STORM AT DAYBREAK
 
 by
 B. J. HOFF
 
 
 
 Volume I of Two Volumes
 Pages i-v and 1-138
 
 
 
 
 Published by: Tyndale House Publishers,
 Inc., WHEATON, ILLINOIS. Further
 reproduction or distribution in other than a
 specialized format is prohibited.
 
 
 
 
 Produced in braille for the Library of Congress,
 National Library Service for the Blind and
 Physically Handicapped, by Braille International,
 Inc., 1998.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 This braille edition contains the entire text of the
 print edition.
 
 Copyright 1986 by B. J. Hoff
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 iii
 BOOK JACKET INFORMATION
 
 DAYBREAK MYSTERIES
 1                                                              2
 
 "Outstanding fiction ..."
 _Christian _Reader's _Review
 
 B.J. Hoff is the award-winning author of the
 best-selling An Emerald Ballad series and
 The Dalton Saga.
 
 When Jennifer Terry accepts a position as
 executive assistant at Daniel Kaine's
 Christian radio station, she finds herself thrust
 into a web of intrigue and danger. Someone is
 harassing Daniel with intimidating telephone
 calls and threats to his life--but why?
 As Daniel's and Jennifer's feelings for
 each other escalate, so do the threats.
 Surrounded by darkness, they must trust God for their
 protection and, ultimately, for their future
 together.
 
 FictionstSuspense
 
 Daniel Kaine is an enigma ... and
 Jennifer is falling in love with him. Can she
 discover what drives this self-assured yet
 gentle man before a sinister stalker wreaks his
 revenge?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 v
 AUTHOR's NOTE
 
 The town of Shepherd Valley, West
 Virginia, is fictional. The majestic beauty
 of the mountains and the indomitable spirit of the people are
 wonderfully real.
 My sincere thanks to the Governor's Office
 of Economic and Community Development and the
 Chamber of Commerce of West Virginia for their                 3
 generous assistance.
 Thanks, also, to Ms. Catherine W. Swan,
 The Seeing Eye, Inc., Morristown, New
 Jersey.
 
 __He heals the bird with the broken wing ...
 He heals the child with a broken dream ...
 He heals the one with a broken heart ...
 Our Lord makes all broken things _whole.
 --__B.J. Hoff
 From "Broken _Wings"
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 STORM AT DAYBREAK 1
 
 PROLOGUE
 
 Patches of ice checkered the pavement, barely
 noticeable beneath the drifting snow. The driver of a
 battered pickup swerved when the voice came
 over the radio, and the rear wheels skidded in
 response. With an edgy glance in the rearview
 mirror, he pulled off the highway, bumping and
 sliding over a frozen mound of snow. When the
 truck finally pitched to a stop, he let the engine
 idle as he turned up the volume on the
 radio.                                                         4
 He hated the voice, but he had to listen. It
 was important that he listen every day now.
 His mouth quivered, and he wiped his hand across it
 impatiently. Kaine was at it again with his
 holier-than-thou hogwash.
 __He has his nerve. Who gave him the right
 to get on that microphone of his and tell the whole
 town--the whole country--what to _do?
 His head was beginning to ache from that fool's
 incessant yammering. He pushed a hunting cap
 farther back on his head, then tucked a limp
 strand of hair underneath it. __Thinks he's funny
 this morning. A real _comedian. Saturdays were
 always the worst. Other days Kaine mostly played
 that church music of his and didn't say much. But
 on Saturdays he talked a lot more.
 Now he was talking about the big radiothon. The
 man ran the back of one hand slowly down his
 leg, snagging a split fingernail on the torn
 seam of his jeans. He licked his lips, then
 twisted them in a sneer at his own sour taste.
 The voice on the radio made a few more
 comments about a nationwide campaign to increase
 drunk driving penalties.
 The man snorted. __Something ought to be done about
 that big, mouthy ape. Got the whole town thinkin'
 he's so special, so important. Just because he
 owns a radio station. _A Christian __radio
 station. Just because he's different, not a normal
 man. Maybe everybody wouldn't think he was such
 a prize if they knew. If they knew about my
 _kid.
 He squinted through the icy glaze forming on the
 windshield, his eyes watering as he listened.
 __Somebody needs to shut him up. He talks
 too much. He's got nothing else to do, that's his
 problem. So he spends his time preachin' 3
 over the _radio.
 No wife or kids, of course. The man
 laughed aloud, a sharp, ugly sound. __No
 woman'd have the likes of Kaine, that's a fact.
 A woman wants a normal man. He'll
 never have himself any kids of his own, so he tries
 to take someone else's _boy.
 He pressed his fingertips to his temples,
 trying to silence the pounding in his brain. __I'm
 sick of you, Kaine ... sick of thinking about you,
 sick of the sound of you. One of these days,
 somebody's gonna pull the plug on you, shut you
 up for _good.
 
 
 
