“Because two thousand people died. Thousands more were injured. Thousands more lost their homes. Police and firefighters risked their safety to save others. But somehow, even thoughwe deserved the spotlight the least, we were the ones everybody wanted to talk to the most.”
“And did you talk about it?”
“For two years straight.”
“To?”
“At first, the news media. Then churches, so many I can’t count them all. We talked to the author assigned to write the book about us. Documentary film producers. Movie producers. We spent two summers and all our school vacations traveling. When the movie about us came out, the four of us went to Los Angeles for interviews—”
“Hang on. What happened to the fifth?”
“Luke’s always refused to be involved. With the media and with us. We tried to include him over and over, without success.”
“Where is he now?”
“Prison.” That hard word ... that hard fate ... sat between them like a landmine. As always when she thought of Luke, sorrow, love, and guilt knotted her stomach.
After a long moment, Sam spoke. “You were saying that the four of you went to LA.”
“Right. We were together in a hotel room in LA one night and had a long discussion. We were only fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen, but we were mature enough—and maybe weary enough at that point—to agree that we’d spoken about the earthquake enough.”
“How come?” He took the off-ramp, then eased to a stop at a red light, adjusting to assess her.
“Back when we started talking about the earthquake, it was obvious that God was giving us a chance to tell everyone what He’d done. Over time, though, we no longer felt a sense of peace about what we were doing. It seemed like the big corporations behind the book and the movie were only interested in making money. The travel and the attention put a strain on us and our families. Basically, God was telling us as a group to step back from it.”
“Do people still ask you about it?”
“All the time. New acquaintances ask me about it. Reporters and writers contact me about it. A producer reached out to me about it a week ago.” She consulted her GPS.
“I know where we’re going, Gen.”
Should she trust him? Or was he the type of man who had a wretched sense of direction but always imagined he knew the way?
He delivered groceries and made bread. A grocery-delivering, bread-making man deserved the benefit of the doubt. She clicked off her phone.
The light turned green and the car slid forward. “You turned the producer down?” he asked.
“We all did. God hasn’t let any of us know He wants us to start talking about it again. If He does let me know that, then I’ll talk about it.” She was holding on to her faith the way she’d hold on to a branch protruding from the sheer side of a canyon. She had to wonder, sometimes, if God was still holding on to her. Had He dropped her because she was too much bother?
Sam parked and set his wrist on top of the steering wheel.
He had themostendearing face. There was something mournful about his eyes. The rest of his features were serious and pensive. On those rare occasions when she’d seen him smile, solemnity and joy had collided into an explosive result.
She’d been talking about her natural disaster, but irrationally, she had an urge to comforthim.
The weight of his gaze warmed her skin like the heat from a fire. Her pulse ticked up. Her mouth went dry.
You’re not stable enough to develop a crush at this particular catastrophic moment, Genevieve!She had a long way to go before she could even contemplate—
Abruptly, Sam exited the truck. He opened the passenger side door for her before she’d gathered her wits.
They walked side by side into the building that housed the records for their slice of northern Georgia. First stop, vital records.
An employee helped Genevieve access documents concerning her mom and dad. It didn’t take long to confirm that everything was completely in order, just as it had been at her parents’ house. No surprises. Nothing out of the ordinary.
They moved on to the probate office. This time, a middle-aged, red-haired clerk assisted them as they ran searches for court proceedings involving either Caroline or Judson Woodward.
“I don’t see anything at all,” the woman told them with a smile. No doubt she imagined the lack of court proceedings against DA Judson Woodward must be good news.
