Rachelle McCalla - Survival Instinct

Scott shook his head slowly behind her. “If Trevor finds out you know what you have, he’ll come after you. He killed Mitch, he’ll kill you.”

“He doesn’t know I know.”

“Tim may have been drunk, but he could still remember what he told you.”

“Yeah, but he won’t tell his brother that he ratted him out. Tim adores Trevor. He’d never expose his own failure to him.”

“He adored his brother five years ago, you mean. You don’t know that’s still the case.”

Abby sucked in her breath through her teeth. Scott had a good point. “It doesn’t matter,” she protested. “Tim won’t tell Trevor. He’s not that stupid.”

“Isn’t he?” Scott’s arms tightened around her. “Abby, you can’t go home. It’s not safe. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

Abby pulled back and looked him full in the face in spite of the darkness that cloaked his features in blackness. “We’ve got to find your mother, you mean.”

“Not we, ” Scott corrected. “ I have to find my mother. You need to get out of here. It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s too dangerous for me, but not for you?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

Scott didn’t answer.

Abby pushed herself out of the storm drain and stood. “This is ridiculous. Fine. You want me out of here? I’m out of here.”

“Wait.” Scott crawled out after her. “Abby, be sensible.”

She turned to face him and hissed in a half-shouting whisper, “I am being sensible. It’s the middle of the night. Tim’s too drunk to make it back to the bar by himself, let alone find his brother and rat me out. If Trevor wanted to come after me he’s had plenty of time to do it, but I still have his ring and until he gets it back, I don’t think he dares do anything to hurt me. So I’m going home and going to bed, since obviously you don’t want or need my help.” She tried to stalk off, but between the rough-cut rocks and the ice, she didn’t make it very far.

“At least let me walk you home,” Scott insisted, placing a steadying hand at her back.

“Fine.” She wiped a tear away quickly before he could see. And then she let him walk her home in silence. She didn’t trust her voice to speak, though she wanted terribly to ask him why he could offer help to her but wouldn’t allow her to help him.

Scott felt strange sleeping in the room his mother and stepfather had reserved at the Seagull Bay Motel, but since it was the only room he could get in the wee hours of the morning, he lay down on the bed that smelled of his mother and begged God to let him see her again. After the rough way he’d left Abby, his mother was the only person he had left in the world. He couldn’t allow himself to lose her, though at the same time, he knew he had to prepare his heart for that very real possibility.

Mitch was dead. The very thought sickened him, especially when he considered the possibility that Mitch may have been the last link he had to his mother’s whereabouts. For having never liked the man, Scott still felt remorseful that he’d died, and betrayed that the man had been in cahoots with the diamond smugglers all along. He couldn’t imagine how his mother would respond. He prayed he’d have the opportunity to tell her.

His body ached. Several bruises were rising up from his trip down the bluff and the tumble over the brownstone ledge, and his arms and shoulders cried out in pain from the exertion of rowing the canoe. The day had been long, and morning was only a few hours away.

But he couldn’t sleep. His mind continued to turn over scenes-seeing Mitch through the cold tinted windows of the sheriff’s patrol car, seeing his mother for the last time as she’d stood on the pier waving goodbye to him as he set off for Rocky Island. And Abby.

The problem was, Abby was right. The only reason he didn’t want her helping was because he was afraid she’d get hurt. But he was just as likely to get hurt without her help, quite possibly more so. He already owed her his life at least twice over. She’d rescued him from Devil’s Island, and alerted him to the problem with his brakes before it had caused an accident.

Through it all she’d been sweet, even funny at times, courageous, creative, strong. All qualities he looked for in a woman. And she worked for the Eagle Foundation so he knew that, unlike Mitch, she’d share his vision for conserving the land he’d inherited. Once again, he felt guilty when he recalled how little he’d told her about the land. After all she’d done, Abby had a right to know the rest of the story.

He’d shortchanged her. He’d done what he’d always done, fallen into the same pattern his fellow Christian counselors at the office always pointed out when he broke up with a girlfriend. He’d refused to allow himself to be vulnerable. He’d refused to let her help him. When he’d felt himself drawing close to her, he’d held back. Worst of all, when he’d felt himself falling for her, he’d pushed her away.

Though he loved his job as a counselor and lived for helping others, Scott resented the way his knowledge of human nature gave him insights into his own behavior. Because he knew what he was doing was wrong. He could have been happily married years ago if he hadn’t worked so hard to chase caring women like Abby out of his life. But this time the stakes were much higher. Abby wasn’t just a sweet girl like the other women he’d dated.

Abby was someone very special. He’d been attracted to her back in college, and he’d never quite forgotten her. She’d openly expressed her feelings, opinions and faith through the poems she’d written for the class they shared, and Scott had always respected and admired her convictions. Through God’s grace, she was back in his life again. Miracles like that didn’t happen every day.

But instead of thanking God for bringing her back into his life, he was pushing Abby away. Though he’d told himself he was only concerned for her safety, deep down, he knew there was more to it. He didn’t want to see her get hurt, but he didn’t want to be hurt by her, either. Losing his grandparents and his father had hurt him. Losing Abby just when he’d found her again was a blow he didn’t know if he’d be strong enough to take.

He was left with a choice he didn’t want to have to make. He could move back into his comfort zone and push her away. It was what he’d always done, retreating to the comfort of God, who he knew would never forsake him, whenever a friend moved away or a loved one died-especially when his grandparents and his father had passed away. Or he could take the greater risk and allow Abby into his heart.

At the very thought, he felt the blood pumping fiercely through his veins and he gripped the tangled bedsheets. How could he let Abby get close to him-assuming she’d even condescend to speak to him again after the cold way he’d treated her earlier? What if she rejected him? What if she was killed? Then he’d be more alone than ever before, and with only a broken heart to show for it.

Shaking off those fears, he snapped on the bedside lamp and fumbled about in the nightstand drawer until his fingers found what he wanted. A Bible.

Flipping it open, he quickly found the verses from Ecclesiastes that he’d used so many times in counseling sessions with engaged and married couples.

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:

If one falls down, his friend can help him up.

But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!

Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.

But how can one keep warm alone?

Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.

The ancient words burned into his mind as he stared at them, speaking to him with the authority of God’s own voice. He was alone, with no one to help him up, no one to warm him, no one at his back to defend him.