                                                                5
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ONE
 
 Jennifer glanced around the lobby of the radio
 station, hoping to see a receptionist. When she
 didn't, she walked toward the two
 glass-enclosed studios. A lanky teenage
 boy with mournful eyes was vacuuming the empty
 studio on the left. He exchanged a shy
 smile with Jennifer through the glass partition, then
 returned to his work.
 Catching a glimpse of her reflection in an
 oak-framed wall mirror, Jennifer stopped
 for a moment to make a quick inspection of herself.
 Three hours behind the wheel of her aging Honda
 had left her feeling rumpled, stiff, and at a
 definite disadvantage for her interview with
 Daniel Kaine. She searched the cluttered
 depths of her shoulder bag for a brush. Finding
 none, she made a futile attempt to comb her
 hair with her fingers, then lifted one cynical
 eyebrow in defeat and shrugged philosophically.
 Sensing movement out of the corner of her eye, she
 turned to the studio on her right. A lone disc
 jockey was sprawled comfortably in a worn brown
 chair, adjusting his headset as he spoke 5
 into a suspension mike.
 The two years she had spent in Rome studying
 voice with Carlo Paulo had conditioned Jennifer
 to a steady parade of intriguing, attractive
 men. While not exactly immune to their appeal,
 she considered herself difficult to impress. At the
 moment, however, she was definitely impressed.
 He wasn't handsome--at least not in the
 conventional sense. He had the look of a
 vagabond prince, Jennifer thought fancifully.
 A hint of nobility subtly blended with a touch
 of the maverick. Even slouched as he was with one leg
 thrown idly over the arm of his chair, she could see
 that he would tower over her by several inches. At
 five-eight, she didn't run into that too often.
 She moved closer, nearly touching her nose
 to the glass window. The disc jockey placed one
 large hand on the control board and the other on his
 headset to make an adjustment. His red
 V-neck sweater emphasized the breadth of his
 shoulders, and his faded jeans made his legs look              6
 even longer. His hair was an odd shade of
 charcoal--not quite, but almost black, a peculiar
 dusky color. A line of silver winged randomly
 from his left temple upward, a startling contrast
 to the thick, dark strands that fell over his forehead.
 Jennifer dryly reminded herself that she didn't
 care for beards, although his was thick and neatly
 trimmed. His nose was a little too hawkish for her
 taste, and his shaggy hair could do with some attention.
 Still, she was intrigued by his profile, and what
 she could see of his features hinted at a sense of
 humor and a comfortable, friendly kind of strength.
 Unexpectedly, he turned and looked
 directly at her. She let out an embarrassed
 groan and backed quickly away from the studio
 window, briefly registering the disappointing thought that
 he seemed singularly unimpressed. He hadn't
 blinked an eye when he caught her staring.
 "May I help you, or are you just window
 shopping?"
 The deep voice at her back halted her
 movement away from the studio. Jennifer jumped,
 then whirled around to encounter, almost nose-to-nose,
 a more conventionally handsome man than the disc
 jockey. His skin was sun-burnished, his blond
 hair streaked with gold. He wore a
 winter-white ski sweater, and his green eyes
 danced with mirth above a remarkably perfect
 nose and a dark mustache. 7
 Jennifer was beginning to think she had somehow taken
 a wrong turn and ended up in an employment
 agency for male models instead of a Christian
 radio station. She gaped at the life-sized
 physical fitness ad who was smiling at her.
 "Help me?" she stammered in confusion. "No
 --I mean yes!"
 The green eyes twinkled with even more amusement.
 "Yes, you need help, or yes, you're window
 shopping?"
 Jennifer stared at him. Her recovery time was
 slower than usual this morning, probably due
 to lack of sleep the night before. "I ... I have
 an appointment for an interview. With Mr.
 Kaine."
 "Ah! Then you must be Jennifer Terry." He
 offered his hand and continued to smile.
 Jennifer adjusted her shoulder bag and drew a
 long breath of relief as she shook his hand.
 "Yes, I am."
 "Gabe Denton. News director, gofer,
 and court jester. At your service." He
 paused. "You're a Buckeye, right?"
 His smile was infectious, and Jennifer grinned
 back. "Yes--Athens, Ohio. Is everyone in                       7
 West Virginia this friendly?"
 "You bet. It's the altitude. You went
 to O.U., didn't you?" He didn't wait for
 an answer. "I almost went there, too, but Dan
 talked me into attending West Virginia U.
 He's forever talking me into something. I have no
 backbone, I suppose."
 Jennifer's mind reeled from his high-speed
 verbal barrage. "I see."
 "I reviewed your resume with Dan last
 week. He's very interested. Come on, I'll
 get you a cup of coffee while you're waiting for
 him. He'll be with you in a few minutes."
 He led her down a paneled hallway to the
 left of the studios, carrying on a constant flow of
 idle chatter as they went. Turning, they entered a
 bright, informal lounge where the whisper from a heat
 register was the only sound. It was a cheerful room
 with hanging baskets, a floral chaise, and
 matching chairs. A large commercial coffee urn
 and a variety of cups rested on a white table.
 "Did you drive down this morning?" Denton
 asked, pouring a cup of coffee that smelled rich
 and delicious. Jennifer's stomach reminded her
 with a growl that, in her characteristic rush out of the 9
 house, she had skipped breakfast.
 "Yes, I left home about seven."
 "No one should have to get up that early on
 Saturday," he said with a sympathetic grimace.
 "It's criminal."
 "Actually, I'm used to it," she said,
 gratefully accepting the coffee. "Where I'm
 working now, I have to be at the station by six o'clock every
 morning except Sundays."
 "No wonder you're job hunting." He
 extended a small plate of cookies to her, and
 she took a couple. "Well, Jennifer, I
 hate to desert you, but I have an insurance rep in
 my office who's expecting a stroke of
 advertising genius from me. Do you mind waiting
 alone? I'll go in and tell Dan you're here."
 After a quick sip of coffee, Jennifer motioned
 him on. "I'll be fine. Go ahead. Oh--and
 thanks for the coffee!"
 "It'll be great working with you." Denton gave
 her a quick wave and turned to go.
 "But I haven't got the--,was Jennifer
 stopped, her words trailing off as he dashed out the
 door.
 She carried her coffee over to the window. If
 the lounge were indicative of the rest of the station, the
 place was definitely a step up. The small
 Christian station where she worked now was little more than a
 two-room warehouse a few miles outside                         8
 Athens.
 She liked the job, but the time had come to move
 if she were ever to make a dent in the loan her dad
 had assumed for her music studies in Italy.
 The salary quoted for this position was surprisingly
 good, and she was determined to make a good impression
 on Daniel Kaine.
 Not for the first time, Jennifer wondered what
 to expect of the man who owned and managed the station.
 She already knew Kaine was young. She remembered
 what Dr. Rodaven, her former professor at
 Ohio University, had told her when he first
 contacted her about the job.
 "I've only met the man twice,
 Jennifer, but I was impressed with him. He's in
 his late thirties, I suppose. Seems
 highly intelligent--a fine Christian, too,
 by the way. I don't suppose you'd remember,
 but Kaine made quite a name for himself and his community
 several years ago in the Olympics. He took
 a gold medal in swimming, as I 11
 recall. I watched him on television--a real
 powerhouse in the water. Great athlete. A
 terrible tragedy, what happened to him. ..."
 "What sort of tragedy?"
 "He's blind. There was a car accident a few
 years ago--a teenager, I think. Drunk
 driver. Daniel Kaine lost his sight, and I
 believe the boy died."
 Jennifer had nearly backed off then and there.
 A man with that kind of disability might be
 expecting someone to function more as a personal
 aide than an executive assistant. What
 Jennifer really wanted was to break into management
 and perhaps have a show of her own. The stark reality of
 financial need, however, had been enough incentive
 to lure her to Shepherd Valley for an initial
 interview.
 So, here she was, though not without reservations.
 She sipped the coffee slowly, gazing out at the
 winter landscape.
 __I could learn to love this place in no _time,
 she thought, enthralled by the mountains.
 A town of approximately thirty thousand people,
 Shepherd Valley nestled peacefully at the
 bottom of a wide range of some spectacular
 mountains, white now with January snow. The
 entire community formed an oval, with only a few
 buildings fanning out into the surrounding woods.
 Since the radio station sat squarely on top
 of a hill, Jennifer had a breathtaking view of the
 Appalachian settlement below. It appeared to be
 very old and quaint and tranquil.
 Her thoughts returned to Daniel Kaine. The                     9
 only blind person Jennifer had ever known was
 Miss Rider, the elderly piano teacher she had
 seen for half an hour weekly while she was still in
 elementary school; she barely remembered her.
 What was it like, living without sight, knowing you would
 never see again?
 According to Dr. Rodaven, Kaine's blindness was
 permanent, caused by severe damage to the optic
 nerve. Jennifer shuddered, trying to imagine how
 she would deal with a tragedy like that in her own life.
 Her mind went briefly to her younger brother,
 Loren, a victim of cerebral palsy. She
 had helped to raise him after their mother's death, and
 even now she felt a sharp twist of pain whenever
 she thought about the way her brother's condition had
 ravaged his body and trapped his mind. __Which would
 be _worse, she wondered, __spending your 13
 life in a wheelchair or living in continual
 _darkness? She pressed her lips together,
 resolutely swallowing a familiar lump of
 resentment.
 She couldn't stop thinking about Daniel Kaine.
 Always curious, she turned and placed her nearly
 empty coffee cup on the white lacquered table
 beside the chaise. She shut her eyes and stood
 perfectly still for a moment to fix her sense of
 direction. Then, slowly and cautiously, she
 began to walk across the room, her hands flailing out
 and groping with every step. She felt something fall with a
 soft thump but refused to give in to the temptation
 to look. Weaving back and forth, she continued
 to walk, flinching when she heard something else
 topple, but still resisting the urge to open her
 eyes.
 She should be close to the door by now. She
 turned sharply to retrace her steps--and
 collided so soundly with a hard, massive shape that
 her head snapped backward from the unexpected
 blow.
 Her eyes flew open to encounter an incredibly
 broad chest covered with a crimson V-neck
 sweater--a chest her hands were now braced against in
 an attempt to steady herself.
 _The _disc _jockey! Her stomach sank with a
 thud.
 Miserably, Jennifer raised her eyes
 upward, then higher still, to the dark, bearded face
 lowered toward her with a questioning stare. She felt her
 face heat with embarrassment.
 "Excuse me." The voice was low, richly
 timbered, with a soft but definite drawl. "Am
 I, ah ... in your way?"
 Jennifer uttered a small groan of dismay.
 "Oh--no! I--oh, I'm _so _sorry!"                              10
 The big man smiled, and Jennifer had a
 fleeting memory of a sunrise she'd once seen
 from her window in Rome--slow and gentle and
 breathtaking.
 "Did I run into you? Or did you run
 into me?" He laughed easily and continued to stare
 down at her with wonderful blue eyes.
 Startled, Jennifer realized that her hands were still
 splayed against him. She yanked them abruptly
 away with a choked exclamation. "I--I
 definitely ran into you," she stammered. "Did
 I hurt you? Oh, I feel so incredibly
 _stupid!" 15
 Still smiling, he braced one arm above her on the
 doorframe, trapping her within his space. "You
 needn't. I run into things all the time."
 He was being wonderfully nice, but she felt like
 such a klutz! Here she was, finally
 face-to-face with a man who could make her heart
 go wild, and she was walking around with her eyes
 closed, for goodness' sake!
 "I'm not totally crazy, honest!" she
 blurted out. "You see, I have an appointment with
 Mr. Kaine for a job interview, and ... well,
 I was waiting for him, and I started thinking about what
 it would be like, not being able to see. And I--well,
 I just shut my eyes to try it out for myself,
 and--oh, I suppose it _sounds even more stupid
 than it must have _looked!"
 Jennifer knew she was chattering--she always did
 when her composure was shaken--but the disc jockey
 simply kept on smiling, as though he didn't
 quite know what to make of her.
 Running his hand lightly over his beard, he
 finally spoke. "I don't think that's so
 stupid," he drawled softly. "In fact, I
 think it shows a lot of sensitivity."
 "You do?" Jennifer stared at him blankly.
 He nodded. "Absolutely. You were wondering
 what it's like to be blind, right?"
 "Yes. But my brother told me I should say
 `unsighted` rather than `blind.` What does
 Mr. Kaine prefer, do you know?"
 He appeared to consider her question carefully for a
 moment. "I don't think he much cares what you
 call it. So ... you have an interview for a job
 here?"
 "Yes, as Mr. Kaine's executive
 assistant. Have you been here long?"
 "Mm-hm. A long time. You any good?"
 "I beg your pardon?"
 "At what you do. Are you any good?"
 _Really, _wasn't _he strange? "Well,
 I think I am. I have a degree in broadcast                    11
 communications--and experience. What do _you do?"
 His smile was disarmingly boyish. His even white
 teeth flashed in dazzling contrast to his dark
 hair and skin as he moved away from the
 doorframe and took her hand. He placed his much
 larger hand over hers on his forearm and motioned her
 to the doorway.
 "As a matter of fact, I own the place,
 Jennifer. Jennifer Terry, isn't 17
 it?" he said smoothly as they entered the connecting
 office.
 "Now then, why don't you just come in and sit
 down, so we can talk. I've got a hunch
 you're already hired, so we'd better start getting
 acquainted, don't you think?"
 
