Page 124 of One Last Promise

She finished the taco. Got up. And for some reason, headed out along the path, past the dunes to the long, creamy-white beach.

A few families lounged under umbrellas or played Frisbee in the sand with their children. More bobbed in the water. A few surfers rode boards in the waves. It felt like summer down here, although in Alaska, the kids had already started school.

Hazel should be in second grade, improving her reading, playing with friends, safe and not worried about where she was going to sleep.

Instead . . . what? Tillie didn’t even know how to start looking for her.

She walked down to the ocean, pulling up her hair and tying it back after the helmet had dislodged her ponytail. Then she took off her shoes, rolled up her leggings, and put her feet into the warm water.

She wanted to start over. To go back to the girl who’d played on the sand with her father. To trust and believe and . . .

She looked out over the water.“God completely spared my life and then . . . well, he wasn’t finished.”

This couldn’t be the way her life was supposed to end.

“What if there is a differentperspective?”

“What kind of perspective?”

“Faith.”

Faith.

“Is that like hope?”

“Very much.”

She stared out over the blue to the sailboat on the horizon, the golden sun upon the water. The smell of freedom and life, the sound of laughter behind her. Yes, she wanted it. Hope. The calm that Moose had.

The faith.

She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky.God, please help me trust you. Because right now, all I can see is disaster. But I want to believe you can save me—save Hazel. Please help me to believe it. Please . . . rescue me.

The waves washed over her ankles, wetting her leggings, and she stepped back.

“Hey!”

The voice turned her just in time for her to see a Frisbee heading her direction. She ducked, then grabbed it from the air.

A man shouted at her. “Sorry!” He lifted his hand to a boy and started to run over to her.

But the boy reached her first. Preteen, in swim trunks and golden tousled hair. She handed him the Frisbee.

He stopped. “Hey. You look like that lady from Iron Maiden. The Steelrose.”

The man ran up, breathing hard. “Sorry. C’mon, bud.”

“Dad, this is Steelrose. I recognize her, and she has that tattoo too.”

She hadn’t thought about the small rose tattoo on the back of her neck for ages.

The man considered her for a moment, then grinned. “It is you. You’re one of my daughter’s heroes. The Iron Maiden is having semifinals this week, here in Miami, andshe’s competing.”

Tillie stood, stunned. “What?”

“Can I get a picture?” The kid was backing up.

“Um—no . . . I gotta go.” She turned to the man. “Tell her to just . . . face the obstacle in front of her. Think out of the box and work to her strengths. And most of all, trust her training.”

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