

The Light In The Darkness Series ~ Book 3

A Tale Of Deception

Alexa Stewart

Bryne Press

Published by Byrne Press at Smashwords

© 2013 by Alexa Stewart. All rights reserved.

First Edition

Bryne Press is solely responsible for cover design and layout, along with support for publishing. As such, the ultimate design, editing, content, editorial accuracy, and views expressed or implied in this work are those of the author. No royalties/fees will be provided by Bryne Press at any time.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without the prior permission of the copyright holder, except as provided by USA copyright law.

This publication is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or publisher.

ISBN 13: 978-1-4675-3469-7  
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2012951197

The cover appears to be leaves on a forest floor. However, there are three Malaysian Leaf Frogs there. Money, though it appears to be good, most often is not, unless we can see it for what it is... through the eyes of God.

Alexa Stewart...

Dedicated to the children of God...  
Chosen, Loved, Saved and servants of the Light in this dark world.

Contents

Peril In The Dark

Moving On

Mica

The Prospect

Drummond Hall

The Deceiver

Ensnared

A New Day

The Letters

Beginnings

Making It Right

White Peril

Changes

Jordan

Home Coming

Exposed

Gone

Waiting

Revelations

Loss Of A Poor Man

The Light

Author's Note

Other Books

Peril In The Dark

FROM HER SLEEP, she thought she heard the sound of moaning. Wondering who was making the sound, she struggled to open her eyes.

Tired...

So sleepy...

She drifted away from the sound and slept again, deeply.

Eventually, the sound of someone in pain woke her again.

"Who's out there?" She tried to say as the sound crept closer to where she lay.

Startled and frightened, she opened her eyes, but saw nothing.

It was black as midnight, without the stars or moon. She couldn't see anything. Her heart trembled.

Where am I?

Why can't I see?

Am I blind?

Her world held no light, no substance, no reality. It was pitch black and formless. She heard the throbbing of blood in her ears and her head felt as if it would shatter.

The sound of someone in agony was so close it made her heart thrash in confusion and fear.

Closing her eyes in anguish, she listened to the sobbing, as she drifted from the world of consciousness, just a little.

Then, suddenly awake, she realized she was making the terrifying sounds resounding in the air around her.

Trying to sit up, she found she was laying on a hard, cold surface... bonded, gagged, and in the dark.

The absence of light was unnerving. The blackness so complete, she couldn't tell which way was up. Her head continued to throb in pain and her heart quivered as she realized something was terribly wrong.

Her mind struggled to reason it out, as it cleared from a drug induced fog.

What happened?

Why am I here?

Struggling to free hands and feet, she found her restraints unyielding. A gag filled her mouth, leaching the moisture and making it difficult to swallow.

Choking as she struggled, she managed to find her way to a sitting position on the cold, stony, unyielding surface within her prison, the damp air wrapping its deadly arms around her, deeply penetrating her body and soul.

Tears rolled down her cold face, as the smell of damp rock and earth reached her awakened senses.

Something dripped, echoing, and plopping out there in the dark.

Is that water? she wondered, as her aching, arid mouth yearned for the liquid.

The constant, rhythmic plop, plop, plop gave her world a sense of reality.

This place is real and I'm in trouble, real trouble. It must be a cave. I can smell the earth and the stone is biting into my flesh, but why? Why am I here?

She sobbed as fear overtook her.

Then she tried to call for help, but only a muffled sound hung in the air of a realm she couldn't see.

I may not know where I am, but I can hear it, feel it, and smell it. I'm alive, but for how long?

Suddenly, the fearful thought came, Will they come back? Will they kill me?

No... surely if they wanted me dead, they would have done it by now. Or have they left me here to die? Alone! Slowly!

The terror of that thought was hard to accept, yet she knew it was a possibility.

What's going to happen to me? the thought screamed as her heart pounded.

Wondering whether anyone missed her at home, and if they were looking for her, she leaned back and closed her eyes, too dizzy yet to move.

All sense of time was missing. She didn't know how long she had been there.

I'm so thirsty. If only I could get to the water! I have to find a way to free myself, she realized, but the fear of being in a cave petrified her.

She'd been in one a long time ago, as a child on an outing. It was a cave with an uneven floor, crevasses opening into the bowels of the earth, plummeting into unknown depths, with passageways squeezing down to nothing. Getting lost in there was so easy, so likely. She almost didn't make it back, that time.

Weeping, she thought about moving in the blackness, but her spirit shrink from it, as her terror grew.

What am I going to do?

Bowing her head and leaning forward, she explored the wall behind with her constrained hands. Hard, rough stone met her touch, but nothing rough enough to cut her free.

She should move over, just a little, to find another spot in the wall more promising. But, if she did, what would she find? Was she sitting next to the edge of a crevasse? Swinging her tied feet over to the right, she explored carefully, then she explored the floor's surface to her left.

The floor was rough, but not un-level.

It seemed safe, but which way should she go?

Time passed as she tried to decide.

Finally, the sound of water made up her mind.

Carefully placing her feet first, she painfully lifted her body, with her secured hands, and managed to scoot over just an inch or so. Then she tested the floor again with her feet.

In this way, in the black pit of her tomb, she made her way toward the plopping liquid.

Unexpectedly, she came across a large outcropping of stone that might help cut her free. Finding a rough, sharp, jagged edge, she began to liberate herself.

Slowly, steadily, she rubbed on the jagged surface to the point of exhaustion. Her arms ached, her wrists bled from the scraping of her skin, her eyes ached for light, any light.

What may have been hours, dragged on. She rested when her strength failed. Sweating, exhausted, she eventually slept.

Waking, the struggle with her bonds continued through the pain.

This sightless world was getting to her. She had to get out... out where she could breathe fresh air, feel the warmth of the sun on her cold, aching body, and live. She wanted to live.

The sound of that water was driving her mad. Her throat was raspy with its dryness.

Water! Water!

Tears of exhaustion were forming as she thought about giving up this futile endeavor. Her fatigue was so intense, her will to live, fading.

Suddenly, her bonds broke.

Her hands free, she pulled them around to the front of her. They were stiff and sore. Trying to get some feeling back into her numb hands, she rubbed them and her arms, fighting to get them warm and the blood flowing again, while her raw skin stung with her efforts.

As soon as she could, she pulled the gag from her mouth, but she could produce no saliva.

Her mouth remained parched and swollen.

Coughing, she heard her own voice calling for help, the sound echoing in the confines of her chamber.

Finding the rope around her legs, she fought to untie the knot, but it wouldn't give. In the darkness it was hard to know which way to pull, but she was desperate to be free.

Ultimately, finally, the rope released its grip on her and she was freed from her bonds, but not her prison.

Rising to her knees and using her hands to see, she crawled toward the sound of the dripping liquid. Floundering in the dark world before her, she moved onward, never knowing what lay ahead of her - if danger was near.

She called out, but the dryness in her mouth only produced a soft croaking sound, which died a short distance from her.

Continuing to grope in the dark, her hand touched something soft.

Withdrawing in surprise, she sat for a second, so unexpected was the feel of something not cold, hard and unyielding.

Stretching out her hand again, her trembling touch revealed the arm of someone on the floor. A person!

Shocked, she tried to rouse whoever it was. But the body was cold and stiff.

Dead!

A dead body!

She screamed, but again the sound was subdued and ineffectual.

But, was she sure they were dead? With her heart pounding hard, she knew she had to make sure.

How can I touch it again? But I've got to! There might be something on them I can use to escape, or find out more about what is going on.

Probing, she felt along the body. The arms seemed to be splayed out away from its form. It was a woman, but whom? After finding the face, she found a sticky substance near the side and back of the head.

Sick, she recoiled from it, sitting beside it, in the dark.

There doesn't seem to be anything on the body I can use, and I'm not going to search it again to see if I missed anything!

Someone lay dead nearby and she couldn't see who it was. Was it someone she knew? Loved? Who was it?

I must have been left here to die, then. Surely with one death, they wouldn't have a problem with another.

The drip, drip, drip of water called.

Feeling along the floor, she found the cold stone of the wall again and pulled herself up carefully, fearful to not hit her head on a low ceiling, if there was one.

Crouching, she moved her feet tenderly, gingerly, pass the dead form, carefully feeling her way in the blackness.

As soon as she felt she was safely past, she crawled, feeling her way toward the sound that lured her.

Please, don't let there be any more bodies.

Cautiously, slowly, she crept along toward the source if the sound of water, if it was water.

Finally her hands felt the frigid, softness of liquid.

She raised her hand to her mouth, but missed her lips in the dark. How disconcerting it was not to be able to coordinate her movements with her sight gone. Sliding her fingers to her lips, she tried to taste the substance, but her mouth was so dry, that flavor was denied.

Something soft hit her head.

Lifting her face, a drop of liquid fell onto her forehead, rolled down over her nose, and then slid into her parched mouth. She sat and let a few more liquid drops descend onto her swollen tongue.

I've got nothing to lose, I must drink.

Cupping her hands into the pool of liquid, she drank, and drank again.

Slowly, her taste returned. The liquid seem to be water, though metallic and tasting of the earth.

When she could, she called out again, this time louder and with the desperation of a trapped creature, facing death.

Nothing... no one responded. No sound answered.

Holding her aching head, she tried to think.

What's going to happen to me? What's the last thing I remember? I think I was at the house, going to the study, wasn't I?

Time passed. Sitting in the dark was so unnerving, the unknown so frightening, the lack of sight so paralyzing. She must get out.

Sitting in the dark she tried to decide what to do.

Feeling the ground again, she tried to decipher a way out. Gradually, progressing away from the plopping sound, with her heart beating hard, and hope spurring her on toward escape, she crawled.

"But, which way?" She cried out. "Help! Help! Please, someone help me!" she desperately called.

Silence.

Trembling with dread and cold, clammy with fear, she moved on.

Soon, her sick and aching body rebelled and she threw-up what little water she had taken in.

Terrified and unsure of what to do, she noticed the sound of the water was now very faint... a small, almost inaudible sound in the dark.

Panic took her.

She didn't know where she was going, what awaited her, and she couldn't bear leaving the only thing in her reality providing an anchor of sanity, normalcy and aid.

Frantically, carefully, she crawled back to the sound. With relief and dread, she sat next to the pool and awaited her fate.

* * * *

Where does the desperation to harm another come from? What force drives a life to ruin? What acts of kindness can be altered by the illness of greed.

The answer might be found, going back in time. To small events, which are nothing on their own, but ultimately growing in importance, as they flowed... ebbed... and merged into this time of peril and death, a time when one man's decisions would ruin the lives of many.

Over a year ago, a mother sat mourning the loss of her son.

Moving On

TIME ADVANCES RELENTLESSLY. Life continues, God willing. And love continues, if you let it.

The sun was rising behind the buildings across the street from Ann's small, worn apartment building situated on top of a hill in the Pacific Northwest town of Opportunity. Its brilliance was inadequately obscured by the hard, stony structures of man, as its vivid colors reflected off the clouds high in the morning sky, producing a magnificent sunrise.

As Ann gazed out her window, and sipped coffee, she reflected on God's wonders and all He gave to her world.

This morning she allowed the grief and pain in her heart to resurface. It had been six months since Matthew's death and she longed for her sweet, vibrant three year old.

The time seems to be flying by, Lord. Where has the time gone?

Recalling the day of his death, she remembered agonizing over how she was going to endure the pain, to find her way in life and survive the loss of her son.

Yet today, though the loss was just as vivid - the pain was less acute, not as devastating, and life's outlook not as bleak.

The void in her heart from Matthew's loss still endured. It probably would until the day of her death. The silence of his laughter and vitality couldn't be replaced and she missed him.

But, it was her faith in God that gave her strength. She chose to trust Him and He comforted her. She was healing as much as a mother can, under the circumstances.

Life flows incessantly onward. At least I can go on, Lord, because I have you. And I'm not alone, am I? Thank you for my family, Lord. I'm glad they're here.

Marty, Ann's precocious seven year old daughter was so dear to her heart. Adorned with beautiful, green eyes and auburn hair, she possessed an energetic and vivacious personality, a lovely child, with a sweet heart and affectionate nature. She loved to give pleasure to all, and to everyone she met, she did.

Yet, Ann grieved to see the scars of life already marring her. She knew Marty had been wounded by her father's abandonment, and the divorce only added to her pain. Her daddy had never visited, or taken care of them in anyway, and left them adrift in life to survive on their own, which hadn't been easy. It still wasn't.

But when he died in that accident... I can still see the hurt in her eyes, and to lose Matthew, as well. That's the deepest wound, Lord. The children were so close. She seems so lost without him. How can I fix any of it?

Ann ached to take away her daughter's pain, but all she could do was to trust in God for His provision and to make good memories with the time they had left, and so they did.

Ann's mother, Emma, was also living at the tiny apartment, now. She was making a valiant effort to let go of her controlling personality, and Ann could see a true desire to please, which made it easier for her to allow her to stay.

Everyone wants to be loved and mother desires it more than most, I think.

Certainly there had been times in the past, when her mother's controlling personality had surfaced, but Ann was able to give her a stern look and Emma relented.

It was difficult for her mother to change a life-time of control and power. It was challenging not to voice an opinion when she had one, to stop manipulating a situation, or to interfere where she didn't belong. She knew if she wanted to stay, she could no longer run things and be the cause of strife. As she told Ann, the world didn't come to an end, if she couldn't have her way, but it sure felt wobbly.

Ann smiled with the memory and was grateful for their new relationship.

Sipping coffee, she continued reflecting on her past. The financial issues remained, and weighed heavily on her. She worked at the Mica Peak Real Estate office in Mica, Washington with her best friend, Shelly Ferguson, a tall, slender, elegantly dressed woman of grace and loving heart.

These two women worked side-by-side sharing confidences, hardships and recently, a renewed faith in God's provisions for their lives.

Ann worked hard to sell the properties she had listed, but it often wasn't enough to pay her bills, or keep food on the table. She was already two months behind with the rent.

What am I going to do?

Her landlord was sympathetic, but he had a business to run and if she couldn't come up with the money soon, they'd have to leave.

But, where can we go? Maybe I should apply for welfare? but that thought was crushing.

She had enough of that type of life growing up. How could she raise Marty in the same environment she had as a child, with all the deficiencies, and the lack of essentials that colored the welfare life?

That's no life for us! But, it's better than being homeless, isn't it? What would happen to us, if we became homeless?

The thought frightened her even more.

How can I fix this?

Daily, she scanned the want ads. Any steady job would be a blessing. But, though she applied for the few she could find, others were hired instead of her. The economy was struggling along with her little family and Emma's small income from welfare wasn't enough to pay the bills or offset the slump in real estate.

During these hard times, her life in the beautiful house on the lake was sorely missed, with all its conveniences and the money to buy whatever she wanted. But, it was the riches she missed, not her ex-husband and the home he had provided there. She'd never trade their situation to go back to him, even if she could.

With an uncertain future and the daily struggle to hold onto what little they had, Ann's faith was sorely tested.

I'll trust you Lord, I will! Just help me to know what to do, The least I can do, is count my blessings. I'm still working, we've a home, and I have my family. But, I'm so worried about taking care of them! she thought, as her faith faltered.

I hate being poor! the thought burst from her heart.

* * * *

Months later, spring was ending as summer drew near with the sun taking longer to across the sky, and daily temperatures climbed.

As morning dawned, an early breeze was gently flowing through her open window, giving her curtains life. Reluctantly Ann threw back the covers, and got up. She had to put in the effort, the time, and the work to keep her hope of financial rescue alive.

After showering, she dressed, and stood in front of the mirror, to finish her makeup. Reviewing her reflection, she could see nothing there to encourage her. Dark circles hung under her soft, sad eyes, with worry and exhaustion easily seen on her face.

It's so hard to have faith Lord, when you're hungry, worried and in need of help, and nothing seems to be changing.

Forlornly she turned off the light, as she walked down the short hall to the kitchen.

I know it's faith that keeps hope alive, Lord, but it's flickering.

Breakfast was waiting for her when she walked into the clean, little room. It was her mother's habit and desire to rise early and prepare what little they had. Emma enjoyed keeping the apartment clean and trying to support Ann in as many ways as she could.

Ann thought again how comforting it was to have her there.

She really does love us, Ann realized with tenderness for her.

This morning's breakfast consisted of a half slice of toast. The absence of jam made the thin spread of butter evident.

At least the coffee's hot, if you can call this watered-down brown liquid, coffee.

"Good morning, Mom," she said, trying to give her mother a warm smile as she hugged her. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Just fine dear," she responded happily.

Ann observed the absence of a lunch bag.

Nothing for lunch, again. Thank goodness Marty can eat at school, but what is she going to do this summer?

"Marty, are you ready for school?" Ann called to her daughter down the hall.

"Just a sec, Mom... almost ready," Marty's voice came from her room.

Sitting down at the table, Ann sighed, one of many escaping her lips nowadays. As she talked with her mother, munched her dry toast, and sipped her hot liquid, she noticed her mother's hands trembling.

Among all the worries she carried with her that day, the one about her mother's health floated to the surface. What could she say? She had asked before about it, but Emma would only say, "I'm just fine dear."

What can I do? She probably needs to go to the clinic, but how can I take her? Even if I can convince her to go, how can I afford it? Welfare will only cover part of the costs. And if something should happened to Mom, to any of us, how could I live with the guilt of not providing for them?

Ann again turned her heart to God, praying for His assistance.

Marty entered the kitchen, stuffing the last of her school books into her backpack, and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Homework all done?" Ann asked absentmindedly, knowing it was done. Marty loved school and learning new things.

"Yep," Marty replied as she looked at the scant piece of bread, then longingly at her mother, with a final glance for Grandma.

"I'm sorry dear, there isn't any milk either," Emma responded sadly to Marty's look.

"That's okay," Marty replied softly. But it was hard to concentrate at school and listen to the teacher, when she was so hungry.

"Gotta go," Ann said, standing in exasperation. "You can eat your toast in the car," she informed Marty in a softer tone.

"See you tonight, Mom," Ann said as they left the small home.

What in the world are we going to do? Is there even anything for dinner? Is Mom even eating? Is that why her hands tremble? Does she have something for lunch?

Ann agonized as she descended the stairs to her car below. Unlocking it, she turned to look back at the apartment uneasily.

I've got to know if she's eating. She'll make herself sick, if she doesn't. I'm going to find out tonight.

And it's time I look for some help, she thought with resignation as she drove out onto the street.

We can't go on like this. I don't know if I can qualify for aid if I'm working, but I'm going to find out. I've got to do something.

At the school parking lot, Ann reached over and hugged her only child. She watched her daughter run up to her friends.

Marty turned, waved good-bye, and then joined the flow of students walking toward their classes.

School will be out soon. I'm glad Mom is there to take care of Marty for the summer, but that doesn't solve the lack of food, or the question of a place to live. What must I do, Lord?

Ann pulled out of the school parking lot and drove toward Mica, to her work, and her possible prospects, without any solutions.

Mica

MICA IS A small town, like so many others nestled in the rolling hills of the Palouse, southeast of Spokane, Washington. It's a community with a few streets of timeworn homes of various styles and sizes. Among them reside a few farm houses, which once existed on vast acres of land, now constrained to insignificant pieces of earth.

In front of one old, weathered home, a few derelict cars sat frozen amid the weeds, in front of a sagging fence, lost in time. Another plot of land concealed an old trailer house behind shrubbery and tall pines, as a dirt driveway passed beyond into the back somewhere.

Highway 27, originating in Opportunity, Washington, a suburb of Spokane, journeyed south past Mica, through comparable townships, like Valleyford, Freeman, Rockford and Fairfield... small farming towns sprinkled along the asphalt river flowing around and through the rolling hills of the Palouse, an agricultural land of wheat, legumes, and blue grass.

This vast, windswept region continued south for a hundred miles or so into Oregon State and spread from parts of eastern Washington into Idaho.

Ann traveled this road almost daily, so familiar, yet ever changing. This morning, she noticed the new wind farm far off on the horizon, the blades of the wind machines slowly, lazily turning, as their silver structures melted into the early summer sky, like ghostly aliens, swinging their arms in some strange, foreign gesture.

This new technology was changing the landscape all over the area, allowing the land to be worked, while the renewable energy assisted the sagging economy.

In awe, she remembered reading that the blades of the huge wind machine were so large, a 747 jet liner could park in its circumference.

Shaking the whimsical thought from her mind, she pulled into the turn lane and crossed the freeway onto Belmont Road. Her car rumbling over the multiple railroad tracks running along the highway, serviced by the Union Pacific Railroad transporting timber products from Idaho into Spokane.

This small road ran a short distance through town, emerging in the farmlands and pastures beyond, before the forested hills rose to meet Mica Peak. The small, five block community was spread out on the right side of Belmont, while on the left stood the old two-story post office, now used for the Freeman Granary Co-op upstairs, and the Mica Peak Real Estate offices below.

Next door was the old Harbinger Hotel, converted about twenty years ago into the Mica Community Church, with a vacant lot beyond, for the children to play in. Next, at the edge of town, hidden in an overgrown pine forest was the old Jackson homestead, an empty, derelict set of buildings crumbling from years of neglect... left behind by those who had once worked the land, now sagging in the shadows like a ghost from the past, refusing to leave.

Ann drove onto the small graveled parking lot in front of her office and got out of the car. Glancing behind her building, she saw the Mica Brick Factory. The single story, long, old factory buildings were surrounded by tall stacks of product, everywhere, with huge mountains of raw materials for making bricks piled in the back. They too were struggling to stay in business, making more product then they could sell, for now.

Shelly Ferguson, Ann's coworker pulled up beside her, and turned off her car. Ann admired her best friend for her honesty, devotion to friends and family, and her strength of character, as well as her beauty and grace. Her husband Jim was such a gentle and kind man, devoted to his wife and now their two, newly acquired children, Tom and Faith.

Months ago, Jim had planned a trip to Kenya to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary and experience a safari in the exotic lands of Africa. But, instead of a wondrous adventure, they were separated by war, death and loss.

On Shelly's journey to get to the American Embassy in Nairobi for help, she rescued two recently orphaned children near the Tsavo National Park. The trio struggled through the uncertainty, loneliness and dangers of a violent land. But, with God's mercy and care they were rescued and reunited with Jim, and then spirited away to safety by the U.S. Marines, and home.

Home, a word so wondrously valued now, with all its treasured meanings.

"Hi Ann," Shelly greeted her.

"Mornin' Shell," Ann responded, as the two women walked together toward the office.

Unlocking the door, the smell of old wood and age greeted them as the ancient floor creaked beneath them.

There's no smell quite like an old, well used building, Ann thought as she went to the windows, sliding them open for air.

Shelly turned on the lights and went to put the coffee on. Ann turned on the ceiling fan and activated the computers.

Picking up the phone, she checked their voice mail. Both calls were for Shelly. Ann examined her emails. She found only spam.

When Shelly returned with two mugs of coffee, she found Ann with her head in her hands.

"How are you doing?" she asked her friend gently, concerned.

"Doin' as well as can be expected," was the reply, as Ann made herself busy.

Shelly worried, because she knew Ann was struggling financially. How much, she couldn't get Ann to tell her. But she knew she wasn't eating lunch very often, and she was getting so thin. Shelly could see the strain on her friend's face, but what could she do? Ann had made it clear she didn't want Shelly to help.

Is it a pride thing? Shelly wondered.

Sometimes a friend has to stand back and watch helplessly as someone they care about struggles through their own problems.

But, if she could think of a way to help, she would.

Maybe I can get her to come over for dinner.

Turning to Ann she said, "Ann, Tom's been pestering me to ask all of you over for dinner soon. Though I think it's more to see Marty than anything else," she said smiling with delight at the budding friendship growing between their children. "Can you come?"

Ann, reluctant to take advantage of Shelly and her generous nature, tried to resist, but she was hungry, tired, and her family needed to eat. Her resolve to trust in the Lord stood firm, but her determination to do this on her own was crumbling.

"We'd love to," she finally answered, in resignation.

You may be supplying our needs through the Ferguson's, Lord. But, I don't want them taking care of us completely. It's not fair to burden them with all my wants and needs. They can't adopt us too!

"Good," answered Shelly with relief. "How about tonight?"

"Fine, what time?" ask Ann.

"6 o'clock?" Shelly asked.

"Sounds great. I'll call Mom and let her know."

Later in the day, a new client entered the office, and Ann took them out to see several homes. Returning, they thanked her and left. She watched them walking away, the prospect of making money going with them.

Around three o'clock, she realized sadly, another unproductive day gone. Better pick up Marty.

The Prospect

DINNER THAT NIGHT was wonderful, with laughter and happiness readily shared among good friends, along with an abundance of delightful food. The coffee, hot and strong, was a delight to sip as they conversed, letting the good meal settle, before leaving the table.

Ultimately, the ladies went to the kitchen to cleanup, while the children and Jim departed to the family room, the children to play with Mr. Fuzzy, the Ferguson's jet-black Persian cat and Jim to watch the Seahawks and Raiders game, one he had looked forward to.

The children found Mr. Fuzzy curled up in his bed, near the fireplace. In good humor, that some cats do possess, he allowed the children to pick him up and play with him.

In the kitchen, Shelly was giggling with Ann about the funny antics of Tom, trying to be grownup and mature around Marty, while Emma helped load the dishwasher.

Yet, in the back of her mind, Shelly knew she had news she needed to share with Ann, news of a job opportunity that might bring her some relief from her financial struggles, a good, part-time job if it worked out. But, it also might keep Ann away from work more often than she'd like.

How I'd miss her! And I want to talk to her alone about it, too.

After cleaning up, Emma excused herself to join the children, and the friends were left alone to chat.

Still bantering about the children, Shelly tried to change the subject, "Ann, have you ever met Jim's Aunt Faye?"

"No, but I've heard about her, of course," Ann answered, still giggling with merriment.

"Well, she called today," Shelly paused for a second, "You know... she's Mrs. Drummond's cook over on the lake? She called to tell me about Mrs. Abernathy, who has just resigned from her personal assistant job with Mrs. Drummond. Her father's become ill and is in need of a care-giver, and she's moved out to take care of him."

Ann looked puzzled.

Shelly continued quickly, "Well, Mrs. Drummond and Faye were talking... and, well Faye is so close to us... she knows a little of your situation," Shelly stated awkwardly, trying not to embarrass Ann. "And when we were talking today, after I got home from work, she asked about you..."

Ann stood there with a blank look on her face.

Shelly sighed, resigning herself to get it over with and told Ann the rest. "Ann, they're offering you the job, part-time for now, I think, if you're interested. Nessa Drummond is getting up in years and her health is failing. She needs someone to do her shopping for her, write her letters and just keeping her house running smoothly. It's good, steady pay, and you could still work with me, once in a while, if you're not too busy," Shelly told her.

Ann couldn't answer.

Shelly waited for her to say something.

Ann thought, Leave here? Coeur d'Alene is an hour from here. Do I want to work so far from home? They aren't doing this for charity, are they?

The shock of it seemed to stymie her.

But, you need a steady income of some sort, you fool, anything! Isn't this what you've been praying for?

Ann chided herself over her reaction to the offer.

"This is so sudden, I don't know what to say, Shell," she finally responded. "Do you know what the pay is? How many hours will she need? Where does she live, exactly?" asked Ann all at once, with hope of financial rescue starting to form, while she gave a quick prayer to God, for direction and wisdom.

"Here, let's sit down and I'll give you all the information I have. You'll have to ask Aunt Faye and Mrs. Drummond for the rest," Shelly offered, as the women sat down at the kitchen table and talked.

* * * *

Two days later, Ann was on her way to Drummond Hall, situated on a private island in Bennett Bay, on Lake Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. Following the directions on the scrap of paper Shelly had given her, she drove through an elegant neighborhood of grand houses overlooking the lake, before coming to the bridge.

Thinking back to the phone call she had with Jim's aunt, she recalled learning all about the island estate. Aunt Faye explained how it had been in the Drummond family for generations. How their Scottish ancestors, who had immigrated there, built a replica of Drummond Castle on the estate. It was a piece of their Scottish home from Perthshire, Scotland, in the wild west of America.

The large, stone, castle had been built on a private 732 acre island of pine forests, grasslands, and rocky shores. A great meadow of grass and wildflowers, at the east end, overflowed down a crumbling cliff into the deep end of the lake.

On the lake side, stone walls elevated the palatial estate, while stone balustrades gave way to the lawns below, by arched stairways.

As Ann turned off the main road, she traveled between two splendid estates overlooking the water.

Descending the hill, she slowed as she came to a majestic stone bridge spanning the lake, with stone arches beneath the structure and balustrades extending their architectural beauty across the sparkling water to the gatehouse on the other side.

In front of her, next to the opening on the bridge, a sign read, "Drummond Hall, Private Property, No Trespassing."

Slowly, taking in the beautiful scenery, she drove over the bridge to the tall, ornate gates barring her way.

At the gatehouse, the door opened and an elderly gentleman in Scottish working attire emerged.

"Goot morn, may ah help ye?" asked the aging man, with white bushy hair, and a handsome, tailored beard.

His Scottish brogue is so cute, Ann thought to herself.

"I'm Ann Henderson. I have an appointment with Mrs. Drummond," she told him, liking the look of the friendly old man smiling down at her.

"She's expectin' ye. Goo right thru an follow da main rood ta de hoose. Faye will meet ye thar," he told her as he pushed a button, opening the gates.

"Thank you," Ann said, as the large gates swung open silently.

Excitement stirred as she comprehended she was about to enter a realm where not everyone could go, to meet a person of great wealth, something she had never known.

This unfamiliar world began to frighten her, and she wondered whether she would ever fit into a place like this. As she tried to ease her fears, she resolved to give it a chance.

The long driveway made of brick pavers, lined with exposed aggregate shoulders, wound its way through the pine forest for a way. After a while, just before the house, it crossed an open field, revealing the gardens surrounding the mansion.

The drive took her past the castle, showing its stone structure sitting beautifully among tall, mature, majestic trees that sheltered the house. On the lake side, a manicured lawn and rose garden descended to the shore below.

Circling back now toward the mansion, the drive ended in a large circle in front of the house with a colossal water fountain in the center of the turnaround. The sound of frolicking water mingled with the singing of birds nearby, was a joy to listen too.

The gigantic house was made of local granite. Large and small turrets embellished the building, with steep roofs poking the sky, while tall windows allowed plenty of light to flood the structure. This magnificent edifice indeed looked like a castle of old.

A wide porch with a few shallow steps to the front double doors provided an elegant entrance to the three-story home rising high into the sky, with ample attic windows peeked from under the roof line, onto the world below.

On the front steps, waiting for her, was Aunt Faye.

She looks so much like Jim, only older. She has the same black hair, blue eyes and tall, slim frame. And her smile is so much like his, Ann realized.

The two women waved heartily at each other, as Ann parked her car.

Faye ran down the steps and gave her a big hug.

Well, this is a good start, thought Ann, as she accepted the friendly gesture gratefully.

"Come on in, Ann. Nessa's waiting for you in the morning room. Now, don't you worry about a thing. She's really looking forward to meeting you. She's quite a wonderful lady and I think you'll find her a treasure to know. She's a little lonely and needs someone to talk to, of course," Faye chatted on.

"But, it's me that needs your help, Ann. I can keep up with most of the house work in this grand old place, along with the cooking, but I can't do the rest without help. Truthfully, Ann, I need help getting the shopping done, and taking her on errands if she has the strength to go, and doing her correspondence and such. It shouldn't be too much. I've the Winslow girls in here five days a week to help with the house work," Faye explained.

Ann felt pleased to be helping this bubbly woman, she liked her immediately, and the thought of working in this elegant house was exciting.

What an adventure, she realized.

They walked down a wide, lavish great hall made of elegant wood paneling and flag stone flooring. Huge wooden beams held up the massive floors high above them. A majestic, wide stairway rose to the second floor and its balcony on the left side of this great room.

This hall is larger than a small house, Ann thought to herself in wonder.

The back of the hall opened out into a solarium full of light, tropical plants, and white wicker furniture.

Ann delighted in the wonder of the room, as she walked through the splendid garden, light filtering through the palm leaves and foliage, the smell of damp earth and growing things filling her senses.

To the left of the room of glass, was the morning room, with streams of sunlight falling through its own wall of windows onto an elegant room with an antique sideboard displaying a marvelous assortment of silver serving dishes on delicate, white lace doilies. The smell coming from them made Ann's stomach growl with desire. Sitting at the table laden with china, crystal and silver in the center of the room, was an elegant woman in white.

Nessa Drummond had beautiful green eyes, in a gentle face, and happy lines mingled with her wrinkles. Her silver hair fell in a bob to her shoulders, giving her an air of youth on a face of age and wisdom.

"Nessa, this is Ann Henderson," Faye said as she held out a chair for their guest to sit in.

"Good morning Ann," Nessa said softly. "Do you mind if I call you Ann?"

"No, not at all, Mrs. Drummond," Ann responded cheerfully, sitting down.

"Nessa, please," the elderly lady countered. "There's no need to be formal here."

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Faye asked Ann.

"Yes, please."

"Refill, Mrs. D?" Faye inquired.

Mrs. Drummond held up her cup with a smile.

Ann sat studying the elderly woman. She had the appearance of elegant beauty, pleasantly aged, with a face sweetly tempered and happy. Yet Ann thought she detected sadness in her eyes.

I must be imagining things. What could she be sad about, having all that she has? Ann thought, shaking the image away.

After serving Nessa and Ann, Faye sat down with her own coffee and proceeded to ask Ann about her life, and experiences. Nessa joined in, once in a while, but allowed Faye to do most of the talking.

When the preliminary questions were over, Faye looked at Mrs. Drummond and received a nod of approval.

"Ann, we'd like you to take over Mrs. Abernathy's responsibilities. She helped running the house for Mrs. D, did the shopping, and took Nessa to doctor appointments and such. She also did Mrs. D's correspondence. Would you be interested in doing that for us?" Faye inquired.

"Yes, very much. I ran my ex-husbands office for quite a while. It shouldn't be a problem," Ann told them.

"Good!" Faye said happily, "Would $80,000 a year be agreeable to you for a start?"

"$80,000!" Ann responded aloud, astonished.

That sum's outrageous. Why so much? There must be something wrong with the job.

"That's an awful lot of money to pay for a part time job," Ann said in wonder. "How many days a week do you want me to come in?"

Faye and Nessa looked startled.

"Ann, this is a full time job and we need you to live on the estate. We need you to be available anytime Mrs. D needs something done. I thought I told Shelly all about it," Faye said with concern. "You'd have Sunday and Monday off, unless there's an emergency. We'd try to keep to the hours between 9:00 in the morning and 5:00 at night during the week, but there will always be a few occasions when you'll be needed past that time."

"Oh," was all Ann could say, becoming disheartened.

Hurriedly Faye continued, "Mrs. Abernathy had wonderful rooms on the third floor overlooking the lake. The rooms are large and spacious, with wonderful light. We really need someone living here."

"But, I have a child, and my mother lives with us. I don't see how it could work out," Ann said sadly as she saw a good job fading from her grasp.

Nessa Drummond spoke softly, "Ann, there's plenty of room up there for all of you. We even have an elevator for easy access. I'd like you to seriously consider moving here, if you can, with your whole family."

"I don't know," Ann expressed her concern. "Marty has just turned seven. Would you want such a young child around?" Ann asked Mrs. Drummond.

Faye and Ann looked to the elderly woman for her response. She said kindly, "I love children. It would be wonderful to have the laughter of a child around the house again," but this time Ann was sure she saw longing and real pain behind those crystal green eyes of hers.

"Ann, do you need some time to think about it?" Mrs. Drummond asked her.

"It's a lot to take in all at once," Ann said, unsure of what to do. "It's such a big decision, with enormous changes to our lives."

"I understand. Faye, why don't you take her up to the rooms and let her see them," offered Nessa. "Maybe that would help."

"Sure, I'd be happy to," Faye said, standing.

"Thank you," Ann said, as she thought about what was being offered.

If the place is large enough, it could be a blessing to move here.

But what if something goes wrong? What if the job doesn't work out, for instance? Where would we go? Yet, we're almost homeless, as it is. This could be the answer to my prayers, but what if it isn't?

If there's enough room, I know Mom would come, but how about Marty? How will this change affect her? She'd have to change schools. What should I do?

Ann worried as she followed Faye through a spacious, modern kitchen.

One thing at a time. Let's look at the rooms first.

The new, updated kitchen had ample granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances set in among rich wooden cabinets and a set of beautiful copper pots hanging above the island stove. Walking over the flagstone floor, they entered the formal dining room.