 TWO
 
 Jennifer skidded to a stop on the other side
 of the door, narrowly avoiding a second
 collision. Her mouth fell open on a sharp
 intake of breath, and she gaped at him in startled
 silence. He waited, a trace of mischief
 scurrying across his features.
 "_You're Daniel Kaine?"
 "Guilty." The man had a grin like a jolt
 of electric current.
 She didn't know whether to groan with
 embarrassment or simply try for a fast
 getaway. "Well, if you'd only _told
 me--,was she muttered weakly.
 "Told you?"
 "Who you _are!"
 He nodded. "Sorry, I guess I got a
 little ... sidetracked."
 "Well, now that you've seen me make an
 utter spectacle of myself. ..."
 "I wasn't looking--honest." A dry note
 of amusement edged his words.
 Jennifer slapped the palm of her hand against her
 head, moaning softly when she realized what she
 had said. "I'm so sorry," she said miserably,
 wondering if she would have liked the job.
 "Jennifer--sit down and relax, OK?"
 His hand still covered hers on his thickly muscled
 forearm, and he pressed it gently, moving her across
 the plush carpet to a chair that sat directly
 opposite a large walnut desk.
 Jennifer sat down cautiously. Glancing
 up, she encountered the curious, dark-eyed gaze of
 s ofof the most beautiful dogs she had ever seen.
 An elegant golden retriever resting casually
 beside the massive desk studied her with friendly
 interest.                                                     12
 "What a lovely dog!"
 "Ah ... she likes to hear that, don't you,
 girl?" Kaine eased his large frame into the
 chair behind the desk, then leaned sideways
 to stroke the dog's head affectionately. 19
 "Jennifer, meet Sunrise Lady of
 Shalimar. Her friends call her Sunny."
 "Is she--was
 "My guide dog," he finished for her. "One
 of the best--from the Seeing Eye in New Jersey."
 He skimmed his hands quickly over the right side of the
 desktop, stopping when he touched a slim file
 folder. Opening it, he began to run his fingertips
 lightly across the Braille letters of the top sheet.
 The dog sat up, tilted her head to the side,
 and began to whine softly. "I believe Sunny
 would like to introduce herself to you," Kaine said,
 smiling as he continued to read the Braille file.
 "Is it all right to pet her?"
 He nodded. "It's fine when she isn't
 working."
 Jennifer extended her hand, and the retriever
 immediately perked up her ears even more, then looked
 appealingly at her owner.
 As though he could see her bid for approval,
 he inclined his head slightly. "Go on, girl."
 Sunny shook off her dignified demeanor
 at once, bounding over to Jennifer and nudging her
 hand in an undisguised attempt to get her ears
 rubbed. Jennifer complied, laughing at the small
 sounds of pleasure coming from the dog's throat.
 "How old is she?"
 Kaine thought for a moment. "A little over seven.
 But she thinks she's still a puppy."
 He called the retriever back to his side,
 and the dog returned without hesitation.
 "OK, Jennifer, I think I remember
 most of the information on your resume. Gabe went
 over it with me a few days ago." Kaine leaned
 comfortably back in his chair and locked his hands behind
 his head. "You're twenty-seven?"
 Jennifer nodded, then caught herself and spoke.
 "Yes."
 "Born and raised in Athens, Ohio. Nice
 town," he said thoughtfully. "I was there a few
 years ago with my teen ensemble. I noticed
 Carey Rodaven was one of your references. Did
 you study with him at O.U.?"
 For the next few minutes he continued to mix his
 questions with casual, friendly comments. Jennifer was
 intrigued by the slow, rambling way he spoke, his
 words flowing smoothly in a soft Appalachian
 drawl.
 As she listened to his mellow voice, she                      13
 scrutinized his features. If one could 21
 accurately measure a person's character by his
 face, she would judge Daniel Kaine to be an
 extremely kind, good-natured man who had known
 more than his share of trouble, yet had come through it
 reasonably unscathed. Everything about his
 appearance, his voice, his mannerisms seemed
 to fuse together into a unique combination of unshakable
 strength, patient tolerance, and relentless humor.
 He also possessed, she realized
 uncomfortably, a distinct magnetism. His
 size, rather than presenting the blustering threat of an
 aggressive grizzly, held more the endearing
 appeal of a comfortable, but powerful, giant panda.
 He appeared to be essentially pleasant; she would
 guess him to be a man who seldom lost his
 temper. And something in that youthful, mischievous
 grin told her he liked to have fun and might even
 be a bit of a practical joker.
 But he also had a blunt, no-nonsense way
 about him that unnerved her. It occurred to Jennifer
 that Daniel Kaine would not be easily taken in.
 She suspected that he possessed the intuitive
 ability to go straight to the heart, to strip aside
 any superfluous layers of camouflage and
 pierce the depths of another's spirit.
 It didn't help that his blue eyes--
 beautiful eyes, Jennifer thought--followed sound
 and movement and contributed to the overall impression
 of a highly developed intelligence and
 sensitivity. It was true that they lacked perfect
 focus, but this simply gave him a somewhat
 pensive expression, as though he were continually
 looking at or listening for something in the distance. When
 he faced her, Jennifer had the sharp, unsettling
 sensation that he could _see her.
 Kaine put her file aside and leaned forward,
 lacing his fingers together on top of the desk. "Why
 don't I fill you in on the job first,
 Jennifer? Then, if you're interested, I'd like
 to hear more about you." He smiled again, seemingly
 intent upon putting her at ease.
 "The job description that was sent to you might have
 been a little vague," he continued in his soft,
 mild voice. "What I'm looking for is someone
 to function as an assistant station manager as
 well as my executive assistant. Gabe
 Denton, the comedian you met earlier, has more to do
 than he can handle. He's our program
 director and acting sales manager and--well,
 I've just got to get some help for him. 23
 There's a fellow coming in next week to interview
 for sales manager. If he works out, that will
 help, but we still--was                                       14
 The telephone interrupted him with a shrill ring,
 and Jennifer glanced at the special instrument with
 its large, raised numerals. "Sorry,"
 Kaine said. "My secretary doesn't work on
 Saturdays, so I have to pick up my calls.
 I'll try to make it quick."
 Jennifer resisted the urge to study him while
 he was on the phone--somehow it seemed unfair,
 almost as though she'd be taking advantage of his
 sightlessness. Instead, she let her gaze roam
 over his desk. A large Bible, probably
 Braille, she thought, lay close to his right hand, and
 just a few inches away stood a clock with raised
 numerals and a machine that looked like a small
 record player. To his left was a battered
 IBM Selectric, as well as numerous Braille
 papers. Bookshelves held a state-of-the-art
 stereo system, and on the opposite wall hung
 framed photographs of Christian recording
 stars. Many of the photos, Jennifer noted with
 interest, included Daniel Kaine.
 She was trying not to eavesdrop, but when she
 heard the agitation in his voice and saw his heavy
 dark brows knit into an annoyed frown, she
 couldn't help but wonder what was so disturbing about the
 call.
 "Listen--was The soft, gentle drawl she had
