At the Edge of a Dark Forest Read online

  He put a large bowl on the dining-room table as she entered. “Finally. That phone call took a while.”

  She didn’t tell him the extra time was spent in the mirror making sure her eyes didn’t appear puffy and red.

  “I’ve got good news—I think. I spoke with an acquaintance of mine this afternoon—an old competitor in the prosthetics business.” He served out the spaghetti to her dish and smirked. “A man whose products always inspired me to improve mine.”

  Carly shook out the paper napkin, her mind wandering to the dinners she’d shared with Cole every evening. The already cut meat, the linen napkins, and the man in his crisply ironed slacks and dress shirt, with a droll expression ready to provoke her. Her ire had seemed to give him much pleasure given the crooked smile and spark of the eye it elicited.

  She missed that.

  “Carly.”

  Jolting back to the present, she met her father’s gaze.

  Dad tilted his head. “This is important. Listen.”

  “Of course.”

  “Corbin wants you to work for him.” He sighed.

  “What?”

  “I know taking this position isn’t the same as owning your own company—”

  “Dad—”

  “But this way you could provide more equipment to more amputees within—”

  “Dad.”

  He stopped.

  “I don’t want to own my own company.”

  His mouth dropped open.

  “I never wanted to work the business side.” Carly pulled in oxygen for resolve. “All I’ve ever wanted was to provide the best product for each individual who needs it.”

  Dad’s shock softened into a warm smile.

  “Like my Dad.” She smiled back. “I want to work with the amputees, listen to them and design products that will help. No sales. No fundraising. No investors.”

  “Then why did you agree to work with Mr. Harrison?”

  She grimaced. “I wanted to help you regain your reputation back. I thought a new family company would do that.”

  Dad’s brow creased. “It was never about my reputation, Carly. It’s always been about the people. You working for Corbin gives you the opportunity to do that. I guess this is the best solution after all. He loves your socket design, and I know he’ll make it a quality product. He can’t wait to bring you on board.”

  She thought about the man who’d offered them so much. “But what about Cole?”

  “If you really don’t want to start a new company, we won’t need his investment after all.”

  “But—”

  “It seems you’ve wasted time with him. I’m sorry I didn’t speak to Corbin sooner. I should have seen your heart. But at least now you have better choices.”

  And no reason to go back. She worked her face into a smile she didn’t feel. Working for her father’s friend was perfect—for her career. But how would she tell Cole this news? I don’t need you anymore. Somehow that felt like a lie?

  “I kissed him.”

  Her father’s eyes shot wide at the whispered words. “Did he—?”

  “No, Dad. I kissed him.”

  He searched her expression. “Do you love him?”

  She stirred the spaghetti over and over until it looked like a hurricane in her plate. “I don’t know, Dad. He confuses me. I think I’m falling for parts of him. But if he doesn’t accept the help he needs, he will destroy everyone around him. That’s not a way to begin a relationship.”

  Dad’s nod was solemn as he took long moments, his gaze running over her expression. “Does he love you?”

  Carly shrugged. “I think he’s very grateful for what I’ve done for him.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure he knows what love is.”

  Dad’s stern features melted into something warm. “I sensed something about him those many months ago.” His eyes took on a melancholy. “You know he never wanted to wear prosthetics again.”

  Carly nodded.

  “He saved my life that night.” He peeked up as if to check her thoughts. “I’m not talking about the accident.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  A small smile grew on Dad’s face as he touched Carly’s cheek. “Of course, you know. You are my discerning child.” He blinked. “I suspect you see something special in him, too.”

  “I do.” She swallowed. “But he’s so bitter toward God.”

  “Then maybe it’s best you’re here … for now. But be ready if God calls you back.”

  If?

  His lips pulled up. “And don’t forget, earnest prayer is mightier than anything you can do on your own.” He released a breath. “And sometimes all we have.”

  COUNSELING ALWAYS LEFT Cole raw. Like he’d just opened old wounds and rubbed sand into them. And yet the sand seemed more an abrasive cleanser removing the infection that festered there. Still, as he returned home from the intensive session, he needed something to clot the blood.

  Beckett’s book.

  Cole’s counselor told him group therapy would be helpful. He said there were many others who’ve come back from war with the same dreams, same flashbacks, same guilt. Did others have Becketts in their lives who’d fallen on IEDs for them? Cole wanted to know.

  A group was out of the question in the remote town of Fairwilde. Not a haven for vets, so there weren’t enough people to populate a gathering of that nature.

  But could Fairwilde be a haven? A safe place. A retreat.

  Cole shook his head. Who cared enough to make such a place happen?

  Carly would. She was just the type. Always wanting to help others, especially veterans. But Cole had also done some research on substance abuse and the people who loved those who suffered from it. He wondered if his need was the only thing that drew Carly to him. What did they call it? Codependency. Not a healthy basis for a relationship. He wanted her to love him for him.

  Like he loved her.

  Oh, those words left a chasm in his chest.

  He needed to get whole before he invited her back in his life—if he ever did. Would she want him?