Two, large, crystal chandeliers hung from the beamed ceiling, high above a long elegant table surrounded by twenty-two high backed chairs in the center of the room. On the longest wall, opposite of the bank of windows, was a magnificent mural of the 1746 Battle of Culloden between Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Duke of Cumberland. The morning light seemed to give the painting life, as the rays of sunshine illuminated the last epic struggle for Scotland.

Leaving the magnificent room, they emerged into a small hallway. Turning right, they passing closed doorways until, at the end of the hall, one door opened into a small paneled room the size of a walk-in closet. It was the elevator.

Entering the small lift, Faye chatted away about the house. She told her guest about the huge library and family room off the great hall, and the billiards room and study on the other side.

"I hope you'll like the rooms on the third floor, Ann. They originally belonged to Gordon Drummond's eldest daughter. Though a spinster, she lived a graceful and useful life here, helping the sick and poor in the area. All the rooms up there were updated by Thomas Drummond and his wife just a few decades ago," Faye explained.

Ascending to the third floor, softly, silently, the doors opened without a sound onto a large sitting room, with a fireplace at the far end. Off the sitting room, to the left, were large spacious bedrooms, overlooking the lake below. Each room had their own on-suite bathroom, clean, stylish, and roomy. A matching set of bedrooms existed on the other side of the sitting room, overlooking the fields and gardens below.

The bedrooms were constructed with various angles and edges accommodating the steep angled roof and dormers, she had seen earlier in the day. Exposed beams, every few feet or so, rose to the peak of the roof overhead, with white plastered ceilings in between, making the rooms look ancient and medieval. Ample light filtered into the rooms from the windows. She was thrilled with the abundant space, and the accommodations.

"Everything you see here stays, if you wish," Faye told her as they toured the rooms.

If she chose to accept the job, there would be plenty of room for her family.

Back in the sitting room, to the right of the fireplace, she noticed a small doorway opening into a kitchenette, with a small table and chairs, a microwave, and hot plate, along with a few cupboards. The angled roof of the little room made it cozy. A cottage window, over a small sink, looked out over the various roofing angles of the castle, giving a varied view of the hills and mountains beyond.

What a lovely room to start the morning. What a wonderful opportunity this could be for all of us. Marty would be attending a better school. Mom would be comfortable up here in these beautiful rooms and I'd have steady employment and feel useful again. I might even be able to save my wages for the future. What a God given gift this could be, to live here, and the blessings that might be ours.

But, there are issues to be taken care of first, she realized.

"Faye, this is a big decision. I'd like to let you know for sure, say... by tomorrow? This isn't what I expected when I arrived this morning, but it's a wonderful opportunity for all of us," Ann explained.

"I'm sure that'll be just fine with Mrs. D, but let's go down and make sure," Faye offered as they left the beautiful rooms.

Mrs. Drummond agreed, and as Ann drove home she thought about the new job and the different world she would be living in. But, what to do about the problems she faced if she wanted the job?

Where am I going to get the money to pay off my back rent? I can't ask Mrs. Drummond for it. Will Mr. Weinsteen allow us to leave, owing it to him? How can I quit my job completely and leave Shelly all alone? And, most of all... will Mom and Marty "go for it," as they say?

Drummond Hall

AFTER DINNER, ANN sat down at the kitchen table to think.

I'd better talk to Mr. Weinsteen, our landlord, first. It doesn't make sense to talk to Mom or Marty until I can be sure we can leave.

Phoning him at his home, she informed her landlord of the new job opportunity she'd just received.

"It pays well, and I can give you what I owe out of my next paycheck, if you're agreeable," she asked, wondering what he would say.

"I'm glad you've found something steady at last, Ann. You must be relieved. I'd prefer to be paid before you go, of course, but I understand your situation, and since you've been such a good tenant all these years, I'll trust you for it," he told her with confidence.

"Oh, Mr. Weinsteen thanks so much! But, there's another problem and I don't know what to do about it. The rooms at the estate are fully furnished and I'll have everything I need there. Would you be able to use the furnishing, if I leave it behind?" she asked him with concern.

"Well, I don't know, Ann. How much is there?"

"Almost everything. There's nothing I really want or need. We'll be taking just our personal things with us," she informed him.

After some thought, he replied. "Sure. Why not? I'll take care of it. I might even list the place as a furnished apartment," he said with a chuckle.

"How wonderful, what a relief. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with everything," she said happily.

"Oh, I almost forgot... " Ann continued. "I won't be able to give you any type of notice. I wish I could, but my new employer needs me at her estate as soon as I can get there. I'd be willing to give you an extra month's rent to compensate."

"No, don't do that. It won't be necessary, Ann. I've a long list of prospective tenants waiting for low income housing. I won't have any problem getting someone in there when the time comes," he told her.

"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Weinsteen. I'm glad this is working out for the both of us," she said as she gave him the address and phone number of Drummond Hall. "I'll let you know when we leave, and thanks again," Ann said, hanging up.

Now, to talk with Marty and Mom, Ann thought, as she took a deep breath and entered the living room.

"I need to talk to you two. It's important. Can I turn off the TV?"

"Sure," Emma said, putting down her book.

"K... " Marty replied.

While the small family sat around the living room, Ann told them about the wonderful job and the gorgeous estate. Marty had some concerns about leaving school, and Emma wasn't sure how she'd fit in or what she was going to do with herself, but it was eventually decided the new prospect had to be ventured. For all of them, the endeavor was going to be a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

Now, to call Shell. The last obstacle before I can really accept this job.

Her call to Shelly turned out to be the hardest step in the process. After all, that job had seen her through a very difficult time in her life. It would be hard to leave it and her best friend.

I love working with Shell. What will she say when she finds out I have to quit? If she needs me, then we can't go, that's all there is to it. I won't abandon her!

Shelly was stunned to realize it wasn't a part time job, after all. That Ann and her family were actually going to have to move onto the big, old, estate, so far away.

Realizing she was losing her working partner not for just a few days a week, but permanently, was crushing. Yet, in true friendship and love, she was happy for Ann and the wonderful job opportunity coming her way.

Now she doesn't have to worry about money anymore, but I'll miss her, Shelly thought sadly.

"Shell, are you sure you're going to be okay without me?" Ann asked again.

"No worries. I've been alone before, but I'll sure miss you. We'll have to stay in touch. I mean it! I don't think I can bear the separation for too long."

Ann smiled. "Me either! I promise we'll stay in touch. I don't think we can help it anyway, with the budding friendship going on between Marty and Tom. But, everything is happening so fast. I can't believe we could be moving in a couple of days."

"It'll be fine," Shelly reassured her friend.

They talked a while longer and discussed their options for Ann's move into Drummond Hall. Shelly offered Jim's help, if needed.

The two women knew being an hour away and Ann's new job responsibilities would make it difficult to see each other, but what choice did they have?

The next morning, Ann called, accepting the job.

What a change this is going to be.

The small family spent the day packing, and that evening, with the Ferguson's help, moved their few personal items to Drummond Hall.

Faye greeted them at the front door. "Hi, Ann... Jimmy m' boy, Shell, children," she said with a warm grin, hugging each one.

"This is my mother, Emma and my daughter Marty," Ann introduced them.

"Glad to know yah," Faye said wholeheartedly, shaking Emma's hand and keeling down to hug Marty.

Marty wasn't too sure about the hug from a stranger, but she took it in stride.

"Carla's put Mrs. D to bed. She's had a couple of rough days," Faye told them, escorting them into the house.

"Who's Carla?" asked Ann as they entered the large, great hall.

"Oh, I forgot. She's Mrs. D's nurse. Nessa has congestive heart failure and needs constant care. She's okay if she doesn't push herself too much. Carla has a room right next to Mrs. D's."

"I didn't know," replied Ann.

"I'd better tell you about the other people on the estate. There's Dougal MacClaryn, he's the elderly Scotsman at the gatehouse. He lives there with his son Jamie. They keep the grounds looking so wonderful and help out with the odd repair job once in a while. I told you about the Winslow girls, Lucy and Bonnie. They don't live here, but work here Monday through Friday and help me out on special occasions. That's the lot, I think," she said happily as they took the small hall on the left of the great hall.

"Oh, I need to tell you," Faye continued. "Mrs. D sends her best and asks that you meet her in the morning room at 9:00 tomorrow morning."

"Sure," Ann replied as they came to the elevator.

When the group reached the third floor, the children began happily exploring, as the adults chatted and unpacked. Faye showed Ann and Emma the kitchenette and where everything was stored.

What a splendid place to live. Ann thought again, happily.

Ann chose the room on the lake side, while Marty took the other. Emma was content with a room on the other side overlooking the gardens below, and the mountains beyond.

Standing at her bedroom window, Ann listened to the happy voices in the sitting room, while she watched the sailboats soaring in the wind, slicing the water with their bows, the wind flying them across the lake. Jet-skis dotted the shore line, bouncing over the wakes and having a wonderful time near the public park. Large motor boats came and went from the marina near the Coeur d'Alene Hotel, situated across the water from their private little world.

It's such a wondrous and strange world to be in. How will I ever get used to it?

Returning to her friends, they chatted happily about the beautiful home and the wonderful opportunities that might lie ahead, while the children played hide and seek with glee among the rooms. Ann was soon trying to calm them down, while Emma smiled with delight, watching them play.

Too soon, it was time to say good night.

Shelly and Jim gathered up Tom and Faith and wished the small family their very best as they departed for the elevator. Marty was given a special hug by the Ferguson's, while they promised to bring Tom and Faith back again to play as soon as they could.

"It was nice meeting you, Emma," Faye said as she was about to leave. "Breakfast is at nine if you'd like to join us."

"I'll be there. I'd like to do something to help while I'm here though, if I can. Do you need any help in the kitchen?" she asked expectantly.

"No, not right now, but we can talk about it later," Faye replied kindly, realizing Ann's mother wanted to be of use, somehow. "I'll talk to Mrs. D tomorrow, and see what we can work out."

The departing group waved good-bye, as the elevator doors shut.

Quiet descended on the room. Looking around, Ann realized she could be living here for a long time, if things worked out. She hoped so. She liked this place very much.

Returning to her room to finish unpacking, she found herself at the window again. The ever changing world outside was now turning purple and pink with the setting sun. The jet-skis had vanished and the water calmed into a sheet of glass. A few boats parted the silky water, returning to their moorings, while the stars slowly emerged. Lights started to illuminate everywhere, turning the shoreline and hills into a mysterious fairyland, their twinkling colors reflecting off the water. Sighing with contentment, she returned to the sitting room.

Emma joined her, and they talked as they marveled over the new experience, while Marty snuggled next to her mother.

After a while, Emma said good night and retired to her new bedroom, shutting the door, while Marty hugged her mother, not wanting to let go.

"What's going to happen tomorrow, Mom?" she asked. "There's no TV up here, and I don't want to stay here all by myself. What am I going to do for the summer? There's no one to play with, is there? And where am I going to go to school?"

"We'll figure all that out tomorrow," Ann told her softly, understanding the strangeness and uncertainty Marty must be feeling. "We'll make sure both you and Mom are taken care of. I think you'll like Mrs. Drummond. She's really nice. And if you're really good, she might let you use the huge library she has down stairs, off the great hall."

"A library? No kidding! Wow, that'd be great! Can I read all summer?" she asked excitedly.

"Tomorrow, we'll find out tomorrow. Now, let's get ready for bed," Ann laughed, hugging her.

Following Marty to her room, Ann stayed with her as she got ready for bed. Jumping into her new bed, under the wonderful, soft sheets, Marty looked up at her mother and said in wonder, "The bed's so big, I'll get lost in it!"

Ann smiled understandingly. Everything was big and different in this new home. "It's going to take some time to get used to, sweetie, but I'm not very far away, just in the next room. Now try and get some sleep."

"Night, Mom, love you," she said softly, hugging her mother's neck.

Ann kissed her softly on the forehead, then tucked the bedding around her gently.

"Night, love, see you in the morning. Do you want me to leave the door open a little?"

Marty nodded with big round eyes, not quite comfortable in this great, big, house. At the little apartment, she always had the hall light showing through her partially open door.

"I'll leave a lamp on in the sitting room for tonight. But, I think we'll get you a night light for your bathroom. I'll put it on the list of things to do for tomorrow, shall I?"

Marty nodded again.

"Night sweetie, sleep tight," Ann said softly as she left the door open, just a little, while the soft light from the outside dimly lit Marty's room.

Back in her own room she opened the window to let the soft evening breeze in off the lake. Picking up her Bible, she returned to the sitting room, curled up in a big, soft chair and read. Praying, she talked to her Lord, thanked Him for all He had provided, and prayed for His provision and care for those she loved.

When she was done, she turned off all the lights, but the one for Marty and jumped into bed herself. Pulling up the sheets, she stared into the dark, unfamiliar room. Soft light from the moon outside illuminated her new world, while sleep eluded her.

Everything is happening so fast, it's all so new. What if it doesn't work out?

Thoughts and worries danced about in her mind.

Did we do the right thing? But, what choice did I have? None really... this has to work. Faye and Mrs. Drummond are so nice, I'm sure it'll work out for all of us. Stop worrying about it. You'll know more tomorrow. Now get some sleep! And trust in God.

But the perturbing thoughts continued. Eventually, she threw back her covers, went to the kitchenette, and made hot chocolate.

This always helps me sleep.

Soon, warm, tired and sleepy, she went back to bed.

Finally, only the ticking of the clock in the sitting room could be heard, along with the soft breathing from the bedrooms. Everyone slept, in the big, dark house on the island in the night, floating under the stars in the silky water of the lake.

Laying there, sleeping so sweetly, how could Ann know of the undercurrents of evil already swirling, silently around her, pulling her closer to danger and peril? How could she recognize the deadly forces already forming against those living in the house?

The Deceiver

WOULDN'T IT BE wonderful to be rich? I mean really rich. To have all the money in the world to buy anything, any time?

The pleasure it would bring... the enjoyment... the security... and the prestige. It's the source of all happiness, isn't it? We seek it, crave it, and strive to obtain it, but do we really need it?

Yes, those without it suffer.

But, to what extent is it needed? When does it go from meeting our needs to excess?

Is it wrong to have so many shoes that you can't possibly wear them all, or an abundance of clothes that can't be held in one closet? Is it immoral to have so many possessions they need to be contained in a storage unit, warehouse, or larger home?

What does it do to our souls, our lives, our love for others, when we keep what we don't need and don't allow God to guide us through its influence?

Cold, heartless, and inanimate, money can alter the good in us, allowing greed to take root and grow, preventing us from serving our Lord, interfering with devotion to family and preventing aid to those who are hungry, hurting and abandoned. It pulls our focus into this temporary place called earth and away from our eternal place in heaven.

In truth... money deceives. It lures us with promises of happiness, fame, and comfort, but instead it becomes a deadly objective without God's involvement.

Shouldn't we be rich in the things of God first, so we can handle its power?

Yet, it may be pursued relentlessly by all of us to one degree or another, a tool misused too often in the hands of those who have it.

Peter Michael Lawrence was one such hunter of wealth.

* * * *

To understand the deadly forces now swirling around Drummond Hall, we must go back to the years Peter Michael Lawrence was a child.

Born into a working class family, among five children, he was raised by parents who worked hard. His father labored at many jobs, never staying long for one reason or another. His mother cleaned homes for those who could pay her well, but never did.

Peter hated the insecurity of not having money. His family constantly moved. For him... no house became a home, no friendships could be kept, and no form of security could be obtained. He detested his life and felt powerless to change it. Regret and want grew in his young heart, even though he was loved, had food to eat, clothes to wear, and a shelter to live in.

At the tender age of fourteen, the desire to be rich pierced his heart and he embraced it with devotion, dedication and determination.

Taking every opportunity to work, he saved his money, studied hard, and obtained excellent grades, for he knew a good education was one way to prosperity. Scholarships and grants were obtained and by the time he was twenty-six years old, he had achieved his Master's in Business. A short time later, while working for the Dayton International Investment Banking Group, he passed his exams for CFA (Chartered Financial Analyst), and became a specialist in investment management.

Peter had grown into a tall, handsome man with a dark complexion, hazel brown eyes and sandy brown hair. Sporting a smart mustache, he kept himself impeccably groomed, wearing stylish business suits. Wherever he went, he dressed the part of the consummate professional, never wearing casual clothing and always presenting himself with wit and confidence.

If he had grown-up as God intended, he'd have been a kinder more generous man, but instead, the drive for wealth prevented him from experiencing the blessings of giving. His focus remained on attaining all that he could acquire.

Soon, this hard working, committed, eager financier resigned his job and ventured into the world of finance on his own.

The new firm of P.M. Lawrence Investments was established. It grew and prospered under his dedication and drive.

But, the closer he drove himself toward his dream of wealth, the more he left his family behind. They didn't belong to the class of people he aspired to know. He was ashamed of them and the life he had known, even though they lovingly and loyally helped him with his ambition to succeed.

They were only the first, in a long line of relationships, paying the cost to his ambitions.

* * * *

Four years later, after Peter's business had opened, Mr. Joseph Preston Ellington, an extremely wealthy man, was sitting at a table in the Stonebridge County Club, off Lake Coeur d'Alene in Idaho, eating breakfast with his good friend and hunting partner, Mr. Vernon Quilleran.

Over coffee and quality cigars, the men conversed with jovial banter, sharing family issues, and then drifting into the topic of business and investments.

"J.P., speaking of money, have I told you how happy I am with P.M. Lawrence Investments? I've been receiving a healthy return from them for over three years, now," he told his old friend.

"That's nice to hear, Vern, but who are they? What do you know about them?" asked Mr. Ellington.

"They're a young, up-and-coming firm, run by a Mr. Peter Lawrence. I looked into his background a while ago and I was impressed with his investment record. He's one on-fire, hardworking financial analyst, with the instincts of a predator when it comes to choosing the right investment options. I'm giving him another large sum this week," stated Vern confidently.

"Are you sure you want to do that? I'd hesitant to move too much into a firm so new and in truth, Vern, so small," replied J.P.

"I understand, but I've examined this guy thoroughly. He has a great track record with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission. From his quarterly reports, which are overseen by the auditing company of C.U. Banks, he's averaging a good, solid return for his investors. Within the last five years, he's amassed millions, has increased his staff to about twenty, and is bursting at the seams at his current location. I've even heard rumors he wants to merge with Fenway Accounting, which would allow him to diversify. I tell you J.P., he's a hot commodity," Vern stated positively.

"Hum... " the sound came thoughtfully from J.P. as he blew smoke from his cigar.

"You know I've got a nose for this sort of thing," continued Vern. "I can smell a good deal where there doesn't seem to be one, and I'm good at sizing people up, too. This guy has a knack for spotting the golden ticket among the paper ones. He works hard, is intelligent, and I just plain like the way he thinks. Why don't you check him out, for yourself?"

"I guess it won't hurt to look him over. I'll make an appointment and let you know what I think," replied J.P. Ellington.

* * * *

Later in the month, Mr. Ellington walked into Peter's office. Forearmed with his own investigation of P.M. Lawrence Investments and its founder, J.P. found himself impressed with the young man's presence and intelligence.

For over an hour the two talked. Instinctively, the elderly man sensed a hunger and drive he could appreciate in the young analyst.

Before leaving, J.P. signed an investment agreement of his own for a sum insignificant to himself, but enormous in the eyes of Peter Lawrence. It was the largest investment he had ever acquired.

With his heart beating eagerly, Peter sat ecstatically watching the elderly gentleman sign the documents. Coveting the old man's wealth and status, the desire to manage more of this rich man's assets overtook him.

I must find a way into his life, a way to influence his decisions. Oh, to have the power and control over his wealth! I must have it!

Peter's greed consumed him.

Soon, he was researching the Ellington's assets and holdings. He found the family owned vast properties of timber in Idaho and Montana. Two of their lumber mills produced domestic lumber products, while a third exported timber to Japan and the Far East.

He thrilled at the discovery of their operating silver mines in Idaho, producing millions of dollars of the valuable ore every year. Even a played-out gold mine brought a sparkle to his eyes.

Then he found that Mr. J.P. Ellington was co-owner of the Blackrock Copper mine in Sedona, Arizona, a lucrative and valuable holding, indeed.

How much does he have invested? What other assets does he possess, that I don't know about? It could be enormous!

How can I get close to him? What does he like? What are his hobbies? If I can establish some level of friendship, a level of trust and confidence, I'll gain access to more of his money.

Golf turned out to be the key. J.P. loved the game. Through multiple tee off times, and lively conversations while sitting at the clubhouse bar, the men talked about money, aspirations and dreams.

Soon, at the urging of J.P. and Vernon, Peter jumped at the chance to join the private country club and almost immediately purchased a large, exclusive home in the gated community of Stonebridge Estates.

Golfing every Thursday, the men soon had a financial club of three flourishing, with Peter giving the investment advice. All three men made good, healthy, returns on their speculations.

At the annual "Ellington Summer Dance," Peter met Meredith Madison Ellington, J.P.'s only child and devoted daughter. The dance had been held at the clubhouse of the Stonebridge Country Club since its founding in 1908 by Jedidiah Stonebridge Ellington, J.P.'s great-grandfather. The dance was a tribute to the benevolence and financial sway the Ellington's held in the area for generations.

Meredith, a petite, beautiful, young woman of twenty-four, was full of life and adventure. Surrounded by admirers, she had remained a free spirit - until Peter. His good looks, magnetism and charisma charmed her, enticed her, and pulled her under his influence. She fell in love with him quickly, and completely.

Though Peter enjoyed her beauty and wit, he saw her only as an opportunity to influence her father and his fortune. With little effort and great returns on his dream to be wealthy, they were married in the fall.

Their marriage was a good one, in the beginning. Peter strove to make her happy as he tried to gain control over the wealth of her family. It wasn't hard to convince her to give control of her assets to him. After all, it was his business to manage money.

But when he tried to influence her father, it was a different story. J.P. had a mind of his own and no matter how hard Peter tried to sway his father-in-law, Mr. Ellington never relinquished control... to anyone.

Peter grieved to be so close to all that wealth, without the power to wield it.

After his honeymoon, he returned to P.M. Lawrence Investments and continued to work hard. Years later he obtained Fenway Accounting, becoming the CEO of Lawrence & Fenway Diversified.

With his new acquisition, he moved his offices into the prestigious, luxury suites of the Kingston Building in downtown Spokane. Before long, his company caught the attention of the prominent firm of Tillman, Fester, Brewster and Associates, Attorneys at Law on the tenth floor.

This law firm became his largest client, hiring his corporation to manage the accounts for their numerous and wealthy clientele.

Surely, Peter's dream was now realized. He had wealth, a good home life with a wife who adored him, and a thriving business.

But the pursuit of money always leaves the hunter starving for more. It is never enough. And with abundant money, comes the thrill of power, influence and control over others. It's intoxicating and addicting.

Peter wanted more, so much more.

Ensnared

MONEY CAN'T BE loved without greed. Greed comes with the affliction. But, when does its sickness transform a trustworthy man into a dishonest one?

Perhaps when justifications form in the mind with unreasonable reasoning... when desire clouds common sense... and coveting another's possessions fills one's soul.

Once there, standing on the edge of the precipice, coveting what is desired, it's only a small step over the edge of trustworthiness onto the slippery slope of dishonesty.

The conscience is deadened with false validations, a lie is told, and a document is forged. Embezzlement arises. The arrogant, selfish victim of greed is caught in its grip.

Is escape possible? Sometimes, if morality is strong enough, fear of discovery looms, and restitution is made.

But victims seldom escape. Greed holds them fast with offers of more to come. Time deadens the conscience, turns the heart to stone. The longer deceit lives, the more likely greed will endure, grow and consume its prey. And, to what degree will the victim of greed go, to avoid exposure... lie, steal, or even kill?

It started that way for Peter Lawrence.

Through his continued pursuit of money, his greed prevented him from taking his eyes off of his possessions and looking at the people around him, with their eternal riches they could impart to him. He was easily blinded to his wife's devotion and love, to his friends, to those who cared about him.

His desire for more hindered his company, to a lesser degree, as well. He gave no thought to the irreplaceable contributions of his excellent employees. He gave no attention to their skills that secured the quality of his company, helping it to prosper and grow. Health-care benefits were not offered, bonuses never given, and pay raises were rare, because he couldn't afford it. He couldn't see how their welfare reflected on the health and prosperity of his company, and the community around him. He gave little, to keep as much as he could hold.

But the biggest hazard for Peter was his inability to be content. He should have been, with the millions he earned every year, with his devoted wife and their luxurious home, with all that he truly had.

But with greed living in his heart, he could not see the trap that was about to ensnare him, and bring him to his doom. If he could have seen the consequences of his choices, would he have chosen differently? Probably not... like a moth drawn to a flame, neither would realize what awaited them, until it is too late. Sabine Celeste Stoughton was Peter's flame.

* * * *

Sabine was a woman of stunning beauty, fine breeding, and expensive tastes, an heiress and exceedingly wealthy woman in her own right. Married and divorced several times, she had grown cynical and contemptuous of the world. With an icy heart, she took from life what she wanted. Having all the possessions she could desire, she lived only for excitement, thrills, and danger. Only when adrenaline and fear were coursing through her veins, did she feel alive.

On the night they met, J.P. Ellington was co-hosting a fund raising dinner at the Seattle Convention Center for the Democratic Party's presidential candidate.

Since Meredith couldn't attend, Peter took the opportunity to drive out to the Emerald City in his brand new Lamborghini Aventador J-17, newly purchased for $750,000. The fiery red, racing machine sped, sleek and low, to the city on the water. He thrilled at its power and sound.

Opening it up, through Eastern Washington, his heart raced with the ease of its speed, as he flew across the open lands to the pass of the Cascades. Its climb to the top was effortless, as the powerful engine purred.

At the convention center, Sabine stepped out of her escort's Mercedes, in a long, glimmering gown of silver and gold. Adorned with sparkling diamonds and fur, she turned just as an attractive man drove up in an exquisite, gorgeous, Lamborghini. Electricity flowed through her as she envisioned riding in that powerful machine, at high speed, possibly with the man behind the wheel.

I wonder who he is.

As the doors of his racing machine swung open, Peter stepped out, handed his keys to the valet and glanced up to see a gorgeous woman on the arm of a gentlemen, look back at him with interest. Everything about her said money. Her dress, jewels, fur and her air said it all.

What a stunning woman, he thought infatuated, as he returned her smile.

Inside, Peter found J.P. at the master of ceremonies table. The men shook hands, and talked for a bit, then his father-in-law escorted Peter to his seat.

"Well, hello Sabine," J.P. greeted the beautiful woman seated across the table from Peter's place of honor.

As she smiled he continued, "This is my son-in-law Peter Lawrence. Peter, this is Sabine Stoughton, of the Boston Stoughtons."

"Delighted," Peter said beaming a welcoming smile.

Settled, he glanced around the gigantic banquet hall. The atmosphere was full of intoxicating excitement. He loved the display of wealth, the recognition of the rich and influential, and the energy generated by people of power. The room was filled with CEO's of large, worldwide corporations, bankers, and investment brokers, many with names he knew and admired. Wealthy families and their entourages filled many a table with glitz and glamor.

Peter's eyes sparkled with excitement, and Sabine noticed. His exhilaration ignited hers. Amiable talk was exchanged between them during the event, while Sabine's escort sat silently beside her, defeated into submission by her cold disdain.

Before the night was over, she had slipped Peter her phone number, and he squeezed her hand warmly, signifying his acceptance.

I wonder what my life would've been like, if I'd married someone like her?

Suddenly, the familiar craving stirred. The desire, determination, and devotion to possess her struck him. And just as in his youth, he welcomed the idea unreservedly.

Late that night, lying in his bed at the hotel, he couldn't resist calling her. Hours later, the call was terminated, but not before a bond of equal fascination had been established and plans made to meet.

The next day, after phoning Meredith and telling her he had business in Seattle for a few days, Peter and Sabine drove his fast car over the mountains and into the plains of Eastern Washington. With his radar-detector active, he sped unimpeded into Idaho. Not wanting to stop their glorious day together, Peter kept going the seventy miles across the Idaho panhandle into Montana. Then he let Sabine drive.

The drive was adrenaline-charged, with the roar of the engine at high speeds, and the scenery flying by. She was alive, her heart beating hard. Looking over at Peter, she was elated to see he was relishing the speed and danger as much as she.

With the excitement, thrills and dangers of the day still coursing in their veins, the two found the best five star hotel in Helena, Montana and spent a passionate night, relishing the secrecy and thrill spawned from their affair.

Peter couldn't get enough of her. Sabine seemed to return his affections as long as he kept her electrified, thrilled and sparkling with their intrigue.

The following day, Peter allowed Sabine to drive wherever she desired. Her excitement, fed his and they drove hundreds of miles through Wyoming and back again. The police tried to follow once, but they were quickly left behind in the flight of the red, racing machine. Sabine quickly took a side road and hid the car in a forest of trees.

The reckless couple passionately kept busy as they allowed time to pass. Sabine pouted when Peter took over the controls again. Reaching over, he roughly pulled her to him and whispered, "Next weekend, we'll go white water rafting. You pick the river," he smiled mischievously.

Sabine's eyes sparkled with the challenge.

Peter drove Sabine to the airport in Spokane and returned her home. With a passionate kiss, he said good-bye, promising her an exciting weekend to come.

Before going home, he adjusted his demeanor, changing into the devoted husband. How easy it was for him to put on the false face of a good and loving husband, because deceit was thriving in his heart.

Walking through the door of his luxurious home, he hugged her and kissed her fondly, just as he always did, when returning home. His heart was only for himself and what he desired. If he had grown as God intended, he'd have cared about Meredith first and experienced the value of love, honesty and devotion.

"Darling," he said sweetly, hugging her again and asking her with fake concern. "I've a new merger in the works that'll be taking me away from home for a while. I'm afraid I'll be out of town on business quite a lot in the near future. I hope you don't mind?"

"Not at all," she said loyally. "How long do you think you'll be?"

"I'm not sure. We'll be lining up new investors as well. It's a big project and quite important. But I'll try and get it done as quickly as I can. I'll keep you informed. Meanwhile, don't call the office. I'm keeping this top secret, for now. Just a few of us are working on it. I think it would be better for you to call my cell and leave a message. Then, I'll call you as soon as I'm free," he said, spinning his lies.

The next few weeks were intense and thrilling. Peter had no intention of leaving his wife and the Ellington fortune, at first, but he couldn't get enough of Sabine.

His desire for her and all she possessed was consuming him. No one had ever made him feel the way she did and he couldn't get enough of it.

From the start, Peter and Sabine spent their lives recklessly, finding adventure, danger and risk. They seemed to feed off of it and each other. They loved risking it all. They raced, sky dived and found adventures, thrilling and daring to each other. He spent freely, expensively and in a depraved way. Gambling was their favorite pastime, when not racing.

He lavished her with jewels, furs and expensive restaurants. Weekend trips to the Bahamas, and the Hamptons fueled his relationship with her, and soon they became inseparable. It was hard to leave her, and it was getting hard to deceive Meredith.

His wife dutifully spent her life at home, seeing him once in a while, but he was gone so much. She started to worry and determined to talk to him the next time he was able to come home.

Somewhere in his relationship with Sabine, his thoughts changed from hanging onto the Ellington fortune that he might one day inherit, many years down the road, to the prospect of having Sabine for his wife and all she possessed now.

Before long, he was devoting his time, energy and money into winning Sabine, the one he should have had in the first place.

But, his money was becoming a problem. He was spending everything he was making. He couldn't make it fast enough, and he had already spent most of Meredith's money, without her knowing.

There wasn't anything wrong with that was there? It was his money too, wasn't it?

But, he needed to get more, somewhere \- but how?

It wasn't long before his new life-style started to take its toll. Meredith was unhappy with her suspicions of another woman and she complained, cried and fought with him, whenever he was home. He was now borrowing huge amounts to keep Sabine happy. If he wasn't careful, Sabine would discover he was broke and leave him.

Split between a dying marriage and the hope of a rich and wonderful future with Sabine, he was determined to risk it all in one desperate attempt, before it was too late.

Now was the time to ask her to marry him, before he was completely insolvent and he couldn't keep up the exciting life they led - but how?

Peter sat in his office, looking out the window pondering a plan that would succeed.

Maybe she'd be receptive to the idea, if I take her on a lavish trip to Paris, on our company jet, a shopping spree in the Faubourg Saint-Honore' district, and dinner for two at the L'Abeille restaurant at the Shangri-La Hotel? With a large diamond ring in my pocket, and champagne chilling by the table, I could broach the question then... she could say yes. She has to say yes! But where am I going to get that kind of money? I'm tapped out. What am I going to do?

Peter agonized over his predicament as he scanned the work piling up on his desk.

A letter from Mrs. Gavin Drummond caught his attention. In it, she was requesting a change in her portfolio.

Nessa Drummond was an elderly, wealthy widow, worth billions. According to her letter, she was now ill and in need of establishing regular payments for a live-in nurse. She indicated she was in the early stages of congestive heart disease and could no longer come to the office to orchestrate the paperwork. Would he mind coming to her home with the appropriate papers?

If I remember correctly, she doesn't have anyone else in her life, except her servants. Her husband made his money in oil, didn't he?

Peter made inquiries into Mrs. Drummond's background and learned that Nessa was indeed virtually alone in the world. The Drummond's had no living children, or relatives. Her estate was to be given to the Children's Hospital in Seattle, Washington, where her youngest son had been tenderly cared for and treated for many years, until his untimely death at the age of seven, and the rest was to be endowed to the University of Washington, where her husband had been a board member and sponsor of his alma matter.

Greed enticed him.

Look at all the money she has! If only I could borrow just a little of it, just for a while, just until I can marry Sabine. The old lady would never miss it and I can put it back later.

What ethics he had, vaporized as he slid easily into the world of deception. He rationalized that he had found the answer to his problems.

All I have to do is get her to sign a Power of Attorney. I'll tell her it's the normal thing to do in these cases, and it'll allow me to make changes in the future without causing her undo stress and concern. I'll convince her it's for the best. Then it'll be easy for me to manage her accounts, using the money I need, just for a while. No one will know. I'll put it back as soon as I marry Sabine. It's worth the risk. I'm not going to hurt anyone, really, and I'll have everything I've ever wanted.

With that reasoning, he slipped over the line of hard work, honesty and safety, into the dark world of laziness, deceit, and uncertainty.

With his secretary by his side, to notarize the documents, Peter easily wove a tale of deception and shadows for the elderly Mrs. Drummond.

The elderly woman signed all the papers, never suspecting her money was now in the hands of a swindler, a cheat, a man who would someday fall into ruin, possibly taking her wealth with him.

How quickly Peter, a greedy man, stole what wasn't his. Any conscience he had, he quickly soothed with justifications. As soon as he returned to his office, he liquidated some of her assets and placed over two million dollars into his bank account. That very day he made reservations for Paris. Within a few weeks, Sabine and Peter were on their way to the City of Light.

Shocking, isn't it, how fast a person's intentions can change. Like the flip of a switch, he went from borrowing her money into figuring out how much of her estate he could keep.

He rationalized that with cleaver excuses, he could justify to anyone, how she had spent her money, on this charity or that, with a phony document or two, signed by him with her power of attorney. No one was ever going to know.

He'd be sure her servants bequeaths were kept, or even her nurse, if it should come to it. The hospital and university would never know the lion's share of her wealth would go to him. It was so easy to explain it away.

Sabine said yes in Paris, with just one stipulation - he must sign a prenuptial agreement - the only dark spot on a wonderful, lovely weekend.

What did he care, he'd be wealthy beyond his dreams. His marriage to her was going to be exciting and wonderful. Finally! His dreams were about to come true.

Time passed. His divorce from his first wife was accomplished as quickly as he could get it done. Peter never looked back at the wreckage of people left behind in his pursuit to be rich. His parents and siblings had long ago faded out of his life, but now, his devoted ex-wife was left alone and crushed, in a world not of her making.

With access to all the money he'd ever wanted, Peter gambled, raced fast cars, and threw lavish parties. He and Sabine's new life-style was spent recklessly, wastefully, and without a thought for the future.

Peter Michael Lawrence had arrived... or had he?

His life, now built upon lies, deceit and theft trembled with its flimsiness. If he only knew what the penalties of his actions would cost him, in the end.

Small bits of truth were already starting to work their way into the light. Vague concerns started to arise.

Yet, nothing materialized to destroy his life, built on his deceit at this time. But the moment was coming... a time of exposure and accounting that he would have to face.

What steps would he take then? What price would he be willing to pay to stay safe? And who would be harmed in the process, for there are always victims when greed survives.

* * * *

And now - Ann Henderson had just moved into Drummond Hall to help an old woman. How would her coming affect the web of deceit that flourished there?