 found so charming moments before now deepened. He
 sounded almost gruff as he went on. "I don't
 know what your problem is, but you're not going
 to solve it like this. If you want to come in and talk,
 that's fine, but--was
 Surprised by his abrupt change of manner,
 Jennifer was even more puzzled when she heard a
 loud click at the other end of the connection and saw
 Kaine hold the receiver away from his ear. He
 replaced it slowly and quietly, shaking his head
 in puzzlement.
 He managed a brief smile for her before he
 spoke again. "Takes all kinds, I
 suppose." He made no attempt to explain
 what had transpired, and Jennifer didn't
 ask. "So ... where was I? Ah--I was interested
 in the job you're doing now, Jennifer. Gabe said
 you have quite a variety of responsibilities, that
 you're doing a little of everything."
 "Yes, it's just a small station. 25
 Everyone has to be a jack-of-all-trades."
 "Well, that could be a real plus around here,"
 said Kaine. "Things get pretty hectic every now
 and then. It would help to have someone who could pitch in
 as needed." He leaned forward a little more.
 "Let me explain something else before we go
 any further, all right?" His pleasant,                        15
 good-natured smile was back to normal now.
 "Some people are intimidated by my disability. They
 simply can't relate to it, so they find it
 difficult to work for me. That makes it awkward for
 me, too. I've got to have someone in this job who
 isn't going to get all strung out about working with a
 blind man. Someone who'll be comfortable with me--so I
 can be comfortable, too. We're going to be together too
 much for it to work any other way. Do you understand what
 I mean?"
 Jennifer considered her answer for only an
 instant. "I think so. And I've got to be
 honest with you, Mr. Kaine. I've never worked with
 anyone who ... couldn't see. But I don't
 think it would be a problem for me once I learn
 your way of doing things."
 Kaine nodded slowly, running the palm of his
 hand lightly across his beard. "Well, let me
 put your mind at ease about one thing. If you're
 afraid you'd end up as a nursemaid, you
 wouldn't. Most things, I do for myself. My little
 blonde here--was he leaned over to stroke the
 retriever behind the ears--"gives me a lot of
 independence I wouldn't have otherwise. And
 Katharine Chandler, my secretary, keeps me more
 organized than I'd like to be. I'm sorry you
 couldn't meet her today, by the way. She puts in so
 many hours through the week, I don't think it's
 fair to ask her to come in on Saturdays, too."
 He crossed his arms over his chest, and his
 massive shoulders reminded Jennifer that the man
 had been an Olympic swimmer. She forced her
 attention back to his voice.
 "I have a housekeeper to keep my place from
 turning into a condemned area. And I also have an
 overprotective sister who takes care of my
 social life--such as it is." He flashed his
 annihilating grin and pushed his chair even farther
 away from the desk.
 "And, of course, I have Gabe. He's my
 right-hand man. And my best friend. He's also the
 best program director in the state." Another
 smile darted across his face. "Gabe's 27
 sense of humor leans a bit to the odd side every
 now and then, but he's a great guy. He's also my
 part-time chauffeur and drives me to and from the station every
 day. Anyway, I've got all the personal
 attention I need--sometimes more than I can handle.
 What I _do need is an assistant with some
 smarts and a healthy dose of common sense who can
 also take my blindness in stride." He paused for
 just a moment. "Since you've been working for a
 Christian station, I assume that you have some church
 background."                                                  16
 "Yes," Jennifer assured him. "I'm a
 Christian."
 He nodded. "Good. Everyone who works here is.
 We try to function primarily as a ministry.
 Of course, we have to make a profit to pay the
 bills, but we try to keep our priorities
 straight. Did you grow up in the church?"
 "Yes. My grandfather was a minister," Jennifer
 explained. "In fact, he started the church my
 family attends."
 "With your background in music, I imagine
 they keep you real busy singing."
 Jennifer swallowed hard, not answering for a
 moment. When she finally spoke, she
 deliberately kept her tone even and bland.
 "Actually, I don't sing anymore."
 Kaine raised one dark brow. "Not at all?"
 "No."
 Jennifer waited tensely for the question he seemed
 about to ask, but after a brief hesitation, he
 simply smiled and changed the subject.
 "Well, now it's your turn to ask questions."
 Relieved, Jennifer leaned forward a little.
 "What exactly would my responsibilities
 be?"
 Kaine lifted a hand with an encompassing
 motion. "Helping me run the place, mostly.
 You'd coordinate programming with Gabe, do some
 public relations for us, cover a lot of the
 community stuff--you know, concerts, church
 activities, civic meetings, that sort of thing.
 I said you wouldn't be a nursemaid, but you _would be
 driving me around some, I'm afraid. Would you
 mind that?"
 "Not at all," Jennifer answered quickly.
 "Good. I would need you to get going on one thing
 right away. We're the coordinating station for a
 nationwide radiothon coming up in just a few
 weeks. Gabe and I have been working on it 29
 for months, but we keep getting bogged down in
 other stuff. Consequently, we're not nearly as
 far along as we should be with the planning."
 "What kind of radiothon?"
 "We're hoping to generate more public interest
 and awareness regarding drunk driving laws.
 There's been a good deal of improvement, but too
 many people are still indifferent to the problem. It takes
 financial support, political pressure--
 we'd like to stir up some enthusiasm for both."
 Kaine hesitated a moment, then went on. "I
 was asked to coordinate the effort because of my own
 experience. My blindness was caused by an
 automobile accident--the boy driving the other
 vehicle was drunk."                                           17
 He said it calmly and matter-of-factly,
 obviously expecting no response. "I
 suppose I should warn you, Jennifer," he
 continued with a smile, "that you would probably have
 to put in quite a few weekends and evenings. But
 I'd make it up to you. You could have time off through the
 week every now and then. By the way, do you like to jock?
 Would you want a show of your own?"
 "Actually, that's one of my favorite parts
 of the business," Jennifer admitted quickly, growing
 more and more interested in the job.
 "Well, you could have your choice right now between two
 shows. I need someone for a live talk show in the
 evening, or you could have a three-hour drive in the
 afternoon."
 Jennifer was hooked. "I think I'd really like
 the job, Mr. Kaine."
 "The name's _Dan, OK? You've got a
 dynamite voice, Jennifer, you know that? Should be
 great on the air."
 Before she could reply, Kaine went on in his
 slow, soothing drawl. "Can I ask you about something
 else? Gabe filled me in on most of your
 background, but I've got to admit that I'm
 curious about how you went from studying opera in
 Rome to a radio station in West Virginia."
 Jennifer was deliberately evasive, hoping
 he wouldn't press her for details. "I--
 well, it's kind of a long story."
 "That's all right," Kaine said agreeably, as
 if he had all the time in the world.
 Jennifer swallowed with difficulty, feeling
 her stomach knot with tension. The memories were still
