Chapter 1

The paper was still warm to the touch from the printer. It trembled ever so slightly in his hands as he folded the letter and placed it in the envelope. Rather than simply seal it, he took the fold and tucked it in the back. On the front, in somewhat shaky script, it was addressed to the congregational president. He was resigning. Actually, he had already resigned; this letter was simply a formality – the last “i” to be dotted or “t” to be crossed. Still, seeing the finality of it all there in crisp black letters was hard. Far harder than he thought it would be.

He had finished clearing out his office the day before. The large desk, once covered in piles of papers and books, was now neat and clean. The numerous shelves stood barren – dusty sentinels of his failure. A quick look around revealed that a simple pass with a vacuum by the janitor was all that remained to make the room ready for his replacement. Leaning back for one last time in what used to be his chair, the man slowly turned to look out the window, the soft tones of a Chopin piano nocturne floating in the background. He was glad it would be John. The laid-back retired pastor would be just what these people needed after this mess.

A quick rap on the door frame snapped him out of his reverie. “Pastor Andy?”

He glanced back and quickly rose from the chair. It was Charlene Hansen, his now former church secretary. She stood anxiously in the doorway, her short gray hair neatly coifed and her eyes obviously red from tears. Andy was truly going to miss this wonderful lady who had become a second mother to him. Charlene’s husband, Nils, hovered in the hallway behind her. Andy walked around the desk to greet them.

“We saw your truck...” she started to say, as they entered the mostly vacant room, but couldn’t finish. Tears fell unbidden upon her cheeks. Nils placed his large calloused hand on his wife’s shoulder as she began to sob. Deeply moved, Andy looked up to see the old farmer’s blue eyes as watery as his own. You would have to search far and wide to find as good and solid a man as Nils, he thought to himself.

“Pastor, you will be sorely missed.” Nils was a man of few words but when he did speak, it was with a deep, gravelly voice. He reached out his hand and took Andy’s in a firm grip. They used to be jokingly competitive with the handshake, but not today.

Charlene sniffed and then reached up to caress Andy’s face. “You are such a good man.” Smoothing away a tear she found there, she continued. “This was not your fault.”

“But...”

She shushed him with a fierce look. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare blame yourself for her walking away and taking your babies with her!” Poking him in the chest, her voice descended to a whisper. “Don’t you dare. I know as well as you how long and hard you fought to hold that marriage together. While she ... the floozy ... damn her!” The last came like an explosion.

Charlene’s vehemence surprised Andy and a smile flashed across his face. She responded with a watery one of her own, followed by a giggle. She tried raising a hand to her mouth to stop it, but it was no use. Nils let out a low gruff chuckle and soon all three were laughing.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t feel that way, Pastor, but I do,” Charlene finally got out as she wiped tears from her face.

“I know.” Andy drew her in for a warm embrace. Though he wasn’t nearly as tall as her husband, Charlene still only came up to his shoulder. Andy gave her a gentle squeeze and affectionately kissed the top of her head.

Stepping back after a moment, she made as to straighten her dress. Her sniffles, however, gave her away.

Nils gazed tenderly down at his wife and then back to Andy. “Are you all packed?”

Andy nodded bleakly. “Pretty much. There’s just a few things left over at the parsonage.” He glanced at his watch. “I should be on the road by three or so.”

“Oh, that won’t do at all. That’s much too late to get started,” Charlene objected. With a look to her husband, who gave her a simple nod, she continued. “When you finish up, just bring your truck and trailer over and park it at our place tonight. We’ve got plenty of room, as you well know.”

Andy started to object but thought better of it. The determined expression on Charlene’s face meant there was to be no discussion. Almost two years of working with her had taught him that, at least.

“Besides,” Nils interjected with a grin, “there are a couple of cold ones in the fridge and a chair on the porch with your name on them.”

“Well, then, how can I refuse?” Andy just shook his head and smiled.