A New Day

AS ANN OPENED her eyes to the morning light, she heard birds singing outside her window. The soft sunlight filtered into her room, as the morning breeze gently blew the curtains.

Throwing back the covers in alarm, she glanced at her clock.

What time is it! Did the alarm go off?

With relief she realized it was still early.

I've got plenty of time to get ready for this new day, my new job, and this new life, in this wonderful home on the lake.

Turning off the alarm, she stretched, arose and walked to her window. Sunlight sparkled like diamonds on the water, while white clouds floated in the vibrant blue sky overhead.

Thank you Lord, for this magnificent day and the blessings you give.

After dressing, Ann went to check on Marty. How sweet and small she looked sleeping cockeyed in the huge bed, her covers halfway onto the floor. Sitting on the bed, she lovingly brushed her child's hair from her face, before bending down to kiss her awake.

"Good morning, love," Ann said tenderly, as Marty's eyes opened. "Time to get up, sweetheart. Breakfast will be ready soon."

"Can I borrow a book today?" Marty asked beseechingly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"We'll find out," Ann replied, happy her little one loved to read so much. "Hurry and get ready."

"Mornin'," Emma stated quietly, standing at the bedroom door, dressed and ready for her day, as well.

Shortly, the three were descending the elevator to the first floor and walking the unfamiliar realm of the Drummond home. Following the small hall to its end in the great hall, Ann turned left, and led her family through the solarium and into the morning room.

"Good mornin' Mrs. Drummond... Faye...," Ann said kindly, as they stood by the table politely.

"Nessa, please Ann," Mrs. Drummond reminded her.

Next to Mrs. Drummond sat a stranger. The plain woman, dark hair severely pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck, was thin, lanky, and wore wire-rimmed spectacles, perched on the bridge of her nose, and framing her brown eyes. Her face was alert.

"This is Carla Sikes, my nurse," Mrs. Drummond introduced her to the small group.

"How do you do," was their response, separately and all at once.

Carla smiled coldly, then took another bite of toast, without saying a word.

"Nessa, this is my daughter Marty," Ann informed the elderly woman, at the head of the table.

"Good morning, Marty. I'm glad you've come to live with us."

"Hi," Marty said sweetly. "Kin' I read your books in the big library?"

"Marty!" Ann said in shock at the frankness of her daughter's request.

Nessa laughed with genuine gaiety. "Of course, child. All I ask is that you take good care of them and return them to the same place you found them."

"Oh, I will. I'll take extra special care of them," Marty responded happily, with a large smile.

"And this is my mother Emma," Ann continued, a little taken back with how things were going this morning.

"How do you do, Emma? I'm glad to meet you," replied Mrs. Drummond. "Please help yourself to anything you'd like on the sideboard over there and make yourselves at home."

Marty ran up to the sideboard and started getting the food ready for her mother and grandmother.

Nessa's eyes sparkled at the thoughtfulness of the child.

There's no doubt Marty is going to bring a brightness and happiness into this house which has been sorely missed.

Tears formed, as an old ache in her heart emerged, but she quickly recovered.

"There's coffee over there, at the end and I brought a big pitcher of milk for you Marty," Faye explained to the child.

Breakfast was a happy affair. Faye talked on about Drummond Hall and the family history, while Mrs. Drummond added a detail or two. Carla sat quietly, observing.

As the meal ended, Carla stood, pulled out a pill box and gave Nessa her morning medication. Like with so many elderly people, it was an assortment of pills of various colors and sizes needed to continue her quality of life.

"Be sure not to tire yourself, Mrs. Drummond. I don't want you to spend more than an hour with Mrs. Henderson, this morning," the nurse said officially.

"You can call me Ann, if you like Carla," Ann offered.

Carla turned and walked from the room, ignoring Ann's comment.

Surprised at the cold and indifferent response from the nurse, Ann wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Don't mind Carla," Nessa offered. "She's very good at her job, but is lacking in social graces."

Like common courtesy, thought Ann, trying to smile.

"Let's go to the family room and we'll get started," Nessa invited Ann, weakly standing. Ann quickly went to her side, to assist.

Smiling, Nessa said, "I'm fine, it just takes me a while to get these old bones started."

Carla should be doing this, Ann thought with irritation.

Ann looked over at her own mother and could tell she was at a loss with what to do with herself.

She'll be miserable staying upstairs all day.

"Mrs... I mean, Nessa, would it be okay if my mother and Marty spent the day in the library?" asked Ann, trying to find them an interesting place to spend their time.

"Of course. There's all kinds of reading material in there and places to curl up to read. You're welcome to use the family room later on, too, when we're finished, Emma. It has a TV in there and I love doing my letters on the writing desk by the French doors."

Nessa continued, "You're welcome to explore the grounds and the beautiful gardens, or even spend some time in the solarium. But, Marty, please don't go too far from the house and definitely not near the lake, unless an adult is with you. It's a very big place and I don't want anything to happen to you, okay?"

"K... " Marty replied. "Kin I go to the library now?"

"Sure," Nessa said happily.

Marty darted from the room, running for the hall, while Emma tried to follow at a more dignified pace.

"I'll keep an eye on her Mrs. Drummond," Emma offered, but said quickly, "I mean Nessa," smiling an apology, as she realized she was to call her by her given name, as well.

"The door to the library is the first one on your left," yelled Nessa after the child, chuckling, for it had been a long time since she had needed to yell in this house. "Please, make yourselves at home," she told Emma, as Ann's mother tried to catch up with her excited grandchild.

With her cane, Nessa slowly walked toward the great hall, with Ann by her side.

Sitting in the family room, the two women started to plan Ann's responsibilities.

"You know, Ann. I just can't seem to do my bills anymore. With your bookkeeping experience, would you mind helping me with them?"

"Not at all, but, this desk is a little small for spreading things out. I'll make do, though," Ann offered.

Realizing the space was too small, Nessa said, "No need. My late husband has a big study across the hall that'll do quite well. Gavin was a good man and a fine husband, but the study was his domain and I've never seen the need to trespass there, until now... funny how the old ways die hard."

Slowly rising, Nessa led the way to the double doors, across the hall. The doors opened onto a large, dimly lit room.

"Would you pull the curtains aside Ann, and let the sunlight in?" asked Nessa, a little sadly.

Walking over to the wall of drapes, Ann pulled the cords, letting the light in from an expansive wall of windows, flooding the slightly dusty room. There was a wonderful view of the front of the house with its fountain, and surrounding gardens, outside.

"I'll have one of the Winslow... or maybe both of the girls in here today to clean," she told Ann as she went to a wall phone, near the desk. "This is the house phone, Ann. The list of what numbers go where is right here, next to the phone, on this brass plaque."

"Hello, Faye?" Nessa spoke into the phone, after dialing five. "We're going to use the study for Ann's new office. Would you have the girls clean and dust in here today? And I want Ann to make this place into her own, so please have the girls help her arrange it to her satisfaction. Oh... and have Jamie get the remote gate opener from my car. Ann will need it more than I will."

Nessa listen to Faye then said, "That'll be fine, Faye. No, we won't be long. I'll be in my sitting room, shortly," she said hanging up the instrument.

"Ann, I'm sorry, but I'm getting a little tired," she continued. "I'd like you to go through everything here, his desk, books and things and pack away what you won't need. Lucy and Bonnie will help you, and then have them label everything and put the boxes in the attic. And make a list of any questions you have and we'll talk again this afternoon, after I've rested."

"Of course, Nessa. I'm sorry I've tired you out," Ann expressed concern.

"Don't worry about it Ann. It's part of my illness. I'm so glad you're here and I know you're going to be a big help to me. We've plenty of time to get everything done. There is nothing urgent right now, so let's just take it one day at a time. We'll get you up to speed soon."

Ann could see the color had gone from Nessa's face.

"Why don't you sit down here," she asked Nessa, as she pointed out a large leather chair nearby, "and I'll call Carla."

Nessa smiled amiably, as she sank into the chair, nodding her agreement.

"Dial eleven for her room," Nessa offered.

Carla soon arrived with a wheelchair, took Nessa's pulse, and gave her a pill.

"I told you not to be so long," the nurse admonished.

"I'm fine, Carla. I just need a little rest," Nessa said.

Turning to Ann, Carla scolded, "You shouldn't tire her out so much. You're not helping her at all."

Ann sat shocked at the harshness of her tone.

"Carla, I'll be the one to decide how long I'm with someone. Ann is doing her job and I don't want any strife in this house," Nessa said firmly.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Drummond, you're my responsibility and it's my job to take care of you," Carla said, pouting.

"All right Carla, let's not argue. But, let's try and get along, shall we? Now, will you take me to my rooms, please?"

Carla helped Nessa into the wheelchair and pushed her from the room.

Ann sat thinking, What's your problem, anyway? I haven't done anything to you and you're certainly causing stress for Nessa. But, maybe I should be more careful.

Letting go of her frustration, Ann looked around the room. It was tall, like all the other rooms on the first floor. Above her was a paneled, coved ceiling, made of many squares. A large iron and brass light, with glass shades, hung in the center of the room, while small lamps sat on side tables and on the desk.

On the wall opposite the windows, stood a large stone fireplace, framed in dark green marble, and finished with rich, dark wood. This wood paneled all the walls of the room. Book shelves flanked the fireplace on either side, while a large painting of a Scottish manor, out on some moors, hung over the mantle. Comfortable, leather reading chairs and a couch were placed facing the fireplace. The room was warm, elegant, and very manly.

What dominated the room the most, though, was the family crest hanging high on the paneled wall, behind the desk. It was the first thing noticed upon entering the study.

There was an ornate plaque, mounted over the heart of crossed swords, with the clan tartan draped upon their hilts. On the plaque, the name "Drummond" was proudly displayed at the top, with lion creatures standing erect, on either side, holding the name up high. In the center was a circle that looked like a belt, with a bird of prey of some type, ready for flight, standing upon a crown in its middle. "Gang Warily" the clan motto, was carved deeply into the strap over the bird's head. There was something majestic and very 'wild men of the highlands' in the display.

Ann walked over to the large, heavy desk and sat down in the comfortable, leather chair. Running her hands over the polished wood, she had never seen anything so elegant or grand.

I can't believe I'll be working here, in this room.

"Hi, I'm Bonnie and this is my sister Lucy," a young woman in a cotton blouse and blue jeans introduced herself, as they entered the room. She appeared to be in her early twenty's, with soft brown hair, and brown eyes. Her sister, Lucy, was a shorter and younger version. Both had wide smiles and boundless energy.

Everyone in this house is so nice, except for maybe one, the thought came and went, as she focused on the tasks at hand.

Soon the women were cleaning and reorganizing the domain of a man who had once wielded great wealth and power. Now, only his possessions lingered. And with the removal of the dust and rearrangement of his room, his memory would soon exist only in the hearts of those who chose to remember him.

Sitting at the large desk, Ann opened the drawers, and started pulling out the contents. She found old correspondence, stock portfolios, bank statements, and deeds. There were so many documents needing examination. She had no idea how many accounts there were, or if they were even active. In an ornate cupboard nearby, she found more files and documents.

I'll have to go through these thoroughly and investigate their status, and then I can determine whether to keep or store them. I'll talk to Nessa about them this afternoon.

Boxes were brought down from the attic. Swords, guns, and trophies were taken down from the walls, and packed away. Ann put all the important documents she could find in a box marked "Important" and set them on the floor, near the desk.

Soon, all the paper stock, envelopes, pens, pencils and such were returned to the desk were she could use them when needed.

She opened a clothes closet and pulled out all the sweaters, jackets and such, putting them in another box for Nessa to determine their fate. In another cabinet, she found a stock of liquor bottles and glasses.

I'll see if it's okay to put these in the kitchen. I won't need them in here. Yet, what am I going to do with the space? Maybe the cabinet can go into the attic, as well.

She found boxes of cigars, playing cards, and betting chips in drawers under the stash of liquor.

These will definitely have to go. No smoking or gambling in here, for sure.

In the afternoon, Nessa found Ann alone in the study. The girls had moved everything into the attic and had finished cleaning. Ann had just finishing re-arranging everything to her liking.

"This room certainly looks different," Nessa stated, as she entered and sat down in a chair near the desk. "All the walls are so clean of clutter, and the desk looks nice and neat. Are there any questions for me?"

"Yes, please," Ann replied. "I've come across a ton of papers I'd like to go through. I want to determine which ones are important, and start a spreadsheet to help me keep track of all your active accounts. I'll archive the rest, filing them away. Would that be all right with you?"

"Well, I don't think it's necessary, Ann. Peter Lawrence, of Lawrence & Fenway Diversified, is the CEO and he's been handling all of my accounts for years now," Nessa explained.

"Oh, I see. It's just it would help me to manage the estate more efficiently. It would be like having a second pair of eyes. I wouldn't have the authority to do anything, just keep track of it all for you," Ann concluded.

"Do you really want to? It seems to me it would be a lot of work, when it's not really necessary," Mrs. Drummond commented.

"I don't mind. It'll give me peace of mind knowing everything is accounted for. You know, all the i's dotted and the t's crossed," she offered kindly.

"It's up to you, Ann. Is there anything else?"

"Yes. Would it be all right if I picked up a new computer system? I'll need it to document everything and it'll be a great help with the correspondence," Ann asked.

"Of course, I know we've some computers in the house somewhere, but they're probably too old, and outdated for what you need.

We might as well go down to the bank and put you on the household account, as well. I'll get you a new credit card and you can buy whatever you need. Just be sure to keep the receipts and document your purchases for me," Nessa remarked.

"Absolutely," Ann agreed. "The first thing I'd like to do is start organizing the accounts. I'll work with Faye on a budget for the kitchen and then I can start one for the household."

Nessa started laughing, interrupting Ann's thoughts. "Ann, we've never needed a budget in this house before, at least not while I've lived here. My wealth has never required a budget," she chuckled.

"Gosh. I guess I've lived with one for so long, its second nature to me. But, still, would you mind if I at least keep track of what is spent and where?"

With a twinkle in her eyes, Nessa said, "Not at all. It's really going to be a joy having someone so conscientious. As long as it doesn't interfere with your other duties, go right ahead."

As the days progressed, Ann's small family settled into life at Drummond Hall, nicely. Emma and Marty explored the rooms off the great hall, especially the library, and ventured outdoors, while Ann enjoyed using the study.

Ann worked hard going through the pile of documents and making notes with her new computer system.

During the afternoons, after lunch, she'd investigate the small nooks and crannies left undisturbed during her cleaning effort. Several more things were removed and stored in the attic. Sitting at her chair, a few weeks into her new job, she noticed an ornate wooden box sitting in among the books on a shelf.

I wonder what that's doing in here?

Pulling out the box, she set it on the desk and opened the lid. Inside was an unopened letter address to Nessa. Under it was a photo of a young man, and five more unopened letters addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Gavin Drummond.

The Letters

ALL THE MEALS were served in the morning room. Faye found it easier to maintain the little room for the few living on the estate.

Carla would always excuse herself, when she was done eating, and leave the room.

It seems to me, she should stay with Nessa more, Ann thought.

One evening, after dinner, Marty asked, "Kin' I go watch TV, Mom?"

Ann looked at Nessa, who smiled and said, "Ann, don't look at me... you live here too, and all the rooms off the great hall are yours to enjoy," she said smiling.

"It's so hard to get used to sharing this wonderful place with you, Nessa. You're so kind. Thank you."

Turning to Marty Ann said, "I thought you were going to read this summer?"

"I am. But I want to watch 'Jeopardy' and 'Wheel of Fortune', please?" she entreated.

"Sure," Ann said smiling, as she gave her approval.

Emma simply said, "I'll go with her," and left the room following her grandchild. Ann could sense sadness in her mother and it was beginning to worry her. Emma was keeping to herself and hardly speaking a word to anyone.

This isn't like her. I've got to talk to her and find out what's wrong. I'll do that tonight.

Faye was clearing the table, and Ann could see Nessa was about to leave the table, herself. But, before she could rise, Ann asked, "Nessa, can I talk to you?"

Nessa relaxed and said, "Of course."

Ann explained, "In cleaning up the study, I discovered a box among the books. When I opened it, there was a handwritten letter addressed to you, a photo, and five more letters addressed to both you and your husband. None of them have ever been opened. Do you know anything about it?"

Nessa looked puzzled. "No. I don't. Let's go take a look."

"No. You stay here, and I'll get the box," Ann offered.

"Thank you, Ann. Faye, would you bring me another cup of tea?" requested Nessa.

"Sure Mrs. D - how about you Ann?" she asked.

"I can use another cup of coffee, Faye, if you don't mind getting it."

"Not at all," Faye informed them, as she left the room.

Ann left for the study, while Faye brought in cups of hot coffee and tea. After setting them on the table, she informed Nessa, "I'll be in the kitchen cleaning up, if you need me," and left the room.

Ann returned, setting the box down in front of Nessa, watching her reaction.

Surprise and sadness were expressed as she explained, "This is an old box Gavin and I used to keep our love letters in, way back before time, money, power and politics took him away from me."

Lifting the lid, her hands trembled slightly. Gasping, she reached in the box and picked up the letter addressed to her. "It's Gavin's handwriting."

Then she looked at the photo, and covered her face with her hands, the envelope crumpling in her hand as she wept softly. Ann had seen great pain in her eyes.

After a few minutes Nessa looked up to see Ann's uneasiness and apprehension.

"Nessa, this is upsetting you. Do you want me to take it away?" Ann asked in distress.

Nessa was still, as she closed her eyes again, the tears softly falling down her face. Then she looked at the crumpled letter.

Instead of answering Ann's question, she just stated, "I think you should know a little about my past, Ann. My life has not been a happy one, though by some standards it should have been, with all that we possess."

"Gavin and I had two sons, Neilan, our eldest and Ayden."

"Ayden was a beautiful child, but it was soon discovered he was a 'blue baby' and at the time he lived in this world, there was little that could be done to fix the hole in his heart. He was a very sick little boy and was at the hospital most of his life. He was a bright and loving child, so brave and good. His father adored him, and when God took him home at seven years old, his father's heart seemed to break and grow cold."

"I think Gavin feared losing Neilan, as well. That's why I think he was so hard on him. He wanted him to be successful, the way he was successful."

"But Neilan wasn't interested in money, power, or politics. Ever since I can remember, he loved giving. He always aided the hurt animals and people coming into his life. As he grew, he wanted to become a doctor, but his father badgered him into working for Drummond International Oil, his company, and wanted Neilan to take on his outlook on life."

"When Neilan was fresh out of college and eager to see the world, Gavin wanted him to start working at the firm, instead. My husband was relentless in his drive to make Neilan into his own image, and Neilan did try it for almost three years."

"Then one day, without warning, I heard Gavin and Neilan in a terrible fight in the study. Passing by, I stood at the doors, listening."

"I heard Neilan tell his father he had resigned and joined the Peace Corps. That he was leaving for Jordon that very night."

"His father ranted and raved, vowing to disown him. As I opened the door quietly, I witnessed the death of my husband's relationship with his only living son."

"Neilan just stood there, in front of his father, ashen and still. 'If that's the way you want it, father, then so be it. It's not how I wanted it. But I'll live my life, as I see fit. I'm not you, nor do I want to be like you.' my son said in such a soft, serious voice."

"I'll never forget the words my husband spoke. He told Neilan to get out, to get out now and to never come back. He didn't want to see or hear from him ever again, telling him that he was done trying to make a man out of him, to go waste his life wherever he chose to. He would never be welcome in this house again."

Nessa sat there, the tears still falling... remembering.

"Neilan turned and saw me in the doorway. I heard Gavin saying, 'stay out of this Nessa!'... so strong and demanding. Neilan came up to me, hugged me hard, and said, "I'm sorry Mom, but I have to."

"I whispered in his ear, 'I know son, I'll always love you no matter what you do, or where you go.'"

"Suddenly, he had walked past me and was gone. That was the last time I ever saw my son alive. He died a little over four years later, in a foreign country, so far from home and without the ones who loved him."

"His body was returned to us, but Gavin wouldn't acknowledge it or the situation I found myself in. Faye helped me to arrange his burial in the family crypt. And there he remains, next to Ayden, for all these years - my sons, dead and gone from this world, and my life - leaving me alone with a bitter, hard man, with nothing but possessions to surround me, in my pain."

Nessa looked down into the box. Then she picked up the photo and said softly, lovingly. "This is Neilan."

Setting the photo on the table, she glanced again into the box. "Oh!" she said in shock. Picking up the first of five letters, she looked at it as if she had seen a ghost.

"It's from Neilan," grief flowed renewed. Nessa looked at Ann, beseechingly.

Ann couldn't stand it anymore. Getting up she went to the old woman and kneeling, hugged her, with her own grief so fresh. Pulling up her chair, tears in her own eyes, Ann told Nessa all about Matthew, her wonderful little one, and the story of the fresh loss of her own child such a short time ago, came flowing out.

Both women wept for a while, missing their boys and the life they could have had with them.

Then, Nessa looked at the letter from her husband. "I'm afraid to read it. He was so hard and bitter. I couldn't bear living through it again," she said putting down the letter. "Neilan's dead, what's the use of bring it all up again?"

Ann picked up the envelopes from Neilan and examined them.

"Nessa, there's four years of history here, according to the date stamps. Shouldn't we at least find out what he was trying to say?" she asked.

"I can't, Ann. I just can't," Nessa said in grief.

"What do you want me to do with them?" Ann inquired tenderly.

Nessa sat for a while thinking, then she looked at Ann imploringly. "Will you read them for me? You won't get hurt by unkind words or any suffering my son may have gone through. You can tell me what is good in them, can't you?"

Ann was surprised by the request.

Why not? Maybe there'll be something in the letters to give her peace and some happiness.

"Well, all right, Nessa. What about Mr. Drummond's letter?"

"Do whatever you want with it, Ann. I'm just too tired to care."

Suddenly, Ann was frightened by Nessa's appearance. Why hadn't she noticed before how pale and ashen she'd become, and her hands were trembling terribly. "I'm going to bed," Nessa said weakly, trying to stand, but her legs wouldn't hold her.

"Nessa!" Ann exclaimed, going to her aid. "I'm so sorry. This has been too much for you. I'll get Carla."

Before long, Carla appeared with the wheel-chair, and gave a black look toward Ann, as she took Nessa's pulse, gave her a pill and wheeled her from the room. Silently the nurse had entered, and just as wordlessly she had left.

Carla's not speaking to me, is far worse than her scolding. Why wasn't I more vigilant? This was too hard on Nessa!

Looking down at Mr. Drummond's letter, Ann wondered whether she should throw it away.

What if there's something important in it? Yet, I'm not sure I want to read a personal letter from a husband to his wife. But then I'll never know what it says, and if I want to help Nessa in any way, I need to read it.

She sat arguing with herself for a few more seconds before she opened it.

It read:

My darling wife,

If you're reading this, then I am no longer living.

I want you to know I have regretted my anger and pride over Neilan more than once, but I could never bring myself to mend the breach.

When the letters first arrived, I tried to throw them way, but I didn't possess the strength of character to do so. Instead, they ended up in the bottom drawer of my desk.

Then, Neilan came home for the last time. Now it doesn't matter what's in those letters. It's too late. What good would it do now, to read them?

Still, I couldn't throw them out. So, I place them in this box, with my favorite photo of our son, in the expectation you might read them someday, and receive some comfort from your son's words.

I also do this in the hopes you will have the kindness to forgive a proud, vain old man, whose heart stopped feeling with the loss of Ayden, and died with the loss of my Neilan.

Your loving husband,

Gavin.

Ann looked out the window, at the starry night, the moon shining over the lawn and gardens onto the lake.

There aren't any words of condemnation here. This shouldn't hurt her to read it. I'll talk it over with her when she's feeling better. It might even help her to forgive him, a little.

Ann noticed it was getting late, and decided to find Marty and go upstairs.

Placing everything back in the box, she returned to the study, locking the box in the bottom drawer of the desk.

Across the hall, she found Emma and Marty curled up in chairs, reading.

"It's time to go upstairs, little one," Ann explained to Marty. "Everyone's gone to bed down here."

"K... " Marty simply said.

Emma put a bookmarker in her book, closed it quietly, placing it on the table beside her chair, and followed Marty and Ann out of the room.

Upstairs, back in their sitting room, Ann was struck again with the wonder of these cozy rooms, now hers to enjoy.

It feels so much like a real home, yet how ironic they aren't mine.

As Marty went to get her pajama's on and brush her teeth, Ann noticed her mother quietly going to her room.

That reminds me. It's time we have a talk.

Going to her mother's door, Ann knocked gently.

"Yes?" answered Emma.

Ann peered through the door asking "Mom would you like a cup of cocoa?"

"No thank you dear," she said quietly.

"Mom... you and I have to talk. I'd like to do it over a cup of cocoa," Ann stated kindly.

Sighing Emma turned and followed Ann into the little kitchen.

Emma sat down at the small table, while Ann started the cocoa.

"Mom, I can see something's wrong. You're not yourself. Let's talk about it - and please don't tell me it's nothing," Ann looked sternly at her mother, with a sympathetic smile, setting the drinks on the table, as she joined her mother.

Emma looked surprised, "Really, Ann... everything's fine."

"Mom... " Ann said firmly, not believing a word.

After a few seconds of thinking, Emma took a deep breath and stated, "It's just that I feel so lost here. There's nothing to do. I was needed at the apartment. I loved taking care of you and Marty, but here I don't know what to do."

"Mom, your taking care of Marty is a great help to me," Ann explained.

Emma remained silent.

Thinking, Ann suddenly had a great idea, "Mom, what about going back to school? How many times have you told me you wanted to finish school someday? Why not now? It would get you out of here, you'd be meeting new people, and you'd finally acquire that high school degree you've always wanted."

Emma looked stunned. "Go back to school... now?" As she sat there thinking, Marty came in to say goodnight.

"Are you going to school, grandma?" Marty asked astonished.

"Maybe," Emma said, smiling.

"Come on, sweetheart, time for bed," Ann reminded her with a smile. As Marty hugged her mother, Ann kissed her on the forehead, "Night, love. Sleep well."

"Night Grandma," Marty stated, turning to give her grandmother her nightly hug.

As Marty left, the women sat silent, thinking.

Finally, Emma said, "How would we pay for it? We don't have very much money yet. And how could I get there?"

"Let's tackle those problems tomorrow. As long as I know you want to go, I'll work it out," Ann told her.

Emma beamed. "You know, I think I will. It'd be great learning things again, and having something to do, to accomplish," Emma smiled a real smile for the first time since she'd come to the estate.

"Good. I'm glad you've decided to go. It'll be great for you," Ann said with satisfaction.

Finishing her cocoa, Emma thanked Ann for talking with her.

Ann put her cup in the sink, happy to have helped. "I'm going to bed, Mom. See you in the morning. We'll get started soon."

"Night dear," Emma said happily, as she turned on the hot water, and started washing the dishes.

The next morning, Nessa kept to her rooms, with Carla at her side. Ann felt remorse for causing such pain and anguish in the kind and gentle soul, who had allowed them to live in her home.

After breakfast, Emma and Marty went off to explore the island, a favorite pastime when not reading. Ann settled into the study, pulling out more documents to research and catalog.

The following day, Nessa was up and about. Neither Nessa nor Ann talked about the box and it sat in the desk drawer, unattended for weeks.

Then one afternoon, after her nap, Nessa walked into the study.

"How's it going Ann?" she asked.

"Just fine, Nessa. I'm just about ready to contact Peter Lawrence for the status on these accounts. Would you mind helping me compose a letter of introduction to him and my intent of verifying your assets?" Ann requested.

"Not at all," she said sitting down next to her. She had become very fond of Ann. The night they had grieved over the loss of their sons, had transformed their relationship into a kinship of motherhood that could only be shared by those who had gone through the fire of loss.

After the letter was done, Nessa sat back thinking.

"Are you okay? Was this too much for you?" Ann asked apprehensively.

"No, I'm fine, just resting," Nessa replied.

Then she asked softly, "Ann, did you read any of the letters?"

Ann was startled by the question, then replied, "Yes, I read your husband's letter."

"Oh," she simply said.

"There's nothing in it that would cause you grief. It might even help, a little."

Nessa looked at Ann with sad, understanding eyes.

"Here, let me get it for you," Ann suggested as she made up her mind, unlocking the drawer and pulling out the box.

Handing the letter to Nessa, Ann pulled out the first letter from Neilan. "While you're reading, I'll take a look at Neilan's first letter. Okay?"

Nessa nodded affirmation.

The two women sat reading their letters.

Suddenly, Ann exclaimed. "Nessa! Neilan states here he's getting married!"

"What? How? To whom? What does it say?" Nessa asked in astonishment.

Ann handed over the letter to Neilan's mother.

Trying to read it, she looked back at Ann and said, "I'm too excited, Ann. Read it to me please," she requested softly.

"Are you going to be alright? You know what happened the last time we tried doing this," Ann stated with concern.

Nessa took a deep breath, tried to relax and said, "I'll try to remain calm, but I have to know now what's in his letters."

Ann read Neilan's letter to Nessa, then the next until all the letters had been read.

It seems Neilan had fallen in love with a Jordanian girl while working in the Peace Corps there. Her name was Bayan Haddad. She'd come from a wealthy family living in Amman, the capital of Jordan.

Sheikh Abdul Basir Haddad had allowed his daughter the privilege of attending school, and then college. The Sheikh believed in education for his children, for it brought prosperity to the whole clan. After her schooling, she was allowed to work as an interpreter and worker for the Peace Corps, in the villages of her country. That's how the two met.

According to Neilan's letter, Bayan's father wasn't about to allow his daughter to marry outside her clan, let alone to an infidel. Yet, she believed in the new Jordan, emerging into a world power, and growing more westernized every day.

So, contrary to her father's wishes, Bayan consented to marry Neilan. In a small ceremony, at a Jordanian Christian church, they wed. But the government of Jordan doesn't recognize any other religion or law other than Muslim. Her father had total control over her life and her death. In their eyes she was a harlot, not a wife.

Though he threatened to have her stoned, it never occurred. A little over a year later, a child was born. The small family lived in poor housing wherever they could find it and traveled from village to village, trying to do good.

Nessa's heart skipped a beat, when she realized she might be a grandmother, if the child was alive.

Neilan's last letter told of their love for each other and the hardships his little family was enduring, yet he didn't want anything from his father, but his understanding and forgiveness. Neilan wished for both his parents to know his sweet grandchild, with raven black hair and crystal green eyes. They had named her Jamila Whitney Drummond, after Bayan's mother and Nessa's.

"Let me see the envelope from his last letter," requested Nessa, looking at the date. "Four month after this letter was sent, he contracted typhoid and died."

Setting the letter down on the desk, she turned and looked at Ann in bewilderment.

"Never was there any mention of a wife or child from the Peace Corps, or anyone else. I'd no idea they even existed, until now. I've no idea if Bayan or Jamila are even alive. They may have died in the epidemic with Neilan. What am I to do?"

Stillness hung in the study.

Abruptly she vowed, "If there's the slightest chance they're alive, I want to find them, help them, know them," she said tearfully. "They're a part of this family, of Neilan, and myself."

Ann sat there, letting Nessa think it through, understanding the need she must be feeling - because, if she could connect with Matthew again, somehow, she would, at any cost.

"I wonder how old she is. She must be a teenager by now," Nessa spoke the question.

"From the date stamp on the first letter, she'd be about sixteen," Ann informed the new grandmother.

"Ann, first thing in the morning I want to talk with David Tillman, my lawyer. He's a good friend and he'll know of a good detective agency that can look into this for me," she said softly.

Despite her efforts, Ann could see Nessa was about spent.

"I'll call Carla," Ann stated, resigned to being on the nurse's bad side again.

"No. Give me a second," Nessa offered, closing her eyes, trying to rest. Then she said very softly, "What a day this has become. What a blessing to know I have a grandchild. My hope is that she's alive and I'll find her. I'll find her, before it's too late."

Beginnings

THE MONTHS OF summer passed without word of the child or her mother.

The Davis Detective Agency had sent several reports from Amman, Jordan, indicating they had found Bayan's father, Sheikh Abdul Basir Haddad, but he refused to discuss his family with anyone.

The agency was attempting to locate his daughter, Bayan, through marriage certificates, if possible. They also couldn't find a birth certificate for Jamila Whitney Drummond, but said it wasn't unusual for a devout Muslim family to renounce a child not of their faith, or clan.

The last report said their agents would continue checking hospitals, schools and institutional records for either of them. Neither name had been found on a death certificate, so far. It was going to take some time working through all the red tape, but they'd follow every lead to its conclusion.

Nessa seemed bright with hope after learning of her grandchild. Her health didn't improve, but her outlook on life did. Every day she looked forward to news of Jamila.

The news of Neilan's marriage and child was received with excitement and joy by everyone, except Carla. Ann could swear she looked concerned, and wondered if Carla was worried about how it was affecting Nessa's health.

Upon receipt of Ann's letter for an accounting of Nessa's assets, Peter Lawrence called to talk with Mrs. Drummond. When he couldn't convince her to withdraw the request, he asked to speak to Ann.

"Mrs. Henderson, I have all of Mrs. Drummond's records in order. There's no need to pursue this redundant effort," he told her smoothly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lawrence, but as Mrs. Drummond's personal assistant, I want documents verifying all of her assets and their balances," Ann said just as firmly. "You have her signature on the request. Are you refusing to comply?"

Silence issued from the phone for a second. "Not at all Mrs. Henderson, I'll get my secretary started on the documents immediately, however it'll take quite a bit of time and effort to accomplish your request," he said, never intending to do anything, but delaying it as long as he could.

"I see. You've all of her records in order, but you have to take quite a lot of time and effort to send copies of the documents, is that correct?" she said, clearly seeing through his arrogance and tactics.

Silence again.

"I would think it should take only a day or two, at the most, to make copies Mr. Lawrence. I'll expect them within the week," Ann said firmly.

She could imagine him turning red with anger - the silence on the phone was so acute.

"Very well, we'll get them to you as soon as possible," Peter Lawrence flatly stated, hanging up the phone.

Ann knew he was mad, but frankly she didn't care. She was upset with his condescending attitude and lack of response to a valid request from his client. Why he hadn't been sending regular statements, was beyond her, and so unprofessional in her opinion.

Peter sat fuming at his desk.

How dare she question me and demand an accounting?

Then he recalled the millions missing from Mrs. Drummond's accounts and that he had taken them.

I'll make up some phony documents to account for the shortages. Without an audit, she'll never know. But she has to go. I won't risk everything for some nosy secretary. Mrs. Abernathy never cared, and Mrs. Drummond has no clue to her wealth. And now, with this search for a granddaughter, it could all blow up in my face. Time to talk to Carla.

In the years he had been stealing from Mrs. Drummond, he had cultivated a relationship with the nurse. He flattered her, kissed her, and told her lies to keep her under his influence.

He had no intention of harming Mrs. Drummond. After all, he had full access to her wealth and as long as she lived it would remain under his control. The only things he feared were discovery, a new Will, or the removal of her assets to some other firm. Carla was his willing spy.

Every now and again, he'd buy her something special. At first, flowers and trinkets kept her happy, but before long she wanted more. After all, he drove expensive cars, had diamond rings on his hand and had the money to treat her right. Peter was getting annoyed, but soon realized how invaluable it was to have an insider keeping an eye on things for him.

Then, Ann Henderson moved into the house, and started making trouble. He wanted her gone, but how? He'd have to be careful not to shake things up, too much.

This granddaughter thing could mess things up, as well. A new Will would be drawn up for sure, if she's ever found. But, there should be plenty of time to work things out, before then. Maybe she's dead, he thought happily.

Carla knew from the beginning how Peter felt about Ann, and her attitude toward the new assistant was evident. She saw Ann as an interloper and trouble maker. Now, Peter wanted to get rid of her somehow and Carla set about trying to aid the man she loved.

* * * *

With a letter of recommendation from Nessa, Ann was able to register Marty in the prestigious and private Stonebridge Academy, nearby.

"Neilan went there," was all Nessa said, when Ann asked for a good school.

Ann also registered Emma at the North Idaho Community College for her General Educational Development classes or GED. It consisted of a group of five different tests, which when passed would certify the taker had the skill level equivalent to a high school degree in science, math, social studies, reading and writing.

Giggling to herself, Ann reflected, you'd think she was going to school for the first time, like kindergarten. She was like a kid in a candy shop at the bookstore, getting her text books and supplies. She's packed her backpack more than once and has already started reading her text books. I'm so glad she's enjoying this.

Arrangements were made for Jamie MacClaryn to take Emma to school and pick her up. His father teased him about taking some classes himself, while he was there.