  He tromped down the hall to his bedroom and found the Bible on his nightstand. He’d read about Jesus over the past few weeks and found Him not quite the taskmaster he’d envisioned Him to be. He was more the wise counselor. Gentle king. So righteous and yet forgiving. Cole would love to meet someone like that.

  Meet me.

  Cole no longer flinched at the words that sounded in his soul. They’d become more commonplace as he read of the God of the Bible. “Speak to me, Lord.”

  No more words came. Only the feeling the book he held needed to be opened. He’d already read all the Gospels. He flipped the pages to get to the next book, Beckett’s notecards stopping him in places here and there. He would read every one of those cards one day, but only as he came to the passages they’d referred to in the Bible. Flipping some more, the pages halted at an envelope. The words on the front of it captured him: Second Lieutenant Cole Harrison.

  Cole pulled it out. What could it be? He’d already read the note from Beckett’s mother weeks ago. Was this from his dad? Maybe—if Beckett inherited his awful script from his father.

  Cole’s tongue itched for the burn of a good drink. Could he bear another missive from a member of the Forsythe household? He almost dropped to the floor to scavenge under his bed for a bag that might not have been removed, but he knew Joe had emptied every last one.

  Curse it!

  Cole’s hands shook as he inserted his index finger into the gap of the envelope and tore the top. He grasped the bottom with a light grip of the prosthesis—a grip he’d practiced with Sam over the past several weeks—and tugged the page carefully so as not to endanger it. Something told him he couldn’t lose these words.

  He drew in a breath. Without the alcohol he’d need something stronger to sustain him. He looked to the ceiling. “Help me, Lord. I don’t think I can do this.”

  You can’t … without me.

  “Yes, God.” The words
escaped in such a whisper Cole wasn’t sure he’d said them out loud.

  His hand shook as he unfolded the page. The muscles in his face twinged as the handwriting confirmed Cole’s deepest fears. He read:

  Dear Sir,

  You may laugh at this crazy message, given right now I’m perfectly healthy. But then again, if you are holding this letter it means the thing I believe is going to happen … well … did.

  I’m writing you because I had a dream last night—a scary and wonderful dream. I know you don’t believe in Jesus and all that, but He came to me in a vision. You may say He was a figment of my imagination, but I could feel the warmth of the light emanating from his body and smell the wood on Him from his carpentry work. I’ve never had a dream like that before. It was somehow more real than being awake.

  Jesus said He’d be taking me home tomorrow. I flinched at the vision of how that would occur, but he laid His pierced hand on my shoulder and told me, “Do not be afraid.” Suddenly, I wasn’t. Love and security washed over me like I’d never known.

  I wondered if I’d miss my family, and He told me they’d be with me before I noticed they weren’t. I didn’t know if that meant they’d also die soon or that I’d be too busy in heaven to think of them much. Funny the weird things that came to mind in the presence of my Savior.

  Jesus told me what I was going to do tomorrow would take an instant, but its effects would last generations. Those words comforted me because it has always been my goal to honor Him with my life. He told me it would honor Him, and gave me a vision of what that meant for you. I can’t tell you the awe I felt at seeing who you will become. It makes the sacrifice more than worth it.

  Please know, sir, I am ready to go home to be with the Lord today. My only regret is that I couldn’t live longer to do more for my God, but He assures me I have done all He requires. I am at peace.

  It’s funny. I feel stupid writing these things right now. What if my dream is just a dream and I rip these pages tomorrow night because the vision was untrue. Still, it feels good to at least have the courage to tell you about my God and Savior, even if you only see this after I’m gone. I’ve always been scared to evangelize. Guess I’m not too brave. But sometimes a man needs to speak. If not through his words, through his actions.

  Cole (I use your given name now because Jesus tells me you are my brother), I look forward to the time I will see you again.

  Beckett Forsythe

  Courage?! The page shook in Cole’s hand. He couldn’t believe the man who fell on an IED felt he lacked courage. Cole pulled his sleeve across his face to dry the tears, sniffed back the gunk that gathered in his throat, and stood. He needed to pace.

  What did he mean about the awe he’d felt in seeing the man Cole would become? This useless wretch who wore his bitterness like a rotten soup stain. He sat on the bed and peered into the opened Bible, at the page where Beckett’s letter had been hidden. Had Beckett’s parents seen this or did they, as did Cole, assume it was another index card of notes?

  The printed words in the book became a jumble through the tears that refused to end … until his gaze fell on the familiar verse.

  While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

  Those were the words Carly had spoken to him. Beckett had died for Cole, knowing Cole was a drunk. Knowing he’d been unworthy to lead his men that day. And yet, Beckett risked it all so Cole could live. What had he known?

  What had this Jesus told him?

  Cole rummaged through his closet to find his suitcase. Bits of manila envelope from the package still littered the floor inside. Thank you. He mouthed the words to his Creator as he found the pieces fit together just enough to show the return address of Mr. and Mrs. Forsythe. They hadn’t been thrown away like the rest of the envelope.

  He tromped to the chest-of-drawers and drew out pajamas, socks, shirts, etc. Everything he’d need for a trip. Manny could take him to the airport. Hopefully there was a flight out by tomorrow. Otherwise he’d chicken out before he got there. He needed to talk to Beckett’s parents. He needed to tell them the truth about himself and what Beckett had done for him.

