Page 34 of Wild Spirit Revival

“I hadn’t decided.”

The knot in Elijah’s stomach tightened. “Ma… don’t you think we’d like to know where he is, if he’s safe, and if he’s coming home?”

“I can tell you he’s safe. Cody also located the men who killed Miriam and Sophia.”

Annalee stepped closer. “Did he kill them?”

“He didn’t say.”

“What about coming home?” Annalee persisted.

Naomi sighed. “The letter wasn’t clear. He knows how much we want him to return. The boy has to decide for himself.”

As they walked up the steps to the house, a distant rumble of thunder echoed across the valley. Elijah glanced at the darkening sky, a chill running down his spine. Whatever storm was brewing, he had a sinking feeling it was about more than the weather.

Molly stood at the edge of Mystic at sunrise, her camera forgotten as she gazed out at the vast expanse of the Montana frontier. She’d pulled her strawberry blonde hair into a braid, yet the wind whipped errant strands across her face. Brushing them away, she inhaled the pleasant scent of prairie grass mixed with sage.

She’d planned this for the last week. Her idea was to take pictures of July Fourth, starting with the sunrise and ending with the fireworks. Looking out at the endless horizon, her doubts returned.

“What am I doing here?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the rustling grass. The question had been gnawing at her for days, growing louder with each passing moment. She’d left behind the comforts of Chicago, the security of her family’s home, and the familiarity of city life. For what? A dream of adventure? The allure of the unknown?

Molly set her hand on the stand holding her camera, the familiar wood frame a stark reminder of her purpose. Yet, as she looked out at the untamed wilderness before her, doubt crept in like a shadow.

“I don’t belong here,” she muttered, her words tinged with a mix of frustration and longing. “This isn’t my world. I’m not cut out for this life.”

Images of Chicago’s bustling streets and elegant parties flashed through her mind, a stark contrast to the rugged simplicity of Mystic. She could almost hear her mother’s voice gently chiding her for this foolish adventure.

“Maybe I should go back,” Molly said, her voice wavering. “Back to civilization, back to where I understand the rules.”

But even as the words left her lips, something inside her rebelled against the idea. She thought of the photographs she’d taken, the raw beauty she’d captured through her lens. The frontier had a wildness, a freedom that both terrified and exhilarated her.

Her thoughts drifted to Elijah Beckett, and her heart quickened. His forceful presence and quiet strength had drawn her in, despite her best efforts to maintain her independence.

“Oh, Elijah,” she sighed. “Why do you have to complicate things?”

The mere thought of him sent a shiver down her spine, a confusing blend of attraction and apprehension. Molly closed her eyes, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions.

“I can’t let myself fall for him,” she said firmly, as if speaking the words aloud would make them true. “I came here to be independent, to make my own way. Not to… not to…”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought. The idea of a relationship with Elijah thrilled her one moment and terrified her the next. He represented everything she’d learned about this new world. Rugged, unpredictable, drawing her in with intense passion.

“But what if I’m not strong enough for this life? What if I’m not cut out to be a frontier woman?”

The sun rose over the horizon, signaling the time had come to pack away her camera and make her way back to the hotel. Elijah would be arriving soon, and she wanted to be ready.

Molly stood there, caught between two worlds, her heart torn between the familiar comforts of her past and the wild promise of her future. The Montana wind swirled around her, as if urging her to make a choice, to embrace the unknown or retreat to safety.

Molly O’Sullivan stood on the precipice of decision, her life balanced on the edge of a new frontier.

Her fingers tightened into fists at her sides. She took a deep breath, the crisp Montana air filling her lungs and steeling her resolve.

“No,” she said aloud, her voice firm. “I didn’t come all this way to turn back now.”

With renewed determination, Molly returned to the hotel, carrying her camera box with both hands. She stopped at the front desk and asked to see their map of the Pacific Northwest. Her eyes traced the route of the railroad to Seattle, her mind already composing the shots she’d capture along the way. The rugged Cascades and the misty shores of Puget Sound. Each image would be a testament to her growth and bravery.

I’ll prove I belong out here,she thought, plotting her journey.To everyone else and to myself.

Satisfied, she lugged her camera upstairs to her room. Changing her clothes, she redid her braid. A knock at her door startled her from her planning. She opened it to find Elijah Beckett, his tall frame filling the doorway.

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