They chatted just a little while longer before the Hansens left to wait for him at their home. Andy followed behind a few minutes later, after turning off the music and gathering up the last few odds and ends. He paused momentarily in the doorway, his eyes taking in the now empty office one last time. With a sigh, he turned off the lights and closed the door.

The darkening sky was starting to make him nervous. The weather had been beautiful the day before, heading out of northern Minnesota. Clear skies and mild temperatures in the 70s, it had been a spectacular June day. He couldn’t have asked for better driving conditions. Even the traffic around the Twin Cities wasn’t too bad, enabling him to pull into Madison, Wisconsin, at a decent time.

At first glance, it seemed he would have more of the same today, but the folks on the Weather Channel said otherwise. A fierce line of thunderstorms had been predicted to erupt and cross his path in southern Illinois. It now appeared that he had found them – or they him – just a bit further north than the forecasters had anticipated. With Chris Martin’s haunting melody and soulful lyric filling the truck cab, Andy watched as the ominous dark clouds loomed ever closer. The battle would soon be joined.

Glancing over at the passenger seat, Andy smiled to himself. At least he wouldn’t be going hungry any time soon. Charlene had loaded his truck up with an unbelievable amount of snacks and goodies, most of which she made herself. Not to mention the cooler filled with pop, milk and other drinks her husband stashed in the back seat. All he could do was shake his head. She and Nils were something else. Here he was supposed to have been their pastor, but in the twenty-two months he had been at St. Peter’s they had ministered to him far more than he them.

And then there were Darren and Shelley. As a green Toyota flew past him in the passing lane, Andy wondered how bad things would have been for him without those two. He chuckled out loud at the thought of Darren and him back at the seminary. Man, what a couple of knuckleheads they were! But Darren turned out just fine, with him and Shelley heading up a vibrant campus ministry at the University of Wisconsin. Andy couldn’t bring himself to feel jealous. The simple truth was that some guys are cut out to be pastors ... and others aren’t.

Andy’s thoughts were interrupted by a slow moving tractor trailer. A strap had obviously either come loose or broken, as nearly a third of the tarp covering the load was whipping violently about in the wind. He shifted over to the left lane as the trucker slowed his rig to a stop on the shoulder. A very light mist was starting to fall and it was obvious the driver needed to fix that before the weather got worse.

Darren was meant to be a pastor and Andy knew he was truly blessed to have him as a friend. All those late night phone calls as the marriage finally fell apart. Not to mention he and Shelley coming up to stay with him for a few days back in March, when Helen took the girls and left. Now, when they heard he would be passing through on his way to his sister’s, they insisted he stop in.

Actually, they insisted he stay a few days but Andy felt he’d imposed on them enough. Still, it had been good to hang out with them and their three kids, even if only for an evening. It had been hard to leave in the morning. He knew, however, it would be good to finally get to Rod and Izzy’s by nightfall. Looking at the clouds, though, he was beginning to have his doubts.

Light mist gave way to a steady drizzle. Andy flipped on the wipers, turned off Coldplay, and then began to scan the radio for a local weather report. He’d hoped to make it all the way to his sister’s tonight but that was appearing less and less likely. If he could hold out for at least a couple more hours, that would put him in Mt. Vernon. Thankfully the traffic on I-57 had been fairly light so far. With the declining light and the worsening weather, he had more than enough to contend with for the time being.

Adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, he was going with the highway as it banked to the left when his lights flashed upon a lone figure up ahead, walking along the right shoulder. With but a matter of seconds for a decision, Andy took in all the information he had. Steady rain ... worse weather coming ... a slight figure in a hood with thumb outstretched, carrying a backpack and a guitar ... and visions of a knife-wielding serial killer.

With a low chuckle and a quick prayer, he slowed and pulled off just a little ways past the soggy hitchhiker.

In his side mirror, Andy could see the figure run to meet up with his truck and trailer. He quickly flipped on the dome light in his cab and placed both his hands on the wheel to put the traveler at ease. Smiling, he glanced over just in time to see a waterlogged girl – she looked young – with what could best be described as a look of cautious relief on her face. Opening the passenger door, her ice blue eyes darted about the cab and then locked on to his.

