baby squeaked. She was his blood, his family, and Whit wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
Apparently, the nanny felt the same way.
“Ma’am, my name is Brody Whittaker. I’m in town to visit Harry and I heard the gunshots. I’d like to help.”
That got her to open her eyes.
In my experience I’ve learned that it’s never too late to forgive someone—or ourselves for that matter—even if we’re not sure they are worthy of it. After all, if God forgives, then who are we not to forgive, especially when it ultimately leads to emotional peace?
Our mistakes in life are just that, mistakes. Those misjudgments create our life experience and make us who we are. Mistakes can teach us valuable lessons and show us how to be humble, a very important trait.
Carly and Brody suffer from deep emotional wounds born of guilt. They each shoulder a lot of regret over decisions they made years ago. Throughout the course of the book, they are challenged to put aside their guilt and open their hearts to forgiveness. These two wounded souls are able to help each other grow and embrace the serenity that is on the other side of forgiveness.
My goal in writing this story was to share with you my belief that it’s never too late to forgive, and to illustrate how the power of forgiveness can heal emotional pain and guide us to the beauty of grace.
Peace be with you,
Hope White
Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.
—Joshua 1:9
This book is dedicated to my walking buddy, Lynn Peterson, for her generous friendship.
Contents
Note to Readers
Carly Winslow leaned over the white crib and stroked baby Mia’s forehead.
“Such a good girl.” Carly hummed a soft tune. As Mia’s eyes drifted shut, the sound of a door slamming downstairs echoed through the baby monitor.
A moment later Mia’s mom, Susan Bremerton, announced herself. “Hi, Carly, I’m home.”
Carly grabbed the two-way device and said softly, “Hi, Mrs. B. Mia is taking a morning nap.”
“Okay, thanks,” Susan responded in a tone matching Carly’s so as not to wake the baby.
Mia had drifted off and was sound asleep. She’d been fighting a cold and Mrs. B. had directed Carly to give Mia medicine to keep her comfortable.
Carly smiled as she watched the seven-month-old enjoy a peaceful, deep sleep, her little eyelids fluttering as she probably dreamed about the colorful animals on the mobile above her crib.
Crossing the room to a rocking chair, Carly picked up her notebook to study for her nurse’s