"I've already done that, Da," Jamie told him, with a soft smile.

In his mid-thirty's, a hard worker and gentle soul, Jamie liked to keep to himself. Writing short stories and poetry at night was his favorite pastime, when he wasn't working in the gardens. He was tall, dark skinned, with hazel eyes, and dark brown hair, and a dimple in his chin, an excellent example of the northern clansmen of Scotland.

* * * *

The warm air of summer diminished, as the cooler air from the north made its way over the inland northwest.

September had begun, and Marty excitedly started school. A van from the academy drove up, every school day to the front door, to pick her up.

At first she thrived at learning, as she always did, but under the tutelage of her new teacher, Mr. Stanley Overton, her enthusiasm waned, strained and eventually died. Sadly her teacher lacked the charitable traits of a good teacher, such as kindness, compassion and interest in his students. Mr. Overton was cold, unfeeling and short with his class, a learning factory with no heart.

But, what destroyed her will for school the most was the cruelty of her classmates. She found it hard to fit in with her affluent peers. Not embracing the snobbishness she wasn't use to, she first was teased and then ignored by them. Her grades suffered, and getting up to go to such a lonely and sterile environment was daunting. Only the desire to please her family and use the wonderful library at Drummond Hall, kept her going.

September faded into October, with the vibrant colors of fall flourishing around the mansion, about the lake, and flowing into the mountains beyond, already capped in snow.

The documents arrived from Lawrence & Fenway Diversified. Ann felt confident everything in Mrs. Drummond's accounts were accounted for and verified, though some of the figures didn't seem to add up, in her mind. Determining to research them further, she filed the inactive accounts and deeds away.

Mrs. Drummond was pleased with Ann's work, but more than that, a bond was forming between the two, that both of them cherished.

Everyone in the house-hold was growing into a family unit, getting used to the daily routines, with fun and laughter from Marty, whose childish energy gave life to the old place and Mrs. Drummond giggled and sparkled with it. Marty's affectionate nature warmed almost every heart in the house, and even Emma's joy and excitement with school, brought happiness to the place. Only the hunt for the missing grandchild and Carla's cold, hard disposition put a damper on things.

Carla remained dedicated to Mrs. Drummond's health and care, but she was always sulking in the shadows, watching. At least, that's how Ann saw it.

* * * *

October turned into November, while the vibrant colors of autumn vanished, revealing unadorned trees extending their empty limbs to an overcast gray sky, and still no word from Jordan.

Reverberating next to Ann's bed, the alarm went off, a brash and loud clamor, at 6:30 in the morning. Her hand stretched out, flopping heavily on the device, to stifle its irritating noise.

Rising onto her elbows, she looked out the window onto a cold, dreary day. It was raining. Rain in the Pacific Northwest could fall in small, soft, misty raindrops at times. Even though it fell heavily from the sky, it fell softly, silently, soaking everything, making the leaves glossy, the ground mushy, and the streets sloppy - a day without the sun, muting the colors to gray, with a dampness that sank into the bones and keep you cold.

Snuggling under the covers a little longer, she lay there glad to be warm and cozy.

After several minutes, she dressed in a warm sweater and jeans, and joined Marty and Emma in the sitting room. They descended together to the first floor and walked into the morning room for a hearty and hot breakfast. Afterward, Marty ran to meet the school van.

Emma went to the family room to study.

Ann was in her office, at her desk, when Shelly walked in. Ann quickly rose to embrace her friend.

"What are you doing here?" Ann asked in wonder.

"I was just in the neighborhood and I thought I'd drop by," she said with a smirk. "But getting through the gatekeeper was such a joy. You'd think I was a subversive or something, the way he questioned me," she joked.

"Good thing I told him to put you on the list of acceptable visitors," Ann happily smiled. "It's so good to see you, Shell. I've missed you."

The two sat and talked for a while. Ann told Shelly all about her life at Drummond Hall. While they were chatting, the phone on her desk rang.

"Drummond Hall, Ann speaking," she said professionally.

"Hello, Ann? This is Bill Henderson," her ex-father-in-law stated.

"Well, hello Bill. How'd you find me?" she asked in surprise, because she hadn't talked with him for quite a while.

"Shelly Ferguson gave me your number. I hope you don't mind," he inquired.

"You say Shelly Ferguson gave it to you?" she said, eyeing Shelly sitting next to her with a playful sneer. Shelly rolled her eyes and put her hands to her face in mock fear.

"How are you and Eva doing?" Ann continued with a warm spot in her heart for Sean's parents. They were kind, hardworking people, who had amassed wealth of their own.

The divorce between their son and Ann had separated them from her life for many years, due to their loyalty to their only child. But, with his death, they were welcomed back into her life without reservation. After all, Ann got along with them quite well and Marty needed all the family God could provide.

"We're just fine Ann. But the reason I called is Eva and I have something important to discuss with you and we need to do it at our attorney's office. Can you meet with us at Tillman, Fester, Brewster and Associates on Thursday of this week, at 2:00 in the afternoon? They're downtown in the Kingston Building on the tenth floor. I don't want you to worry, but I think you'll like what we have in mind. It's a legal matter and we need to meet at his office to conclude it."

Ann sat thinking very fast, Attorney? Is it about Marty? They don't want custody, surely!

Emotions of fear, insecurity, pain, and loss surfaced.

And then she thought, Marty's grandparents are good people and they aren't like Sean, but she was apprehensive.

"Can't you tell me more about it?" she asked trying to keep the concern out of her voice.

"All I can tell you is, I think you'll be very pleased with the outcome. At least Eva and I hope so," he replied.

"Did you say 2 o'clock?"

"Yes 2:00 in the afternoon, at David Tillman's office. Ask for Ginger, his secretary. She'll be expecting you. I'm looking forward to seeing you again, Ann," he said in an excited voice.

"There's supposed to be a big snow storm coming that day, isn't there? I'm not sure I can come all that way, if the snow gets too bad," Ann stated apprehensively.

"If it does, be safe. We can do this another time. Call us if you need to cancel, we'll understand," he offered.

"Of course, Bill, I will," she decided.

"Give our love to Marty. See you in a few days if you can make it," he said as he hung up the phone.

Shelly sat looking at Ann's face changing expressions rapidly from delight, fear, concern, to puzzlement as she talked on the phone. Shelly was dying to know what was going on.

"Well?" she asked with feeling.

"I don't know! It was Bill Henderson. He and his wife Eva want to meet with me this Thursday at their lawyer's office. He wouldn't tell me what it was about. Just that he hopes I'll be pleased with the result when they're finished," Ann explained.

Shelly sat thinking. Then she said, "I can't make it out either. It doesn't sound like something serious, but why at a lawyer's office? Why can't they talk about it over the phone, or even at their home? Why all the mystery? Are you worried about it?"

"I don't think so," Ann answered vaguely. "No, I guess not," she said firmly. "I'll just have to wait until Thursday to find out," she said with resignation. "I'll make sure it's okay with Nessa, but I don't see why I can't go, unless it's the weather."

Shelly and Ann spent a pleasant day together, before she had to leave. As Ann walked her best friend to the door, she vowed to make more time to see her again.

Making It Right

DARK CLOUDS, HEAVY with snow, threatened as Thursday arrived. The temperature plummeted, and icy winds penetrated deeply. Ann had been at work for most of the day watching the clock, looking out the window, trying to decide if she should go or not.

What did Bill and Eva want? What would happen if it did start to snow heavily, as predicted? Looking out the window again, the sky remained a steely gray. No snow fell.

Nessa came into the study. "Are you worried about the trip to Spokane?" she guessed Ann's conflict.

"It's taking a chance," Ann replied absentmindedly.

"Do you want Jamie to take you?"

"No. I don't think that'll be necessary,"

Looking out the window, Ann made up her mind.

"I'm going to go and get this over with," she told her friend and employer. Throwing her coat on, and buttoning it to the top, she wrapped her woolen scarf around her neck, and then grabbed her purse and keys.

Starting for the door, as she pulled on her gloves, she stated, "I'd better leave early, just in case it's already snowing in town. You've my permission to have Jamie pick up Marty, if it's needed. I'll call you if I run into trouble."

"I'll make sure Marty gets home safely," Nessa told her.

Ann smiled her thanks.

Driving from Drummond Hall, she crossed the private bridge and headed toward I-90. Before long she was driving west, toward the city of Spokane. Still, the sky held onto its snow. Forty-five minutes later, she was pulling into the Kingston Building parking lot, where she parked and entered the building through the back entrance. She was fifteen minutes early. Locating the elevator, she looked at the occupant registry and found Mr. Tillman's office on the tenth floor.

Then she noticed a coffee shop listed on the first floor. Drawn to a hot cup of coffee to warm up, she turned to locate the store. The rich aroma of fresh ground coffee met her, as she entered the "Ground Floor Coffee Shop".

Ordering a twenty ounce hot peppermint latte, she quickly paid for it, and darted for the elevators, with five minutes to spare.

As she stepped into the plush conveyance, she again wondered what this was all about. A tiny finger of apprehension crawled up her spine, but she ignored it as the doors softly closed and the elevator rose swiftly to the top floor.

As the doors opened, she looked out onto a broad hallway covered in plush dark gray carpet, with dove gray walls. Elegant mahogany chairs and a side table were strategically placed along the wall on the right, while a matching couch and end tables adorned the wall on the left. Near the couch stood a palm tree, reaching almost to the top of the vaulted ceiling. At the end of the spacious hall stood a wall of glass framed in mahogany. Double doors opened into a reception room on the other side. "Tillman, Fester, Brewster and Associates – Attorneys at Law" was displayed in stylish gold letters over the doorway along with the room number. Evidently the attorney's offices took up the whole tenth floor, for she could see no other entrance but this one.

Ann had never seen anything so lovely and elegant. She walked silently on the soft carpet, opening one of the double doors with a quiet swoosh into the reception area. A stylish coffee service was set up on her left along with additional seating. On her right, she could see a large conference room through floor to ceiling windows.

Continuing forward, she walked up to a huge mahogany reception counter with a black granite counter top. The receptionist looked up and asked, "May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm Ann Henderson. I've an appointment with the Henderson's and Mr. David Tillman. Are you Ginger?" she asked.

"No, I am the office receptionist. Just one moment please," she said professionally, as she picked up the phone, pushed a button and informed Ginger that Ann Henderson had arrived.

"Ginger will be just a few minutes," the receptionist informed her. "If you'll take a seat, she should be here shortly."

Ann walked over to the chairs against the wall, and sat down, sipping her latte. Through the wall of glass across from her, she observed an enormous mahogany conference table surrounded by leather chairs, with a large row of windows on the other side of the room revealing a wonderful vista of the mountains, beyond.

Little specks of snow were lightly starting to fall, swirling in the wind.

It doesn't look too bad yet.

But a small worry formed and she hoped the meeting wouldn't last long.

Just as Ann finished her latte a slender young woman with reddish hair and freckles, which reminded Ann of ginger, appeared through a door to the right of the reception counter and walked over to her.

Ann smiled as Ginger introduced herself, and escorted her back the way she had come.

When Ann walked through the door, her eyes opened wide with surprise and awe. She had walked into an indoor courtyard. The high ceilings of this enormous room were made of glass, allowing the sky and natural light in. It reminded Ann of the solarium back at Drummond Hall.

A polished, dark wooden floor, about four-feet wide, made a wide border around the perimeter of this vast room, framing the dark gray carpet in the center.

On this carpet stood a stylish arrangement of couches, overstuffed chairs, and side tables with crystal lamps, arranged around large coffee tables. Stylish potted plants of palms, philodendrons, dieffenbachia, and assorted tropical plants created natural screens between each seating area. Palm trees stretched their fronds to the light from the sky, adding a sense of height and volume to this great room. Elegant book shelves, magazine racks and sideboards were dwarfed in this large room, but added privacy to the cluster of seating arrangements. These areas might be used for reading, talking or having small conferences.

The four walls surrounding this stunning room were made of floor to ceiling windows, except in the corners, where large mahogany panels completed each corner.

I hope there's still some mahogany left in the world, Ann thought as she looked with amazement at the use of the expensive wood everywhere.

She could see two doors, evenly spaced, in each wall of glass leading into the inner offices of an attorney. An ornate name plaque was prominently placed to the right of each doorway announcing the attorney's name. On the inside of the wall of windows sheer drapes of soft gray obscured the interior.

How wonderful it must be, to pass through this amazing room every day to go to work.

Suddenly she realized she was lagging behind Ginger, who had walked past the first door, making for one of the offices at the back of the great room. Quickening her pace, Ann caught up with her and together they entered the door into Mr. David Tillman's domain.

Maybe I should marry an attorney, Ann thought to herself in jest, bringing a smile to her face.

"Wait here for a minute Mrs. Henderson, I'll let them know you're here," Ginger said as she went around her desk, sat down and used the phone to talk to the Henderson's attorney.

"Mrs. Ann Henderson is here," she informed her boss. Hanging up the phone, she said, "Please go right in," pointing to a door on her right. "They're expecting you."

"Bill and Eva are here already then?" Ann asked.

"Yes, they've been here for a while," Ginger replied.

"Okay, thank you," Ann responded and walked through the door into the attorney's office.

His office took up one corner of the building, with vistas on two sides of the room. Her eyes followed the row of windows to the corner of the building where the other row of windows met. A large mahogany desk sat in that corner, looking back into the lawyer's inner sanctum. She walked past a small conference table and chairs along the first row of windows.

Eva and Bill were seated in well-designed and comfortable leather chairs across from Mr. Tillman's desk.

Both men stood up as she entered, Bill with a large smile on his face, and Mr. David Tillman looking very professional in his dark blue suit and silk tie. He seemed to be about the same age as Bill. Eva remained seated. She too was grinning, though Ann thought she could see tears shimmering in her eyes.

The attorney introduced himself, then offered Ann a seat next to Bill.

"Nessa Drummond speaks very highly of you Mr. Tillman," Ann stated, as she took a seat.

"Thank you, she's a very dear friend," said the attorney in a professional voice. "Ann, I'm going to let Bill explain to you what this is all about. I'm here to see that the proper documents are signed when you two have come to an agreement."

Ann's heart skipped a beat. An image of Bill and Eva with Marty and custody issues came to mind again.

"What agreement?" she asked with apprehension.

"Ann, let me explain," Bill spoke up quickly. "As you know, Sean changed his Will when he divorced you and left all of his estate to his mother and me," Bill said in a matter of fact tone. "He wanted it that way until he remarried."

"Well, he never did," he said with a hint of sadness. "We were crushed when he wouldn't give you and the children the support the courts required. We've never agreed with how he handled his responsibilities, leaving you to fend for yourself."

"Ann, with his inheritance from my father's estate and some issues involving his estate, it's taken us quite a while to clear things up."

Bill became silent, swallowing hard, pausing for a second.

"Eva and I have all the money we'll ever need," he paused again, trying to control his emotions.

Ann couldn't figure out where he was going with this information.

"Ann... Eva and I want you to have all of Sean's estate, as it should have been in the first place," he said with love and affection for his ex-daughter-in-law.

Ann's eyes grew large and round. "Bill... Eva... I don't know what to say!" she sat stunned.

Ann's eyes now matched Eva's, with her tears just teetering on the brink. Eva got up from her chair, rushed over to Ann and gave her a heartfelt hug.

"Ann, Bill and I both know this is the right thing to do. It makes us so happy to be able to help you and Marty," she said softly as she hugged Ann again.

Ann hugged her back and said in a husky voice, "I'm overwhelmed by your generosity and giving hearts. I don't know of very many people who would do this," she said tenderly.

"It's the right thing to do, Ann. It's what God would want. It would be wrong of us to hold onto what isn't ours to keep," Bill said wisely.

"I'll try and be worthy of the gift," Ann said softly.

"Acknowledge Him in all you do, Ann, and He will show you the way to go," Bill paraphrased the scripture.

The Hendersons, Ann and Mr. Tillman talked for another hour, getting the details worked out and the paperwork signed. It seems Sean had a long list of assets and bank accounts in his name. With all his affairs set in order and transferred into her name, Ann and Marty were rich, in the real sense of the word. They'd never have to worry about money again. She even had the deed to the house on the lake. Ann wasn't sure she'd ever go back there, but the comfort of having the deed to the property in her hands was liberating.

"Ann, do you mind if we set up a trust for Marty? We want to be sure she can go to college and have money for a good start in life. And we'd like to contribute to it now and again, if it's okay with you," he proposed.

"Bill, I couldn't be more pleased. I think it's a wonderful idea," Ann responded.

Sitting there, she pondered how her life might change now, as the other three finalized some details.

I've no need to leave Drummond Hall, or Nessa right now, but it's going to be wonderful having this money to fall back on, when the time comes, to never have to worry about money again. What a blessing.

Ann sat happily contemplating the delight and security she could now give Marty and her mother.

I think I'll put some money aside for Mom, as well. She'll be off of welfare for the first time, in a very long time. She won't have to worry about anything, either. This is how it should be, Lord, to give and not take. Help me to always give, when you prompt me to.

Finally, with all the decisions made, the paperwork signed, and the bank accounts and stock options converted into her name, Ann looked up to see the wind swirling large snowflakes in enormous clouds of white.

"Boy, it's really coming down hard. I better hurry and get home. Thank you for all your help Mr. Tillman," she said gratefully, as she stood and shook his hand.

"And thank you both for your generosity to Marty and myself," she said as she gave the Hendersons another hug good-bye.

"Ann, I'm assigning the management of your accounts to Lawrence & Fenway Diversified, downstairs until you can make other arrangements, if you desire to. Someone from there will be contacting you about your accounts," the attorney informed her.

"Sounds fine, and thank you again."

"We'll walk out with you," offered Bill as they got up and reached for their coats.

Ann quickly grabbed her things. Her anxiety was growing. She might have stayed too long.

"Before we go, I need to call the estate and let them know I'm on my way. Besides, I'd like to see if Marty got home from school all right," Ann added as she paused in her effort to leave.

"Here, use my phone," offered the senior attorney for Tillman, Fester, Brewster and Associates.

Thanking him, Ann dialed the estate. Faye answered both the phone and Ann's question, "Marty's snug and safe by a roaring fire in the family room."

"Good. I'm on my way. Tell everyone it might take me a while, it's really snowing here."

"No problem dear, take your time and be safe, because it's snowing pretty hard here too," Faye said with a worried note to her voice.

"I will. See you as soon as I can. Bye for now," Ann said hanging up, anxious to go.

Saying their good-byes to the attorney, the three Hendersons walked out of the opulent office, through the lawyer's workplace and took the elevator down to the first floor.

Thick layers of snow met them as they exited the building. It had been falling heavily from the sky for a while.

"Are you going to be all right?" asked Bill. "Do you need some help with the car or a ride home?"

"I don't think so. I'll stay in town if the roads get too difficult. Do you want me to call you when I get home?" she asked them, as she buttoned up her coat.

"Yes. Please do. I'd like to know you got back safely."

"Okay. Bye and thank you again. We'll get together as soon as we can," she told them.

Turning, she vanished toward her car in the churning white.

White Peril

SPINNING AND SWIRLING, the white flakes fell densely to the ground. If she didn't leave soon, she wouldn't be able to.

Dusting the snow off the passenger door with her gloved hand, she unlocked it and reached into the glove compartment, grabbing the ice scrapper/brush tool. Trudging around the car, she brushed off the windows, and then turned the tool over to scrape the ice beads that remained.

Once done, she rushed to the driver's door and quickly got into the seat, kicking the snow off her short boots, and shutting the door against the icy, cold wind outside.

With her cheeks red, and her breath floating softly inside the frozen car, she trembled as she put the key into the ignition. With relief, it came to life. Rubbing her hands together to warm them, she patiently waited for the car's heat to function.

She was freezing. On went the air control to defrost, and then the fan to its highest setting, trying to get the air moving over the windshield, to remove the fog off the glass, to get out of the parking lot before it was too late.

Apprehension started to build, as her resolve to wait for the windows to clear diminished.

What am I going to do, if I get stuck? I can't stay in the car overnight. I'd have to go back into the Kingston building. But, where would I stay? - In a chair? \- On the floor? Yet, it would be warm in there. I wonder if there's even a hotel nearby. Please, Lord, I want to go home. Help me to get home.

With fervent prayers she prepared to leave the security of the parking lot and drive out into the spinning, swirling world of white.

After wiping the moisture off the windshield with her gloved hand, she could see just enough to inch her way out onto the street.

With the sound of crunching snow under her tires, she slid and spun several times as she moved toward the road.

Keep moving, just keep moving. Don't stop!

Her car slithered onto the street and a few minutes later neared the freeway on-ramp.

I hope I'm going fast enough to get up this thing, she worried, as she increased the speed a little, trying not to lose control.

It's a forty-five minute drive on a good day. I wonder how long it's going to take today. Everyone must have left town hours ago when it first started to snow. The streets are so empty.

Easing behind another wayward vehicle, inching its way onto the freeway, Ann followed. She could barely see the red tail lights in the white storm.

Straining to keep her car going, she followed at a safe distance. When she fell too far behind, the red tail lights diminished and she could see nothing but snow churning around her. Anxiety grew as she clutched her steering wheel harder. She pressed on. She didn't want to lose her way in this white, silent world.

Time advanced, and minutes turned into hours as she crawled toward home. Before long, darkness descended as huge white flakes continued to fall, twirling in the gloom in front of her head lights.

Wrapped in the dark cocoon of her car, the lights from her dashboard illuminating her isolated world, she strained to see her way. The hum of her engine and the sound of the flop... flop... of her windshield wipers struggling to remove the snow, kept her company.

Once in a while, large gray images loomed out of the darkness overhead, ineffectively illuminated in the storm, revealing themselves to be traffic signs telling Ann where the next exit was. She strained to read them.

Looking out her windows, she could see abandoned vehicles deserted in mounds of white. She prayed she wouldn't become one of them. Firmly gripping her steering, she strained to follow the traffic ahead of her.

Once in a while, a vehicle would leave the loose line of traffic to exit the roadway, while others tried to merge in the white swirling snow, following a vague line not easily seen.

Drivers seemed to recognize the need to go slow, pump their breaks, and leave room as they kept moving.

Four hours later, well after 9 o'clock she exited the freeway into her neighborhood. She was almost home.

The snow continued to fall heavy around her in a shower of white. The absence of snowplows was evident, by the deep ruts left behind by others who had gone before her. Roadways were bogged down with the white substance. Ann fought to navigate around more than one stranded vehicle, abandoned where their drivers had given up the fight to go on.

Straining and crawling her way to the lake, she held her breath as she descended the incline, pumping her breaks, trying to maintain control. But now there were no tracks before her. Abruptly, control was lost, the car slid as she tried to correct its path. She watched helplessly as her vehicle slide off the road. Several times she tried to get it going again, but her car was done, she was done. Just a few blocks from home, she could go no further.

Turning the car off, she sat there in the dark, watching the cold, white world outside. Her hands were sore from gripping the steering wheel for so long. Squeezing and stretching her fingers, she tried to work the stiffness out of them, while the wind moaned softly, and the snow continued to swirl, descending to the ground.

Now, the windows started to fog up from the warmth of her presence. It was time to go. She'd have to leave the comfort of the car and venture out into the cold, dark of the night.

Suddenly the snow eased and she could see the lights of the bridge, far in the distance. Those warm lights and the thought of the gatehouse beckoned.

Sighing, she dragged on her wool hat, pulled her gloves on tighter, buttoned her coat to the top, and secured the scarf around her neck.

Stepping out into the cold night, her feet sank deeply into the snow. Her nice boots were made for walking on plowed streets or icy sidewalks, not for trudging in deep snow.

Looking down the hill once more, the lights called to her, as the cold wind swirled, finding its way into every exposed area on her body. Bowing her head, she started trudging down the slippery surface of the hill, as the snow continued to fill her shoes, freezing her feet, turning them into ice. Adjusting her scarf to cover as much of her face as she could, with only her eyes looking out into the early winter storm, she struggled toward home.

Soon she was covered in snow, dissolving into the white swirling world of the stormy night, unseen.

Time passed, with the snow unrelenting, Ann put one foot in front of the other, trying not to slide, to fall, to injure herself in the unforgiving world of snow. Slowly, frozen, exhausted, she walked over the bridge spanning the frigid, black water below.

On heavy, fatigued legs she walked toward the glowing lights of the gatehouse, holding onto what little strength she had left. Tired, oh so tired. How she wanted to sleep.

All she sought now was relief from her cold, frozen, and wet things, to get warm. A hot cup of coffee sounded wonderful, anything to get warm, and to sleep.

Then she remembered she'd have to call the house, and then the Hendersons.

"Darn," she said trembling from the cold.

Numbly, she stumbled up the steps, and pounded on the door. As she leaned against it, she almost fell in, when it was opened. Dougal MacClaryn grabbed her. Jumping up, Jamie rushed to help, lifting her in his arms and taking her to the large chair by the fireplace.

"I'm okay," she said softly, her teeth chattering, as she reached down, trying to get her feet out of her snow packed boots.

"I can see that," Jamie said sarcastically. Gently he pulled off her shoes, then helped her remove her hat, coat and gloves.

Dougal brought her a glass of brandy. "Drink dis lass," he stated firmly.

"I don't drink," Ann said through clinched teeth, shivering.

"Tonight you do," Jamie told her.

Ann looked at him in defiance, but when she saw the compassion and determination in his eyes, she realized both of them were only trying to help.

"Ye muss lass. We cannae get ye aid this night," the old man said kindly.

Ann looked at them both and realized the truth in what they were saying. It won't kill you, just this once.

Trembling, she took hold of the glass with both hands and took a sip. It was like swallowing liquid fire. It burned going down, tasted fowl, and took her breath away. But it warmed her quickly, deeply, and eased her shaking.

"Drink it all doon, lass," Dougal encouraged her.

Ann closed her eyes, made a face, tried to comply.

Jamie came from a back room with a towel. Kneeling, he started drying and rubbing her feet vigorously, attempting to get the blood circulating, and to get them warm.

Dougal brought a heavy, old wool sweater and wrapped her in it. It smelled of pipe tobacco, the earth, and of him. Soon, she was holding a hot cup of tea, heavily sweetened. Slowly she was warming up in the comfort of the old gatehouse.

"Now, may I ask who you are?" Jamie inquired of her.

Shocked, Ann realized they had never met, though he was taking her mother to school.

"She's Mrs. Drummond's new assistant, laddie," Dougal told his son. "Mrs. Henderson is nae it?"

"Yes... I'm Ann," she answered the man sitting next to her.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Henderson," Jamie said with a knowing smile. "Your mother and I have talked a lot about you on our drives to school."

"Have you now," she said understanding his teasing look. "I hope you've been entertained by her story telling," Ann teased back.

Remembering she needed to contact the house and call the Hendersons, she asked to use the phone. Faye answered.

"Ann! I'm so glad to hear your voice. Are you all right?" she said with concern.

"Yes. The MacClaryn men have rescued me and made me very comfortable. I'm sitting by the roaring fire, thawing out. Can I speak to my mother?"

"She's right here. I'll tell the others," offered Faye.

Ann explained her harrowing experience in the snow to her mother. "I wish I could've called you. But I couldn't pull over to use the cell phone, I was so afraid of getting stuck. All I could do was concentrate on keeping the car going, staying on the road, and not hitting anything or being hit, if I could help it."

"We understand," said Emma with relief. "We're just so glad you're safe. We saved dinner for you. It's on the stove and still hot if you want it."

Ann looked at the men in the room. "Can we get to the house tonight?"

"Noo lassie. It's ta dirk, an th' snows ta deep, we cannae get ye thru. Maybe in th' morn," Dougal told her. "We have a guest room, an we'll make ye snug fur de night."

"Mr. MacClaryn said it'll be too hard to get there tonight, Mom. He'll bring me out in the morning, if he can."

"All right, dear. Can you tell me how your meeting went with the Henderson?" Emma asked.

"It went fine, in fact its wonderful news, but I'd like to tell you later, okay?"

"Sure," Emma said a little disappointed, but Ann must have her reasons. "Marty wants to talk to you too."

"Hi, Mom, you okay?" her daughter asked, wanting to hear her mother's voice for herself.

"I'm much better now that I'm warming up and getting dry, dear. You stay safe and snug and I'll see you as soon as I can, okay?"

"Okay. I miss you," she said from her heart.

"Miss you too sweetie. Get a good night's sleep and I'll see you soon," Ann blew a kiss to her over the phone.

Emma got back on the line.

"Mom, would you do me a favor. Please call the Hendersons, their phone number is in my address book, on the desk, and let them know I'm okay?" Ann asked, too tired to do it herself.

"Sure, honey. I'll do it right away. See you when you get here, and I'm glad you're safe," Emma stated.

"Night Mom," Ann said, hanging up.

The bachelors made a valiant effort at making their guest comfortable. With a hot bath, borrowed pajamas too big for her, and a warm bed, Ann slept deeply through the night.

The next morning, with the rising of the sun, the snow began to melt as fast as it had fallen. Puddles, minor ponds, and miniature rivers flowed, sparkled, and made merry music as the liquid make its way downhill.

Ann ate a hearty breakfast, and sat near the fireplace sipping coffee.

The growl of a Jeep was heard pulling up to the gatehouse, outside.

Jamie opened the front door, poked his head in and cheerfully stated, "It's a mess out here, but the Jeep should get us through this slop, if you want to go to the house, Mrs. Henderson."

Smiling, Ann grabbed her hat, coat and gloves, donned her dry socks and shoes, yelled her thanks to Dougal, and rushed to the front door. "What about my car?" she asked, as she almost ran Jamie over to get onto the vehicle.

"I'll get it to you as soon as I can," he told her, smiling at her eagerness to get home. Teasing, he said, "Not in a hurry to leave us so soon, are you?"

Ann smiled warmly at his poking fun, then tossed him her keys. With exaggerated big eyes and a big smile, she shook her head back and forth in a big no, implying a "not at all" look.

Jamie laughed. He liked her spirit and her sparkling eyes.

Jamie fought valiantly through the slushy mounds of melting snow, piled high, here and there. With the Jeep constantly slipping and sliding, the engine roared its defiance at the terrain it was seeking to conquer, speech was impossible. Soon, she was at Drummond Hall, and home.

Ann was so elated at being there, she almost turned and hugged the man at the wheel in gratitude. In that split second, she thought better of it, and jumped out of the vehicle, instead.

Jamie noticed that he'd almost been hugged.

"Thank you Mr. MacClaryn for getting me here," she called back to him as she darted for the door.

"Jamie! You can call me Jamie," he yelled as she disappeared into the house.

Changes

ANN WENT DIRECTLY to the morning room. It was empty. Peeking in the kitchen, she got a big hug from Faye who told her Mrs. Drummond was resting in her rooms, while Marty and Emma were probably in the family room.

"Glad to have you home," Faye said warmly, as Ann left to find her family.

Opening the door of the family room, she looked in to see Marty running toward her, yelling "Mommy!" as she wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, not letting go.

"It's all right, sweetheart. I'm home," she said softly.

"I was worried," Marty said with big round eyes.

"I just had a hard time getting home, but everything's fine now," she said as she looked up to see Emma smiling with relief on her face.

"Why didn't you call us on your phone?" asked Marty.

"I just couldn't love. The weather was so bad I couldn't stop to call. I might have gotten stuck right there and then."

"We understand," said Emma. "We're just so glad you're home safe. How did the meeting go with the lawyer?"

"It went fine," Ann said, trying to convey to her mother she didn't want to talk about it just yet. "Marty, would you go tell Faye I'd like muffins with my coffee in the study?"

"Sure," her daughter said running out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen.

"Mom, I've just inherited all of Sean's estate from his parents. The house on the lake and a lot of money, but I don't want too many people to know about it for now. Can we talk about it tonight in the little kitchen upstairs?"

Emma gasped at the news. "Really? You're kidding! That's so wonderful! Why keep it a secret?" she probed.

"I don't know. I guess I don't want things to change for now."

In reality, coming from a poor background, she had no idea how this legacy was going to affect her life and those she loved. She wanted time to determine what she was going to do with it, and the fewer people who knew about it, the easier it would be to decide what influence it would have on their lives.

She wanted to wait and see what God had in mind, because she knew it was going to be very tempting to look to the money to solve her needs now and not God. Like the parable of the rich man, who Christ had asked to give up his wealth and couldn't, to follow him, she wanted to be sure that she was capable and willing to do it, that she could give it all up, if He asked. She never wanted her relationship with her Lord to diminish. He meant too much to her.

Then she paraphrased the verse she knew in Matthew 6:24. If you love money, you must hate God, because you can't love both. You will be only able to serve one of them.

Ann cringed at the thought.

How could I ever hate God? I must vow this money will never take His place. It must never happen!

"Please don't tell anyone about it, okay?" Ann asked.

"I'll try. But it's so exciting, how do you keep something like this quiet?"

"Please Mom, help me in this," Ann asked fervently.

"Of course Ann, you can count on me," Emma promised, when she realized how much this meant to her.

Later, when she had a moment alone with Nessa, she explained the gift from the Hendersons to her, as well.

Nessa also promised to keep Ann's secret. But, she understood too well, from the other side of the world of riches, what it was like having strangers, family and organizations pleading for some of what you possessed.

For now, Ann was content for things to stay just the way they were. She loved their rooms in the great house, and Mrs. Drummond needed her. The elderly woman was becoming a good friend and the mystery of her missing grandchild needed to be resolved before she could move on. Besides, she wasn't done getting Mrs. Drummonds assets figured out yet.

A few days later, all traces of the snow storm were gone. Fall days returned, cold, dreary, and gray. Rain fell, day after day, drenching the world outside, beating against the windows, sometimes in sheets, driven by the wind.

Ann sat snug in the study, working on figures she questioned in the documents from Lawrence & Fenway Diversified, while the fireplace pleasantly crackled, consuming its firewood.

Meanwhile, upstairs in Carla's room... "Hello, darling," Carla said passionately over the phone. "Can you talk?"

"Just a second, I'll be right with you," Peter said into the phone. She heard him talking to someone, then a door closing reached her ears.

"Alright, I'm alone. What's going on?" he asked.

"Does something have to be going on for me to talk with you?" Carla asked, stung by his coldness.

"No, of course not sweetheart," he said smoothly, oozing charm and affection.

Carla responded to his silky voice and stated, "I overheard Ann talking to Mrs. Drummond a while ago. She's questioning some figures from your reports. She's going to find out, Peter!" she said worried, for she knew he was embezzling from her employer.

She didn't care. She agreed with him, Mrs. Drummond wouldn't miss it, and they needed all the money he could get, so they could go away together - soon, she hoped.

"What did you hear?" he asked, somewhat irritated with Ann.

"Something about the figures from the American Investment Funds not matching the deposits in your reports," she stated fearfully.

"That little... what business is it of hers to dig so deeply!" he stated angrily.

What's she trying to do, ruin me?

"Peter, do you want me to take some jewelry from Mrs. Drummond now and put it in her room, like we discussed?" Carla asked.

"No. I don't think that's going to work anymore. I just received documents indicating Ann has received a large sum of money and assets from some estate or other. That throws her motive to steal, out the window."

"We'll have to think of something, soon! If we don't get rid of her, she's going to ruin everything," Carla moaned.

"I know dear. I'll think of something," his voice soothed her, but he was angry with Ann.

Fawning over her, he talked a while longer, and then hung up the phone.

Things were starting to go bad for him. Sabine was losing interest in him. Even though he had tried to keep her entertained, he just wasn't keeping up with her lust for danger and their relationship was growing cold. She complained about his spending habits and threatened to cut him off from her funds.

Meredith, his first wife was in the process of suing him for the depletion and mishandling of her assets during their marriage. She wanted her money back.

And, if Ann Henderson kept up with her investigation of his phony reports, she could cause a lot of trouble, an audit maybe, and possible jail time, which he couldn't and wouldn't allow.

I know! I'll make a corrected report on the American Investment Funds account, saying an internal audit found errors from a previous employee. I'll send it to her before she can accuse me of anything. If pushed for a name, I'll use Ben Franshoffer's, who just quit and move back east, somewhere. It shouldn't go any further than that, but what if an audit should occur? Where could I get the funds to cover it?

Smiling maliciously, Peter Lawrence looked up Ann Henderson's accounts on his computer.

How ironic it would be to clean her out, after all she's put me through.

I think I will anyway. Time may be running out for me, and I might have to leave in a hurry, but where, the Caribbean? What a nice place to disappear to, he thought happily, dreaming of a good life there.

