As the girl spoke a tentative plea for her uncle, a tear slipped through Dinah's defenses. So many people loved him. Though he'd hidden himself away on this mountain, the people he allowed in his inner circle were blessed with the depth of his love. Of his protection and goodness.
It was impossible to keep from returning that love. That fact was one she’d learned too late to protect herself.
* * *
Jericho's body trembled as he lay in darkness that smothered. Like drowning in a pool of misery. Had he died? If this was the lake of fire the reverend used to speak of, why was he so cold?
Voices broke through his haze.
He focused on the sounds, straining to make out words through the murkiness in his mind. That was Jude's voice.
"...bring him back to us. Don't take him. Please. Heal him. Make him well."
Who was he talking to? Dinah?
If his brother was giving Dinah a hard time...
But Jericho could do nothing to help her. He couldn't even pull from this blackness.
Jonah was speaking now. Jericho strained once more.
"Please, God. You know how much Jericho means to us. You can't take him too. We need him here with us. Please. Heal him."
An urgency pressed through Jericho. They were praying. And his brothers needed him. He couldn't die like their parents had. Like Lucy.
He tried to open his eyes, but his lids weighed as much as a tree trunk. He couldn't even get his hand to move. Fear rose up, but then another voice drifted in.
"Lord, I ask that You fill Jericho with Your light." Dinah's sister. His fuzzy mind wouldn't recall her name, but her words soaked through him. "Banish the darkness that's trying to consume him. Let him feel Your presence and know he's not alone."
As she spoke, a warmth spread across his shoulders, chasing away the chill. He tried to move again, and this time his finger shifted.
Then Dinah's voice broke in, her tone sure and strong. "Father, we look to You. You have the power of life. We’ve known that you are the Holy God. The great Physician. Only You can heal him. Clear away the fever. Make the postules scab over and fall off. Fill his body with strength. Bring him back to us."
Jericho strained once more, forcing away the darkness so he could open his eyes. He managed to crack them, but the light burned, and he squinted against the glare.
As his gaze adjusted, the walls of his bed chamber surrounded him. The voices—his family and Dinah—must be coming from the other room.
He tried to speak, but his parched and aching throat refused to cooperate. He offered a weak groan instead.
The sounds of the others grew silent. Then footsteps. Someone entered his room, and it took all his energy to focus on the person.
Dinah’s form took shape, coming near. "Jericho?" Her voice murmured soft and gentle.
He opened his mouth, but still he couldn't push out words. His throat convulsed, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, like glass shards scraping.
"Have a sip of water."
Cold metal touched his lips, and he parted them. The water burned even as it brought relief inside his mouth. He let it sit for a few heartbeats, then prepared himself to swallow.
His throat nearly pushed the liquid back up, and he couldn't keep from groaning with the searing ache. But he finally swallowed.
"The next time won't be so hard."
He wanted to open his eyes again. To see her beautiful face and let it ease this pain. But he didn't have the strength to do thatandtake another drink. So he kept his eyes shut and opened his mouth again.
This second swallow went down a little easier. Then something brushed his brow. A cool, soft touch, stroking his temple. He let himself sink into it. Drawing all the comfort and strength from her touch.
When her hand cupped his cheek, he was strong enough to open his eyes. His gaze took too long to focus, but he gave himself time. Seeing her would be worth the wait.
