Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
He’d thought himself a monster. Or a machine, perhaps. Metal. Screws. More parts made in some factory rather than flesh and bone and blood. But he wasn’t. He was strength and love and power beyond evil.
Hamilton Pool, Texas.
A: Look to Autumn. Her bravery overcame their plans.
“How do you overcome death?” Autumn said out loud, smiling as she walked from her mailbox to her door. “Look to Sam as well,” she added.
Blue Ridge Parkway, North Carolina.
A: The deep brown of her eyes, the glints of red in her hair, the pink of her lips after she’s been kissed.
Autumn grinned, her heart expanding. What is the color of love?
Then the postcards stopped for a while, and Autumn grew worried, her mind whirling with concern.
“It’s okay,” Harper told her. “Pilgrimages provide insight, but they also bring up more questions, some of which will be hard to answer. Give him time.”
“I don’t have much of that,” Autumn murmured. She missed him. She missed him so badly it was its own distinct pain. But God, was she grateful for Harper and Jak, who were there for her any time she needed them, just a FaceTime call away. She had Bill, who she sat with often in the evenings on his porch, rocking and speaking of her hopes and fears. And she had her friends, her community, but no one else on earth understood what she was going through like Harper and Jak did. And maybe more importantly, no one could give input on what Sam was likely going through than them.
In July, she received another postcard, this one from New River Gorge, West Virginia. And just as Harper had told her, instead of answering her questions, he’d posed one of his own.
How do I become worthy of her?
“You already are,” she whispered. She looked at the postcard again. If he’d traveled across the country and was slowly making his way back to her, he was almost there. Hurry, Sam. Please, please hurry.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The small house was quiet, the surrounding street still other than the whispering leaves and the hush of the summertime breeze. Sam stood in front of the tree near the white picket fence, taking it in, gathering his nerve. He inhaled a breath of rose-scented air. Somewhere there was a bush nearby, though he couldn’t see it from where he stood in the gloomy dusk.
Sam looked up at the full moon. It’d been his final sign. He’d seen it on the calendar, only a week away, and known it was time to head to Autumn. They’d met under it once, and so they would again.
A wispy light flickered through the window, just beyond a gauzy curtain. A candle? The glimpse of light called to him like a tiny beacon, and he pushed off the tree, moving toward the gate.
“Stop right there.”
Sam froze, his eyes moving to the side as the barrel of a shotgun poked through the trees. His heart slowed, then picked up speed. Ba-boom, ba-boom. Autumn. He started to turn, his muscles primed to grab the gun, to jerk the person holding it from the cover of foliage, to—
“Oh geez, is that you, Sam?”
His breath released in a gush, his muscles unclenching as the person holding the weapon stepped from the cover of the trees. It was an old woman, and she grinned.
“Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of trained assassin?” she asked, lowering the weapon.
A trained assassin? He supposed he was. Though he’d hoped to put that training far behind him. “Do you know me?”
“’Course I know you. You’re all she talks about. Kinda sick of hearing about you, truth be told.” But her grin widened, and she gave him a once-over before she slapped her denim-clad knee. “A trained assassin, and I woulda had ya!” She laughed, and Sam let out a self-deprecating chuckle.
“I wasn’t exactly expecting a sharpshooter to be waiting here in the bushes,” he muttered. And I was distracted. Autumn’s within a few feet of me right this second.
“Yeah, I suppose not.” She glanced toward the house. “I’m Ms. Hastings, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Hastings. But, ah, what are you doing out here?” Sudden worry jolted him. “Has there been some kind of trouble?”
“No, no. But a few of us are sitting out back playing cards, and I saw your shadow looming around the corner of the house. Autumn’s taken care of all of us in one way or another. And it was important she feel extra safe tonight.”
“Tonight? Why? What’s wrong?” His muscles tightened again as he primed himself to sprint toward the house. Toward Autumn.
“No need to be alarmed,” Ms. Hastings said. But her gaze slid away. “I suppose you should go in. She’ll be glad to see you. Here, I’ll walk you to the door.”
No need to be alarmed? What was going on? They made it to the blue front door, and Ms. Hastings turned the knob, letting the door swing open. Sam hesitated, his nerve endings twisting in a different way than they had when he’d first walked up toward Autumn’s house, the one he’d dropped her off at so long ago in that old red truck.