I will have to change my name, get new papers and ID. It won't hurt to be prepared. I think I'll start putting what I can in an off-shore account. But, what name? Should I use my initials - like maybe Pierce Lawless? he laughed heartily at his pun.

Amused, he set to work preparing for his escape, if the need ever came up.

* * * *

The holidays came and went without any news from Jordan. The cold, frigid and gloomy days of winter transformed into sunny, crisp, and brilliant days of early spring. Life was renewing. Flowers rose from the warmed earth and buds swelled on barren trees. Robins, Red Winged Blackbirds, and Meadowlarks returned and the songs of spring filled the air.

Ann's life at the grand estate had become comfortable, prosperous, and stress-free. Out of debt, new clothes in the closet, and shoes... so many shoes, she was afraid she couldn't wear them all. She realized her life was changing - to what she wasn't sure - but change it must.

Her wages were being saved at Lawrence & Fenway Diversified. The documents sent by Peter Lawrence, on the discrepancies that were found, gave Ann the assurance all the accounts were being handled in the most professional and honest manner possible.

She was generous with her new found wealth. She took Emma shopping, and they bought whatever they wished. Emma couldn't remember a time when she had something new, let alone so much of it. The women treated themselves to lavish beauty and spa treatments. A new car was purchased, and Ann couldn't have been happier.

Peter waited, watching her from a distance like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse. He kept Ann's accounts intact, as they should be, but he was prepared to take everything when the time came. Carla kept him informed on all that went on at the estate, and he was content to wait.

His troubles with Meredith eventually came to an end. She wasn't able to produce enough evidence of misconduct, and the judgment of the court went against her petition. Peter was free to continue in the life-style he loved so much.

Even his relationship with Sabine had improved. He had taken her on the La Carrera Panamericana cross-country race in Mexico, one of the most dangerous races in the world. The two thousand mile race spanned seven days of grueling, dusty, death defying racing at over 160 mph. They raced a Porsche, built just for the race, and came close to winning and dying. Sabine was determined to try again the following year.

* * * *

One early spring day, warmer than usual, Ann sat at her desk with the windows open, allowing the fresh spring air to enter, when the phone rang.

"Drummond Hall, Ann speaking," she answered.

"Ann, this is Mr. Robert Davis. We've found Jamila," he said professionally.

"Are you sure?" Ann asked in astonishment and with some concern for Nessa. "Mrs. Drummond can't take any unnecessary excitement, as you know Mr. Davis."

"Yes, we're sure. That's why it's taken so long. We wanted to confirm everything, before contacting you again. May I come by and speak with Mrs. Drummond?"

"I'd like to talk to her first, to break it gently to her myself," Ann suggested. "I want to be sure not to excite her too much. Can you tell me more about Jamila? Is she well? Where is she?"

"She's in a boarding school, in the country, at a private school for students of all nationalities. She's registered under her given name of Jamila Whitney Drummond, but the school doesn't give out information without written approval of the student's guardian, which in this case turned out to be her grandfather, Sheikh Abdul Basir Haddad."

"Her grandfather? I thought he had abandoned her?" Ann stated in confusion.

"He has given the appearance of doing so, but we believe he does care for Jamila, as much as he can without bringing shame to his family. We still don't know what has happened to her mother."

"Oh, how sad," Ann said.

"The school is a good one," he continued, "and she has been educated as an English speaking student. She's been there since she was five years old. From what we've been able to find out, she has never seen her mother or any other family member since she was placed there. She's been provided for, financially, but that's all."

"What a shame," Ann said sadly for the child growing up without someone to love her, in an institution alone during the holidays and summer vacations.

"Would it be possible to come by with the full report?"

"I believe so. But, please let me tell Nessa first. If her heart can stand all the excitement, I'll get back to you, Mr. Davis and tell you how it went."

"Good. I'll wait to hear from you," he said, hanging up.

Ann sat for a few seconds, trying to absorb the information on Jamila. What was she like? What would Nessa want to do? How would she handle the news? Her excitement seemed to have waned with the passing of so much time, but Ann suspected she deeply desired to find her grandchild, still.

Lord, be with me as I tell Nessa about Jamila. Please calm her and keep her safe. Thank you Lord for all you do in our lives, and may this be a blessing for everyone involved. Amen.

Ann dialed Nessa's rooms. Carla answered the house phone.

"This is Ann. I need to speak to Mrs. Drummond," she told the nurse.

"She's resting right now. I don't want her disturbed," the woman spoke abruptly.

"This is important, Carla. I need to talk to her as soon as possible," Ann insisted.

Silence came from the phone.

"I'm coming to her rooms," Ann stated, not waiting for an answer.

"You can't... you shouldn't!" she sputtered crossly.

But, Ann had hung up the phone and was on her way to find Faye. It had never been necessary for Ann to go to Nessa's rooms on the other side of the house, so she needed Faye's help.

"How do I get to Nessa's rooms, Faye? I have to talk to her. We have news of Jamila," Ann told the cook.

Faye's eyes got big with surprise. "Really? How wonderful. Won't Carla tell you?"

"No, she won't let me see her, she's resting according to Carla, but I believe Nessa would be more upset by my not telling her right away," Ann stated.

"Of course she would!" Faye said, setting her jaw and telling Ann, "Follow me."

Taking a duplicate elevator in the other wing, they exited on the second floor. Carla was waiting outside the rooms, her arms crossed, boldly guarding the elderly woman's rooms. "I told you, she's not to be disturbed!"

"And I told you this was important!" Ann said just as firmly.

"Out of my way," Faye stated resolutely, pushing past Carla. Ann followed the cook.

"I won't be responsible for your irrational disregard for my instructions!" Carla said loudly.

Nessa awoke to the disturbance outside her rooms. "What's going on?"

Faye went to her bedside and said, "Now I want you to brace yourself, and remain calm, you promise?" she asked her friend and employer.

Nessa looked startled and a little apprehensive.

"We've news Mrs. D, about Jamila. Ann wants to talk to you about it and felt you would want to know right away."

Nessa said emphatically, "Of course I do."

Ann came over and pulled a chair up to her bed, while Faye and Carla stood nearby.

Not knowing what to expect, Nessa requested, "Just a minute Ann."

Turning she told the other two, "I'd like to talk to her alone, please."

Faye smiled and said as she walked out of the room, "I hope it's all good news. I'll talk to you soon Mrs. D."

Carla protested, "I should stay, in case you need me, Mrs. Drummond."

"Ann can call you Carla, if you're needed," the elderly woman told her nurse, dismissing her.

Carla frowned and went out into Nessa's sitting room. She was about to close the bedroom door, so she could listen on the other side, when Nessa said. "Please leave that door open Carla, and shut the door to the hall after you."

Defeated and angry at her inability to overhear all she could, she stomped from the room.

"I'm beginning to not trust that woman," Nessa said quietly.

Ann said under her breath, "I never have."

Sitting in Nessa's lovely bedroom, Ann repeated her conversation with Mr. Davis. Nessa's expression brightened with the news. "Alive, and well... at a private school you say? How lonely for her. How did we find out about her, if her grandfather had refused to tell us in the first place?"

"I don't know, but Mr. Davis would like to come here with his full report."

"Of course," Nessa replied, then sat thinking for a few seconds, before asking, "Ann, I can't go to her, do you think she'd come here? Do you think she'd like to come and stay here with me?"

"I don't know, Nessa. I would think she'd like to come and at least visit, after being alone all these years. Mr. Davis might be able to tell us more."

"Would you be willing to go to Jordan and see her... talk with her... find out if she'll come?" Nessa asked of her friend.

Ann was surprised at the request, but who else could go and handle the delicate negotiations from Mrs. Drummonds point of view, as well as she could?

"Of course I'll go," Ann said, realizing she didn't know how long she might be. But, whatever time it would take, she knew Marty was safe here, with Emma and those who were beginning to care for her.

"I have an old passport that needs to be updated. I think I can pay to have it proceed quickly. I'll look into it right away, and if everything goes well, I should be able to leave soon, but let's talk with Mr. Davis first."

"Absolutely," Nessa agreed, and though she seemed bright and cheerful, Ann could see she was getting pale.

"Try to rest, Nessa. Keep up your strength and I'll keep you informed on everything. Let Carla give you something to help you."

"I can't believe it, my grandchild, at last. I need to see her Ann. I need to meet her, to talk to her," Nessa said with pleading eyes.

"Of course you do. We both know how much you need to."

Jordan

MR. ROBERT DAVIS came the next day, and was able to supply additional information about Jamila and her relationship with her family.

Mr. Davis sat in the study, with Ann and Nessa, near the fireplace. Coffee had been served and the doors to the study shut. Leaning back in the comfortable chair, he began his narration of what he had learned about Jamila.

"What we know of Bayan and your granddaughter in the early years comes from friends working with them in the Peace Corp. After Neilan's death, Bayan was unable to care for their four year old child, alone."

"Neilan had told her many times how he was unable go home, of his estrangement from his family in the states, and how his letters had never been answered. So, she knew she couldn't look for help there. Her father was her only hope. Contacting him in desperation, she returned to him in adversity and shame. We haven't heard of Bayan, since."

"I believe the Sheikh must have some love for the child that came into his home, even though he chose not to show it, because he didn't cast her out, or make her into a servant," Mr. Davis continued. "He instead placed Jamila in the Jordan Valley Catholic School, a prestigious boarding school which would provide her with a fine education and a good start in life, a western school, one he didn't have to oversee or be involved with. He has provided for all her financial needs, but nothing more."

"No one, including Bayan has ever come to see Jamila. Her mother may have been married off to a man of her father's choosing, which is their custom, or she may be living in her father's house still, we may never know what has become of her. Her father remains unwavering about information on her. It's a closed subject."

"The school is about eighty miles north of Amman, the capital of Jordan, about a half hour out of Irbid, near the Yarmouk River, a tributary of the Jordan River."

"We sent one of our best operatives, a Mr. Michael Todd, and with the help of a good man from Jordan, by the name of Razeen Jaffer, we were able to unravel some of the mystery surrounding Jamila."

"Razeen has been invaluable as our interpreter and guild in the world of Islam. He was able to convince Sheikh Haddad of the wisdom in allowing Jamila's rich grandmother in America to find her. They obtained permission from him to visit the school. The child is now sixteen years old, Mrs. Drummond."

"Once at the school, Mr. Todd told her of her grandmother in America, that her father's mother had been looking for her, and wanted to know her and communicate with her. I'm afraid she wasn't too receptive. We're not sure why. Maybe it was because she was being interviewed in front of her mother superior, or maybe there are other reasons we don't know about, but she just sat quietly, not saying anything. When asked if she wanted to get a letter from her grandmother or go see her in the states, she simply shook her head no. We couldn't get anything else out of her," he concluded, ending his report.

Nessa looked crushed.

Ann asked, "Would she see me, if I went over there?"

"I don't know," Mr. Davis responded. "If you're serious about going, I think I would recommend not letting her know you're coming. It may be wiser to just approach her spontaneously. Being alone all these years, she probably doesn't want to be disappointed and has put up a wall around herself."

"You are very wise, Mr. Davis," Nessa commented quietly.

"I've had a lot of experience with lost children, Mrs. Drummond, unfortunately. Maybe between her mother superior and Razeen, we can get you in to see her, and find out more," he offered.

"I'd like to go as soon as possible, Mr. Davis. Would you make the arrangements for me? My passport will soon be in order and I can leave right after that," Ann informed him.

"Fine, Mrs. Henderson, I'll get going on it as soon as possible. You'll be hearing from me," he said, standing up. "Good-bye, Mrs. Drummond. Please don't give up hope. Time is on our side. In my experience, it just takes time for the children to get used to the new relationships they're being offered. They soon come around."

"Time is something I don't have a lot of, Mr. Davis," Nessa said, looking him straight in the eyes.

"I understand," he said sympathetically. "Maybe we can at least get a written correspondence going between the two of you."

Nessa only smiled sadly, while Ann shook his hand saying, "Thank you for coming Mr. Davis. I'll be packed and waiting to hear from you."

"Be sure you're up-to-date on your vaccinations," Mr. Davis remarked, before leaving.

"I'll see to it immediately," Ann told him.

* * * *

Within two weeks, Ann was on her way to Amman, Jordan. The arid country of Jordan has Israel to the west, Syria to the north, and Saudi Arabia at its eastern and southern borders. The Jordan River flows out of the Sea of Galilee, from the north, through the Dead Sea, and out into the Gulf of Aqaba, making it a natural boundary between the Jewish nation and Jordan.

Late in the afternoon of the next day, Ann's jet was landing at the Queen Alia International Airport, south of the capital. As she disembarked the jetliner, walking through the Jetway, she entered the beautiful, air-conditioned terminal of Amman, built with graceful arches and walls of windows.

Once through customs, she entered the crowded airport. Standing nearby, in a group of people near the exit, was a tall, distinguished man in his fifty's, with a white tailored beard. He was dress in the traditional Muslim dress with the red and white checkered head gear, holding a sign with her name on it.

"Mr. Jaffer?" she asked him.

"Yes," he answered in English, with a large, friendly smile, and a twinkle in his eyes, "Mrs. Henderson?"

Ann nodded her head in the noisy terminal.

"This way please," he informed her.

Ann pulled out the handle extension on her overhead luggage and followed him through the crowd, rolling it along beside her.

Looking back, he said, "This way to the baggage claim area."

"Mr. Jaffer, I don't have any other luggage. I'm traveling light this trip," she told him, pointing to her one and only suit case.

He looked surprised, and grinned broadly, "I believe this is the first time I have ever seen a woman with only one suitcase. I'm not sure what to do?" he laughed, speaking in excellent English. "This way, then... "

They changed directions and soon she was in his van, traveling out of the airport and onto Route 35 toward Amman. Forty-five minutes later they were driving through the city, and then out into the countryside, passing olive groves, date plantations and wheat fields, while cattle and goat herds roamed the dry arid lands, beyond. Eventually the vehicle rose out of the dessert and into the mountains near Irbid, the third largest city in Jordan.

Razeen had been driving for two hours. "We have another half hour to go," he told her. "The school is near the Syrian border on the Yarmouk River."

The sun had descended low in the sky when they arrived at the Catholic school. Driving up to the massive gate made of wood, Razeen honked his horn.

Sitting in the front seat, Ann couldn't see anything but the massive gate embedded in the stone walls that surrounding the school. Only the tops of palm, large Cypress, and some Juniper trees could be seen above the fortification.

Razeen had turned off the van. Getting out, he stood near a shuttered window by the gate. After a bit, he came back to the van, reached in and honked the horn again. Presently a nun opened the window, and Razeen talked with her. Ann couldn't hear what he said, but the gates were open for them and Razeen drove the van to the parking lot near the large, massive stone building, four stories high in the center, with three story wings at either end of the school.

A young nun opened the front door of the school for them. Entering the large hallway, Ann and Razeen followed her down the hall of white stone to the mother superior's office.

An elderly woman in a nun's habit stood up from her desk and offered Ann a seat.

Turning to the gentleman, she said, "Mr. Jaffer, nice to see you again. Sister Mary Margaret will see you have something to eat, and then take you to our guest rooms for the night. Thank you for bringing Mrs. Henderson so promptly. I don't think we'll need you, until the morning."

"Good night then, ladies. I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Henderson," he offered politely with a slight bow, before turning and following Sister Mary Margaret out of the room.

"I'm afraid a lot has happened since you left America, Mrs. Henderson. Jamila has been crying all day," she informed the American.

"What happened?" asked Ann, concerned.

"Let me start with what I know," the mother superior explained.

"After Razeen and Mr. Todd, from the Davis Detective Agency left, we were able to find out why Jamila didn't want to contact her grandmother in America."

"Sister Mary Agnes has been close to the few girls that are left behind during the holidays and summer vacation. She's in charge of caring for them, when the school is closed. She was able to get Jamila to tell her more, though she told me she suspected some of it."

"Jamila arrived here years ago, at the age of five. We were told she had no family and for almost five years, she was alone with Sister Mary Agnes during the holidays. Then Meridah Basha arrived, at the same age she had been, years before."

"Meridah has family, but for some unknown reason, she too is left behind during the holidays and has no visitors. The two became fast friends, depending on each other, and caring for one another. They have become surrogate sisters over the last six years, depending on each other for everything. The thought of leaving Meridah was unbearable to Jamila."

"Then, a letter came from Sheikh Abdul Basir Haddad, her benefactor, yesterday. In this letter, he stated he wouldn't be supporting Jamila any longer, and arrangements were being made to send her to the United States to live with her grandmother. We're to prepare her, and when the proper documents come, she's to be sent there to live."

"It was a very short and concise letter. It has been my experience, in this country, that the Sheikh's request is always in the form of a command. There is nothing we can do to alter this and Jamila knows it. She's scared, heartbroken, and devastated with the changes that are coming. She's leaving the only family she knows - the sisters and Meridah."

"Does Jamila know I'm here?" Ann asked.

"Yes. When we received the letter, we knew there would be no choice about her going, and told her so. We explained you were coming to visit, but now with the Sheikh's letter, we would be asking you to accompany her to her new home. I assume the Sheikh has made arrangements with Mrs. Drummond, her grandmother?"

"I've no idea, Reverend Mother. This is the first I've heard about it, but I know Nessa would welcome the opportunity to have her. Mrs. Drummond has a lot of love to give, if the child is willing to take it," Ann told her.

"Then we must pray for them both. I thank God for His provision that you'll be here for her, but beware... I don't know if she'll accept this new life willingly, though I don't know what else she could do. She can't stay here, and I don't believe the girls would run away, but we must be vigilant, Mrs. Henderson. We must watch and pray."

"It breaks my heart to be removing her from here against her wishes, but I don't see what else we can do?"

Ann thought for a second and then offered, "Reverend Mother, Mrs. Drummond is a very rich woman. I'd have to talk with her, but I believe she'd be willing to pay Jamila's expenses here, though I know it's her wish to meet the child before she dies."

The mother superior considered this, then said, "No, I don't think it would be wise. If the Sheikh took offense at his wishes not being met... well let's just say, I think we need Jamila away from here for a while, starting a new life in a land holding more promise for her, then here."

"I understand," Ann said sadly. "And Meridah will be alone? Doesn't her family want her?"

"No, like I said, we don't know very much about her situation - she has never gone to be with them and they have never come here, but she does receive regular letters from home. She'll have to remain here, but not alone, Mrs. Henderson. Sister Mary Agnes will comfort her as much as she can. Only God knows our futures, but I trust in the One who gives us life. We don't always know or understand His will, but we must always trust Him."

"Thank you, Reverend Mother for sharing all this with me."

The mother superior stood and said, "I'll take you to the kitchen, where we'll get you something to eat and then you'll be taken to your room for the night. Tomorrow will be a long, sad day, I'm afraid. I'll want to consult with Mr. Jaffer. He knows the Sheikh and the customs of this country so much more than I do. He may know of a way Jamila can stay, but I doubt it."

"What time is it in Spokane, do you think?" Ann asked the Reverend Mother.

"It's about eight hours from now, I believe."

"I'd like to call Mrs. Drummond and make sure she is aware of the situation here, to be sure she is prepared for her granddaughter's arrival," Ann stated.

"You may use the phone in my office, but wait until about midnight. That would make it 8:00 o'clock in the morning over there."

After dinner, Ann unpacked a few things and took a nap. It had been a long trip and she was exhausted. Her alarm went off at 11:45 that night and before long, she was on the phone to the states. "Drummond Hall, may I help you?" Faye asked.

"Oh, good, it's you Faye. This is Ann. The situation here has drastically changed and Jamila will be coming with me to live with her grandmother," Ann informed her.

"How wonderful!" Faye said excitedly.

"Faye, this is against Jamila's will, she's being commanded to go by her grandfather. Has he contacted Mrs. Drummond at all?"

"I haven't heard a word about it, and I don't believe Nessa has either. There's been nothing in the mail, or any phone calls."

"That's what I thought. I need to talk with Nessa about it Faye, but be sure to watch her and make sure she doesn't get too excited or tired out with this," Ann warned her. "How is everything else going?"

"Everything is fine here. Marty misses you of course. She just left for school and your mother's upstairs studying. Carla seems to be more irritable than normal, though I can't tell you why. I'm not sure what's going on there, but I know Nessa is getting tired of it."

"I'm sorry to hear it. Nessa's going to need her in the coming weeks and months. I wish she was easier to get along with. I think the woman's causing more harm than good most of the time, if you ask me," Ann stated in exasperation.

"I couldn't agree more, but we'll just have to let Nessa deal with it. She's in the morning room now, shall I put her on?"

"Yes please. Make sure she's sitting and comfortable, will you?" Ann requested.

"You, bet. I'll take the phone in to her, it has a long extension," Faye said as she took the phone into the other room.

Ann sat and listened to indistinguishable sounds, and voices.

"Hello, Ann? How's it going? Is she okay? How is she?" Nessa asked all at once.

"Nessa, Jamila is fine, I think. It's near midnight here, and I'll probably get to see her in the morning. But for now, I need to tell you of some big changes occurring here, since I left yesterday," Ann proceeded to share everything she had learned in the mother superior's office with Mrs. Drummond, the woman who had everything, except a family of her own.

The two women talked and planned, but both knew it was going to be up to Jamila how easy this transition was going to be.

"Nessa, we should be leaving here within a day or so, I think. As soon as her passport and documents arrive, we'll be taking the next flight home, unless Razeen knows of an alternative. Please let Faye do as much as she can for you. We don't want you having a relapse anytime soon," Ann said with concern.

"I know, Ann, but to have Neilan's child here, in this house. I'm scared and excited at the same time. I'll get her rooms ready across the hall from mine, right away," Nessa said breathlessly.

"That would be fine, Nessa. I'll leave it up to you. I'll call you as soon as we know when we're leaving. Take care of yourself and I'll do what I can here to smooth the way. Give my love to Mom and Marty," Ann concluded, saying good-bye and hanging up the phone.

On her way to bed, she and the mother superior met Razeen in the hallway of the school. The mother superior told him of the letter from Sheikh Haddad, and then asked him if he thought Jamila could stay, if her grandmother from America paid her way.

He looked at her for a second, and then simply said, "Jordan doesn't hold her future - America does," then turned and walked away.

Ann slept deeply that night, fatigued, and emotionally drained. It was hard for her to get up the next morning for breakfast, but with determination she managed it. She wanted very much to meet Jamila.

After breakfast, the mother superior took Ann to the girl's room. All the other children were in class, except for her. Jamila was supposed to be packing, getting ready to leave the only security she had known for most of her young life. Her room was on the third floor, overlooking the gardens and the river beyond. Knocking on the door, they entered her room after hearing her soft, "Come in."

"Jamila, this is Mrs. Ann Henderson, from America. I've told her all about the letter from Sheikh Haddad. You'll be going with her to your new home, when the time comes."

"Ann, this is Jamila Drummond, your employer's granddaughter," the mother superior said, introducing them.

"How do you do, Jamila," Ann said kindly.

"Hello," she replied softly, looking down at the floor, tears forming in her eyes.

The room seemed small and stuffy, with no place to sit except for a chair by her desk and the plain, small bed.

"May we take a walk outside, Reverend Mother? Is there a place we can sit and talk?" Ann asked, looking for a place of quiet and seclusion to visit with the girl.

"Of course. Jamila, you may go into the gardens near the convent. You're welcome to sit there and visit, if you wish," the mother superior informed her.

Jamila shrugged her shoulders and quietly lead the way out of her room. Ann followed close beside her.

No words were spoken as they walked through the school, vaguely hearing the voices of teachers and students through the closed doors of the classrooms as they passed.

Outside the heat was increasing with the rising of the sun. Through a garden gate, Jamila lead the woman from America to a bench near a water fountain. With its moisture and the shade of the trees, they sat comfortably, Jamila quiet, defeated, and unhappy.

Ann took the shoulder bag she'd been carrying, and placed it on the bench beside her. Opening it, she took out a photograph of Nessa.

Ann gently said, "This is your grandmother, Jamila."

Jamila glanced over at the picture Ann was holding. In spite of herself, she reached over and took it from her, looking at it closer.

"She has a nice face, and we have the same eyes," she commented, surprised at her reaction to the stranger in the photo.

Ann sat next to her and told the long and involved story of Neilan and Bayan. Of the different worlds they had come from, and how much they had loved each other, in spite of the opposition mounted against them. She told how Neilan's letters had never been opened until just this last year, explaining why her grandmother didn't know of his marriage, let alone of her granddaughter's existence until then. And when she did, how she had done everything she could to find her.

"She just wants to know you, Jamila, and to have the opportunity to provide a happy home for you. She's a very kind and loving person and I know she'd never want to hurt you."

"Then why won't she let me stay here? I don't want to leave. This is my home," she said, tears starting to fall.

"The mother superior, your grandmother and I have talked about that. We all want you to be happy, but your grandfather won't allow it."

"My grandfather? He doesn't wish me to be happy? But, I thought my grandmother lived alone. Does he live with her in America too?"

"No. Your mother's father, Sheikh Haddad," Ann told the girl. "Mrs. Drummond's husband has been dead for many years now."

Jamila was shocked. "Sheikh Abdul Basir Haddad is my grandfather?" she asked, astounded.

Ann nodded her head yes.

"I've only known him as my benefactor. Are you sure he's my grandfather?"

"Yes, Jamila, we're very sure. He's the one who told us where you were and allowed us to talk with you. He will not tell us what has happened to your mother, and I believe he has been the one keeping you two apart. And now it seems he wants us to take you to America."

"My grandfather... and my mother was kept from me? Do you think she really wanted me?" Jamila probed.

"Of course, I do. She had to go home, when your father died, and I believe you were taken from her and placed here, though the Sheikh must care for you some, because he has provided for you as much as a Muslim man can for an outsider."

"I never knew. I thought I wasn't wanted. Now to know my mother may have loved me - might even still. I begin to understand a little, now, I guess. I vaguely remember a happy childhood, before I came here, but I've never understood why I was always left alone. Now, you tell me my father and mother loved me. And they were happy until his death. How sad it is to be separated from your family because of religion, and culture," Jamila spoke sensibly.

"You're so wise. I'm sorry you have to leave here, but I hope we can make the best of the situation given to us, Jamila," Ann explained.

"Please... I can face all of it, except leaving my friend. She means so much to me. It's breaking my heart!" she said weeping again, quietly.

"Jamila, I promise we'll do as much as we can to keep you two in touch. We may even be able to bring you back here for a visit once in a while, if the mother superior will allow it."

Jamila's eyes brightened for the first time. Though she would have preferred staying, just the hope of seeing Meridah again in the future eased her pain.

"Thank you, Miss Ann," she said gently. "Do you think my grandmother will allow it?"

"Yes. I do. Because I know your grandmother wants you to be happy. I don't know how much time she has left on this earth, for she's ill. It's her heart, but I pray God will give you all the time you need to know that you are loved and wanted by her, Jamila," Ann informed her.

"She's ill?" Jamila asked, crushed at the idea of another person in her life disappearing, before she was ready for it.

"Yes, but she could have many more years left, if she doesn't get too excited and takes care of herself. Just the thought of you has made a lot of difference to her. She's looking forward to meeting you and can hardly wait for you to come."

Jamila smiled and sat thinking for a little, then said, "I'm looking forward to meeting her too," and for the first time, she meant it.

After school, Meridah found Ann and Jamila in the gardens. Ann looked up to see a beautiful child of about eleven, walking toward them. Her eyes were large, soft and chocolate brown, in a sweet face, with delicate cheek bones. Her head was covered with a Hijab, the traditional scarf of the Arabian woman of Jordan. It was made of bright red silk, wrapped around her face and head, gently flowing over her shoulders, in soft waves in the front of her.

Jamila jumped up and they hugged, with Meridah's head buried in her shoulder. The two spoke in Arabic for a short time, then Jamila turn and introduced Ann to Meridah.

"This is my friend from America, Miss Ann," Jamila said in English.

"Friend!" Meridah said hurtfully.

"Yes," Jamila said softly, "my friend. She's going to help me see you as often as we can, and they'll allow me to write you every day. Miss Ann, this is my very best friend in the entire world, Meridah."

"How do you do, Meridah. I want you to know it breaks my heart to take Jamila away. Her grandmother and I didn't intend to take her without her permission, but her benefactor has determined she must go. It seems we've no choice, now," Ann said sadly. "I promise to help you two stay in touch, share letters, photographs and make trips across the world to see each other, as often as I can. Do you think your family would allow you to visit America, someday?"

Meridah looked surprised. "Leave here? I don't know. I could ask my mother in my next letter. Do you think I could really come and see Jamila in America?"

"I hope so. I hope it'll be possible to see you often," Ann said sincerely.

The girls were still sad. Their parting would be hard, and a lot of things might occur to keep them apart. War was frequent in this part of the world, the tensions between nations high, while cultural difference, sickness, or death might intervene... only God knew. But Ann was determined to help, if she could.

Home Coming

ANN SPENT THE time, before they left Jordan, telling Jamila about Marty and her mother, of her life in the states. She told her about Drummond Hall and its history and all she knew of the Drummond family, and their Scottish heritage.

Jamila was shocked to know she had another heritage beside her life in Jordan. She had always assumed she wasn't a Muslim, otherwise she wouldn't have been placed in a Catholic school, but now to know she was indeed part Arab and Scottish, made her giggle. What a combination.

She thought of her grandfather in Amman often. It was hard for her to transfer the respect she had for the Sheikh to one of grandfather, but she realized the door into his life had been closed by him many years ago, and she didn't expect it to ever open again.

There was a tearful good-bye between the girls. Jamila promised Meridah to write every day and to come and see her, soon. But, she was also growing excited about her American birthright and the life it might hold for her.

Then Razeen took them south a few days later. Soon, the two women were in the air, traveling from the east to the west.

I wonder what it'll be like there. Miss Ann told me my grandmother isn't Catholic, or any religion that she knows of. How strange not to be going to Mass, or having the sisters around. What am I going to do? And what will my new school be like? I'm a little scared with all the changes I suspect are coming.

Ann sensed the anxiety Jamila was feeling, reached over and squeezed her arm as they flew home. "Everything will be all right, Jamila. I'll be there to help."

Jamila smiled, closed her eyes and let the jetliner carry her away, to her new destiny.

When the crossing over the Atlantic was complete, they landed and changed planes in New York, at the JFK International Airport. Jamila couldn't believe the mass of humanity living in the huge city, with the buildings greedily crowding the sky.

Their airplane journey continued, as the sun rose behind them on the horizon, in a bright blue sky. The trip was a long, arduous one. Jamila was exhausted, but the excitement of seeing a new world all around her, kept her staring out the portal of the airplane, robbing her of rest.

Hours later, they arrived at the Spokane International Airport. It was March, and the snow was still on the ground, though it seemed to be melting. Jamila had seen snow in the mountains around Irbid. It snowed there several times a year, but here there was so much of it. Yet, it was gone from the trees and bushes, as the sun shined brightly, and song birds could be heard, singing in the trees, anxious for spring to come.

Disembarking, Ann looked around for someone she knew. No one was there.

How strange. Someone should be here to meet us. Maybe they're late.

As they walked into the luggage claim area, she smiled broadly, as she spotted Jamie, with Marty and Emma beside him.

"Mom!" Marty said running up to her and hugging her favorite person. Then she looked at Jamila and said, "Gosh. You're really pretty."

Jamila blushed and gave a big smile. She liked this little person very much.

Conversation hummed, while they waited for Jamila's luggage. Before long, the SUV was loaded and everyone crowded in, Jamie and Jamila up front, with Ann, Marty and Emma in the back. As they pulled onto I-5 heading east, Ann could see Jamila starting to nod off, fighting sleep.

"Jamila, do you drink coffee?" Ann wondered.

"Yes, I enjoy it. I'd love a cup, just now," she said wistfully.

"Jamie, would you pull into the first fast food place you see, I could use a cup too," she requested.

"Sure," he replied.

"Fast food?" Jamila asked.

Ann just smiled and said, "There's a lot to learn, dear."

Marty piped in, "It's a place you can drive up to and order food and drinks at the window. You'll see."

"Drive up to a window? You don't get out of the car?" she said in wonder.

Jamila watched as the order was taken near a menu station behind the building, over the speaker. "Who's speaking? Where's the person speaking?" she asked amazed.

"She's inside the building with a microphone. Her voice comes out here in the speaker, and she can hear us with the microphone on the box," Jamie told her. "She has a TV screen and a computer records what we order, in-side."

"There's nothing like this in Irbid. I've never seen this before," she expressed her astonishment. "How fun!"

A lively conversation ensued as they entered the freeway again and headed toward Drummond Hall. They compared technology in Jordan with the states.

"They have many things in Jordan, but fast food is new to me. Maybe they have it in Amman. Amman has everything," she stated proudly.

"They probably do," Ann agreed. "I think I saw a Burger King as we went through there."

"Really? Keen," Marty stated enthusiastically.

"Burger... King?" Jamila said in confusion.

Everyone laughed.

"It's just a name for a hamburger place," Marty told her, giggling. "We'll show you one, soon."

Jamila shook her head in wonder. Looking at the scenery going by, she said, "I've never seen so many trees and everything is so green and lush here, and so many cars and people, and the roads are very big!"

"Things will be very different here, but you'll soon get used to it, and we'll help you."

"Me too!" Marty chimed in.

Jamila smiled, happier than she had been for quite a while.

I wish Meridah could be here to see this. I'll write her right away and tell her all about this wonderful place.

Jamie used his gate opener, entering the estate. Jamila looked at everything with wonder, as she took in every vista, very tree, every flower with curiosity.

It was nearing lunchtime when the SUV arrived at the front doors.

"Is this a school too?" asked Jamila, when she saw the tall, massive castle on the lake.

"No dear, this is the home of your grandmother," Ann told her.

"All of it?" Jamila asked, shocked at the massive home for one person. "She lives here, alone?"

"This is all her house, but she has people living here to help her. There's the cook, her name's Faye. Then Jamie and his dad Dougal live at the gatehouse, they take care of the gardens and help mend the house when it's needed. And there's Carla, your grandmother's nurse. And Marty, my mother and I live on the third floor. I'm Mrs. Drummond's personal assistant," Ann concluded.

"Then you're all my grandmother's servants?" Jamila asked.

"Yes, but I don't think we would call ourselves servants, not in the way you might know the word. We work for her. We're employees and in this country the employees can quit anytime they wish and can find work elsewhere, if they choose to."

"Quit? You can't be commanded to stay?" Jamila was confused again.

"No dear. This is a free country and everyone can choose what to do with their lives here," Ann tried to explain. "Your grandmother pays us to stay."

"I do have a lot to learn," she said softly to no one in particular.

Faye was at the front door, just like the first day Ann had arrived on the estate.

As they all piled out of the car, Ann waved at Faye, "We're home!"

Jamie unloaded the vehicle, "I'll take the luggage up to your rooms. Go enjoy yourselves and have lunch. I need to get back to the gatehouse and Da," he said kindly. "I'm glad to have met you, Jamila," he told her as he started for the house with a couple of suitcases in each hand.

Faye descended the few steps and ran up to Jamila, "Welcome home child," she said, giving the girl an affectionate hug.

Jamila stood still as stone, frightened at the personal contact from the stranger.

Faye stood back, held her by the shoulders, looking kindly at her, "Don't be afraid of me child, you're loved here and your grandmother is so excited, we've had a hard time trying to keep her calm."

Jamila smiled weakly. It was all so strange to her, yet something in her craved for the affection and attention being offered, while a yearning to belong started to stir in her heart.

"How is Nessa doing, Faye?" Ann asked, concerned.

Jamila watched, observing the concern on everyone's faces with the welfare of her grandmother.

A sudden anxiety overtook her as she wondered what would happen to her if Grandmother Drummond died. She prayed to Mary, the mother of Jesus, asking her to let her grandmother be okay, requesting in the only way she knew how. How lost she would be if something happened to the woman who lived in this house.

"She's as bright as a button, on a crisp Sunday mornin'," Faye said. "She's waiting in the morning room with Carla. That's her nurse," she told Jamila, walking beside the girl. "Lunch is ready and it's time to meet and eat," she said with a little too much wit.

"Faye!" Ann said with feinted shock at her silly remark, smiling with happiness in anticipation of the meeting between Jamila and Nessa.

Ann could see the young girl taking in the beautiful hall as they walked through the huge structure, then her eyes widened at the solarium, with its walls of glass, the light, and beautiful plant life in the magnificent room. But, when she entered the morning room and saw the fragile, beautiful woman, again in white, sitting at the head of the table, she stopped, unable to move.

Nessa took in a small gasp, at the sight of this tall, elegant beauty standing before her. The young woman had Neilan's features, but with the lovely olive skin of the Far East. But, it was her own crystal green eyes looking back at her that struck her the deepest. It was so striking with her raven black hair.

