Reader,
Thank you so much for being a part of this three-book journey in the town of Mountain Springs...and in Jenna and Amy’s reunion. I’ve had the best time weaving together Erin and Jenna and Amy’s stories.
The common thread for them is fear. Isn’t it amazing how often God has told us in the Bible not to fear? He knew from Creation that we would be afraid. There is so much to fear in this world. But here’s the thing... Fear comes when we forget the One Who created us is the One Who is in control. That’s true for me. When I begin to doubt, I pull a Peter, put my eyes on the waves and sink. The beauty happens when I, like Peter, cry out, “Lord, save me!” He always stretches out His hand and lifts me up.
I pray you know Jesus in that way. That those things you fear are things you can lay at His feet. As one who battled debilitating fear for a decade, I know it is not easy, but when I look back on those years, I see Jesus more than I see fear. Lift your head and seek Him. I promise He is there.
I’d love to hear from you!
Pop over to www.jodiebailey.com or send an email to [email protected]. Hearing from you all always makes the day a bit brighter!
Jodie Bailey
Contents
Rain-chilled wind blew dead leaves across the parking lot at South Georgia Community College, a damp reminder that winter was rapidly overtaking fall. Amy Naylor stopped at the end of a covered sidewalk and stared across the wide sea of vehicles to the far row where she’d parked her midsize SUV. The rain that had poured earlier had given way to clear skies, but the accompanying cold front had dropped the temperature a good twenty degrees.
It figured she hadn’t brought a jacket to wear over her navy button-down shirt. Hiking her messenger bag higher on her shoulder, she glanced at the building where her small office offered the warmth of central heat. It would be easy to go inside, make herself a cup of hot coffee and read over the papers she’d assigned her freshmen biology students. For a few more minutes, she could pretend summer wasn’t over.
But it was Friday afternoon and the building would empty rapidly after the next class ended in an hour. The long empty halls that echoed small noises after everyone was gone had always forced her out of the building with the feeling that something was lurking in the shadows. She preferred her third-floor one-bedroom apartment, where there was only one way in and one way out. In her home, the couch faced the front door, and no one could sneak up on her through a half-open window. Even her bed was shoved against the wall so she could sleep on her side, eyes toward the door, pistol at the ready in her nightstand drawer.
No one was catching her unaware.
Something buzzed against her side. Amy jumped and threw the messenger bag off her shoulder, then stared down at the gray fabric as she tensed.
Her cheeks heated as the side pocket buzzed again. It was only her cell phone, still switched to silent mode so she could teach her classes without interruption. Not a bomb. Not a kill shot.
Yep. She
