Barbara Phinney - Silent Protector

Ian nodded. Liz thought he might be holding his breath, hoping for more from the boy, but no more words came.

“Elsie,” he asked, “we’ve had a dip in the water. Is it all right if Liz has a shower here? I’ll run home for one and be back in ten minutes.”

“I’m afraid I’ll need more than a shower,” Liz told the woman. “I don’t have any dry clothes.”

“That’s no trouble. I have something that’ll fit you.” Elsie led them into the front room where she told her husband to pull another chair up to the kitchen table and that supper would be ready as soon as Liz showered and Ian returned.

A good wash and a clean dress felt good, Liz decided after she was done. Though the dress was simple and long—and identical to the one Monica wore—Liz was grateful.

Thank you, Lord.

She walked into the small trailer’s kitchen just as Ian opened the side door and entered.

His hair was still damp and finger-combed, his clothes lightweight and crisp. Liz found herself staring at him, all fresh and clean, his expression so full of concern and compassion. He smiled at her. And automatically, her heart tripped up. To cover her sudden fluster, she looked away.

Ian walked over to George as he pulled up a fifth chair to the small round table. He spoke quietly, with Liz catching only a few words: a tropical storm coming, George telling Ian not to overwork himself and feel free to ask others to help.

It would appear that George was part of this whole Witness Security Program. And probably Elsie, too. Liz didn’t know enough to make any more assumptions than that.

She caught more of Ian’s words. He had called his supervisor, suggesting Charlie be moved immediately, but his supervisor disagreed.

Liz stared at Ian, openly eavesdropping because this was too important for any good manners. The supervisor ordered them to stay put, to see who might show up, that he and the Wilsons were well trained for this. And extra help was on its way.

And judging by George’s deepening frown, Liz would guess he didn’t like that answer any more than Ian did.

Someone might show up? Hadn’t Ian hinted of that when they were talking in the clinic? If he suspected as much, then he must have told his supervisor. Now, with George talking about a tropical storm coming and Charlie being used as bait, she knew only one thing.

Charlie shouldn’t be here, no matter how well trained anyone was or how much extra help was on its way.

“I should go, as soon as possible,” she said after George gave thanks for their meal of hearty sandwiches and crisp salad. “There are a hundred reasons why I should take Charlie and leave. Including your workload, that tropical storm coming and the fact that someone might be here—” she glanced at Charlie, who was busy removing the green peppers from his salad “—ahead of me.”

Ian set down his fork. “Charlie is safest with me.”

“You need to pastor these people, too. I heard what George said. You can only spread yourself out so thin.”

“You should let me worry about that.”

“And,” Elsie added, pouring more lemonade, “you two need to talk about it down in his office.” She shot Charlie a quick look. Having dissected his food, he was happy to crunch on the carrots he’d found in his salad. He appeared to be ignoring both of them.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Ian answered calmly. “A taxi won’t come down this far from Northglade. You may not realize that it’s only a small town itself, with not much in it.”

She’d seen Northglade on the map, a community inland from Spring Island with a farm population. She doubted there were any motels there.

“Are you saying you won’t let me go?”

He leaned forward. He’d chosen a seat across the table from her and now drilled a stare into her. “You’ve been traveling for how long? You had a scare and a dunk in the water, and you haven’t slept since Saturday night, I’d guess. It would be very wise to spend the night here. If the Wilsons will have you.”

“Of course we will.” Elsie nodded. “Liz, dear, even if you could find a car to get you off the island, do you think you should be driving after all you’ve been through? I can see it in your eyes, just how tired you are. And I know you don’t want to risk Charlie’s life because of a little stubbornness.”

She’d expected some manipulation out of Charlie, because he was just a child and they sometimes did that sort of thing, but she hadn’t expected it out of the adults around the table.

But they were right. More than right. She was practically dead on her feet. Ian hit the nail on the head when he said she hadn’t slept. The evening Charlie had called, she’d been up arranging flights until the wee hours. The next day she flew out and then spent that night waiting for a connecting flight at Newark. Was it Wednesday already? And she hadn’t slept since Saturday night?

The reminder of that fact brought a yawn to her jaw, something she stifled quickly.

“Stay the night here, Liz,” Ian said quietly. “It’s the best thing.”

“But what about—” Still holding her glass of lemonade she dropped her voice “—whoever might be here?”

“Let me worry about that. You need to sleep, and we can discuss anything in the morning.”

She stared into his eyes, feeling the pull of that attraction again. A man who had given up a career to serve God. A man who cared enough for Charlie to risk his life. A handsome, compelling, intelligent man. Whose brilliant blue eyes met hers with a magnetism she couldn’t pull away from.

You’ve found Charlie. He’s safe. Rest tonight. Get some sleep.

Logic told her to capitulate. But she couldn’t ignore all that Ian had said back at the rec center. Charlie was in danger. The man who’d killed Jerry would come after him.

And yet, despite the fear rising in her again, she read Ian’s clear expression.

Trust me.

She took a shaky sip of her drink. Should I, Lord?

“We’ll put a cot in Charlie’s room. He can sleep on it, and Liz can have his bed.” Oblivious to Liz’s warring thoughts, Elsie settled the matter with a firm nod.

“Liz,” Ian added softly, “we’ll talk about it tomorrow. In the meantime, get some rest. It’s really the best thing.”

Fatigue rolled over her in one heavy, blanketing wave. Elsie had kept her curtains closed, and only through the tiny window above the sink did Liz see that night was closing fast.

With all eyes on her, Liz fought off the weariness. “Okay. And I bet I won’t be long in bed after Charlie.”

“Dad said I don’t have to go to bed early,” Charlie piped up.

Elsie arched her eyebrows at him. “If it was a school night you’d be going to bed early, young man.”

Charlie’s bottom lip pushed forward slightly. “Dad said I don’t need school. He said that I’m smart.”

Liz frowned at him. “Then you’re smart enough to know that you need your rest.” With that, she pulled out his chair and stood tiredly. “And you’re smart enough to know we should help Elsie do the dishes.”

As they rounded the table, she caught Elsie peering knowingly at her husband. “I told you he could talk just fine.”

George snorted. “Talking to his aunt ain’t the talking he should be doin’, and you know it, Elsie.”

Ian said his good-nights a short time later, thanking Elsie as he always did, for all she was doing for him and Charlie.

At the door, the older woman patted his arm. “You’re more than welcome, and don’t worry about a thing. Everything will work out. You just need faith, that’s all.”

She’d taken one look at him when he’d shown up for supper and guessed his thoughts. Yes, he was busy right now. Too busy, and Liz’s arrival didn’t make things any easier. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d called his supervisor in DC to inform him that she’d not only shown up but had also claimed she’d been run off the road. Ian had wanted to berate the man for not telling him about her, but all his supervisor had said was she had no claim on Charlie and wouldn’t be a problem. Ian reminded him that she’d seen her nephew regularly enough to have the boy call her the second he got to a phone, but the man refused to admit his mistake.