids, but then . . . we need to talk, Ty.”

“About?”

“We were both pretty freaked out last night and said some things and . . .” She looked away.

“Wait a second here. You’re taking it back? You said you loved me. No retractions, Ace.”

She wanted to smile, but . . . “I am in love with you, Ty. And I want . . .” Her face heated. “I love waking up with you. I could probably do that for the rest of my life—”

“If we’re going to wake up together, I’d prefer some different circumstances,” he said, his mouth tweaking up on one side.

“Right. And it’s about that. Because if you’re thinking . . . well, of sticking around and—”

“I’m going to marry you someday, Brette. When you’re ready. So yeah, that’s totally on my agenda here.”

Oh. She blinked at him, but her throat tightened and she looked away again.

“Brette?”

“I had a lot of chemo and radiation, Ty. I’m not sure I can ever have kids.”

He was silent for so long that she looked up at him. His stricken expression made her heart drop.

“Do you think that’s even remotely important to me after all you’ve gone through? So, we’ll adopt, or whatever. Brette, I love you, period. You are enough for me.”

“Even without . . . I had a double mastectomy, Ty.” There, the words were out, and she couldn’t even look at him.

“And you think that matters . . . how?”

She looked up, and his expression seemed . . . angry?

“Wow. You must really think I’m a shallow guy to imagine that I’d . . . well, sure, I guess if I’m honest, I loved all the parts about you, but I’m certainly a fan of you being alive versus you having all your . . . extras.”

He met her gaze, not looking away. “This is never an issue for me. Ever. Okay?”

She closed her mouth. Nodded.

He touched her cheek, ran his thumb down it. Leaned close and kissed her tenderly. Then he broke away. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

She nodded, her heart so big in her chest she could barely breathe. “Right. Except, I . . . I have a hunch.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Help me pick up this table.”

He managed to climb to his feet and helped her right the table. She walked over to a blueprint, its frame now shattered, picked it up, and put it on the table.

“I was thinking about this last night. Obviously, the kids weren’t in the locker room, like you said, but maybe they’d found an old fallout shelter. Didn’t Lottie say that the building was generations old and that Hattie knew every phase of it? Wouldn’t she know where the fallout shelter was?”

He was reading the prints. “It seems like the elementary and theater wing comprise the old school. The theater sits where the gymnasium used to be.”

“It has a basement—see, here are the utilities and the coatroom and even the kitchen and lunchroom were downstairs. I’ll bet they ate in the gym, set up tables.”

“I don’t see a fallout shelter,” he said. “Remember, they used to hide under their desks?”

Oh, right.

“Shoot. It was a good idea, though,” she said. “Maybe the old journalist still lives inside me.”

“Oh, I know she does.”

“You think so?”

“Seriously? Brette, you are brave and smart and beautiful and have only gotten more so since your . . . over the past year.”

“Since I beat cancer the first time?” She couldn’t believe she’d dared to say that, but . . . yeah. She had beaten it, so far.

“You’re going to beat it again.” He wound his fingers through hers. “Except you have no idea if the cancer even came back since you haven’t called the doctor back.”

Right. That.

“I knew it,” he said. “Today. Together.”

“Fine.” But she smiled. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

His expression stiffened. A dog. He leaned over the blueprint. “Remember when we were in Lottie’s house—Lottie had basketball trophies and a picture of her and her sister on the bookcase.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. Which means that maybe they played basketball in this very gym. Which means—”

“She did go to a locker room.” Brette leaned over the blueprint. “Except not the one in the new school, but her old school.”

“Do you see one on the map?”

Her heart fell. “No, just a coatroom.”

A beat. “What if that was the storm shelter Lottie was referring to?” Ty said.

“What is it now?”

“Empty space under the elementary school.” Ty pointed to the room.

“The kind of space that might survive the crumbling of a building,” Brette said.

He leaned down and kissed her. A kiss of triumph that stirred all the hope that lay dormant right back to life. “You’re brilliant, Ace.” Then he made a face. “Except no one is going to believe me.”

“Then we’ll just have to make them. If anyone can tell a compelling, inspirational story, well . . . that used to be me.”

“It still is.”

Wow, she loved him. She took his hands, squeezed. “We’ll find them. You just need to have a little faith.”

“Right. Let’s get out of here.” He tried his phone. “Still no signal.”

“The team must be worried out of their minds,” Brette said.

He gave a harrumph and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

“What’s that for—that sound?”

He turned the picture of the blueprint over, released the back fasteners, took off the backing, and retrieved the blueprint. “We’ll need this.” He folded it up and shoved it into his back pocket then headed toward the door, picking his way past the broken glass, surveying the bookcases that blocked their path. “We should be able to dig our way out.”

“Ty?”

He glanced at her. “The team has more important things to do than look for me. Sorry.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you serious right now?”

“It’s just . . . well, I let everyone down pretty badly yesterday.”

“Stop it. You’re the heart of the team. The guy who—”

“Follows his hunches into trouble.”

“I’d pick you to rescue me every day of the week.” She grabbed his arm to steady herself as she climbed over the pile of bookcases in the doorway. “Besides, you’re not the only one who thinks this is more than a hunch.” She stood in front of the tree, put her hand on the stripped trunk. “We can’t stop looking.”