 painful--too painful to discuss with a stranger, even
 one who seemed as kind as Daniel 31
 Kaine. "Mr. Kaine--Dan--I don't think
 it's relevant. And it is ... personal."
 He looked surprised but recovered quickly.
 Obviously, he had no intention of retreating from
 the subject. "Your sheet said you'd studied
 voice for a long time. Two years in Rome with
 some famous _maestro, right? Then you came
 home, went to O.U. for a degree in
 communications, and worked in a radio station on the
 side." He paused, but only for an instant.
 "You were interested in a stage career in opera?"
 "I ... was at one time, yes."
 "Why did you change directions?"
 After a noticeable hesitation, Jennifer
 answered quietly, her tone flat and
 unemotional. "Because I wasn't good enough to do what
 I had originally hoped to do."
 Kaine tapped his long, blunt fingers lightly
 on the desk. "Who said?"                                      18
 Jennifer made a weak attempt at
 lightness. "One of the best voice coaches in
 Europe. He said it very kindly, of course."
 Picking up a pencil, he twirled it back
 and forth between the thumb and two fingers of one hand.
 "That's rough. Is that what you had always wanted,
 to have an operatic career?"
 Jennifer blinked furiously against the hot
 wetness burning her eyes. Impatient with herself and
 unsettled by his apparent determination to press the
 issue, she remained silent, even though he was
 obviously waiting for some sort of reply from her.
 After an awkward silence, he went on. "The
 pain's still pretty fresh, is it, Jennifer?"
 he questioned softly.
 If she admitted the truth she would feel
 foolish. It sounded so petty in contrast to the
 enormity of Daniel Kaine's problem. Her
 own loss suddenly seemed pathetically
 insignificant as she studied him. She wondered
 at his air of self-assurance, his apparent
 tranquility. It had to be a front, she told
 herself defensively. No one with that kind of
 disability could possibly be as emotionally ...
 _together as he appeared to be. No, she concluded
 abruptly, either this man was some sort of a rare
 spiritual giant or he had simply erected one
 of the most impressive facades she had ever
 encountered. Her instincts suspected the latter.
 At any rate, she felt a grudging touch of
 respect for him. 33
 Once more Kaine met her silence with the same
 easygoing, pleasant tone of voice. "So this
 job is what? An alternative?"
 "Yes," Jennifer replied tersely. "An
 alternative."
 To her surprise, he smiled. "You want it
 just for the money?"
 Jennifer had always found it impossible to be
 less than honest. "That's the biggest reason,
 yes. My father mortgaged almost everything we have
 to send me to Italy. I have two younger brothers,
 one who just got married and another ... in a
 private school. It's time I paid my own
 way."
 "I can understand that," Kaine said agreeably, still
 smiling. "What about moving? Would that present a
 problem for you?"
 So he hadn't written her off after all!
 "No, it wouldn't," Jennifer said immediately. "My
 only ties are my family--and I wouldn't be
 all that far away from them. And, Mr. Kaine--
 _Dan--what I said about the job being an
 alternative ... I'd still do my best for you, I               19
 honestly would."
 His smile grew even warmer, and his voice
 held a note of interest when he spoke again.
 "You're not intimidated by me--by my blindness--are
 you?"
 "I--was She stopped, considering his question. "No.
 No, I don't think I am."
 With one last tap of his fingers on the desk, he
 rose from his chair and walked slowly around to her,
 extending his hand. "I thought not. Well, we need
 to see about finding an apartment for you. Will you need a
 furnished or unfurnished place?"
 He was offering her the job! Just like that. Jennifer
 stood up, shook his hand, and smiled brightly.
 "Furnished. And cheap," she added.
 Kaine grinned. "We'll get Gabe and my
 sister, Lyss, to help us with that. Lyss is coming
 over to go to lunch with us in a while; we can talk
 to her about it then. How soon do you think you could
 start, once we find you a place to live?"
 "Two weeks?"
 "Great. I'll call Gabe in a minute and
 see if Lyss is here yet."
 For an instant, he appeared to consider something.
 Then, his expression briefly uncertain, he
 dipped his head down. "Jennifer?" His voice was
 soft and halting. "I wonder--would you mind 35
 if I ... looked at you? With my hands?"
 Something caught and tightened in Jennifer's
 throat, but she ignored it. "No--I mean, I
 don't mind at all."
 It was an unsettling experience. She hadn't
 expected such gentleness, not from such a big man.
 He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders for just
 an instant before moving to trace the oval of her
 face, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence.
 He molded her face between his large hands, shaping
 every feature with light but firm strokes.
 "You're tall. What ... five-seven?"
 "Eight," Jennifer said tightly, clearing her
 throat. "Five-eight, actually."
 Kaine nodded and smiled thoughtfully. "That's
 good. Short women make me a little crazy. I
 never seem to be able to find them, you know? Never know
 how far down they are."
 Jennifer stared blankly into his face, then
 laughed, but only for a moment. So unexpectedly
 intense was her response to his touch that she had
 to close her eyes against it. His fingertips were
 heavily calloused, and she fleetingly wondered
 what sort of work a blind man might do to cause
 calluses. His hands explored slowly, brushing
 over her high forehead, lightly winging out from her
 eyes, barely touching her closed eyelids,                     20
 seeming to take note of her eyelashes before moving
 down over her cheekbones and the hollows beneath. He
 allowed his thumbs to touch the outside corners of
 her mouth only briefly, but long enough for her
 to catch a sharp, uneven breath before he fanned his
 fingertips gently along her jawline.
 "I don't think you eat very much, Jennifer,"
 he said softly, smiling as though he had discovered
 a small secret.
 "My youngest brother calls me Bones, if that
 tells you anything," Jennifer volunteered. Her
 voice sounded terribly unnatural. She thought
 she would choke when he touched the dimple in the
 middle of her chin, then slid his hands slowly
 outward to scan the length of her hair. He
 murmured something she didn't catch, then asked,
 "What color is your hair?"
 "Uh ... it's dark brown. With some red--
 auburn, I guess you'd call it." She hoped
 he wouldn't detect the slight tremor in her
 voice.
 "Must take forever to dry," he commented with a
 small, thoughtful smile. He moved one 37
 finger back to the scar just in front of her right ear.
 "What happened here?"
 Jennifer could hardly believe the sensitivity
 of his hands. That scar was barely noticeable, even
 to her. "I fell off a horse at a girlfriend's
 farm when I was twelve. A piece of
 barbed-wire fence got in my way."
 "Tomboy, huh?" he chuckled softly.
 "I'm afraid so." She wondered if the
 jelly sensation in her knees was due to lack of
 sleep or his touch.
 His hands quickly framed her face once more, very
 gently, then dropped away. "Thank you,
 Jennifer, for understanding my need to do that." His
 features softened even more. "Gabe told me you
 were lovely," he said quietly, with a nod of
 agreement. Then he grinned. "_Bones, huh?
 Sounds like something I'd say to _my sister."
 
