superstitious enough to be made uneasy by the supernatural.
Harper nodded, then lifted the radio. “Justin…it’s Harper. Where are you? Over.”
Justin waited for a shaft of lightning to illuminate more than the small tunnel of light that the searchlight emitted. When it came, he could tell he was about a quarter of a mile from his destination.
“About ten minutes from the location,” he said. “Over.”
“Stay tuned. I’m going to question her more. Over.”
Justin had to ask. “Who? Who are you talking to?”
“Marcella’s granddaughter. Over.”
The skin crawled on the back of Justin’s neck. Like everyone else in Bayou Jean, he’d known Marcella’s daughter, Phoebe. What he hadn’t known was that she’d had a daughter, or that she was now at Mimosa Grove. Even though he’d grown up knowing that the women of Mimosa Grove had gifts beyond the norm, it was unbelievable to think that she was able to tap in on a lost child miles away from where she was.
“Come on, lady,” Justin whispered, as he took a chance and accelerated through the night. “Guide me to our little angel before she actually becomes one.”
Harper put the radio back to Laurel’s mouth.
“Help is coming,” Harper said. “Your uncle Justin is coming to find you. Tell me if you see a light.”
Laurel lay without moving, but it was her silence that brought their fear to a frantic peak. If she wasn’t answering, did that mean they were going to be too late?
“Rachelle…tell me! Tell me what you see.”
A soft, almost nonexistent moan slipped from between Laurel’s lips, and then she gasped.
“The water…it’s over the stump. My shoes are wet. Mommy gonna be mad at me.”
Harper swallowed around the knot in his throat. God help them all. The water was rising. He spoke quickly into the radio, knowing his panic was evident from the tremor in his voice.
“Justin! You’ve got to hurry. I think she’s standing on a stump or a bunch of logs…she says the water is over her feet.”
The moment Justin heard this, he gunned the engine, despite knowing full well the dangers of running blind in the dark. But if he was too late to save Rachelle, it would be far easier to die than to go back and face his sister without her baby girl.
And while he was racing through the bayou, Laurel suddenly jerked, then sat straight up. She was staring past Harper’s shoulder so intently that he turned to look, half expecting to see a ghost of some kind awaiting him at the foot of the stairs. But when she stood abruptly and started waving her hands, Harper knew their prayers had been answered.
“I see the light! I see the light!” Laurel cried.
“Where is it?” Harper asked.
“There,” Laurel said, pointing over Harper’s right shoulder toward the front door of Mimosa Grove.
“You’re on her right, Justin! She sees you! She sees you!”
Justin swerved immediately, just missing a large growth of cypress knees jutting up from the bayou.
“God help me,” he whispered as he peered through the intense downpour, seeing nothing silhouetted in the light but swamp and rain.
“Help me…help me!” Laurel cried, and started waving and jumping up and down.
Within seconds, the spotlight on the bow of Justin’s fishing boat swept past her, but he’d seen the motion. He corrected his direction, and then he saw her—looking even tinier in the dark, but alive and moving just the same.
“I see her! I see her!” Justin yelled, then stuffed the radio into a waterproof bag in the floor of the boat and gunned the motor.
As he drew closer, it appeared as if Rachelle was standing on water. The image made him think of the story in the Bible where Jesus had walked on water; then he remembered hearing her say that she was standing on a stump.
He idled the boat as close to the little girl as he could get, but each time he tried to reach for her, the rapid flow of the water would pull his boat away. If she’d been a little older, or if he
Harper nodded, then lifted the radio. “Justin…it’s Harper. Where are you? Over.”
Justin waited for a shaft of lightning to illuminate more than the small tunnel of light that the searchlight emitted. When it came, he could tell he was about a quarter of a mile from his destination.
“About ten minutes from the location,” he said. “Over.”
“Stay tuned. I’m going to question her more. Over.”
Justin had to ask. “Who? Who are you talking to?”
“Marcella’s granddaughter. Over.”
The skin crawled on the back of Justin’s neck. Like everyone else in Bayou Jean, he’d known Marcella’s daughter, Phoebe. What he hadn’t known was that she’d had a daughter, or that she was now at Mimosa Grove. Even though he’d grown up knowing that the women of Mimosa Grove had gifts beyond the norm, it was unbelievable to think that she was able to tap in on a lost child miles away from where she was.
“Come on, lady,” Justin whispered, as he took a chance and accelerated through the night. “Guide me to our little angel before she actually becomes one.”
Harper put the radio back to Laurel’s mouth.
“Help is coming,” Harper said. “Your uncle Justin is coming to find you. Tell me if you see a light.”
Laurel lay without moving, but it was her silence that brought their fear to a frantic peak. If she wasn’t answering, did that mean they were going to be too late?
“Rachelle…tell me! Tell me what you see.”
A soft, almost nonexistent moan slipped from between Laurel’s lips, and then she gasped.
“The water…it’s over the stump. My shoes are wet. Mommy gonna be mad at me.”
Harper swallowed around the knot in his throat. God help them all. The water was rising. He spoke quickly into the radio, knowing his panic was evident from the tremor in his voice.
“Justin! You’ve got to hurry. I think she’s standing on a stump or a bunch of logs…she says the water is over her feet.”
The moment Justin heard this, he gunned the engine, despite knowing full well the dangers of running blind in the dark. But if he was too late to save Rachelle, it would be far easier to die than to go back and face his sister without her baby girl.
And while he was racing through the bayou, Laurel suddenly jerked, then sat straight up. She was staring past Harper’s shoulder so intently that he turned to look, half expecting to see a ghost of some kind awaiting him at the foot of the stairs. But when she stood abruptly and started waving her hands, Harper knew their prayers had been answered.
“I see the light! I see the light!” Laurel cried.
“Where is it?” Harper asked.
“There,” Laurel said, pointing over Harper’s right shoulder toward the front door of Mimosa Grove.
“You’re on her right, Justin! She sees you! She sees you!”
Justin swerved immediately, just missing a large growth of cypress knees jutting up from the bayou.
“God help me,” he whispered as he peered through the intense downpour, seeing nothing silhouetted in the light but swamp and rain.
“Help me…help me!” Laurel cried, and started waving and jumping up and down.
Within seconds, the spotlight on the bow of Justin’s fishing boat swept past her, but he’d seen the motion. He corrected his direction, and then he saw her—looking even tinier in the dark, but alive and moving just the same.
“I see her! I see her!” Justin yelled, then stuffed the radio into a waterproof bag in the floor of the boat and gunned the motor.
As he drew closer, it appeared as if Rachelle was standing on water. The image made him think of the story in the Bible where Jesus had walked on water; then he remembered hearing her say that she was standing on a stump.
He idled the boat as close to the little girl as he could get, but each time he tried to reach for her, the rapid flow of the water would pull his boat away. If she’d been a little older, or if he
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