Conception Roman Catholic Church in Elkton, Md., MA in Theology and PhD in Clinical Social Work, former college professor and licensed clinical therapist; for his historical research and current knowledge regarding the Navajo people and traditions portrayed in this book, Bernhardt Dotson, MA, former journalist and current public relations director of Diné College, a four-year, tribally controlled college serving the 27,000-square-mile Navajo Nation with campuses in Arizona and New Mexico; for their help in authenticating characters, storylines and settings in the book: Eileen Thompson, BS, CRPS, CSCAD, assistant program director and licensed addiction counselor at Harbor of Grace Enhanced Recovery Center in Havre de Grace, Md.; Patricia Lake, MA, adjunct professor and teacher; Teri Repetsky Speck, RN, BSN; Jennifer Coulter, RN, BSN; and Tonya Schulte, a business owner in Phoenix, AZ; and for his unwavering support and undying love, my husband Bill Chynoweth.
“For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice.”
–James, 3:16 (NIV)
PROLOGUE
SO MUCH DANGER could lie in so much beauty. Cameron Trellis marveled at the phenomenal landscape sprawling before him.
The sun was slipping into its late afternoon yawn, slanting light onto the rocky cliffs of the Grand Canyon, turning coral into garnet, jade into emerald, slate into onyx, and would soon send shadows into night.
Like the depths of the ocean which swallowed ships whole, Cameron mused further. The jagged, icy peaks of Mount Everest which beckoned unceasingly to risk takers who sometimes didn’t make it to the top and back. A conniving woman who played you and then left your heart shattered in tiny pieces.
“There is an average of thirty deaths each year here at the Grand Canyon, mostly people acting foolishly and ending up in accidental falls.” Cameron had overheard the canyon ranger’s remark to one of the many tour groups passing through.
If he didn’t act soon, he would run out of light and out of time. He bent over and picked up a small stone. He straightened and hurled it off the cliff, listening for the pinging sound that never came.
He had been to the canyon’s south rim trails enough times to know precisely the spot he and his little brother Austin needed to reach in time to carry out their plan to grab a bite to eat and find a place to see the legendary Grand Canyon sunset.
My little brother. Cameron smiled as a fond memory of his childhood crept unwillingly into his thoughts. Cameron remembered the day Austin was born. He had been three years old and so excited at the time to have a new playmate.
Even though he was twenty-two now and two inches taller, Austin was still his “little” brother. The one he had protected when a bully in grade school tried to stuff him in a locker; the one he had let tag along with his girlfriend on a double date when they were teenagers; the one he had partied with after so many band performances together.
“Hey, Cameron, come here!” Austin shouted from where he stood a few yards ahead of his brother, closer to the ledge of the canyon, standing still and looking up, staring at the top of a scraggly pine tree.
Cameron was winded as he approached his brother. The last mile of the climb had been uphill, and Austin, who was in much better shape, had easily outdistanced him. I need to work out more, he reprimanded himself, noting Austin wasn’t out of breath at all as he drew closer.
He walked up behind his brother, who still stood gazing skyward and was now pointing to the treetop. Cameron looked up and saw the object of Austin’s attention, a large raven perched on a branch, its head darting this way and that.
“Yeah, that’s nice, c’mon, we better move, the sun’s going down and we don’t want to get stuck here in the dark,” Cameron said. “Plus, I remember a good spot to see the sunset that’s just up ahead if we hurry.”
“Hey, bird,” Austin cooed softly, ignoring his older brother, not even glancing in his direction. “Look, Cameron, it’s got something in its beak. I think it’s a little mouse.”
“That’s awful, Austin. I don’t want to see that. Let’s go.” Cameron turned to trudge back to the main path that would lead along the canyon’s ridge toward the place he had in mind, but in a minute, he realized Austin wasn’t behind him. Austin remained fixed in his spot, gawking at the bird. “I think there’s a nest up there and he, or she, is going to feed that mouse to her babies.”
Irritated, Cameron walked back to somehow divert his brother’s attention. The sun was slipping faster now. I’m not going to let him ruin everything.
But as he once again approached Austin from behind, another thought locked into Cameron’s brain. From where he stood a few steps behind his younger brother, he could see out over the canyon ledge, and he caught a glimpse of the sea-green Colorado River snaking below, looking like a tiny serpent from this height. We must be closer than I thought. His selected destination also hovered above the river, which could only be seen from a few of the canyon walls.
Then he turned his attention to the back of his brother’s curly mop of black hair. Perhaps now would be a good time. Perhaps this is the destination.
Cameron looked right and left, making sure no one was in sight, then strained to listen for any nearby sounds. He heard nothing, save for the distant cry of a hawk.
It would be over in a second. Drawing a deep breath of resolve, Cameron slowly inched toward his little brother until he was within arm’s length and reached out his hand.
CHAPTER 1
IT WAS the best Christmas ever, Eliza recalled now, humming the holiday tune “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” in her head.
Of course, some of the lyrics seemed a bit ludicrous in Phoenix, where the temperature had reached seventy-three degrees that early December afternoon.
Still, Eliza and Alex Trellis had never failed to erect their artificial Christmas tree with the fake snow on the bough tips or to decorate with all the frivolity of folks in Rockefeller Center.
As she trimmed the five-foot-tall cactus that also stood in their family room with red and green miniature lights, she allowed her thoughts to drift back twenty-two years. Austin was just a month old and Cameron a little over three when their new family of four celebrated that first Christmas.
Eliza remembered clearly what Cameron had said after opening his last present, when she had asked her older son what gift he had liked best.
“My baby brover,” he said, grinning, sitting cross-legged in his pajamas.
Eliza had cried, sitting on the sofa in her pink, terrycloth bathrobe. Tears of joy in hearing her son’s words, and tears of sadness that she couldn’t be a better mom at the time.
AUSTIN’S difficult birth had zapped all of Eliza’s energy and strength, leaving none for her sweet boy Cameron. She had screamed in agony for at least twelve hours, the epidural failing to take, as the ten-pound baby lay breach within her, finally turning in the last few minutes to be born without a Caesarian section or anything to relieve the pain.
As if the birth hadn’t been difficult enough, excessive bleeding and a punctured spinal cord almost killed her. Suffering severe migraines for days, Eliza was barely able to nurse baby Austin until the doctor called her back into the hospital to fix the tiny puncture in her spinal cord caused by
