Her dad’s head lowered, and he began to weep. His wide shoulders shook with the force of it.
Genevieve finally allowed the tears she’d been fighting all morning to come. She didn’t cry because of anguish. She cried because of the outright beauty of what Alice had done and because Genevieve had finally found the God she’d been looking for and missing and needing.
His spirit settled over her like warm, soft rain.
Natasha reached over and squeezed Genevieve’s hand. Genevieve squeezed back, indicating that she was okay. And she was. God had not abandoned her. She could sense Him and what she sensed, very strongly, was truth and grace.
Grace and truth.
Until her dad had trusted Alice with the truth, Alice had beenunable to dispense grace. If Genevieve stifled her truth, then she stifled the Lord’s ability to show her grace.
Natasha had been right when she’d insisted that Dad come here and confess.
Sam had been right when he’d told her she’d never beat Oxy if she continued to keep it a secret.
She’d been wrong. Wrong about so many things.
When Alice moved to rise, Dawn quickly took hold of her mother’s arm and assisted her to her feet. The older woman gestured for Dad to stand, then encompassed his much taller frame in her arms.
A stranger looking at Alice’s outward appearance could have no idea of the dignity and power God had seen fit to bestow upon her. She was a missionary in a housedress and terry cloth slippers.
Because of her, the Woodward family was free.
Because of Christ, Genevieve was free.
And she would never be the same.
Sebastian
For the past couple of days, my head has been full of nothing except thoughts of how to get us out. I’ve examined every wall. I piled stones and climbed on top of them and tried to break out the window. I ran my hands along the ceiling. I worked to clear a path for us down each hallway.
All my attempts failed.
I’m not strong enough to move chunks of building bigger than I am. Just when I was trying to force myself to accept that we’re all going to die down here, we started to hear machinery.
I think someone might be coming for us.
“You see?” Genevieve asks me with a smile. “God heard our prayers, and He’s going to get us out.”
“We’re not out yet,” I say.
“He’s coming,” she says firmly. “You’ll see.”
Our room shakes and dust shivers over us. “Let’s sit against one of the walls,” I suggest. The two leaning walls seem to offer a little bit of protection.
“Which wall?” Ben asks.
I pull a quarter from my pocket. “Heads that wall.” I point. “Tails that wall.” I flick the quarter into the dim air. It spins and lands on heads.
We all move to sit against the winning wall.
Chapter Twenty-four
Late that night, Sam stared out his bedroom window, exactly as he’d done so many times since Gen’s arrival.
Only the porch light was on at the guesthouse, which meant that she was asleep.
He wished he could sleep. But his frustration and doubt wouldn’t allow him to.