Jamila could see longing, kindness and desire in the elderly woman seated at the table. When she raised her arms in welcome, all of Jamila's longing for love, family and home burst from her heart as she ran to the woman who wrapped her arms lovingly, tenderly around her, and held her fast.

Sometimes it happens that way. Instantly, completely, the two bonded as if they had never been apart, and never would be again.

After a time, Jamila got up, and sat in the chair next to her grandmother, with the largest smile. Nessa beamed, she was so happy. Her eyes sparkled and there was real color in her face. Everyone talked and shared about Jordan, home and the life at the estate. The happiness was contagious and Ann was elated to see how blissful Nessa was.

Only Carla remained silent and sullen. She knew that the arrival of an heir was going to ruin everything, but this first meeting, between the two, hadn't gone well at all.

Alone in her room a short time later, Carla called Peter.

"Yes?" said Peter into his cell.

"It's me, we've got to talk," Carla said excitedly.

"I'm afraid it won't be possible," he said, implying he wasn't alone.

"It's important. The girl's here and it's worse than we thought."

"Just a minute, please," he told her.

Carla could hear him talking, probably to that volatile wife of his. "Darling, it's about work and I'll have to take care of it in private. You don't mind do you?" Carla heard the woman's voice say something curt, then evidently leaving the room.

"This better be important, Carla. She's not happy about my taking phone calls about work, at home. It's interfering in our home life and you know I have to keep her happy for a while longer, don't you?" he said exasperated with the fool on the phone. He never intended on leaving Sabine for any reason. He just wanted to keep the information flowing from Drummond Hall.

"Of course, darling," Carla told him. "Listen, it's not going to take a while for these two to get to know each other. They bonded at first sight and we're not going to be able to work one against the other, like we hoped. The way those two took to each other, I think the old lady would forgive her anything. The girl could cheat, steal and lie and the sick old woman would look the other way. I wouldn't be surprise if she changes her Will this week!"

Peter swore. "Why does everything have to go wrong?" Then he switched into his soothing and romantic voice for her, "Sweetheart, keep a close eye on any phone calls or letters going out, especially to the lawyer. We need to keep on top of this. I'll see what I can do about moving some of the money to the off-shore account."

"All right, I'll be ready," she said breathlessly, looking forward to her new life with the one she loved.

But, though life at the estate changed happily with the arrival of Jamila, Nessa didn't contact her lawyer, nor look into changing her Will. It was the last thing on her mind, but the first on Carla's and Peter's.

Carla waited and watched, but nothing happened. The two Drummond women laughed, shared in each other's company and enjoyed their new relationship, growing into a real family, one of love, trust and devotion, as God intended it in the first place.

But, Carla couldn't take it any longer. She had enough of waiting, of the suspense, the intrigue, and watching for something to happen. She wanted to leave now.

No matter what they had schemed and planned, it had always gone wrong. She was afraid it never would go right, but she couldn't get Peter to agree.

"Carla darling, we have so little put away, I haven't been able to put as much as I'd like into the account. I had to put it all back, when we almost got caught, to make the accounts balance. You remember, don't you?" he lied. "I had to start all over again, darling. As long as you keep an eye on things, I'll continue to put more away. We won't have to want for anything," he pleaded.

"But, I don't care. I want to go now!" she said firmly.

"Well, you can just go without me then!" he said in anger. He was getting fed up.

Silence followed.

Peter heard her gasp and thought he could hear her sobbing. He was just about to appease her when he heard her softly say, "Okay, Peter. I'll wait. I can't live without you. You know that. But, please don't make me wait too long. I can't take much more of this."

"Only a few more months or so, darling," he said mischievously, firmly, knowing he was pushing her, but he didn't care.

She wouldn't tell anyone about me, because she's as deeply involved in this, as I am. She's wearing some of it, isn't she?

"A few more months!" there was no mistaking her crying now.

"I want to be sure we've everything we'll ever need, darling. It won't hurt to wait. Patience will give us all we've ever wanted."

Carla wasn't so sure anymore.

Peter hung up the phone.

This can't go on this way. Things are getting sticky. If Carla would only be patient, I could continue to move more money into the Caribbean, but she's losing her nerve, the dumb woman!

If I could get rid of her, then no one would be the wiser, and I could go on with my life, as before. She'd be out of the way if I killed her. Murder? Are you really considering it?

No! I'm no murder. I can live with being a thief, because I'm not really hurting anyone. But I won't stoop to killing. It's too messy, too final, and too deadly. If I got caught doing that... No, I'm not a bad person, really. I'll find a way.

* * * *

April arrived, the snow hiding in the shadows, while crocuses pushed their colorful heads out of the warming soil, and Marty's eighth birthday approached.

"What would you like to do for your birthday, sweetheart?" Ann asked sitting on her bed one night. "Would you like to invite some of the children from school to a party? We can have a really big one, if you like... What is it dear? What's wrong?" asked Ann, when she noticed Marty wasn't smiling, she looked so unhappy.

"I don't have any friends at school," she said abruptly.

"Marty, I'm sure you have some friends, don't you?" Ann asked concerned, because Marty normally loved everyone.

"No, I don't. They're all mean to me. No one speaks to me at all. I'm all alone there, and I hate it!" she said vehemently.

"Marty!" Ann said in shock. "No one? Really? Are you sure?"

"Mommy, they turn their backs to me and if I ask a question, no one will answer me. It hurts so much," Marty said with tears in her eyes. "And Mr. Overton hates me. He yells at me and tells me I'm stupid. He tells everybody they're stupid."

"What! How long has this been going on?" Ann asked in alarm.

Marty looked down, ashamed.

"Sweetie, tell me, how long has this been going on?" Ann said softly, but firmly.

"Since the very first day," she told her mother.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ann asked in dread and exasperation.

"I didn't know what to do, and I wanted you to be proud of me. I've tried hard, Mommy, really I have," Marty looked at her mother for acceptance.

Ann hugged her, and said softly in her ear, "You don't have to go there anymore. Mrs. Drummond is hiring a teacher for Jamila, someone who will help her adjust to this new country and our ways, as well as assist her with her studies. I'll talk with Nessa and explain about your school. Let's see if we can get this new person to teach you too."

"But I know all about living in this country, Mom," she exclaimed.

"Yes dear, of course you do, but wouldn't you like to do your lessons with just the teacher and you? You could work as hard as you wanted to, and if the teacher doesn't work out, we can always fire them!" Ann said in exaggerated zeal.

Marty laughed happily, then said, "Okay," grinning widely. "It might be nice not to get yelled at and learning with Jamila will be fun. It would make me feel all grown-up."

Ann smiled at her renewed enthusiasm for learning.

"Now, back to your birthday, what would you like to do?" she asked again.

"Can I tell you tomorrow? I want to ask Jamila what she'd like to do, and I want to invite Tom and Faith. We'll do something special and fun. Would that be okay?"

"Sure. That sounds great. Let me know and we'll do our best to get it done," Ann said, kissing her good night, and leaving the door opened a crack. Even though there was a night light on in Marty's bathroom now, she still liked the door open to the sitting room.

Ann walked away determined to withdraw Marty from that place they called a school right away, and she wasn't going to be too nice about it either.

How sad to drive a sweet, intelligent child out of school, and for what? What had she ever done to be treated this way?

She probably should be kind and gentle, it was the Christian thing to do, but her mother's protective instincts had been riled. They had to know how wrong it was, and she was going to tell them.

* * * *

In late April, Marty celebrated her birthday. The children, along with Ann and Shelly spent the day at Riverfront Park in Spokane. They ate hotdogs, cotton candy, popcorn and corndogs, in-between riding the Looff Carrousel, playing miniature golf, and going to the amusement park, frolicking on all the rides, like bumper cars, tilt-a-whirl, the Dragon Coaster, and the Ferris wheel.

Ann had never seen Jamila so happy, she acted like a kid, squealing with glee and raising her hands on the rollercoaster, like everyone else. All the children were having a wonderful time, but Marty and Jamila were reveling in it.

Ann speculated that for Marty, it was because it was her birthday and Jamila because this was probably the first time she's been able to play like a child.

After the long and exhausting day for the adults, the children remain animated and happy, traveling back to the estate for cake and ice cream. They were singing 'One hundred bottles of pop on the wall' giggling and having a magnificent time in the back seat.

"Where do they get all the energy?" Shelly asked, shaking her head. "If I could only bottle some of it."

"We'd be rich," Ann commented, with a smile.

"Speaking of rich, how's it going with your assets?"

Ann looked in the rearview mirror at the children still preoccupied and said quietly, "Mine's fine. But, there's been a development I'd like to talk to you about. Let's talk back at the estate."

"Sure," Shelly said, hoping it was nothing serious.

After the party, the children, along with Emma, excitedly went into the family room to watch a new movie Marty had received for a present. She had received so many really nice things, "It's the best birthday ever!" she shouted happily.

Shelly and Ann went to her office and sat in front of a nice fire, which was taking the chill off the cold spring night outside.

"What going on, Ann?" Shelly asked, after they had settled into their chairs.

"Nessa came to me a couple of days ago, and asked me to liquidate some bonds being held for the University of Washington Hospital, in Ayden's name. You remember... that's Nessa's youngest, who passed away there so many years ago?"

Shelly acknowledged with a nod.

"Well, I found two million dollars missing. It seems the bonds were cashed years ago, after Peter Lawrence took over Nessa's accounts," Ann told her, concerned.

"Have you talked this over with Nessa?" Shelly asked.

"No. Not yet. She's so excited with the coming of Jamila, I'm not sure she could take any more stress at this time. I thought I'd get ahold of her good friend and lawyer, Mr. Tillman. He may be able to discreetly investigate and clear this up without alarming Mrs. Drummond. I'm sure there's a good reason why it's gone, and it just wasn't recorded right."

"Sounds like a good plan," Shelly said. "But, isn't this the second time some records seem out of balance while Peter Lawrence has managed them?"

Ann responded, "Yes, it is."

I've got a bad feeling about this Lord, Please let everything be all right.

"I'll let you know what I learn," Ann told her best friend.

Ann and Shelly joined the children in the family room. They wanted to play another movie, but were vetoed because of the late hour.

"We should be getting home," Shelly informed her children.

Ah's and pleadings issued.

Both friends grinned, sighed and then Shelly said, "Oh, just this once - because it's Marty's birthday, and because there's no school tomorrow. I'll call your Dad and tell him not to wait up for us."

Emma smiled, as she stood up saying, "I'm sorry, little one, I'm too tired to stay up any longer. I'm going to bed, but Happy Birthday again, sweetheart."

Marty hugged her grandmother and kissed her goodnight, then she ran over to the DVD player to put on another movie.

Jamila, sat right in among the children, immersed in the childhood experiences she was enjoying so much. Soon, they had all fallen asleep, except for her.

Gently getting up, trying not to disturb them, she went over to the couch and sat near Ann and Shelly, who were speaking softly to each other in the back of the room.

"Are you having fun, Jamila?" asked Ann.

"Oh, yes. It has been a very happy and wonderful day," she replied. "I never thought I could be so happy," she said. "Life is so different here."

"I would imagine the children in Jordan have just as much fun there, it's just that a school isn't a very good substitute for family," Ann commented.

"Yes, I wish I was still with my parents. Somehow, I think it would have been different, if my father had lived," she said intelligently.

"Yes, I know it would have been, for your father was a very sensitive and kind man. He loved giving of himself to others and making them happy. Did you know he wanted to become a doctor?" Ann asked.

"No! A doctor, really?" Jamila thought about it, then asked, "Do you think I could become a doctor? Would grandmother mind?"

"Jamila! What a delightful idea. I know your grandmother would be very proud of you. And it would be a fulfillment of your father's dreams, in her eyes. But, you must be very sure, first. It's a hard, long road to becoming a doctor, although it is very rewarding when you get there," Ann told her.

Jamila smiled and said, "I like that dream. There's something good about helping others, and I'm glad my father liked doing it too. Yes, I'll work very hard and become a doctor."

Ann and Shelly laughed with joy at the blossoming of this young woman.

"Good for you," Shelly said.

* * * *

Mrs. Helen Bower was hired soon after Marty's birthday. A furloughed professor, who was intelligent, well read and highly recommended by the Dean of the University of Washington. Putting her things in storage, she moved into the estate and the growing family at Drummond Hall.

The children adored her, she was funny, smart and a good teacher. She had the insight to see Marty's desire to learn. She put fun and great challenges before her and Marty excelled.

Jamila was a different story. She had so much to learn. Especially when Mrs. Bower found out she wanted to be a doctor. It was going to be an almost insurmountable task to get her caught up enough to make it into medical school. She should have started long ago with in-depth science classes and math, as well as a long history of excellent grades, and establishing contacts at the good medical schools in this country.

At first, Mrs. Bower spent part of the day teaching Jamila the cultural and social differences in this country, and then working her on the subjects she would need to get into medical school.

Mrs. Bower was elated to learn Jamila had taken years of Latin at her Catholic school, knowing that the medical terms and medicines would be easier for her to learn, if she ever got that far. It wasn't long before her teacher dropped the cultural/social lessons and concentrated on the pre-med lessons exclusively.

As summer neared, Mrs. Bower was pleasantly surprised with Jamila's hard work, and dedication. She was advancing quickly, so much so, Mrs. Bower was going to ask for a medical student to assist her in September. She recognized the deep desire to be a doctor in the girl, and strove to nourish it.

Near the end of the spring term, Mrs. Bower asked, "Jamila, normally the children in this country take off the next three months for summer vacation."

"They do that at the Catholic school, too," Jamila replied a little sadly, remembering the loneliness, except for Meridah. She missed her friend. Though they had spoken to each other almost every day, it wasn't the same as being with her.

"Well, Marty will be taking the summer off. You're welcome to, as well. You haven't had much of a childhood and it might be good for you to play for the summer, and be with your grandmother more," her teacher told her.

"But, I'll lose three months of work. I'm so far behind now. I know I'm catching up, but I'm reluctant to waste the summer. Do you want to take the three months off Mrs. Bower?" she asked, concerned she was being selfish.

"No. I've no real plans for the summer, and I'd be happy to work up a curriculum for you. But, may I recommend a week at camp? I know Marty is going mid-summer for two weeks and there will be children of all ages. I think you should go and join her for the last week and have a wonderful time, playing and doing summer things. It'll refresh you. I think you'll be able to work harder when you get back and you've earned it, Jamila. You're doing very well."

Jamila thought for a bit. "Okay, I'll go if I can keep up with my studies. Just one week shouldn't hurt me and it sounds like fun," she said with a large smile, looking forward to the outing.

Exposed

THE DAY OF exposure had come for Peter Lawrence. Once Ann's concerns about the missing money were put into the hands of David Tillman, he quickly, thoroughly and completely looked into it.

Sitting at his desk, he held a copy of Mrs. Drummonds request for liquidation of the missing two million dollars, except the signature on the document wasn't hers.

If Mr. Lawrence had signed it at her request, with his power of attorney, it should have been signed "Mrs. Nessa Maria Drummond, by Peter Lawrence under Power of Attorney". Instead, a clear crisp signature of Mrs. Drummond's faced him.

In his other hand, he held a letter he had received from her, written in the same time period, but this time, her signature was frail and shaky, due to her age and illness.

The lawyer realized the signature on the bond document must be a forgery. But, to be sure, he picked up the phone and called the FBI. They would determine the validity of the bank document. He asked for the fraud division, and unknowingly initiated events which would culminate in death, loss and harm to those involved in this web of deceit, created by one man.

Peter's life continued, unaware that the FBI was quietly investigating his past and all that he did. No alarm was raised by Carla. No one at the house knew of Ann's suspicions, not even Mrs. Drummond.

In June, Nessa surprised Jamila with her own car, a cute Toyota Camry, maroon with silver interior, all in leather.

"I don't know how to drive, grandmother!" Jamila said in surprise.

"I'm going to teach you," Jamie said with a large smile, as everyone stood around enjoying the moment. "Just be sure not to kill the teacher," he said in fun.

Jamila look happy and scared at the same time. What 16 year old doesn't want a car? She wasn't too sure where she was going to go with it, and this country was so big, and still so new. But, she'd give it a try.

Soon, the girl was driving into town, on errands and shopping for herself. She was growing up fast, and her grandmother couldn't have been happier.

In the evenings, Jamila would join Nessa in her suite of rooms. They'd talk of the day, of Jamila's dreams and of Neilan, her father. She learned all about the Drummond clan and their history here and abroad. Jamila was transforming into an American. She started thinking more like one and less like a child from Jordan. Each night she gave and received a hug from her grandmother, a cherished gift of love between them.

Summer was full on. Marty played and explored the island, promising to stay away from the water without an adult. Sometimes Jamila wished she was out there playing with her, but the desire to catch up, was stronger. On the weekends, however the girls took to exploring, swimming and having fun, as young people should. Occasionally they would go into town for a movie.

Marty and Jamila were growing close. Jamila shared her stories of Meridah with her, and what their life had been like in Jordan. "You and Meridah are so close in age," Jamila told her.

Faye put together a large barbecue for the Fourth of July. That night, everyone sat in comfortable chairs watching the fireworks over the lake.

The booming and explosions bothered Jamila. This was her first fireworks display, and it reminded her too much of the fighting she had lived through, in her short life, near the border of Syria and Israel, so close to the West Bank. Nessa reached over and placed her hand on her arm, squeezing gently, lovingly, reassuringly.

Several weeks after the holiday, Ann received a call from Mr. Tillman.

"Ann, I'd like to see you right away," he informed her. "When would be a good time?"

"I can come anytime. I'll have to let Nessa know I'm going," she informed him. "Everything's okay, isn't it? Was the money found?"

"Let's not talk about it over the phone. Keep Nessa out of it for a bit longer," he told her. "Can you drop by around noon today? We'll have lunch together."

"Sure, I'll be there," she said, saying good-bye, then hanging up.

This doesn't sound good. There must be something wrong, otherwise he'd have said so over the phone. Gosh, what's going to happen to Nessa when she finds out about the missing money?

Ann's suspicions were confirmed upon entering Mr. Tillman's office. She was introduced to Mr. Sidney Turner, an FBI agent, assigned to the case.

"Our preliminary reports indicate the signature on the bond document is a forgery," the agent told her. "And there are large amounts of money flowing through Mr. Lawrence's personal accounts, that can't be accounted for. We're about to serve a subpoena for his books."

"It doesn't look good, Ann," David Tillman told her. "I wanted to let you know, for your sake, as well as Nessa's."

"But, what can be done for Nessa? Can't we freeze her accounts?" Ann asked, apprehensive for her friend.

"That's what we're here to discuss. We want to coordinate your movements, both for yourself and for Nessa, with the FBI so we don't jeopardize their investigation. Let's talk about your money first," the lawyer suggested.

"There's no telling if he's embezzling until we can look at his books. We suspect he's stealing from Mrs. Drummond, but we've no way of knowing if he's doing the same with other accounts in his company until the auditors are done," Sidney Turner said.

"I want you to move all your assets to 'Goldman, Sachs & Co' as soon as possible," Mr. Tillman told her. "I want you to let us know if there are any problems incurred in doing so."

"Use your agent at Lawrence & Fenway Diversified, Mr. Jason Kurtman, to transfer your accounts," The FBI agent suggested. "Try to keep Mr. Lawrence out of it, if you can. Don't say anything to alarm them. If your agent asks you why, just tell him your lawyer, Mr. Tillman has recommended it, for now."

"Is Mr. Kurtman in on it?" she asked, concerned.

"We don't know, probably not. So far, all the other employee accounts are clean," he told her. "But we aren't taking any chances."

David Tillman said, "I'm giving you a document to freeze Nessa's accounts. It needs to be signed by her tonight. Be sure to set aside enough money to handle the estate for the next six months or so. We can always apply for a hardship waiver, if this goes on much longer than that. I want to be sure she can live comfortably, without undue stress."

"I'll have to tell Nessa," Ann said, worried about her friend.

"Yes, I know," David said, a little worried, as well.

"Keep this just between us and Mrs. Drummond, please," requested the agent. "It would be unfortunate if Mr. Lawrence got wind of this, before we were ready for it."

"Let's take care of you now. Why don't you call and see when you can get in to see Mr. Kurtman," he suggested, as he handed her the phone.

"The number is 921-4700, ext. 224," Sidney Turner said, looking at his notebook.

Dialing the number, she reached her financial agent.

"Hello, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?" he asked.

"Just fine Mr. Kurtman. Would it be possible to see you this afternoon?" she asked him.

"Sure. What's it about?" he requested.

"I'd like to talk to you about it when I get there, if it's okay with you," she told him. "We might need about an hour."

"An hour? Well, I have time at 2:00."

"Good. That'll be just fine, thank you," she told him, her heart pounding with the intrigue.

Saying good-bye, she hung up, and turned to the men sitting in the room.

"Good. We'll be waiting to hear from you Ann, and we'll keep you informed on Mrs. Drummond's situation," the federal agent told her.

"Help me determine what funds we might need. I'd like to go by the bank before my appointment. I'm not sure how to do this and it's going to be a large amount," she asked them.

After determining her best course of action, Ann stood, thanked them and said good-bye.

Walking from the building, she fretted about her approaching appointment.

At the bank, she took out $500,000 in cashier checks made out to the Drummond estate. With her ID and signature on file, there were no questions asked about the amounts she was asking for.

This is too easy. How ironic it would be, if I should disappear with this money.

She made it just in time for her appointment with Mr. Kurtman. He was surprised by her request to move everything, but he complied after trying to talk her out of it. 'My lawyer asked me to' was accepted without question, and the documents were signed and recorded.

She called Sidney Turner, telling him everything went fine. Her assets were now safe.

Now, how to tell Nessa, she thought as she got into her car, carrying the large sum of money, as well as the document needed to protect the Drummond estate.

Getting home around 4:00 in the afternoon, she walked into the study, sat down at the desk, and put her head in her hands.

Please help me through this, Lord. I grieve for Nessa. I don't know what this is going to do to her. Help me break it to her gently. Mr. Turner thinks almost one hundred million dollars has passed through Peter Lawrence's hands, if it's all Mrs. Drummond's... Oh Lord, help us through this.

Unlocking the top drawer, she placed the document and money inside, then locked it.

That evening, at dinner, it was hard for Ann to relax. Nessa noticed, as well as the nurse.

"Bad day in bedrock?" asked Nessa with a little wit.

"You could say that," Ann said trying to smile. "Would you mind coming to the study after dinner? I need to discuss something with you, Nessa," she asked a little too seriously.

"Certainly, dear," replied the head of the house. "It sure is quiet with Marty away at camp," she added.

"Too quiet, if you ask me," Faye chimed in. "Are you excited about driving down to camp all by yourself tomorrow morning, Jamila?"

"It's a long way, but I have a good map, and my cell phone. It sounds like Marty's having a wonderful time. I'm anxious to get there and see for myself," she told them.

"Are you all packed?" her grandmother asked.

"Yes. Faye and Mrs. Bower have gone over it with me several times. I should have everything I need and probably a lot more," she said with a laugh. "I can hardly wait to see the surprise on Marty's face when I show up a couple of days early."

"You've worked very hard and deserve the extra few days," Mrs. Bower told her, proud of her pupil.

"How early are you leaving?" Nessa asked.

"About 4:30 in the morning, grandmother," replied Jamila.

"Then, be sure to say good-bye to me tonight, dear, before I go to bed," she said, smiling lovingly at her granddaughter.

"I will," she agreed, as the conversation continued around the table. Only Carla remained quiet, excusing herself when she was done.

I wonder if I can find a place to hide in the study. I have to hear what this is all about. Ann looks so serious about something. But, should I? What if I get caught? It's probably nothing, but what if it isn't? I need to know for sure. I think I'll take a look in there while everyone's still at the table.

Carla entered the study, looked around, and found a closet near the desk, holding some coats. She pushed the coats aside and stepped in, testing it out. Just as she was about to leave, she heard voices. They're coming! Stepping back into the closet she closed the door, then pushed it open, just a crack. With her heart pounding in fear, she stayed as still as stone.

Ann was talking to Nessa about camp and how much the girls should enjoy themselves. Closing the doors to the study, Ann and Nessa walked over to the chairs by the fireplace, now cold and quiet, and sat down. Their voices were soft, but Carla could hear them well enough, in the still of the room.

"Nessa, I have some disturbing news I must share with you. Be assured, everything is being done to fix it as soon as possible," Ann started.

"Is it about Jamila?" the elderly woman asked in fear.

"No, dear, Jamila's fine," Ann took a deep breath and continued. "Do you remember asking me to liquidate some money from your bond account a while ago?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"I discovered quite a lot of money missing from the account and took my concerns to David Tillman. Nessa... we've just found out the money was stolen."

Shocked, she wanted to know, "How much?"

"At least two million dollars from your bonds, in fact, the FBI thinks there might be hundreds of millions of dollars involved. Not necessarily from you, but the person they suspect has had large amounts of money, that can't be accounted for, moving through his accounts. They won't know for sure yet, until the records are seized."

"Who do they suspect?" she asked anxiously.

"Peter Lawrence," Ann told her.

Nessa gasped, and if they were aware of a smaller gasp echoing in the room, they didn't show it.

"Mr. Tillman has given me a document for you to sign so your accounts can be frozen. That way he won't be able to get anything more out of them," Ann told her.

"I don't believe it. I've trusted that man for years. Are they sure?" she wondered.

"No, they're not sure, but they think so, Nessa, I'm so sorry," Ann offered. "I need you to sign the document tonight, because I want to give it to Mr. Tillman first thing in the morning, so he can execute it as soon as possible. He left two places on the document for witnesses. Faye and I will sign for you."

"Why would a man, married to two wealthy women need to steal money?" Nessa asked. "He has a great job that pays well too? Why?"

"I've no idea, Nessa, but he has a lot to account for."

"When are they going to arrest him?" Nessa wanted to know.

"Soon, I think, maybe within the next day or so. Once your accounts are frozen, he'd be alerted to trouble the minute he tries to access your money. They don't want him alerted, so I assume they'll seize his records and arrest him as soon as the document is filed. The FBI is keeping me informed. Are you very upset about it?" Ann wondered.

"Yes and no. I need money to survive of course, and it makes me mad to be stolen from, but the older I get the more I realize that money's only a tool, it's a nice one to have, but not at the expense of family, friends, love and giving."

"What good did it do my husband, to pursue it all of his life?" she continued. "It made him feel important, powerful and of value, yet he lost the love of our son, and he drove me away with his hard heart and stubbornness. Now, he has missed out on Jamila, the most beautiful and sweetest child. How can money replace people, Ann? How can it bring happiness, when happiness is found in those you love? Gavin isn't even mourned, really. How sad is that?" she asked forlornly.

Ann and Nessa talked for a while, and then Nessa asked, "How are we going to live with the accounts frozen?"

"Mr. Tillman and Mr. Turner recommended I take out some money. There's $500,000 dollars in cashier checks in the top drawer for us to use. I hope it'll be enough," Ann worried.

"Good. I'm glad David is looking out for us. Do you want me to wait until Faye is done in the kitchen, before I sign?" she asked.

"I don't see why not, we just have to get it done sometime tonight," Ann stated.

Carla ached to get out of the closet and warn Peter. She was getting stiff, and her muscles cried for relief, but she dared not move, for fear of making a noise, so she stood frozen behind the closet door.

A few moments later, Ann and Nessa left the room.

Stepping stiffly from the large cabinet, she cautiously stretched, then ran for the study doors. Peeking out, she could see Ann and Nessa entering the solarium. Bounding up the stairs, she ran for her room. She must get there before she was missed.

I have to tell Peter! We'll have to go away tonight.

Smiling with the thought of leaving at least, she went to her phone and dialed.

Just before he answered, she thought, I wonder if the FBI has tapped his phone!

Electricity ran through her, making her tremble.

"Hello, Mr. Lawrence?" she asked in a professional tone.

"Yes," He answered, wondering what she was up to, for he recognized the phone number and her voice.

"This is Miss Carla Sikes, Mrs. Drummond nurse."

"Yes," he said a little irritated.

"I was wondering if you could drop over tonight and discuss the surprise investment we were talking about, for Nessa's next birthday?" she asked him.

Peter started to fume, he was about to tell her off, when he realized, she's never talked to me like this before, it's as if she knows someone's listening.

His blood ran cold.

Gathering his wits, he said, "Certainly Miss Sikes. Would an hour from now work for you?"

"Can you make it sooner, Mr. Lawrence? I'd like to conclude our business before Mrs. Drummond goes to bed," she asked him, with a tremor in her voice.

Something's up, he realized.

"Yes, I can be there in a half hour," he told her, as a shiver ran through him.

* * * *

Carla stood watching for him out her window, her heart beating hard.

When Peter arrived, he parked on the mainland and walked across the softly lit bridge, nonchalantly.

If anyone comes out of that gatehouse tonight, I'll have a heart attack, he thought, stealing himself.

As he had done in the past, he rounded the gatehouse, climbed through the bushes and skirted the building, meeting up with the driveway further on. The stars and a half moon were out, giving a vague light to his path. He followed the driveway, not wanting to cross the field in the dark. He walked stealthy along the edge, ready to hide, not making a sound. As he neared the house, he stayed on the far side of the gardens until he reached the spot he was looking for. Sneaking alongside the garage, he emerged into the light of the turnaround for just a second.

Carla spotted him.

As he saw her vanish from her window, something inside of him knew what she was about to tell him, wasn't going to be good.

Carla ran to him, breathless, in fear, trembling.

"The FBI is on your trail!" she blurted softly. "I just overheard Ann talking about it with Mrs. Drummond," Carla whispered violently.

"What? Are you sure?" Fear of capture coursed through his veins, "How'd you find out?"

"I was hiding in the closet, in the study... " she whispered.

"The study? You were in there?" he interrupted her, shocked at her nerve.

"Yes! Just listen - they said two million dollars of bonds were stolen with a forged signature," she told him.

"Forged!" he exclaimed.

How'd they know it was forged? I was so careful in tracing it, just right, he fumed. How ironic... my first try at taking her money, being my downfall. What next?

"What else did you learn," he asked, fear eating at him, as he steeled himself for what was coming.

Carla proceeded to tell him what she overheard. When she got to the part about the document, he stopped her.

"You mean she has the paper to freeze the old lady's assets here?" Thinking out loud he said, "If I can get my hands on that document and put her somewhere out of the way for a few days, it would probably delay the feds. It might give me the time I need to get things together and get out."

"You mean get things together so WE can get out!" she said hotly, through her clinched teeth.

Her anger woke Peter from his musing. "Of course, darling, of course," he cooed, giving her a hug.

Carla wasn't appeased by his affection, this time. She was worried and alert.

I don't trust him anymore. When did that happen? Well, for better or worse, I'm going with him!

"Do you know where the document is?" he asked her.

"No, but I heard her tell Mrs. Drummond she needed to sign it tonight."

Peter thought for a second, then looked over at the windows to the study. Suddenly, the lights went on.

"Come on!" he whispered harshly, pulling Carla along beside him.

Sneaking up to the study window, he peeked in. Ann was sitting at the desk, opening the top drawer with a set of keys.

He pulled Carla closer and whispered in her ear, "Are those her car keys, do you know?"

Carla tried to see. Leaning back, she told him softly, "Yes, I recognize the key fob. It's a large round medallion, with some Christian saying on it."

Peter smiled.

This is going to be easy. We'll drug her and tie her up, take the keys out of her purse and the document will be mine. We'll disappear with no one the wiser.

Standing there, watching the old woman sign, he continued planning.

But, I'll have to put her somewhere where she can't be found for a while, and think of something which would have the authorities looking for her, and not me.

I can't leave her here to raise the alarm. I only need a day or so, but where can I put her?

Then the thought came, The Albatross, of course! The Ellington's old, abandoned, gold mine. I still have the key to the entrance on my key chain.

I haven't been out there for years. Meredith loved going out there, exploring for treasure, but we never did find anything of value.

I hope they haven't changed the lock... but, why should they? It's been closed for over twenty years. I can always force it open, but the marks might give it away to the guard. I think they still have a guard going out there once in a while, to check on the place, don't they? I can't remember... It doesn't matter. I just need a day or two.

Peter watched the cook and then Ann sign the document and then put it back in the drawer, locking it.

Peter pulled Carla away willing, and went back to their hiding spot next to the garage.

Standing in the dark, he told her softly about his plan. Carla didn't like drugging anyone, but she was in this too deep to back out now. She couldn't endure losing him and the money at this point. Ann would have to be drugged before morning.

"We'll get the document and hide her, but what can we use to focus the police on her and not us?" he whispered.

Carla brightened with an idea, "There's $500,000 dollars' worth of cashier checks in the drawer too, I heard them talking about it," she offered.

"Good! That'll do it. We'll have her disappear with the money. It might not fool them for long, but it could give us the time we need. At least it's worth a try."

As they came out from beside the garage, walking along the front quietly, the door on the other side of the garage opened, the light inside went out, and the door softly closed behind Jamila, who quietly tip-toed away.

"What's she doing here?" Peter demanded in Carla's ear.

"I don't know! She's leaving early in morning for camp, maybe she was checking on the car, or putting something in it to take with her," Carla suggested. "I don't think she heard us."

"Then why is she sneaking away?" Peter's heart was beating hard.

"I don't think she's sneaking, she's just trying to be quiet," Carla told him.

"Quick, follow her and make sure she doesn't raise an alarm, if you're wrong," he said sarcastically. "And do whatever you have to, to keep her quiet."

Carla shook her head at his paranoia, and quickly followed the granddaughter into the house.

Jamila went straight to her room and closed her door. Carla stood outside for quite a while listening. Nothing, all was quiet.

Then she retired to her own room.

Time to get this done, she told herself, as she dissolved some tablets in a solution which could easily be added to a drink.

Going down stairs, she found Ann in the study working. Looking for an opportunity to drug Mrs. Drummond's assistant, she stood in the shadows of the stairway, waiting, listening.

How am I going to do this?

Then she heard Ann on the house phone. "Faye would you make me some coffee? I'm going to be working late tonight and I'd love some. Sure, I can wait. I'll go up and check on Mom. I'll be right back. Thanks, Faye. Yes, just leave it on my desk."

Ann left the study and went to the elevator, ascending to the top floor.

Knowing the coffee was the perfect means for the drugging, the nurse waited, with her heart beating hard. Time went by, her nerves frayed, still the house was quiet.

Then Carla heard footsteps on the stone floor. Ducking into the dark billiard room, she watched Faye pass by, on her way to the study. Within a few seconds, she had returned, after closing the study doors and walking back toward the kitchen.

Ann's going to be back any second! There's no time, no time!

Gritting her teeth, she swiftly rushed toward the study, opening the doors and running to the decanter of coffee. In went the sleeping draught. Her hands trembling, she dropped the bottle on the floor with a thud, and then scooped it up, as she rushed back to the door, peeking out into the hall.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the small hall toward the great hall.

She's coming! Carla screamed inside, flying out of the study, leaving the door open.

Frantically she dashed across the huge hall, trying to be silent, as she rushed into the family room. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it in dread and fear, waiting.

No one came to the door. Her deed was still secret.

Looking out, she could see the study door was closed, with the light oozing from underneath it into the hall. In relief she ascended the stairs quickly, returning to her rooms.

"Carla, is that you?" Mrs. Drummond called out to her. "Where have you been? I've been trying to get you for over an hour!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Drummond, I had to pick up some medications at the Burstein's All Night Drug Store. Didn't I leave you a note?"

"No, you didn't. Please be sure you let someone know when you're going to be gone for any length of time, Carla. My heart can't take this much stress."

"Certainly, Mrs. Drummond. I'm very sorry. It won't happen again."

Especially since I'll never see you again, you old bat. I can hardly wait to get out of here and start my new life with Peter.

Downstairs the phone rang in the study.

Gone

THE NEXT DAY, at breakfast, Emma walked into the morning room and asked, "Has anyone seen Ann?"

"No, she isn't here yet," Faye replied.

"I've looked everywhere for her and I can't find her," Emma said concerned.

"Faye, call Dougal and Jamie and see if they've seen her. She may have gone into town, early this morning, on an errand I'm having her do," Nessa said, remembering the document she had signed last night.

Faye phoned the gatehouse, "Good morning, Dougal, have you seen Ann this morning? No? Yes, I know you don't always see someone leaving the estate. Yes, please." She turned to the room saying, "He's asking Jamie," returning to the phone she responded, "Thank you Dougal."

Faye shrugged her shoulders, "They haven't seen her since yesterday."

"I'm going to the study to call her cell," Emma stated.