 Though she was trim and fit, the name "Bones"
 hardly described Alyssa Kaine. A
 physical education teacher at the Christian
 school that she, Dan, and Gabe Denton had
 once attended, Lyss had the same athletic
 build as her brother. As the four of them laughed
 and talked over lunch at a nearby restaurant,
 Jennifer knew she had already made her first friends
 in Shepherd Valley.
 "Papa Joe" Como, the proprietor of the
 restaurant, also owned some rental property in
 town. As soon as he learned that Jennifer was                 21
 going to be working at the radio station, he insisted
 on showing her a house that would be "perfect" for her
 use.
 Jennifer fell in love with the quaint
 three-room bungalow and its white wicker
 furniture almost immediately. And "PapaJoe,"
 who seemed far more interested in finding a tenant who
 would take care of his property than in charging an
 exorbitant rent, quoted a monthly rate
 well within her reach. They finalized the arrangement
 with a down payment and a handshake.
 When she was finally ready to leave, Dan walked
 her to her car, accompanied by Sunny. After she was
 settled behind the steering wheel, he leaned down to her
 window. Jennifer again had the disturbing sensation that
 he was looking directly into her eyes.
 "Well ... hurry back, Jennifer," he
 said softly in a tone that sounded almost wistful. He
 touched her shoulder lightly, then 39
 straightened. "We'll have a welcome party for you
 once you get settled."
 Jennifer watched him from her rearview mirror
 for as long as possible--this tall, dark, enigma
 of a man with his golden companion standing quietly
 at his side. For the first time in years, she felt a
 trace of hopeful anticipation. She was
 surprised to realize that she wanted the next two
 weeks to pass quickly. _Very quickly.
 