She glanced angrily up at the sky as the heavens began to open up in a steady drizzle. Muttering a string of expletives, she tightened her grip on her guitar case and kept walking. “You have seriously got to hate me,” she grumbled to whatever deity decided to open up the faucet on her.

“Oh, come on!” she shouted as the rain started to come down harder. “As if my day hasn’t been shitty enough!”

She’d been walking for a while now. The straps of her pack were slowly cutting into her shoulders, while the guitar case hung like a lead weight in her left hand. Soaked to the bone, her mood turned even more foul as another car failed to even slow down, let alone stop. Finally, when a semi flew by and showered her with spray, she lost it.

“Goddammit, that’s it! I’ve had it!” she sputtered as she wiped muddy water from her face. “First, that shit, Jimmy, skips out in my car ... my car! With all my stuff! Oh, but that’s not enough, is it?! No! Turns out he ran off with all the money from last night’s gig, too. But who does the band blame? Not just good ole Jimmy! No, it must have been me! I must have been involved, too! So they take off. But is that all? Hell, no! They all skipped out without paying the motel bill. So who’s stuck with that? Me!”

Fury engulfed the increasingly soaked girl, her free right hand gesturing wildly. “Oh, but You ... You weren’t finished there, were you?” she accused the heavens. “No! Turns out that ‘Your gift to women’ Jimmy stole my checks and maxed out my credit cards, too!”

She stopped and let out a loud, guttural scream that seemed to come from her toes. “All my money ... it took all my money to get out of there!” Reaching into her waterlogged jeans pockets with her right hand, she pulled out the few coins that were in there. She squeezed them tight in her palm and raised her clenched fist to the sky. “Seventy-two cents! Seventy-two cents!”

The anger faded as quickly as it came. Dejected, her arms fell to her side. The guitar case clattered to the gravel below, tipping over. She began to weep. “Sarah said I could stay with her if I could make it to Nashville,” she said between sobs. “But all You left me with was seventy-two cents.” Her own tears mingled with the rain falling upon her cheeks.

“Why?” The question came out as a hoarse whisper. Her face upturned. Her arms partially outstretched. “Why? And why that trucker? Why get my hopes up for a ride in his rig, only to have him dump me here on the side of the road ... when I wouldn’t... ?”

The steady rhythm of the rain on the cooling asphalt was her only reply.

She shrugged her shoulders in resignation. Stuffing the meager coins back in her pocket, she picked up the fallen case and resumed her journey. “The man was a pig but I guess I learned my lesson, didn’t I?”

Peering through the falling rain, she could just make out the road sign up ahead. The next exit – number 197 for Hatchery Road – was three miles further. She smiled grimly as she looked around at the rain soaked landscape. “Good thing the backpack’s waterproof.” She was steeling herself with the thought of three more miles until dry clothes, when she heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle approaching behind her.

With little hope, she turned to face it. Walking backward she stuck her right thumb out, the guitar case hanging lifelessly from her other hand. Coming towards her was a large extended cab pickup truck towing a rental trailer. As it passed, her stomach fluttered when she saw the brake lights come on and it pulled off onto the shoulder.

“You’re not just yanking my chain again, are you?” she asked skyward as the truck and trailer slowed to a stop just ahead of her. Without waiting for an answer, she broke into a run, half afraid that her would-be rescuer would simply vanish when she reached the door. The handle, however, stayed solid in her grasp and opened easily.

The interior of the truck cab was warm and inviting but, more importantly, it was dry. She glanced around but saw nothing to alarm her. Then she looked at the driver. He appeared to be about her age or a little older, but not by much. He had short, dark blonde hair, what looked to be a nice tan, and he was smiling at her. It was his eyes, however, that caught her attention. Maybe it was the angle but they were very dark, probably brown. And they weren’t threatening at all – just the opposite, really. She had been fooled before but ... he had kind eyes.