"Use the phone in the kitchen, Emma, its closer," Faye offered.

Emma left the room and retuned a short time later with worry on her face. "She doesn't answer. She normally answers her cell."

"Sit down and have some breakfast. She'll turn up soon," Faye suggested.

"Where's Carla, by the way?" asked Nessa. "She's usually here by now."

Faye shook her head, annoyed with Miss Sikes, while pouring Nessa another cup of coffee.

As breakfast progressed, Nessa continued watching for her nurse. "Faye, would you mind looking for Carla? I hope nothing's happened to her," she said with apprehension.

As Faye left the room, Nessa said to no one in particular, "What a strange morning."

Faye returned with a look of shock on her face, "Mrs. D... I think she's gone. Her things are missing from her room."

"What! That does it! Faye, call Dougal and Jamie. I want a room to room search of this place. I want you to look for Ann, and any sign of Carla. I'm going to call my attorney, he was supposed to meet with Ann sometime today, and she may have gone there. I want the garage checked to see what cars are there. Find out what you can and report back to me," she commanded.

As the day wore on, the worry about Ann and Carla escalated. Ann's car was gone, along with her purse, but where did she go? Shelly hadn't heard from her and she didn't go to the lawyer's office, either. Mr. Tillman told them he hadn't seen or heard from her, but he'd call if he did. No word ever came.

"Jamila's car is gone too. She must have left on time this morning for camp," Jamie informed Nessa.

"That's a relief, at least," Nessa said.

During the room to room search, Emma found Ann's cell phone in the study, on the printer, near her desk.

No wonder she isn't answering. But, why did she leave it behind? She always makes sure she has it.

Faye said, "We need to get another nurse in here Mrs. D, even if it's just for a day or so. I don't want you collapsing on me," she said, more worried than she appeared to be. She knew something had happened to Ann, but what? And how was Mrs. D going to take it?

"I guess you're right Faye, call Dr. Chesterfield and request another nurse," Mrs. Drummond said, "and Faye... didn't you say all of Carla's things were gone?"

"Yes, it's like she packed up, and just walked out," said Faye.

"Then Carla must have quit last night, but why? Did she say anything to anyone? Did she leave a note? Did anyone find a note?"

Everyone shook their heads no.

"She's the most thoughtless, unfeeling, selfish person I've ever met," Nessa said, expressing her exasperation.

The strangeness of the day wore on. No word of Ann or Carla materialized, creating an unnerving void in the family.

Later in the day, Faye found Mrs. Drummond in the study, sitting at the desk and told her, "Dr. Chesterfield's office just called, they're sending out another nurse who's willing to stay with us until we can find a replacement. Her name is Karen Adams. She should be here in about an hour."

"That's fine," Nessa responded, and then she said. "Faye, would you go to my jewelry box and get me the spare key to this desk. You know where it is, don't you?"

Faye nodded.

"I want to look for the document we signed last night, and make sure the estate funds are here," she said troubled.

Emma walked into the study, with worry all over her face, as Faye left. When the house phone rang, Emma answered it.

"Hello? Oh, hello Dougal. Mr. Tillman and a Mr. Turner to see Mrs. Drummond? Important? Just a minute please, I'll ask her," Emma turned to relay the message to Mrs. Drummond.

"I understand Emma. If it's my attorney, I'd like to see him, please," Nessa told her.

Emma turned back to the phone, "Please send them through, Dougal. I'll meet them at the front door," she offered.

Faye came back with the key, as Emma went to wait at the front door. Opening the drawer, Nessa searched through its contents thoroughly. They weren't there. Then she started searching the rest of the desk.

Emma and the men entered the room.

"Come on in David. I'm just checking for the document and the money we left in here last night," she told him.

The document and checks were missing.

"Maybe she took the document with her and something's happened to her, on her way to your office," she suggested. "But the checks should still be here. David, I don't know what's going on, and I'm so worried."

"Nessa, it's going to be fine," he said, walking up to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "I need you to try and relax, and let us take care of this."

"This is Mr. Sidney Turner from the FBI, Nessa," he continued. "Ann met him at my office, yesterday. We've come here to determine what's happened to her and Carla Sikes, if we can. Do you have a nurse coming? I'd like to have one here, so we don't tax you too much," he said worriedly.

"Yes. She'll be here anytime now," Nessa answered, trying to remain calm. But, this day was taking its toll.

"Good. Then let's wait for her. That's okay, isn't it Sidney?" he inquired of the agent.

"A little more time shouldn't matter, but we could be jeopardizing the outcome, if we're not careful," he warned.

At that moment, the house phone rang again. This time Faye answered. "Send her through Dougal, we're waiting for her," Faye told him.

"It's the nurse, she's here," she told the room.

"Good!" David Tillman said in relief.

Soon the nurse was in the room, and introduced to her employer, the lawyer, an FBI agent, the cook, and an Emma Wesley.

She was instructed to watch Mrs. Drummond for signs of stress or fatigue.

"Please be prepared to stop these proceedings, and have her medication on hand, just in case."

Boy! What have I walked into?

She checked Mrs. Drummond's vitals, asked a few questions and made sure she had the medications she would need on hand.

"We're ready," she stated.

Mr. Tillman sat down, and the nurse took a chair near Mrs. Drummond, while the rest found seats nearby.

"Now, Mrs. Drummond, would you tell us all you know about the disappearance of Ann Henderson, and your nurse, Carla Sikes," started Mr. Turner.

Karen's eyes grew large, upon hearing that two people were missing, including the former nurse.

Maybe I should stop the proceedings, because my heart rate's going through the roof! she thought in jest.

Nessa decided to start with Carla. "Well, I think we know what happened to Carla, in a way. Her belongings are gone. It's as if she packed up and left last night. I don't know why, she didn't tell anyone or leave a note," she told the room.

"But, its Ann I'm worried about, Mr. Turner. She just seems to have vanished. Her car is gone, along with her purse, and now I've found the document and checks missing, as well. She has the only key to this desk, beside the spare one I keep in my room." Nessa shared - her heart beginning to sink. "It's not like her, Mr. Turner. She wouldn't leave her family and her things behind, would she?"

Emma interrupted, "Please, my daughter has been a hard worker all her life, conscientious, and has never done a dishonest thing that I know of. She'd never just up and leave like this. Something's happened to her!"

"When was the last time anyone saw her," Mr. Turner asked the room.

"I brought her coffee last night, she was working late," Faye said. "But, the funny thing is, when I came in this morning, to clear the things away, the coffee things weren't here. I found everything cleaned up and put away. Why would she or anyone do that?"

Mr. Turner continued taking notes, as Emma offered her input. "I don't think she came to bed last night. I don't think her bed wasn't slept in, and all her things are still here. This really isn't like her."

"All right. I think this has gone far enough," the FBI agent stated, putting down his notebook, temporarily. "Mrs. Drummond, there's enough evidence here of a crime, and I believe time is of the essence. I'd like a crew from the lab in here, as soon as possible, to see what we can find. We don't know if she has left with the estate funds, or if something's happened to her. I'm going to put out an All-Points Bulletin, for Carla Sikes, and Ann Henderson. I want to locate both of them and bring them in for questioning, as soon as possible."

That very hour the FBI started checking the bus lines, airports, and trains... all forms of transportation looking for the missing women.

"Why would she steal the cashier checks, when she just inherited several million dollars of her own?" Emma asked in dismay. "It doesn't make sense! I'll bet her jewelry and all the beautiful things she just bought are still upstairs, in her room."

"And why would she take the document to freeze my assets?" Nessa asked. "That doesn't make sense either."

"We'll try and get some answers soon," Mr. Turner offered.

Nessa turn pale, and asked in a shocked voice, "You don't think Peter Lawrence had anything to do with this?" she said as a chill ran down her spine. "He'd want that document and would probably take the checks, as well, if he could. What if he wanted to get Ann out of the way, delaying the events that document would cause?"

"What a frightening thought, Nessa," David Tillman said gravely.

"Where is Peter Lawrence, Mr. Turner? Is he being watched?" Nessa asked, as Emma started to weep quietly for her child.

"Surveillance hasn't been requested yet. We'll be seizing his company records soon, to determine if a crime has even occurred. We have to move carefully, so an innocent person isn't violated. What if we're wrong and he can explain the discrepancies in his accounts?"

"It seems to me Sidney, someone forged the bond document and stole Mrs. Drummond's money. We have to find Ann, and quickly. I fear something has happened to her," David Tillman said, with real concern.

Sidney Turner phoned his office and the estate was thoroughly searched. Nothing new was discovered, except that Emma was right. Ann did leave all her valuables behind.

That night, dinner was subdued. Faye and Emma ate in the kitchen hardly speaking, while Nessa ate sparingly in her rooms with Karen by her side.

The end of day one, for the missing women, was coming to a close.

* * * *

The morning of Ann's disappearance, Peter returned home around 3 a.m. He had just come from The Albatross gold mine.

Opening the door quietly, he went to the wet-bar and poured himself a whisky, a large one. Turning on the light next to his arm chair, he sat down heavily, in frustration and dissatisfaction at the way things had turned out. He groaned inside.

Everything's happening so fast! I'm going to have to cut my losses and get out of here. I know Sabine won't come with me, but even if she did, she'd be a hindrance. She'd give me away, when the mood suited her.

But I just can't bolt without a plan. I must do this right, think it completely through. Everyone involved with this mess is out of the way, for now. I should have a day, maybe two.

I don't think the FBI will come for the books, just yet... not without protecting Mrs. Drummond's assets, first.

But, when they discover Ann is missing, will they go looking for her and the missing money? Will it be enough of a red herring to throw them off my trail? Probably not, but it should confuse things long enough to give me the time I need.

If I just break for it now, and leave... I'd only have what's in our home safe. I'd have to leave behind my entire stock portfolio, and I can't do that. If I try to cash it in anywhere else, they'd be able to track where the request came from and possibly locate me.

No, I should have today, at least, to cash out all my stocks from my office, and have the money moved to that off-shore account in the Caymans, and then get out of here. If I leave sometime tonight, after Sabine is asleep, then I can take what I need from here, as well. I'll check the office safe too. And then, be in a hotel room in Miami, safe and sound before she gets up, and our office opens the next day.

But, do I have the guts to wait it out? I have over one hundred million in the account now, plenty to start my bank. But, would that be enough?

No! I just can't leave the rest behind, it's worth millions, and I might need it! I've got time... I made sure I had time, at great cost! I'll stick it out and do it right.

Setting down his drink, he went to the wall-safe. Opening it, he took out his passport and all his important papers and checked the contents.

Good, there's plenty of cash in here and all Sabine's jewelry, the really expensive pieces, but should I take them? She'd kill me if she ever got her hands on me again. I can't hawk them intact. Sabine will be in hot pursuit of them with detectives, and flyers. If they are ever identified, the hunt for me will start wherever they're found. No, if I want them, I'll have to take the jewels out and sell them separately. It's worth the risk.

Closing and locking the safe, he decided, Now, I need to get some sleep.

Finishing his drink, he went to bed, making sure he didn't disturb his wife. As he lay there, however, staring into the darkness of his room, his thoughts raced, worrying what the feds were doing, if he was making a mistake by waiting.

"Can't you lie still?" Sabine complained, sleepily.

"Sorry, I've a lot on my mind," he said quietly. "I'll stay in the guest room."

Getting up, he went quietly to the other room.

Sleep eluded him. He tossed and turned, nightmares haunted him throughout the night.

Finally, giving up trying to sleep, he got up and dressed. Leaving his wife a note, indicating he'd left for the office early, he went to the garage and drove his BMW to the Kingston Building.

Upon entering Lawrence & Fenway Diversified, he walked into his office and turned on the lights. Sitting at his desk, he turned on his computer and transferred the rest of his personal funds, including his joint account with Sabine, to his off shore account in the Cayman Islands.

As soon as he got to the island, he'd take everything out and disappear with his new identity, maybe to South America. He could figure that out later, but the money would be safe from the US government's intervention, now.

Tomorrow, I need to be in Miami before Sabine is up and the office opens, so that means I have to leave here at 3:00 a.m. tonight. With over a five and a half hour flight, I should arrive in Miami at 11:30 a.m. EST, which makes it 9:00 a.m. PST here. I'll be off the plane and in a hotel, before anything is missed.

What time is it now? 5:30? It's not too early to call Ralph Walters, is it? I'll tell him an important client needs me in Miami by noon tomorrow. He'll believe that.

Peter dialed Ralph, the company pilot for their Gulfstream G550 business jet, a sleek machine with dual Rolls-Royce engines on the tail, and winglets at the tip of each wing.

"Hello, Ralph? This is Peter Lawrence. I hope I didn't get you out of bed... Sorry, but I need to be in Miami by noon tomorrow, is the company jet available? Good. I'm meeting an important client, who's in a hurry to spend his money. Yah I'd like to have that problem too. Got a co-pilot in mind? Good, Stan will be fine. Okay. That'll work. I'd like to be in the air by 3 a.m. Ralph. Good. I'll see you before 3:00 tonight then. No, I'll be the only passenger this trip, okay, see you tonight."

Getting up, he went to the company safe, and opened it. He found a large amount of bearer bonds and cash on hand.

That's right, we're about to merge with Halverson Accounting. Well, Trevor's going to be angry, but he'll get over it. Just call it my severance pay and partnership buyout, he thought with a smile.

Leaving everything there, he locked the safe.

In his office, he opened his personal safe, took out the contents, and put most of it in his briefcase.

Looking over his new identity, he recalled how he had become Phillip Lewis on his new passport. He had rented a dark brown wig, put on a phony mustache and worn dark brown contacts. The change was startling. Now he was going to do it for real in Florida.

Packed and ready for the day, he made himself busy with work, wanting to appear as if nothing was wrong.

As soon as his agent's office was open, back in New York, he set about liquidating his portfolio.

"Are you sure you want to cash it all in, Peter?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm retiring early, Bill. I want all of it in this new account before I go."

"It'll take a day or two to transfer all the funds," his agent told him.

"No problem, just be sure all of it goes," Peter instructed him, knowing that once it was all transferred, no one would be able to touch it, but him.

I sure wish I could've gotten my hands on Ann Henderson's money, which would have been sweet revenge. Why couldn't she leave things alone? Everything was going fine, before she got here. She's going to pay for it, though.

Peter finished out his day at work, then went home. His nerves were frayed, as he constantly watched for any change in routine, and the slightest noises made him jump. But he was determined to see his plans through to whatever end.

The end of day one, for Peter, was coming to a close. As he lay in bed that night, trying to rest, patiently waiting for his plan to commence, his ordeal and escape was imminent.

Waiting

DAY TWO DAWNED at the estate, just like any other day in this world, except tensions were high, fear of the unknown lingered, confusion held sway, and emotions became weary of the experience. Time dragged on, and no one knew what to expect, just that something was dreadfully wrong.

Everyone seemed to want to be together on the second day. Meeting in the morning room, they sat together in a group and talk very little. Yet, being in each other's company seemed to grant some comfort. It gave them a sense of normalcy, they unknowingly sought.

Nessa wanted her family around her, so she asked, "Emma, do you think we should bring Marty and Jamila back home?"

Emma thought for a second, and then replied, "No. It would only upset the children and the atmosphere here is so oppressive. Let them stay there until the end of the week, it's better for them there."

Nessa understood, but it was still hard not having the children around.

After breakfast, Karen took Nessa out onto the patio and set her in a comfortable chair. To take her mind off the events unfolding on the estate, she started reading Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" to her. Mrs. Bower and Faye heard her clear presentation of the wonderful story and quietly sat nearby, transported from the problems of the day, into a world of long ago.

Emma went upstairs, walked into her daughter's bedroom, picked up Ann's Bible, and held it to her heart. Sitting in a chair near the window, she talked to God for the first time, begging him to bring her daughter home safely.

Softly, willingly, she opened her heart to Him, and tears streamed down her face, not just for her child, but also because something was touching her inside - deeply, profoundly, and unalterably forever.

Later in the day, the FBI informed the Drummond household Peter Lawrence's records had been seized. It would be a while before the auditor's report was ready, but they were working on it around the clock to expedite it. Peter Lawrence was nowhere to be found, and a bench warrant had been issued for his arrest.

Day two for the estate ended empty, with no word or resolution to the drama that continued to unfold.

* * * *

By the time the second day dawned for Peter Lawrence, he was on his way to Florida.

Around 1:30 that night, he lay listening to Sabine as she slept soundly next to him, snoring softly. Getting up, he crept across the carpeted floor, entering his walk-in closet. Sabine had one just like it nearby. Closing the door, he turned on the light, and pulled his suitcases down. He was going to take all he could.

His heart was beating with the fear of waking her. How could he explain his leaving?

You idiot, just tell her the same thing you told Ralph.

Still, he tried to pack without disturbing her.

Opening his top drawer, he took out his collection of Rolodex watches, diamond, ruby and emerald rings, and all his valuables. He placed them in the pocket of his suitcase. Looking around, he made sure he had everything he wanted.

I can always replace what I can't take with me, once I'm safe and settled into my new life.

Turning off the light in the closet, he opened the door cautiously. Sabine still slept. Wheeling the suitcases over the soft carpet, he put them out in the hallway.

Then returning to the room, he went into their bathroom and closed the door gently, turning on the lights, and made sure he had everything he wanted from there, as well.

Taking out his leather kit bag, he filled it up with his toiletries, then he spied Sabine's wedding ring, and some of her jewelry in a crystal dish on the counter. Into his bag they went. Looking into her drawers, he found more of her things and tossed them in, too.

She'll kill me if she catches me doing this! But if I can get out of here and the country, I'm going to need them.

Turning off the light, he opened the door and walked soundlessly to her side of the bed. Looking down at his wife, peacefully sleeping, a twinge of regret stirred.

She sure was a lot of fun. It was a good life while it lasted. Good-bye Sabine, and with that, he left the room and her life for the last time.

With the suitcases in the BMW, he returned to the house and opened their wall-safe, taking out the contents, and putting it into his briefcase. He looked around the room to make sure he had everything he wanted. Then he closed and locked the safe. Without a backward glance, he picked up his briefcase and walked out of the house, leaving behind the life he had always dreamed of.

By 2:00 that morning, Peter had parked his BMW at the Kingston Building, in downtown Spokane. Upon entering the company offices, he went to the safe and took the bearer bonds and the cash.

Smiling, he thought, this is turning out to be quite a haul. This is almost as good as being with Sabine... this excitement has my adrenaline going full speed.

Smiling he called a taxi, speculating that by leaving his car, he would slow the hunt for him, when the time came.

Within twenty minutes, he was standing at the company hanger, waiting to leave the Pacific Northwest and his current life. The jet, prepped and fueled, was ready to go.

Looking around, he tried not to think about the police, or the FBI lurking out there, watching him. The fear of being caught was constantly on his mind and he worried, Will I have time to get out of here... out of the country? I should have time. But, Sabine's going to flip when she wakes up this morning and can't find her wedding ring. Maybe she'll think she misplaced it, but it won't take her long to call the police. I should have left it! Now they'll be looking for me sooner, than latter, you fool... you greedy fool.

But nothing happened. His luggage was loaded, and he sat down comfortably in his lush seat, looking out the window. Shortly, the jet was taxing down the runway, waiting for its turn to fly.

Roaring into the sky, he was on his way to Miami. In five and a half hours he'd be in the southern tip of Florida, ready to change his name, and who he was, into a new man. One who could do what he wanted, with the wealth he had amassed.

Maybe with his new identity, he could become a better person - one who didn't have to steal or hurt others - one who could have a happy life at last, and do good in this world. As he flew south, he dreamed of the future he wanted. He envisioned a respectable man, one who deserved to be loved.

Reflecting, he thought back to the night before.

I'm not going there! It's in the past. I won't leave her there to die. I'll call and let them know where she is as soon as I'm out of the country, and safe. It'll be alright. I don't want to think about it!

With determination, Peter tried returning to happier thoughts, blocking out the cruel deeds of that night. Exhausted he slept, while unpleasant and nightmarish dreams continued to plague him.

Landing in Miami at 11:30 in the morning, he descended the jet to the tarmac. The summer weather was hot, humid, and suffocating, drenching him in sweat.

As soon as he got his luggage off the jet, he turned to Ralph and Stan, in their smart uniforms and said, "Thanks for getting me here on time. I hope this compensates for any inconvenience this may have caused," he told them, handing them a cash bonus.

"Thank you, Mr. Lawrence. Do you want us to wait here for you?" Mr. Walters asked.

"No, I'll be here for a few days. Go ahead and take the jet back to Spokane. I'll make other arrangements for my return."

"Very good, Mr. Lawrence. Good-bye then," the pilot said.

Turning, Peter thought, yes indeed its good-bye. Good-bye to Peter Lawrence and all that he was.

Peter was now walking away from his former life.

Now, to rent a plane for San Juan, Puerto Rico... my last stop in the US before disappearing completely. I'd better change my appearance first, though. I must become Phillip Lewis before I go.

Taking a taxi, he was dropped off at the Regency Hotel. Registering as Peter Lawrence, one more time, he placed his belongs in the room.

Once in the bathroom, he changed his sandy hair to dark brown, and shaved both sides of his head, above the ears. Taking some gel, he spiked his hair on top of his head, trying to look like a want-a-be punk rocker. Then he pasted the mustache on and put in the contacts.

Changing into a light cotton shirt with palm fronds and flowers, Bermuda shorts and sandals, he looked in the mirror. He was pleased with the drastic change. Putting on a baseball cap and sunglasses, he picked up his belongings and exited the hotel as Phillip Lewis.

At the taxi stand he asked to be taken to the "Blackthorn Airplane Rental" at the airport. Arriving there, he was informed the Cessna 400 Corvalis TTx wouldn't be available until tomorrow.

I need that plane to get to Puerto Rico, alone... no witnesses. It's one of the few single engine planes which I can fly, and has the range I need. Now what?

"Do you know of anywhere else I can rent one?" he asked.

"Not really. This is our busiest season. Most places are booked up. We're bringing in your Cessna from Texas. We'll get it serviced, and checked out by tomorrow morning. It should be ready for you by 11 o'clock," the agent told him.

"Fine. I'll take it," he said reluctantly.

What am I going to do for the rest of the day?

He gave the agent his phony passport, new driver's license and counterfeit pilot's license. Signing the papers, he took out rental insurance and told the agent he'd give him a call this afternoon to check on the plane.

Phillip left, concerned about staying in Florida longer than he'd planned, but he should be safe.

After all, I'm a new man and the police have no reason to be looking for me. I'll find a cheap hotel, and stay low until I can get out of here.

Taking his suitcases and briefcase, he found a taxi and asked for the best, cheapest hotel in the area. The driver looked at him in bewilderment, wondering what he was up to, but shrugged his shoulders, and then took him downtown.

At an old hotel, in downtown Miami, Phillip found a dingy room, with an old TV. He mused that before too long, he would never have to stay in a place like this again.

* * * *

Back in Spokane that afternoon, the FBI executed two search warrants, one for the Lawrence home and the other for Lawrence & Fenway Diversified.

Upon checking at the Lawrence home, the FBI found a livid and angry Sabine Lawrence. She had found, not only her jewelry missing, but a lot of her money from their joint account was gone.

"His closet is empty. Everything he had of value is gone, along with my things. If you ever find him, just let me know where he is and you'll never have to prosecute him, I guarantee it!" she yelled. "He won't live long enough to go to jail!"

When the FBI raided the offices of Lawrence & Fenway Diversified, they seized the company books. Employees were devastated, interviewed and told to go home. The business was closed indefinitely.

Mr. Trevor Howard, the CEO from the Fenway side of the business was outraged. He had no clue to what was going on, or why. Everything they did had been above board, and out in the open for everyone to see. They even had a third party overseeing their operations. Closing the company, even for a few days, along with all the bad publicity, could kill it.

His secretary, along with their Financial Control Officer, Charles Fenwick, opened the company safe and discovered the bonds and cash missing.

"We've been robbed, Mr. Howard," the controller told him, shaken and pasty.

In pain, grief and anger, Trevor Howard said, "Give the details to the FBI and make sure they get everything they need Charles. And help them in Mr. Lawrence's office, please. I believe this will be the longest day of my life," he moaned.

Sitting down heavily, he knew his life was never going to be the same again. He just prayed he could salvage some of it, from the grievous harm it had just been dealt.

Peter's safe was eventually opened. It was empty. All signs pointed to the head CEO, and partner of Lawrence & Fenway Diversified, as a thief. The hunt was on and intensified for Peter Lawrence.

Eventually the news reached Ralph Walters, the company pilot. Calling the office, he was told to speak to the FBI and give them every detail of his trip to Florida. Soon, the FBI was out in force, swarming the Miami area, scouring the region for the missing fugitive. All modes of transportation were checked, his photo shown at every hotel, motel and inn, but Peter Lawrence wasn't found.

In the dingy hotel, in downtown Miami, Phillip Lewis sat on his bed and used the phone to call the airplane rental agent, giving them his hotel phone number and room.

"The Cessna is on schedule, Mr. Lewis. We'll contact you tomorrow on its status. It should be on time," the agent told him.

"Call me, if anything changes," Phillip requested, anxious to be leaving.

He sat back on the bed, trying to watch TV. Nothing of interest was on. The sound of traffic down in the street, drifted up, over the clanking of the old air-conditioner trying in vain to cool the room.

As the evening wore on, memories of the last few days began to harass him. Getting up he walked to a nearby restaurant for dinner. As he ate, he spotted a liquor store across the street.

Soon, he was back in his hotel room with a bottle of Jack Daniel's. Leaning back against the propped up pillows, he watched mindless shows, and drank from the bottle, eventually falling into a drunken stupor.

The former Peter Lawrence wouldn't have recognized the disheveled, bedraggled, man on the shabby bed, drunk and vulnerable, with a vast fortune next to him without a guard, protector, or security.

Day two for Phillip Lewis was coming to an end.

* * * *

In the dark, on a lonely mountain, death was on the loose because of what one man had chosen to do. It had taken one, and was stalking the other, lost and alone in the dark.

Her world continued black, with no light, no fresh air, or warmth of the sun. She was shivering with the cold, still captive, still confined to her prison. She cried and wept, so lost, so alone. "Help!" she screamed. "Help me!" the desperate cry was flung as far as she could shout it. "Please dear God!" she prayed out loud. "Please save me... I want to live!"

Silence... but for the drip, drip, the rhythmic dripping in the dark. Slowly her life was leaving her. Curling up, she tried to block out this nightmare with sleep, but it was no use... it couldn't help. Her world was black, whether her eyes were open or close, it made no difference. Madness was chewing at her. Her will to live was flickering. Soon it would be gone.

Revelations

THE THIRD DAY dawned clear, bright and hot. Nessa didn't want to get out of bed. It was daunting to face another day of uncertainty, and fear of the unknown. Ann had been gone for so long. She just knew something horrible had happened to her.

But, Karen encouraged her, and with her bubbly and affectionate nature made it easier for Nessa to get up and comply. She realized what a treasure this new nurse was.

Emma prayed. She clung to Ann's Bible and talked to God, pleading with Him and loving Him at the same time. Her mind told her to worry, but her heart told her it would be okay. She'd never experienced this type of conflict before. Through it all, she felt God was trying to comfort her.

She kept in touch with Shelly, who was anxious and upset about her best friend. "I'm praying, Emma," she told her, "I'm praying fervently."

At the morning meal, the conversation was kept on general subjects. No one wanted to talk about the elephant in the room, Ann's disappearance.

After the meal, Karen got out Jane Austen's book again, and settled Nessa outside in her comfortable chair. Emma and Mrs. Bower followed, sitting quietly nearby, looking forward to the distraction, as well. The tension was wearing them all down.

The day was going to be a hot one. It was already warm, but the cool morning breeze off the lake felt good. Dougal was cutting the lawn somewhere out on the estate, the sound of the machine whirring off in the distance was comforting, normal. Jamie was working in the rose garden, below. The sprinklers running near the house provided a fine mist, cooling the area.

Karen sat next to Nessa, and started reading where she had left off the day before. Nessa closed her eyes and let her imagination take her to England, so long ago.

Lunch came and went. The heat of the day became oppressive. Retiring to the cool of the house, Nessa went to her rooms to rest, while Emma and Mrs. Bower went to the family room, Emma to read, and Mrs. Bower to sit down at the desk and write her daughter. Dougal had come in to fix a leaking faucet, upstairs.

During the afternoon, around 3:00, David Tillman came by to see how Nessa was doing.

Everyone was hungry for news and gathered in the family room, to see if he could tell them something new. After letting the lawyer into the estate, Jamie followed with the pretense of helping his Da, but in truth he was also hoping to hear news about Ann. Faye brought coffee and stayed.

"Have you heard anything new David?" Nessa asked.

"Yes, some," he told the room.

"Peter Lawrence has disappeared, along with most of his wife's jewelry and some of her money. Bonds and cash are missing from his company and his personal safe was cleaned out. Mr. Turner told me he has been traced to Florida, but has since disappeared. They're out in force... "

"Hi everyone, what are you doing in here?" Ann asked, walking through the door with a young girl.

"Ann!" Jamie cried, hugging her, being the nearest to her, "Where've you been, girl! We've been sick with worry!"

Emma was instantly beside her daughter, holding her, trying not to be hysterical.

Everyone started talking at once. Ann stood stunned, but the young girl looked terrified.

"Not all at once, I left a note, didn't you get the note?" she asked the room, as the voices died down and the room became quiet.

Nessa sat ashen and pale, trembling. Her soft response filled the room, "There was no note Ann. Nothing."

Ann took one look at Nessa and could see she was in trouble.

Karen rushed to her side, putting a pill under her tongue, and holding her wrist, taking her pulse.

"Who's that?" Ann asked her mother softly. "Where's Carla?"

"Carla went missing the same night you did," Emma said.

"What?" Ann was disbelieving.

Nessa's color returned. "Do you want to go upstairs?" asked Karen.

"No. Let me stay, please."

Looking up, she saw the young girl standing near Ann, with tears of fear on her face, "Ann... who's that with you?"

Ann turned to the girl and could see she was upset. Giving her a hug, she said, "It's all right Meridah, something has happened here, but it has nothing to do with you. Don't worry."

"Where's Jamila?" the young girl asked shyly.

"She's away at camp for a week, with Marty," Mrs. Bower answered quickly.

"I think we all need to calm down, for Nessa's sake," David Tillman stated, then asked, "Ann. Are you okay?"

"Yes, we're fine. Just very tired," she responded.

"Meridah, isn't that Jamila's friend?" Nessa asked.

"Yes, she's... " Ann spoke.

"Ann... Nessa...," David Tillman interrupted. "I think we need to take this slowly. Ann, sit here with the girl. I'm calling Sidney and getting him over here to hear your story. Meanwhile, I'll update you on what we know."

Ann sat on the couch with her mother and Meridah beside her.

The child watched the proceeding with anxious concern.

After his phone call to the FBI, he sat down near Nessa, and asked Ann, "The night you disappeared, so did Carla Sikes, the document you signed, along with all the money in the drawer. Do you know anything about it?"

"No!" Ann responded, her heart stricken with the implications. "It was all in there when I left. The key is right here," she said, fishing it out of her purse.

"Nessa has a spare key," David said. Thoughtfully he turned to Nessa. "Did Carla know about the spare key, Nessa?"

"No, I don't think so. Why would she ever be interested in... wait... once when she was helping me on with my jewelry, she asked me about the key. I told her it went to my husband's desk. I didn't think anything about it, because we weren't using the study at the time," she said remembering the incident. "You don't think she could be involved... " she never finished her thought.

"Then there's a possibility Carla could have gotten into the desk, as well," her lawyer surmised.

The sound of the house phone startled them all.

Jamie picked it up. "Yes, certainly. I'll be right there," he said hanging up the phone.

"It's Mr. Turner at the gate. I'll go let him in," he said, rushing from the room.

"I just called him! How'd he get here so quickly?" David Tillman said in surprise.

They waited the few minutes it took for the men to return.

Sidney Turner walked in and spotted Ann right away. "Are you all right Mrs. Henderson?" he asked.

"It seems everyone has been concerned for me, when it wasn't necessary," she explained. "I left a note on the desk, but it seems to have vanished."

"I just called," David interrupted again, asking the agent, "How did you get here so fast?"

"I got a call from our office telling me that a passenger with the name of Ann Henderson had just arrived from Jordan, on this afternoon's flight. I was already headed here to check it out, when I got your message," he replied.

Turning to Ann, he sat down and requested. "Now Mrs. Henderson, why don't you start with the night you left the house," he asked, as he set his tape recorder on the table next to him. "You don't mind if I record this, do you?"

"Of course not," she replied, a little scared with what the little machine implied. That she might be in trouble until proven otherwise.

"I was working in the study, when the phone rang. It was Mr. Razeen Jaffer, from Jordon. He told me Bayan had contacted him right after Jamila left to be with her grandmother. I could tell he was trying to find the words to tell me something, so I waited patiently. He then said Bayan had told him the most incredible story, which he has since verified, discretely of course," Ann told the room.

Then she turned to Nessa, and said softly, "Bayan was pregnant when Neilan died."

Nessa's eye widened in surprise, David reached over and squeezed her arm, as Karen watched her patient.

"Meridah's your grandchild too and Jamila's sister," Ann told her in a gentle voice.

"But how? Why were they kept separate?" Nessa wanted to know. "Did you know?" she asked the worried child on the couch.

Meridah shook her head no.

"She's only found out a few days ago. She's having a hard time adjusting to it all, Nessa. Let me continue, it may help in understanding it all."

"It seems when Bayan went home with Jamila, her father took her pregnancy rather hard. He immediately arranged a marriage for her with Musad Basha, a man whom the Sheikh had chosen for her in the first place. Luckily for Bayan, Musad loved her, and was willing to marry her. It was agreed the child would be given his name, and when she was five years old, he'd send her to the same school as Jamila."

"But, by the time she was old enough, Meridah looked and acted so much like an Arab child that Bayan wanted to keep her. Her husband was willing, but her father was not. He wouldn't allow any room for scandal in the family. But, he did grant her permission to write the child, since she had a Muslim name."

"In this way, Bayan was able to follow the lives of both of her children. She always inquired about Jamila and the children's growing friendship. With as much happiness as a mother can have, separated from her children, she was content reading about them, and knew they were safe and together."

"But, when Jamila was taken away, Bayan grieved for Meridah and couldn't bear the girls to be separated. If she couldn't be with them, she desperately wanted them to stay together. She talked it over with her husband who had mixed feelings about the matter. He didn't want to offend the Sheikh, yet he wanted his wonderful wife happy, as well. He had two beautiful children of his own now, and wanted his family life to be a happy one."

"Razeen told me Bayan and Musad didn't want to talk this over with her father, for fear a decision would be made which couldn't be taken back. That Meridah's fate would forever be sealed from her sister, the only family she has ever known."

"Musad applied for a passport and papers for his adopted child. When they were ready, and the Sheikh had flown out of Amman on business, they took the opportunity to contact Razeen."

"The night I got the call, there wasn't any time to decide what to do. I was convinced, if we were to get Meridah out of Jordan, it had to be as soon as possible, before anyone could change their minds, or interfere."

"Razeen had booked connecting flights there and back, almost nonstop. He would get Meridah from the school, using the letter from Musad, and take her to the airport. They'd be waiting for me when I landed."

"I grabbed my passport, purse and dashed out of here after writing a quick note, leaving it on the desk. I've been on an airplane for almost three days, there and back. I even left my cell behind, in my hurry."

"I'm so sorry to have worried everybody, I can't imagine what happened to my message," she ended.

Nessa looked at Meridah, "Come here child," she asked kindly.

Meridah got off the couch. She was still dressed in her native dress, with her scarf wrapped around her beautiful face.

Approaching the old woman in the chair, she allowed the elderly lady to hold her hand. "You are welcome in this house Meridah, and I'll do my best to see that you and Jamila are always together."

That brought the first real smile from the girl.

Nessa stated, "There are rooms right next to Jamila's. We'll get them ready as soon as we can. Where is her luggage, Ann?"

"Out in the car - there's just the one suitcase - she hardly has anything," Ann told her friend and employer.

Still looking scared and timid in this new place, Faye and Mrs. Bower took her up to her sister's room, while Ann stayed behind - the FBI still had questions for her.

Nessa smiled at Ann and said, "I'm so glad your back and safe, Ann. And thank you for going to get Meridah. I don't think I could have taken a custody battle with her grandfather. I can hardly handle the gift of another member of my family," she said smiling happily. "I can't believe it... two grandchildren, how wonderful."

Nessa turned to her nurse, trembling and colorless, "Karen, would you help me to my room? I'm so tired. I don't think I can take any more excitement today."