 THREE
 
 Dan pulled a fisherman's sweater over his
 head as he walked into the kitchen. Suddenly, he
 stopped and stood listening, his hands in the back
 pockets of his jeans.
 He heard nothing, but for the first time in almost five
 years, he was engulfed by the same blood-chilling
 sensation that had plagued him during the early months
 of his blindness. That oppressive, menacing feeling that
 he was being watched--like a bug under glass.
 Isolated. Vulnerable. Helpless.
 Perspiration started on the palms of his hands, and
 he felt the beginning of a tremor in his arms and
 legs. His heart pumped harder, and he braced
 one hand on the counter to steady himself. He tried
 to swallow but couldn't. All he could do was wait
 until it passed.
 The rehabilitation counselor in Pittsburgh
 had warned him that he could expect occasional
 anxiety attacks indefinitely, but he had
 hoped that was all behind him. __It's these crazy
 phone _calls, he told himself. They were coming
 nearly every night now, and sometimes through the day at the
 station. Rarely did the man say anything; usually             22
 the line remained ominously silent. Last night
 the phone had rung long after midnight. When
 Dan answered, he heard nothing but the sound of
 ragged breathing.
 He caught his breath now, aware that his
 heartbeat was gradually leveling off. Feeling
 weak, he wiped his hands on his jeans and lowered
 himself to one of the stools at the counter to wait for his
 head to clear.
 He knew he should tell someone about the calls.
 But he also knew what it would mean if he did.
 Everyone would start hovering over him again, watching
 him, _protecting him. His mother. Gabe. Lyss.
 Even his dad. It would be like before, during the weeks
 following the accident. He would lose his 41
 freedom, his independence again.
 _No _way. Not yet. He would say nothing
 until he absolutely had to.
 What good would it do anyway? What could he
 tell them? That some crazy man seemed bent on
 driving him over the edge? Even though he had
 sensed the sick anger and something akin to hatred behind
 the voice on the phone, the man had made no
 real threat.
 So far.
 The dream was coming more often now, too. It was
 different--more demanding, more harrowing than ever before.
 There was nothing he could do to prevent it. His
 subconscious seemed to have a will of its own, though
 he'd tried everything he could think of to avoid a
 repeat of the nightmare. It was always the same.
 He would sleep uneasily, a sleep with no
 real peace, then would suddenly find himself on that
 same winding mountain road again. He would hang the
 corkscrew curve near the top of the hill only
 to be met by two blazing halos of light looming
 toward him through the fog. He would feel himself
 suspended, weightless, for a brief spark of
 eternity. Then the mushrooming headlights of the
 oncoming truck, like two furious, malevolent
 eyes, would explode into his face. Terror would
 grip him by the throat as metal rammed metal,
 while glass shattered and blew to pieces in a
 slow-motion kaleidoscope of horror.
 And then he would hear someone scream, not realizing
 it was his own voice until the smoking chamber of the
 car echoed the sound of it over and over again before
 tossing it out into the night. Finally, he would gape
 through shock-glazed eyes at the last thing he would
 ever see in his lifetime--a face behind the
 windshield of the truck, a face fragmented and
 distorted by broken glass and a heavy shroud of
 mist. The face of fear, a macabre rictus,
 frozen in an endless, silent scream. ...                      23
 And then the nightmare would end. Always at the
 same point, always in the same way, always
 incomplete. He would awaken, at first in a
 storm of panic, then weary and drained with the reality
 that it was only a dream, that it was over ... but that
 he was, indeed, blind. He would lie quietly,
 sweating, trembling, forcing himself to think about the dream
 --for there was always something unfinished about it, something
 he could never quite remember.
 He supposed the telephone calls could somehow
 be triggering the old anxieties. He 43
 wondered, too, if the calls might possibly
 be connected to the upcoming radiothon. The station had
 recently begun to highlight the nationwide
 campaign with hourly announcements, many by Dan
 himself. It wouldn't be the first time someone who was already
 a little unhinged went off the deep end because he
 didn't like what he heard on the air.
 With a resigned sigh, Dan straightened his
 shoulders and hauled himself to his feet. This was _not
 the best frame of mind for the coming evening. He forced
 himself to shake off the melancholy that had threatened
 to engulf his emotions most of the day, like a
 low-hanging cloud that refused to move.
 Jennifer--and half the town, he reminded himself
 wryly--would be here within minutes. _Jennifer.
 He said her name to himself, quietly, with a touch of a
 smile, relishing the sound of it on his lips.
 __I'm in trouble, all right. But maybe not the
 kind I've been worried about. The real trouble,
 I suspect, has a lot more to do with a certain
 lady who always smells like a vanilla-scented
 candle and has a voice like warm, thick honey.
 The same lady who, according to Gabe, has
 exactly four freckles on her nose and
 looks like a model for an aerobics
 _advertisement.
 The lady also happened to be the guest of honor
 at the party he would be hosting in a few minutes.
 Dan tried to shove his attention back to more
 mundane matters, but the thought of Jennifer's
 presence in his home--an entire evening to simply
 be close to her, to hear that sensational laugh of
 hers, to fill his senses with the sunshine-warm
 fragrance of her hair at his shoulder--made his
 smile break even wider across his face. He
 tried to push aside his own adolescent
 foolishness, but the glow of his smile lingered.
 With a self-mocking shrug, he pursed his lips
 in a soft whistle, palmed a few pretzels from
 a bowl on the snack-heaped harvest table in the
 dining area, and walked into the living room. He
 stopped in front of the fireplace, where flames
 were rising and crackling cheerfully.                         24
 Sunny padded in and lay down at his side.
 Dan stooped down and began to stroke the golden
 retriever. He knew her favorite rubber
 ducky was resting snugly between her two front
 paws. After feeding her a pretzel from his hand, he
 muttered a reminder to himself that "you must never spoil
 a guide dog, Mr. Kaine." 45
 _Absolutely.
 He stood, flexed his shoulders, and began
 to pace the length of the room. In truth, it was an
 unbroken flow of rooms with no walls,
 furnished with primitive accent pieces and early
 West Virginia carpentry. When he reached the
 "music room" at the far end of the first floor,
 he stopped to insert a CD into a player on the
 bookcase shelf. Jerking the volume control
 well past the comfort level, he shoved his hands
 into his pockets and breaking into a satisfied
 smile, began to sing along with a contemporary
 Christian band.
 Sunny reluctantly stirred. Dan could
 imagine the retriever turning a long-suffering,
 mildly censuring look at him, as though to make
 the observation that he was becoming more and more peculiar
 lately.
 