  He also wanted to know if Beckett had told them of his dream or what Jesus said about who Cole would become. Because Cole had no clue. He wanted to be something worthy of Beckett’s act, but he couldn’t fathom it—an impossibility.

  Nothing is impossible with Me.

  The image of Mrs. Forsythe spitting in his face when she discovered who Cole really was played relentlessly through his mind. Cole hadn’t helped her son. Still, he knew she had the answer he was looking for. And he was willing to bear her contempt to find it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  AT THE EDGE OF A DARK FOREST

  by Connie Almony

  “Hi, Joe, it’s me.” Carly was so glad to hear his voice. It had been an intense few months dealing with her brothers’ lawsuit and her father’s feelings of guilt. Still, the dropping of the criminal charges had eased her mind.

  “Carly, so good to hear you. I’ve been watching the news about the trial. So sorry to hear the company is going out of business.”

  Carly warmed at his concern. “It’s okay, Joe. What the company had become was no longer my father’s dream. God has given us other opportunities to help vets.” She’d spoken to her father’s friend and they’d already begun to develop some of her designs.

  “Glad to hear that.” Carly loved the smile in Joe’s voice.

  “So how’s Cole doing?” A part of her hoped he’d slowed his progress, a reason for her to return.

  “He’s doing well.” Joe’s tone was guarded. What was he hiding? “He even went on a trip last week.”

  “A trip?” That didn’t sound like the recluse she’d come to know. “Where’d he go?”

  “I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell us.”

  She sensed a hesitation. “What are you leaving out, Joe?”

  His breath blew against the receiver. “It’s just that he came back very intense and has been having lunch with Charles Jurvis every day since.”

  Carly’s shoulders sunk. “That’s the man who brought him the alcohol, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he coming home drunk?”

  “I can’t tell. But sometimes alcoholics are good at hiding it, especially when those around them are used to the behavior.”

  “Joe, you’d know.” She was certain of that.

  He sighed. “I thought I would, but he’s been so quiet and to himself, I don’t know what to make of him.”

  “When I come, we’ll pray together.”

  A horse whinnied in the background.

  “Joe? What are you not saying?”

  “Cole isn’t getting regular physical therapy anymore. Only check-ups now and then.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Oh, um, I guess I’m not needed.”

  “Carly—”

  “That’s okay, Joe. I understand. That’s good news.” And somehow not. “Did you tell him about my job?” She’d hoped Joe could break it to him better than she could.

  “How you won’t need his investment?”

  Why did that sound so awful? “Yes.”

  “I told him.”

  “What did he say?” What had she hoped he’d say?

  “He said he was glad for you.”

  That was all?

  “Carly, you can come to visit us.”

  She shook her head. “I really shouldn’t right now. If Cole no longer needs me for therapy, I should focus on my new job.”

  “You don’t have to be needed to come here. Just because people don’t need each other, doesn’t mean they don’t want each other.”

  Carly flinched at the words. Did she want Cole? She knew the answer to that question, but wasn’t ready to admit it to Joe. It’d be like serving her heart up to be sliced. Cole didn’t want her. He’d only been grateful for how she’d helped him. Now that his therapy was complete, he probably didn’t even think of her—except
to erase all the messages she’d left … messages he’d never returned. “I can’t Joe. Not now.” She fiddled with the cross at her neck. “But please call again and let me know how everyone is doing.”

  “Sure.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  AT THE EDGE OF A DARK FOREST

  by Connie Almony

  The beauty of the fall colors astounded Carly as she drove up the forested road. How could Cole not believe in God when surrounded by such an extraordinary array?

  What would she find when she got to the manor? Why had Joe made her promise to come? Her mind played back the conversation she’d had with him weeks ago and how he suspected Cole had been drinking again. Could Joe need her to challenge him? Was she stepping into an intervention?

  It had been many months since she’d lived at the Harrison mansion. She missed every one of its occupants. Her heart ached at the thought of seeing them again, as she anticipated the pain of leaving already.

  Carly turned into the tree-lined drive. It was like threading through a multi-colored tunnel. Reds and yellows swathed the green overhead, with more gold, red and brown from the fallen leaves below. Magical.

  Enchanted.

  The drive opened to the manor. Usually empty pavement, but today it was alive with activity. Trucks with ladders, vans of tradesman and building supplies all scattered around with men in coveralls coming in and out as though the manor were receiving an overhaul.

  Mrs. Rivera opened the door to one of the men, giving him a sour face as she pointed to a side entrance. He pivoted and followed her direction. Her head shook as she wiped her hands on the apron around her waist.

  Carly just wanted to hug the woman.

  In fact, she’d do that right now.

  Mrs. Rivera almost closed the door before she saw her. Her eyes lit and she strode to envelop Carly to her bosom. “My dear, you have been gone too long.” She eyed her up and down. “You’re too skeeny. We fatten you up tonight.”

  Carly chuckled. “I didn’t come for dinner.”

  “Nonsense. You stay.”