He wrestled his way over the blockade with just a few grunts, then came up behind her.

She glanced at him. “Right?”

He smiled then. Nodded.

The tree lay jammed in the stairwell leading up to the doors, but it was nothing they couldn’t climb over, carefully. Ty steadied her as she worked her way across the trunk. Through the shattered front door window, she got her first glimpse of the destruction outside.

Downed power lines, trees uprooted and cast across the street—and down the road, Jonas’s Suburban lay upside down, crushed.

Grunting sounded behind her, and she turned to see Ty gritting his teeth, fighting for purchase as his bum knee refused to work.

She grabbed his arm, braced him as he wrestled himself free. He was sweating a little, despite the chill in the soggy morning air.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine. Let’s get out of here.”

He wrenched the door more open, and she wedged herself through, then pushed on it as Ty followed.

They stood on the front steps of the library, and slowly Ty reached out and took her hand.

Maybe to hold her up because the devastation could knock her flat.

Although, even as she surveyed it, she knew it could be worse. In fact, as she took in the downed lines, the trees, the shattered window fronts along Central Ave, the ripped awnings, and general debris that littered the road, she knew it could be much, much worse.

Oddly, the birds were singing, their songs light and clear. To the far horizon, past the upheaval, the dawn pressed back the darkness in breathtaking striations of periwinkle and gold.

“Maybe I only thought I saw a funnel,” she said. “We’d see a clear debris path—”

“Brette!”

She spied Jonas climbing over a downed elm, moving like a man on fire.

He took off in a sprint toward them, and for a moment, the memory of being in his arms rushed through her.

She tightened her hold on Ty’s hand even as Jonas ran up, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

“You scared us to death—where have you been?” Jonas didn’t spare a glance at her handhold with Ty and pulled her into his arms.

Ty let her go, and she hugged Jonas back.

“I thought . . .” He blew out a breath as he released her. “Okay, I admit I thought you might be doing something stupid, like taking pictures.”

Oh. “I left my camera at the house! I didn’t get anything. Not one single shot.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ty said. “We nearly died, Brette.”

“Really? What happened?” Jonas said, and Brette made a face, pointed at his Suburban.

“Sorry. I kind of, well, got caught in the storm.”

“She came looking for me and nearly got flattened by a tree,” Ty said. “Although she probably saved my life. The sirens didn’t come on until the tornado was nearly on us.”

“Are you okay?” Jonas said, clamping his hand on Ty’s shoulder. “Your team is nearly frantic looking for you too.”

Ty’s brow creased, but he nodded.

And then, as if to back up Jonas’s words, Gage appeared, running down the street from the opposite direction. Jonas waved to him, and Gage stopped, bent over, and grabbed his knees, as if breathing hard.

“Did it hit the farm?” Brette said, watching as Gage turned and shouted behind him, maybe to the rest of the team.

“We’re okay. We have some wind damage to the vines, one of our trees came down, and most of the apple orchard is stripped, but the house is unscathed.”

“Ty!”

Pete’s voice, and he came running down the street, almost full tilt.

“See,” she said quietly. “Of course they’d look for you.”

Ty gave her a half-grin, then limped over to them, and she watched as Gage pulled him into an embrace. Pete too, although he added a handshake between them.

“How many are hurt?” Brette asked.

“We don’t know. The funnel actually hit on the outskirts of town, out of any residential areas, so . . .”

“It’s not as bad as Duck Lake, then.”

Jonas’s countenance fell, and he shook his head.

The hunch just burned to life inside her. She couldn’t help it—she grabbed Jonas’s hands. “Listen, while we were in the library, we found the old blueprint plans to the school. The original plans, and we . . . we have a theory. I know it’s a long shot, but—”

“Please,” Jonas said, and for a second she thought he might stop her. No more hope.

Instead, his gaze latched on to her with desperation. No wonder the world needed people of faith to stand strong—they were looking to them for the smallest inkling of hope.

Amazingly, right now, she had it in spades.

Pete and Gage came over.

“You okay, Brette?” Gage said.

“Yeah and . . . I think we know where the missing kids might be.”

Pete’s mouth tightened in a grim line. “I don’t think we can handle any more wild hunches.”

“Actually, this is more than a hunch. It’s . . . faith. And it’s based on some pretty good information. And why not believe? It’s all we have to go on. It’s that or we let grief and despair take over. So either get on board with us or walk away, Pete. Because we are never giving up!” She looked at Ty and reached out for his hand.

He was staring at her as if he didn’t recognize her.

But she recognized herself. The girl she’d been before the tragedies.

She would write again—but not about storms, not about the destruction, but about the heroes who faced the storms with faith and lived through them, not knowing what they’d see on the other side but holding on anyway.

Knowing that either way, beyond the veil, lay peace. Joy.

“Okay, so where are they?” Pete said as he looked at Ty.

“The kids are still in the school. But they’re in a storage area in the old elementary building—the area that used to be the old coatroom, next to the gym where Hattie Foreman played basketball.”

Pete looked at him, then at Brette. “Okay. Let’s get going.”