Lynette Eason - River Of Secrets

It snagged his shirt and held on. Juan grunted and jerked away. The shirt ripped, leaving a gaping hole, and Amy gasped. She stared at the gap left by the torn garment.

Juan followed her gaze and flushed. “I know. It’s not pretty, is it?”

His puckered, tortured skin looked angry, shouting its fury at the devastation the fire had left behind. Amy realized he thought she was horrified by the scars, but it was the birthmark over the lower part of his abdomen twining its way around to his back that had her transfixed.

Shock shuddered through her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

She had to find a phone, get in contact with his family. She had to tell them their prayers had been answered. She’d found their missing son and brother. She’d found Micah McKnight.

grew up in Greenville, SC. Her home church, Northgate Baptist, had a tremendous influence on her during her early years. She credits Christian parents and dedicated Sunday School teachers for her acceptance of Christ at the tender age of eight. Even as a young girl, she knew she wanted her life to reflect the love of Jesus.

Lynette attended The University of South Carolina in Columbia, SC, then moved to Spartanburg, SC, to attend Converse College where she obtained her masters degree in education. During this time, she met the boy next door, Jack Eason—and married him. Jack is the executive director of the Sound of Light Ministries. Lynette and Jack have two precious children, Lauryn and Will. She and Jack are members of New Life Baptist Fellowship Church in Boiling Springs, SC, where Jack serves as the worship leader and Lynette teaches Sunday School to the four- and five-year-olds.

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For God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.

—1 Samuel 16:7

Dedicated to Jesus Christ

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s impossible to say thank you to everyone. I’m so blessed by the many people God has placed in my life to encourage me, support me and love me.

I would like to say thanks again to my husband, Jack. You’re awesome and I love you. ’Nuff said.

My children…Lauryn and Will, you guys are the best. I don’t deserve you, but I love you beyond words.

Mom, Dad and Lane, thanks for all the writing time you provide. There’s no way I could do it without you.

Bill and Diane, my in-laws, thanks for giving me Jack.

My writing buddy, Ginny Aiken, thanks for all the fun conversations and brainstorming sessions!

Thanks, Dee, for endorsing Lethal Deception—You rock!

And my editor, Emily Rodmell, I didn’t forget you this time! Thanks for making my books shine.

And to all of you who buy my books, I can never tell you what it means to know you like them! Thank you!

And, of course, thank you, Jesus, for giving me the opportunity to share my love for you through my love of writing.

“We need help, Amy.”

Amy Graham remembered the director of the Amazon orphanage’s words. Ever since her mother had been arrested and sent to prison, Amy had felt as if she were foundering, seeking God’s plan for a life that been flung off course. So she’d told Anna Freeman that she’d be glad to come to Brazil to put her RN training to work.

Now she was here, in Tefe, Brazil, not only to help nurse some sick people back to health, but to find family she’d just learned may exist. Excitement warred with fear of the unknown. What would they be like? Would they be interested in meeting her? She shivered, praying God would lead her, show her the direction to take with her search.

She looked around her and grabbed a stethoscope from the wall next to her. In the meantime, she’d do her best to help these poor, suffering people recover.

The sparse medical staff busied themselves rushing from one patient to another. A low moan sounded to her right. She stepped around the curtain and saw a man thrashing and kicking his covers on the cot.

Quickly, she moved next to him and grabbed the cloth from the water bowl that had been placed on the little stand next to the bed. Wishing the liquid was cooler, she worked with what she had and placed the rag on his forehead, watching his eyes twitch under his lids.

Obviously dreaming, his head tossed back and forth as he muttered under his breath. Amy slid the cloth over the scars that began on the left side of his face, covered his ear, then inched down the side of his neck to disappear into the collar of his shirt. Compassion filled her. He’d been in a serious fire.

“No!”

Amy jumped, her heart pounding, and scrambled backward. The patient’s eyes remained clenched tightly against whatever tormented him; he continued to mutter unintelligibly.

She slid back to his side, shook his shoulder and tried to soothe him. “Hey, it’s okay, wake up.” Amy knew as long as his fever stayed this high, he wouldn’t understand a word she said. Trembling, he quivered with the effort to fight the illness. She grabbed his chart to see when he’d last been given medication. Four hours ago. His name was Juan.

“Is everything all right?”

Amy looked up to see the woman whose call had brought her here. Anna, looking concerned, peered around the curtain.

Amy nodded. “He’s having a nightmare.” She gestured with the chart. “His fever’s back up and he needs more meds. It’s been a little over four hours.”

Weariness oozing from her like a living thing, Anna took the chart, looked at it and made a notation. “Let me get something from one of the nurses. All the medicine is kept on a rolling medicine cart and is labeled if you need to get something. But I’ll go ahead and get his for you. Be right back.” A moment later, she returned with a filled syringe. Some of the really bad cases, such as Juan, had IVs.

Inserting the needle in the IV port, Anna said, “I’m not a nurse, but I’ve been trained to give injections in this emergency situation, just in case you were wondering.” She nodded to the patient. “Juan is special. Why don’t you stick with him as much as possible? When he’s sleeping peacefully, you can work with some of the children. But I think it would really help him to have someone here.”

Amy looked back at the poor man. “What’s so special about him?”

“He’s an amnesiac. The most we could figure out is that he survived some horrific fire, got conked on the head, woke up from an eleven-month coma and can’t remember a thing about himself.”