Karen was about to leave for the wheelchair, when Jamie said, "I'll get it. You stay here with Nessa."

Karen was soon wheeling Nessa out and up to her rooms. Giving the head of the house a sleeping draught, she put her to bed and stayed by her side.

Ann talked with Mr. Turner for a while longer, finding out about Peter Lawrence and what had happened at the estate. The mystery about Carla still remained. They had no idea why she had left, and adding that fact to the bizarre events of the embezzlement, it seemed such an odd coincidence she had left the same night as the document and money. But, there wasn't a shred of proof she was involved with Peter Lawrence in any way. The FBI was still looking into it.

"We'll be in touch Mrs. Henderson. Keep us informed about your whereabouts, please," the agent requested.

"I will Mr. Turner," she responded, and then she said, "I think I'll try and reach the girls at camp. I want to see how they're doing and I would assume Jamila will want to come back, now that Meridah is here. Marty can stay the rest of the week or come back with Jamila, whatever she wants to do."

Going across the hall, she looked up the number for the camp at her desk and called, leaving a message for Marty or Jamila to call her back. Returning to the family room, she waited.

Mr. Tillman and Sidney Turner continued talking about Peter Lawrence and what could be done to protect Nessa's interests, when the phone rang in the family room, about ten minutes later.

Ann answered, "Hello, Drummond Hall."

"Hi Mommy, isn't Jamila coming?" Marty asked, just like that.

"What do you mean, sweetie, she left here three days ago, to surprise you, she should be there with you!" Ann said as fear started to grip her heart, turning as pale and ashen as Nessa had been.

"She's not here! I've been waiting for her all day," Marty said, picking up the fear in her mother's voice.

The room went silent. David Tillman and Sidney Turner looked at each other.

"Just a minute love, stay on the phone, don't hang up." Putting her hand over the mouthpiece, she said, "Jamila's missing... she never arrived at the camp."

"Let me have the phone, Mrs. Henderson," the agent demanded.

"Hello, Marty? This is a friend of your mother's. Is there a counselor or teacher I can talk to, who's in the room with you?"

"Mrs. Humphrey's here," Marty told him.

"Good, put her on the phone, please... and Marty? I want you to stay right there, okay?"

"K... " The child responded. He could hear her asking Mrs. Humphrey to talk to the man on the phone.

"Yes, this is Mrs. Humphrey, what can I do for you?" she asked.

"Mrs. Humphrey, I'm an FBI agent. My name is Sidney Turner. I'm concerned for Marty and Jamila Drummond's welfare. Please don't show any alarm to the child, if you can help it. She sounds scared enough as it is. But, can you tell me who the head of the camp is, I need to talk to them as soon as possible," he told her.

The woman on the phone stifled a gasp, as she said, "I'm the camp director, Mr. Turner."

"Have you seen or heard from Jamila Drummond at all?" he asked.

"No, we were expecting her this morning, but thought maybe she had decided not to come," the woman sounded downcast.

"Please keep Marty with you. We're not sure what's going on Mrs. Humphrey, but we don't want to risk the child."

"Absolutely, she'll stay with me," the woman said stoically.

"Do you know her mother, Mrs. Henderson by sight?" he asked.

"No, I'm afraid I don't remember her," the director stated. "There are so many parents, so many children... "

"I understand, but I'd like to pick up Marty as soon as possible," the agent told her.

He was about to suggest that Ann would be there in a couple of hours, when Mrs. Humphrey stated. "My assistant is quite capable of handling the camp alone, Mr. Turner. I'd like to get Marty's things and bring her home myself. Would that be alright?"

"Do you know where the estate is?"

"No, but I can find it and Marty will be home within a few hours, if I have anything to say about it," the woman offered.

"I'll put Marty's mother on the phone, she can give you directions. Please be careful Mrs. Humphrey. I don't think anyone's in danger, but I wish to be cautious at this point," he informed her.

"She won't go to anyone else, until I get her home," she said firmly.

"Fine," he said, as he handed the phone to Ann, telling her, "She's bringing Marty home. It'll be the quickest way to get her here."

Ann talked to Mrs. Humphrey and then Marty. Everything was arranged, but she couldn't believe the frightening events unfolding around her.

Hanging up, she turned to the men in the room and asked in distress, "What's going on? Who'd want to harm Jamila?"

David responded, "Sidney's on his cell now, Ann, putting out an APB for Jamila. They'll check the hospitals and all the other places she could be. We'll find her. See if you can find her license plate number, for him."

Ann ran from the room and was back a few minutes later with the information.

"David, we can't let Nessa know about this, it would kill her... literally," Ann fought back the fear for her friend, as well as for the future of the sisters.

"Her grandfather wouldn't have changed his mind and taken her, would he?" she asked, trying to come up with some reason for the missing girl.

"No. I don't think he would handle it that way. He has too much pride. Would she have run away, to be with Meridah?" Mr. Tillman asked.

"I don't think so. She was so happy here, and Meridah would have said something if they were planning on running away together. She'd never have agreed to come here, if she knew Jamila was coming to her. No, there wasn't any sign of resistance from Meridah, just fear of the unknown when I saw her at the airport," Ann mused.

"Let the nurse know what's going on. She'll need to keep Nessa sedated, maybe even in the hospital, if she thinks it's necessary. We've got to do our best to resolve this as quickly and as painlessly as we can.

But, I have a horrible feeling that Peter Lawrence or even Carla may have had something to do with this," he said gravely.

Emma sat in the corner watching, praying to the God she was beginning to trust.

Loss Of A Poor Man

THE SUN ROSE on day three for Peter Lawrence, hot, bright, and baking the southern state in its radiance.

Two men approached the proprietor of an old hotel in downtown Miami, showing him their badges. One asked, "Have you seen this man?" giving the manager a photo.

The proprietor looked closely, the face seemed familiar, especially the eyes, but the wealthy looking man in the photo had never walked through the doors of his establishment. What would a man like him be doing here anyway?

"No. Sorry, I've never seen him before," he told them.

In the hotel room, the sun beamed brightly onto the face of a man, sprawled over an unkempt bed, as he slumbered from exhaustion and inebriation.

Slowly the light made him uncomfortable enough to try and open his eyes. Stabbing pain shot through them, the light making him cower as he held his head, feeling as if the movement would make it explode. His mouth tasted like cotton, dry and foul. Moaning, he rose to a sitting position, holding his head.

The scream of a machine, kept repeating its screeching sound, over and over again. It was unbearable until he realized it was the telephone in his room. Fumbling, he picked it up and mumbled, "Yes."

"Mr. Lewis?" a voice asked through the buzzing in his ears. "There's no one here by that name," Phillip said as he hung up.

Looking at the clock, he vaguely realized he was waiting for 11 o'clock, but why? It was just after noon now. What was he waiting for, again? He went into the bathroom and threw cold water on his face. Looking in the mirror, he couldn't recognize the image looking back at him.

Then it dawned on him, he was Phillip Lewis and he was supposed to be in the air, flying away from the troubles hounding him.

Fear of being left behind, woke him completely. Tossing a couple of aspirins down with the water from the tap, he found the phone number of the Blackthorn Airplane Rental and called.

When the agent answered, Peter asked, "Did you just call for Phillip Lewis?"

"Yes, we did. We've been trying to reach you for the last hour, Mr. Lewis," the agent seemed annoyed.

"I'm sorry, I took a sleeping pill late last night," he lied. "I didn't mean to oversleep. Is the plane ready to go?"

"We were just in the process of renting it out to someone else," the agent told him.

"Please don't do that, I can be there in just a few minutes," he said frantically.

"Okay, but we do have another client if you're unable to make it."

"I'll be there, I said," Peter spoke with fear and some anger, slamming the phone down.

Quickly packing, making sure he had everything, he paid his bill and took a taxi to the airport. As he got out of the cab, taking his things with him, he looked around. Everything seemed okay, no police yet.

With the final paperwork and the flight plan filed, the agent handed him the key to N8262BR, along with his Airworthiness Checklist. Peter thanked him and walked out onto the tarmac, looking for his Cessna.

The single engine, fixed wheel, low wing aircraft was waiting for him in the hot sun. Stepping onto the wing, he unlocked the door, swinging it up and open, then loaded his luggage behind the pilot's seat, before climbing in.

The desire to just take off and forget the checklist was strong, but being out there, over the ocean with hours of flight time to get through, he took the time to make sure the plane was ready.

He kept looking over his shoulder, peering at the people walking by, no one seemed to be paying attention to him, but he sure would be glad when he was out of here and in the air.

Placing his briefcase next to him on the passenger seat, he closed the door, buckled up, and started the plane. The engine kicked to life and whirred with the force of the propeller. He tested the tail rudder, with the pedals at his feet, and all the other moving parts of the plane with the stick control of the Cessna 400 series. The ailerons and flaps moved freely on the wings, as well as the elevators on the tail. Once the check list was complete, he talked to the tower, asking permission to take off.

Taxiing to his place in line with the other traffic leaving the airport for destinations unknown, his heart raced with excitement. Presently it was his turn to takeoff as he pulled up to the runway.

Increasing the engine speed, releasing the breaks, he sped down the runway and into the air. He was off, leaving his past for good, and moving toward his new future in the Caribbean.

As he climbed to his cruising altitude, he relaxed. Patting his briefcase and calculating all he had with him, he was a very happy man.

Looking down below, he watched the water traffic for a while, until the ocean became empty. Once in a while he'd see a ship's white wake streaking in the deep blue sea, below.

This ocean is a vast and magnificent place to get lost in, he thought happily.

Then, the thought of what he had left behind, undone, returned to haunt him.

Why couldn't that girl have gone to bed like she was supposed to? And why did she have to put up a fight. There wasn't any reason for her to die!

Peter sat there remembering back to three days ago. He had just come into the study, after seeing Ann leaving in such a hurry.

"What happened? Why is she tearing out of here in such a hurry?" he asked Carla, who was sitting at the desk, reading a note. "Obviously, you weren't able to drug her," he said sarcastically.

"No!" she said in frustration. "She's gone and she won't be back for days," Carla told him.

"You're kidding, where's she going? For days, you say? This might work out after all," he said smiling.

"She on her way to Jordan, for another grandchild," Carla said cynically, "They're coming out of the woodwork!"

Peter thoughtfully said, "I still need that document. They may be planning on sending it with someone else, or her lawyer may come here for it."

"But, she has the keys," Carla said in frustration, then a memory stirred. "Wait, I remember a duplicate key in Nessa's jewelry box. Wait here, I'll go and get it. Stay out of sight," Carla told him, turning off the light, then exiting the study.

Running upstairs, she sneaked into Nessa's room and found the key.

Quickly, she returned, closing the door and turning on the lamp on the desk. Using the key, she opened the drawer and took out the document and checks.

Peter grabbed them from her hands. She started to protest, and he was trying to shush her, when someone knocked on the door of the study. Carla jumped in fear, while Peter quickly stepped into the closet.

The study door opened and Jamila walked in. She stood there surprised to find the nurse and not Ann.

Carla gathered her wits and asked, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry. I was looking for Ann to say good-bye. Do you know where she is?" Jamila asked.

"She had to go into town for a while. She asked me to stay here in case you came down, before she got back. She wanted to give you a good luck cup of coffee. It's a tradition here in this country when we're saying good-bye to someone who's going on a trip. It's for luck," she lied.

"I've never heard of it," Jamila said, but everything in this country was so new to her, and she had lived such a sheltered life at the school.

Carla poured the drink, saying, "I'm sorry there's no milk or sugar, but drinking it black is the best way to keep the luck," she told the girl.

"Shouldn't I wait for her?" Jamila asked.

"No, I think she would want you to get as much sleep as you can," Carla suggested.

Jamila giggled to herself, take coffee to sleep? But, she wanted to make everyone happy, so she drank it.

"Good night Jamila and have a safe trip tomorrow," Carla told her.

Jamila smiled and returned to her room. Soon she was in a deep, silent world, which no one could wake her out of, for now.

Peter came out from the closet, "What was that all about?"

"This is the coffee I drugged for Ann. Jamila will be asleep within five minutes."

"Did you have to do that?" he asked in exasperation.

"What did you want me to do? She saw me in here and could alert someone before we're ready, even tonight. And when they find this drawer empty, probably tomorrow, if they talk to her, there would go your precious days," she told him crossly.

"But didn't you tell me she was leaving early this morning. She won't be here to see the things missing," he said in frustration.

"Do you want to take the chance she won't be asked? It's up to you. We can leave her to sleep it off, or we can put her somewhere for a day or two, until we can get away and guarantee our safety."

Peter fumed for a second, and then said, "Fine! Let's just get this over with," he told her crossly. "Are you packed?"

"All ready to go. I can't wait to get out of here," she said, the tension getting to her.

Putting the checks in his coat pocket, he picked up the document. "Here, give me the key," he demanded as he took it from her and locked the empty drawer. "Now, put it back where you got it. And give me that note too, before you go."

While she was gone, Peter took out his lighter, walked over to the fireplace, and lit the document and Ann's note, eventually dropping them onto the grate. He stood there, watching as the flames consumed them, and then he leaned down crushing them to pieces.

When Carla returned he said, "Go to the kitchen and see if the cook's still there. We've got to get rid of this coffee, wash these things, and put them back."

"What if she catches me?" Carla demanded.

"Just say Ann's done with them and you brought them back for her, trying to help," he suggested, not caring very much what she did.

"Me? Helping? She'll never believe it," Carla spat.

"You'll think of something. You've every right to be helping," he said, wanting to get out of here and on his way.

Soon she was back, breathless. Closing the door, she leaned back on it, saying, "It's all done, and the girl's out of it, now what?"

"Take your things and put them into Jamila's car. I'll go get her and put her in the trunk. Then we'll get out of here and pick my car up outside."

The house remained quiet, as they both went up the stairs, their hearts beating hard.

Peter realized, There's so much to do, so much to avoid, if I don't want to go to jail. And now I'm adding kidnapping to the list. I can't get caught! I've got to make it out of here and the country soon!

Carla had bound and gagged the girl. Peter didn't say a word, but he hated what Carla was doing. There's no reason to tie her up, if she's really asleep, but he wasn't willing to argue the point anymore.

Peter put Jamila's unconscious body in the trunk of the Camry, then told Carla to drive. "If anyone sees you, it won't look too suspicious."

"What! You're kidding, me driving Jamila's car not looking suspicious," she said sarcastically.

"Don't argue," he said getting in the passenger seat. "Let's get out of here!"

Carla complied and stopped next to his car, once they were off the estate. Peter got out, telling her, "Follow me."

"Now, wait a minute!" she complained. "You drive this car! I don't want to be caught with her in here, if something should go wrong."

"Don't be silly, Carla. I'll drive my own car, thank you," he said hotly.

"Peter! Don't you leave me behind or lose me," she complained, in panic, since she had no idea where this mine was. But, there was nothing she could do but follow, because he was leaving.

Hours later, in the mountains of southern Idaho, they pulled up to the property fence of the old mine. On the old rusted chain-link gate the sign read, "The Albatross, Private Property, Keep Out."

With his headlights illuminating the gate, he got out and tried his key. It opened the padlock. Swinging the gate open, he got back into his car and followed the road toward the mine.

About ten minutes later, they came to a clearing with a large shed to the right, where the mine machinery had been housed at one time. In front of the mine, was another chain link fence with a gate over a wooden door, blocking the entrance. Again his key worked, pulling the chain-link gate open, he tried the handle of the heavy wooden door. It was locked.

He tried his key, but it didn't fit.

Now what? To have come so far, and not be able to get in!

Carla stood beside him, holding a flashlight she had found in the glove compartment of Jamila's car.

"Won't it open?" she asked irritably.

"No, it's locked and I don't have the key," he said angrily. Storming to his car, he popped the trunk and got out his tire iron. Prying at the door, he forced it open. He didn't care at this point. Hopefully the guard won't notice, from a distance.

Inside the door, on a shelf, sat a few old lanterns. Shaking one, he found it contained oil. Lighting it, he raised it high, walking into the interior with Carla close behind. About one hundred yards down the tunnel, they found a stone room on the left, and an old elevator resting at the top of an old mine shaft to the right.

Walking over to the shaft, he dropped a stone down the hole. It thunked and plunked its way down the shaft for a long time, while the noise of its fall diminished into the depths.

"This will do," he said.

Pulling his jacket off, he laid it by the rubble on the floor, and told Carla, "Wait here, I'll be right back with the girl."

"I'm not waiting here," she said with conviction. "Besides, you'll need someone to hold the lantern, while you carry her."

"Fine! Come on, then." he said as he walked away rapidly. Carla had to trot alongside of him to keep up.

Opening the car trunk, he reached in and pulled the unconscious girl from the vehicle, hoisting her to his shoulder.

"Pull her car into that shed, over there, and hurry up, we need to get out of here. I don't know if and when the guard may show up to check on the place," Peter scolded her.

"It's the middle of the night, no one's going to know," she complained.

"Just hurry up!" Peter was tired and getting angry.

Carla moved the car, and ran back to him, picking up the lantern. Holding it high as she guided Peter, while he huffed and puffed, carrying Jamila into the stone room of the mine.

As he laid the girl down on the stony floor, Carla picked up his jacket. She started to take the cashier checks out of his pocket.

"Put those back," Peter commanded her.

"No, I'm keeping these. You're holding all the cards and I want some assurance that I'll get something out of this fiasco. I'm beginning not to trust you, sweetheart," she sneered, taking the checks.

Peter lunged at her, grabbed her arm and pulled the checks from her hand, then let her go.

Carla pulling away from him at the same time, lost her balance, then tripped over some rubble on the floor. She fell backward so fast and so quickly, she didn't even have a chance to catch herself. Her head took the full impact of her fall. It cracked with an ugly, loud whack, which sickened him.

Watching, he saw her life evaporate before his eyes, until only her mortal shell remained, her dead eyes staring at nothing.

"You stupid fool," he said under his breath. "I wasn't taking you anywhere, you were going to be left behind, but you didn't have to die like this! Nothing is working out like it should!" he cried out loud, with no one to hear.

Looking down at the beautiful girl, laying near Carla's body, he almost changed his mind about leaving her there.

It's a cruel thing to do. But, it's only for a few days. I won't leave her here forever. I'll tell them where to find her, as soon as I'm out of the country, he vowed.

Turning, he picked up the lantern, looked down at Carla's body one more time, then he walked away, taking the light with him, and Jamila's future, if she was ever going to have one.

* * * *

The airplane droned on, flying high in the air, over the sea. Peter regretted the death of Carla, and leaving Jamila behind. But, it had to be done.

It is what it is, he thought with decisiveness. When I land at Puerto Rico, I'll drive to the harbor where my boat is, and as soon as I'm out to sea, I'll call the Drummonds and let them know where she is. No harm done. And then I can go on with my new life.

Smiling he dreamed about his prospects with all the money he had acquired. He imagined the prosperous bank he would start, and buying a large hacienda with servants, and maybe another Lamborghini.

I'll be someone at last.

Looking at his watch, he realized he was about an hour out of San Juan.

Suddenly, the engine sputtered, caught and died. Frantically, with his heart beating like a piston, he strove to start the engine as he fell from the sky. The wind whistled past the falling aircraft, as dire fear gripped him, and he realized death was coming! He could feel it attempting to grab hold of him, trying to take his life. He screamed, "No... No... NO!"

Unexpectedly, the engine roared to life. Pulling on the stick, he pulled up for dear life. The plane's nose rose, leveled and then started to climb again.

Beating hard, his heart was hammering in his chest. Tears of relief came to his eyes.

That was close, I could have lost everything!

Trembling, he looked at the instruments on the flight deck, they seemed normal.

As the plane droned on, he wondered what had happened.

Somberly he realized that if he had died, no one would mourn his passing.

He thought of his parents, his brothers and sisters, and the women who had loved him.

I don't even have any friends, really. No one would grieve for me. There must be something wrong with that. Shouldn't I be leaving some type of legacy behind me? Shouldn't I have returned their love, when it was offered? I've nothing but my wealth to comfort me, now.

Oh well, I can always start again. I'll do better this time. I'll make time for family, and fun, though it's going to take a lot of work to get the bank going. It's such a wonderful opportunity to make money.

A loud bang exploded in his ears, then silence as the engine died for the last time. Black smoke swirled from the engine, as the air whined past the cockpit again, the plane plummeting to the sea below.

Peter hysterically tried to start the Cessna, but it was no use. His life was being demanded by God, a man so rich in the things of earth, and so poor in the things of God. Peter was about to meet Him, face to face, for an accounting of what he had done with the gifts that God had given him.

The man who had so much, but really had nothing, watched in dread as the sea reached up and took his life. The Cessna sank into the depths of the sea, while the darkness surrounded it, the cold entombed it, and the depths held it there... forever.

The Light

THE SUN ROSE on the fourth day, just like it had for thousands of years. Life continued, but what quality that life held, was up to those who were given the gift of it, by God.

There were those who cherished the gift, doing good here, as long as God gave them the breath to do it, while others took what they could, squandered the gift and destroyed the light that tried to show them the way.

Now, the last person on earth, who knew where Jamila was, lay dead at the bottom of the sea.

There was no note to be found, no clue to be revealed, no starting point to look for her. She was lost forever, to those who sought to save her.

But God knew... and He judged it not to be her time.

* * * *

Despondent, cold, and hopeless, Jamila had been in the dark for over three days now. Her will to live had crumbled, her mind had gone numb... she was neither awake nor asleep. Her breathing was slowing, becoming shallow.

Unexpectedly, a bright light shattered her world, and she curled into a ball, cowering from the pain of its brightness.

"Chet, over here!" came a cry in the dark, as someone knelt next to her, touching her shoulder.

The voice changed to a softer tone, seeming to know that death had been here, and might be waiting nearby. "Check on that one over there. Is she dead?"

Gentle arms helped the girl to sit up, as something large and warm was wrapped around her shoulders, it smelled of tobacco smoke and shaving cream.

Jamila kept her eye closed, so afraid of getting hurt by the piercing brightness again.

"This one's dead." Chet's voice spoke almost in a whisper. This was the first dead person he had ever seen, and it made him sick inside.

"Well this one's not, thank God," the voice next to her said. "Run out to the truck and radio for the police and an ambulance. Hurry!" he said a little frantically, for the young woman wasn't very responsive.

"Please... " Jamila whispered beseechingly, softly, trying to talk. Her voice raspy with her crying and calls for help, "Get me out of here, into the light, the fresh air, please... outside!"

Strong arms picked the girl up and carried her toward the entrance to the mine. With the old wooden door swung open and the summer day blazing outside, there wasn't any need for a lantern to find his way out.

Shielding her eyes, she pressed her face into the chest of her rescuer, pulling his jacket over her head.

Sensing her discomfort with the light, he put her on an old stump, under the shade of several, large Douglas Firs. The smell of the forest and fresh air, stirred her senses.

Jamila blinked and peeked from under the man's coat.

The air smells of pines trees, and fresh air, of life growing from the earth, and it's wonderful to see the sun, at last.

"I can take you into the storage shed, if the light still bothers you," he offered.

"No! Please... I so want the light. Just give me time to get used to it. I've been away from it for so long," she told him, coming out from under the jacket.

Jamila sat enjoying the fresh air and the sun, as she lifted her face toward the sky, letting its light fill her soul. Her heart began to want to live again, as she realized she'd been rescued. Blinking, she opened her eyes to the wonderful world around her. A tall forest of pines and fir trees, with stone buttresses protruding into the sky, were all around her.

A grizzly old man in his fifties was standing next to her, looking off at a tall, lanky, young man in his early thirty's who sat in the front seat of a white pickup truck, with the door open, talking on the radio.

The young man spoke loudly, "They want to know her name. Can you ask her, her name?"

"My name is Jamila Whitney Drummond, and I live at Drummond Hall in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho," she told them both, having heard the young man just fine, and finding her voice again.

Seeing Chet was relaying the information, Ross turned to the girl and told her, "My name's Ross Green, and that young man's Chet Draper."

"Thank you for saving me," Jamila's voice cracked with emotion.

"It was by God's grace you were saved, young lady. This mine has been closed for over twenty years. No one comes up here," Ross said gravely, for he knew full well this girl would have died within a short period of time, if they hadn't come along.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, realizing she probably needed food and water. But was she hurt? Should he give her anything before the ambulance got there?

"Yes, I could eat something," she said, as her stomach started to let her know, it knew it was going to live too.

"Chet... see if we can talk to an EMT, or a doctor. I want to be sure I can give this poor child some of my lunch. It'll take a while for anyone to get out here."

Presently, an EMT was on the radio, asking questions. Jamila wasn't hurt anywhere, and she told them about the dripping water she was able to drink. She was just hungry.

The EMT allowed her to eat. As she ate Ross's sandwich and drank from a clean bottle of water, Ross told her how they had come to be there.

"Chet and I are geological engineers. The owners of this mine have hired us to look into finding other precious metals, like Plutonium or Uranium. We came up here today to run some tests. We'd opened the outer gate on the property and had just pulled in here, when Chet spotted a nice car parked in the shed over there. We were startled to see it."

Jamila looked and stated, "That's my car, I wonder how it got here?"

"You didn't drive it here then?" Ross asked.

"No, I don't know how it or I got here. I just woke up in the dark," the haunted look in the girl's face bothered him.

"Do you know who did this to you?" Chet asked as he walked up to them.

"No. I don't know who, why, or any reason I should have been brought here," she replied.

"Do you know who the dead woman is in there?" Chet inquired pointing to the mine.

"Dead woman?" startled... Jamila tried to think. Then she remembered the body in the dark. Jamila turned white, and placed her hands over her face in terror.

"Never mind, child. Don't think about it. The police will figure it out," Ross said kindly, patting her shoulder.

"I couldn't see her... I found her in the dark... " Jamila started to cry.

Both Chet and Ross looked strained, what could they do? What could they say?

"Don't worry about it. Everything's okay now," Chet said, sorry he had ever brought the subject up.

If I was sick at the sight of a dead person, what must it have been like for her to touch it, in the dark?

Eventually, Ross asked, "Jamila, it'll take the police and volunteer firefighters at least another half hour or so to get here. We are way out in the middle of nowhere. Would you mind if Chet and I go into the mine and do some exploring? We have to get some work done today, if we can. We'll leave one of our walkie-talkies with you, so you can reach us, if you need to," he offered.

Abruptly the sound of a helicopter, whopping the air, was clearly heard, out there, somewhere. Looking up at the empty sky, the sound grew.

Suddenly, a helicopter marked MedTrans appeared above the bluff and trees, and descended to the road and the small clearing behind the pickup.

"Wow!" Chet said softly, as he walked up to Ross and Jamila, watching the white machine land.

"They must have sent it up from Moscow or Clarkston," Ross said. "I'm glad - she needs to get away from here."

A medic jumped out of the machine, ducking the rotary blades and ran over to them.

Checking her pulse, he started his preliminary investigation into her health. While doing so, he shouted over the noise of the machine, "The police will be a while yet, but I've been instructed by the FBI to transport Miss Drummond to the hospital in Moscow, as soon as possible. We'll check your vitals on board, Miss Drummond. Do you feel strong enough to walk to the helicopter?"

Jamila nodded her head yes, over the din.

"Be sure to keep your head down, then," he yelled as he helped her up and started to escort her to the flying ambulance.

Without warning she turned and gave Ross a big, heartfelt hug, then turned and shook Chet's hand.

Smiling she walked with the EMT to the waiting MedTrans. The medic put his hand on top of her head, helping her to stay low and aided her into the medical bay.

The two scientists watched, as the helicopter blades sped up, increasing the pitch in sound, as it lifted straight up into the air and flew away.

The silence was acute, after it had left.

They looked at each other, picked up their gear and started for the mine. Chet stopped first. Ross looked at him and realized the body was still in there.

"Well, I guess it won't hurt to wait one more day to start. I think the Ellingtons will understand. After all, finding a body in their mine is a good excuse to wait, don't you think?" Ross suggested.

Chet couldn't agree more. The men sat in their truck, waiting for the police to show up.

About twenty minutes later, they heard the far off sound of a siren. It felt good to hear it grow louder, as the police cruiser neared the mine. Soon it appeared, with its lights flashing and the sound piercing the air.

The siren and lights were turned off, as the cruiser stopped, and an officer got out. An ambulance was following right behind.

Carla's things were found in Jamila's car. They were marked, tagged and confiscated. Her body was removed from the place of her death, and put in the ambulance after extensive photos were taken. The emergency vehicle eventually left without lights or siren, transporting her body down the mountain's dusty roads and through the surrounding forests to a morgue in Moscow.

After the officer took Ross and Chet's statements, he too left the scene of death and suffering.

The men stood there, watching the officer leave, and then listened to the sound of his engine fade, as he drove away.

The afternoon sun was descending toward the mountains. Ross turned to Chet and said, "Well, it's been an eventful day. Let's call it quits and go back to the motel for the evening."

Locking everything up, they drove away, leaving the mine in solitude, as it had been for so many years, before evil had trespassed.

An FBI agent was waiting on the hospital roof when Jamila arrived in the helicopter. Before long, she was released in satisfactory condition, and escorted home.

* * * *

The previous day and night, at the estate, had been a taxing one for those who lived there, except for one. Nessa peacefully slept under the watchful care of Karen, who kept her sedated and never left her side.

Mrs. Humphrey had returned Marty into the loving arms of her mother. She was introduced to Meridah, who timidly said hello. Marty tried to be friends with the girl, but she kept to herself in this strange place. She grieved for Jamila, wondering if she would ever see her sister again.

Sister... If only we can have the chance to be sisters.

The room next door to Jamila's was prepared for Meridah, but she stayed in her sister's room, to be closer to her and her things. Everyone in the house seemed to understand.

Faye, Emma and Ann sat in the kitchen, wondering how in the world they were going to find Jamila. What had happened to her? Where to even start looking?

Then Emma did an unusual thing - Ann was unprepared for it, but pleased, very pleased when her mother bowed her head and prayed, "Dear Lord, thank you for your love, provision and care. Thank you for taking care of Ann and bringing her home safely and for the two wonderful grandchildren you've protected and provided for Nessa. We ask that you be with her during this stressful time and keep her well. But most of all, Lord, we ask that you bring Jamila home to the family that loves her and misses her. You know where she is. Please provide for her needs and we trust you in all things. Thank you Lord, for your grace in my life, as well. Amen."

Tears brimming, Ann gave her mother a warm hug.

The rest of the day was spent doing the normal things of life, but Jamila's welfare was on everyone's mind. Many prayers were said for Nessa's eldest grandchild.

The household went to bed that night wondering what the next day would bring. The morning dawned as usual and everyone went about their daily routines.

Then the phone rang, after lunch. Ann answered and was told that Jamila had been found and was on her way home.

Tears of relief fell, but she quickly wiped them away as she thanked her Lord for His answer to prayer. With joy and elation, she spread the word as quickly as she was able.

Just before Jamila arrived, David Tillman and Sidney Turner were admitted to the estate. Everyone, but Nessa and Karen gathered in the family room to wait, for Nessa still slept.

Presently, Jamie entered with Jamila and her escort.

She was greeted with hugs and affection, but when she saw Meridah, she cried out with amazed delight at seeing her there. She embraced her friend, while Meridah held on to her, tears of relief flowing. Holding hands, the two sat on the couch together.

Mr. Turner took over the reunion. "I'd like to talk to Jamila, Ann, Mr. Tillman and Meridah alone, please."

The room quietly emptied, as everyone realized the situation was coming to an end, but wasn't quit over with yet. The door to the family room was quietly closed.

"Now, first things first. Jamila, I understand from agent Falco that you have no idea why you ended up at The Albatross gold mine, or how you got there. Is that correct?"

"Yes," she simply replied.

"What was the last thing you remember before you woke up in the mine?" he inquired.

"The very last thing?"

The agent nodded his head.

"I was looking for Ann to say good-bye, but found Carla in the study instead. She had some papers on the desk, and she told me that Ann had asked her to stay to give me a good luck drink of coffee for my trip in the morning. She said it was done that way in this country."

"No it isn't, Jamila," Ann said firmly, when she realized that Carla had lied. "Why would she want her to drink coffee at night?" Ann asked the agent.

"I'm beginning to think you were the intended target for that coffee, Ann. Carla could have drugged it, but why? She'd have no reason to drug you or Jamila, if she was stealing the checks. She could have just taken them and disappeared," Sidney pondered.

"She wanted you out of the way for a longer period and that would only benefit Mr. Lawrence. They could have been in this together and Jamila walked in at the wrong time. Those papers on the desk... did any of them look like checks, Jamila?" the agent asked the girl.

She sat thinking, "Yes they did. There were about five or six of them and a piece of paper," she responded.

"Then Carla could have been in on the embezzling with Peter Lawrence. It seems likely, but without evidence, we're just guessing," Mr. Turner stated.

"You were already out of the way for several days, Ann, so Jamila had to be taken care of, as well, and the drugged coffee was available. That's why it wasn't in the study the next day, and why it had to be cleaned up and put away... to eliminate all trace of the drugs," he concluded.

"Well, we're still on the hunt for Peter Lawrence. We'll find him someday, but in the meantime, it's best to get on with your lives. I doubt you'll ever hear from him again. But, if you do, call us," he said emphatically.

"Now, I think it's time to let Jamila know about Meridah," Sidney Turner suggested.

Jamila looked startled. "Yes, I was wondering why my wonderful friend is here. How long can you stay?" she asked the girl next to her.

Meridah smiled a really big smile, "I get to stay forever, because I'm your sister."

Jamila turned pale with shock and delight. Ann sat happily as the younger child told all about her past, and the mystery of Jamila's life.

The two girls hugged, with tears of joy, knowing that they belonged together, and nothing could ever change that.

"Grandmother said she would do her best to keep us together forever," Meridah stated proudly.

"Grandmother, where is she?" Jamila asked, startled that she hadn't seen her. "Is she all right?"

"She's upstairs sleeping. She should be just fine, now that you're here and everything is as it should be," Ann expressed her happiness.

David Tillman interjected, "The question is... should we tell Nessa about Jamila's ordeal? I know she'd want to know about it and help her grandchild work through it, if necessary, but her heart isn't strong. I'm just worried it might be too much for her."

"I'm fine, and I don't want grandmother to worry or be upset. Everything is going to be okay now, isn't it Mr. Tuner?" she asked.

"I believe so Jamila. Mr. Lawrence has what he wants and has left the country, if I've guessed correctly," the agent told her.

"Then let's all promise not to tell her, unless it's really necessary. She's a wonderful person, Meridah and she'll protect us and keep us together. We are part of this house and the history that's here. Did you know we are half Scottish?" her sister informed her.

Meridah's eyes widen in disbelief, "But I'm an Arab."

Jamila laughed happily and said, "Not anymore. You're just like me, an American."

The girls talked happily, as the adults got up and left the room.

* * * *

In the days to come, Ann helped Sidney Turner wind up his case against Peter Lawrence and Carla Sikes.

David Tillman helped Ann go through the accounts, cleaning them up and setting up a trust for the girls, as well as a new Will providing for them for the rest of their lives.

Nessa devoted her time and efforts on the girls and Meridah soon came to love her as much as Jamila. The girls were sponges for love and attention, and the whole household provided it.

Karen stayed on as Nessa's nurse. She was fond of the lovely, elderly woman, and the home was such a pleasant place to live.

Months later, Ann realized she could move on now with her life, if she chose. Nessa's loneliness was gone, her life full of her grandchildren. Ann wasn't needed as much anymore, and she had money of her own to move on with.

One afternoon, she talked it over with Nessa, but all her friend would say is, "Don't be silly. You are part of this family and family is the only thing that really counts in this life."

Yes, and caring for God's children even more. There will always be people in need, and it's up to us to help them as God has asked us to.

Smiling, knowing her Lord would always be there for her and those she loved, she told Nessa, "All right, I'll stay, for now."

Author's Note

God is a GIVER, not a taker, and we are to be like him. He gave of Himself in love, to rescue us from destruction. We are to care for those in need, by giving of our surplus. Keeping only what we need, not hording, for we cannot take it with us.

But, we can take love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and faithfulness with us, along with the blessings of helping HIM care for others.

~ ~ ~ ~

God's definition of greed from Luke 12:15 –

Then he (Jesus) said to them, "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions. "And he told them this parable: "The ground of a certain rich man yielded an abundant harvest. He thought to himself, 'What shall I do? I have no place to store my crops.' "Then he said, 'This is what I'll do. I'll tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I'll store my surplus grain. And I'll say to myself, "You have plenty of grain laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry."

"But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?' "This is how it will be with whoever stores up things for themselves but is not rich toward God."

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