Page 7 of There I Find Hope

Noah looked at the letter and wished that there was some way he could see Sunday’s reaction to it. He just wanted to make sure that he wasn’t saying anything that would cause her pain or grief or heartache. He also wished that there was some way she could write him back if she wanted to.

But he couldn’t put his name, couldn’t put his return address on it. She might throw it in the trash can before she even read it. Of course, she might be happy to hear from an old friend too.

But for some reason, he just wanted to remain anonymous. Without the emotional entanglement of their high school friendship and the way it ended so abruptly, because of the man she’d been in a fight with earlier.

Finally, he decided there was nothing to do for it, except deliver it to the Strawberry Sands post office himself. He could rent a box at the post office and specifically ask Mrs. Miller to not tell anyone whose it was.

He thought he could trust her. He supposed she gossiped some, but never maliciously, and he felt like she would respect his request.

With that settled, he folded the paper, found an envelope, and wrote Sunday’s name on it.

Franklin and he had been talking about moving to Strawberry Sands anyway. Him because he wanted out of the rat race, and Franklin... Maybe Franklin wanted out too. Although he had never said, not to Noah anyway. But they both wanted to see their hotel go up.

Making a note to himself to see what Franklin said in the morning, he set the letter on his counter and said another short prayer for Sunday, thinking of her after the funeral and how terrible she must be feeling, asking the Lord to comfort her and keep her close.

Chapter 3

Sunday pulled the pillow over her head. It had been a week since Blake’s funeral, and she’d barely gotten out of bed.

She was staying in the attic room at her mother’s bed-and-breakfast. She hadn’t been back to her apartment since Blake had...

She tried not to think about it. She could see the lake, see him falling, hear as he yelled, and watch as he disappeared underneath the water, the wave crashing back over him, pulling him out even as another wave came in.

She swallowed, unable to cry anymore. Her eyes burned, her throat hurt, and she continuously felt like she was going to throw up. Just a sickness in her stomach that wouldn’t go away.

She rolled over, tucking her head under the blankets, burying her face in her pillow, sobbing without tears.

She didn’t care. Didn’t care about life, didn’t care about getting up, didn’t care about anything. She had never understood people who wanted to die, but that’s where she was.

Lord. Take me home. I want to be with Blake.

“Good morning!” Her mother’s voice drifted through the blankets sometime later, although Sunday wasn’t sure how long.

“I’m fine. Go away.” The blankets muffled her voice, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t heard her mother climb the stairs to the attic, like she had every morning before. She brought Sunday food, encouraged her to eat and drink, trying to get her out of bed.

Sunday had drunk a little, but she hadn’t eaten anything at all.

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