 Jennifer changed clothes for the third time and
 took a long, disgruntled look at herself in the
 mirror. "What is _wrong with me tonight?" she
 muttered to herself. "You'd think I had a date at
 the governor's mansion."
 Rummaging through several boxes, she found the
 leather boots she had bought on sale the winter before
 and hurriedly pulled them on. She frowned at
 herself again in the full-length mirror on the
 bedroom door, deciding too late that the
 casual slacks and oversized jacket made her
 look even thinner than she was. She buttoned
 one large button, considered the effect, then
 immediately unbuttoned it. She had skipped too
 many meals during the hectic days of packing and
 moving, and it showed.
 She raked a brush through her hair, then
 paused, her hand suspended above her head, as she
 realized that the one person she was so anxious
 to impress couldn't even see the result of her
 efforts!
 "Brilliant, Jennifer," she said under her
 breath, grabbing her shoulder bag and slinging it over
 her arm. "Absolutely brilliant."
 She shrugged quickly into her coat and began to fish
 for her car keys as she raced out the door.
 Tripping on the front step, she choked with
 exasperation when she dropped her purse upside                25
 down, spilling its contents all over the small
 cement porch. She scrambled to pick up the
 clutter, shoving a collection of eight 47
 or nine pens and pencils back to the bottom of the
 bag, along with her wallet, her pocket
 organizer, half a dozen stamps, two
 Hershey bars--but no keys.
 Fuming, she walked into the carport. A quick
 glance through the window of the Honda confirmed that the
 keys were still in the ignition. She tried the door and
 discovered with relief that she hadn't locked it.
 She had to stop living this way. She had to get
 organized, take control of her life. She
 really did.
 She drove with extreme caution,
 deliberately holding in check what her dad
 called her "lead foot." The streets were little more
 than mounds of drifted snow and thin layers of
 ice. The road crews apparently hadn't been
 able to keep up with the fast-falling, wind-driven
 snow that had begun in the afternoon, even though it seemed
 to have finally stopped.
 In spite of some faint apprehension about
 meeting so many new people all at once--the list
 Dan's secretary had shown her earlier in the
 week looked as though most of Shepherd Valley
 would be there tonight--she was looking forward to the evening.
 She was curious about the way Dan lived and was
 eager to see his home. At first she had been
 surprised to learn that he lived alone and wondered
 how he could manage, even with Sunny to help.
 But after three weeks of daily contact with the man,
 she no longer questioned Daniel Kaine's ability
 to manage anything.
 The light she had been waiting for changed, and
 Jennifer moved through the intersection slowly, her
 mind still filled with thoughts of her enigmatic boss.
 There was no denying the attraction the man held for
 her, though she had scolded herself more than once for
 allowing him to occupy such a prominent place
 among her thoughts. Still, he was an intriguing,
 complex personality, far different from anyone
 Jennifer had ever known. As for the way her emotions
 ran riot every time he came near--well, he was
 simply a very _compelling man.
 He was also a strangely _intimate man. This
 trait might have put her off in someone without
 Dan's innate kindness and acute sensitivity.
 But Jennifer had quickly grown comfortable with his
 eagerness to know, to understand, to "see" through the eyes
 of others what he could no longer see for himself.
 It was now routine for her to give him at least a
 sketchy idea of what she was wearing, 49
 especially color, or to casually describe their               26
 surroundings when they were driving. She told him of
 any significant change in another
 employee's appearance and fell into the habit of
 describing little things that caught her attention whenever
 they were together.
 She had come to understand that he drew heavily upon
 his memories and considered himself fortunate in having
 been sighted most of his life. He was still able
 to project images onto the screen of his mind,
 he had explained to her, whereas those who had been
 blind from birth had to depend upon the observations of
 someone else, plus whatever they could glean from their
 other senses, to help them form mental pictures.
 Jennifer hadn't said anything, but she was more than
 a little skeptical about his positive attitude.
 She found it almost impossible to see even the
 smallest grain of "blessing" in the tragedy of
 Dan's blindness. So far, however, she had seen no
 trace of anything that might hint of false
 courage or shallow optimism.
 It would be difficult _not to be drawn to the
 man, she assured herself once more as she turned
 slowly onto Keystone Drive. In addition
 to his commanding physical presence and
 multifaceted personality, he bore his
 disability with an incredible aplomb. Dan
 obviously relished his independence, yet he
 didn't hesitate to ask for assistance when he
 needed it. There was a definite aura of strength
 about him, even though a touching vulnerability would
 occasionally surface when least expected, as had
 been the case earlier in the afternoon. Jennifer had
 walked into Dan's office and found him standing at the
 large window behind his desk, his face and one hand
 pressed to the glass as though he were staring outside.
 As usual, his dark hair had fallen over his
 forehead, barely brushing the pale vertical scar
 at his eyebrow. He had been dressed in a
 white crew-neck pullover with a quilted front
 and gray cotton trousers with worn knees. He
 wore the casual outfit as he wore everything
 else--with the natural grace of an athlete
 comfortable with his own body. But there had been a
 sadness imprinted on his features that tugged at
 Jennifer's heart. She had felt a sudden
 intense need to say or do something that would bring a
 smile to his face.
 She hadn't spoken, feeling awkward about
 intruding upon what was obviously an 51
 unprotected, private moment. But he had known
 she was there.
 "Jennifer?" he questioned softly, without moving.
 "Yes. I can come back--was
 "No, it's all right," he assured her                          27
 quickly, motioning her closer. "Come in."
 She went to stand by him, seeing the vapor his warm
 breath had made on the cold windowpane.
 "Katharine said it was snowing," he said
 quietly.
 "Yes, it is. It started about an hour ago."
 He rubbed his fingers gently against the glass, as
 though he could touch the scene outside. "I used
 to love to stand here and look down on the valley when
 it was snowing." His expression was pensive. "Do you
 like it--the snow?"
 "Oh, yes. I love it! I always have."
 He was quiet for a moment. Then he touched her
 lightly on the shoulder. "Help me see it again,
 Jennifer. Tell me what it looks like."
 The wistful note in his appeal had thrown
 Jennifer off guard for just an instant. She
 glanced from Dan's profile to the winter scene
 outside, forcing her voice into an even,
 conversational tone when she spoke.
 "Well, let's see ... it's dark, almost like
 evening. The street lights are on all the way
 down the hill--lots of houses are lit up,
 too. And most of the cars have their headlights on.
 It looks as if traffic's having a hard time
 already. I can see at least four or five cars
 stalled halfway up Rainbow Drive."
 She stopped, moving closer to him to peer out the
 window. "It's a heavy snow. The branches on
 that old blue spruce by the walk are really
 drooping." Then she added, as much to herself as
 to Dan, "The snowflakes are the big, fat
 squishy ones, the kind that are fun to catch with your
 mouth open."
 She looked up at him. The melancholy that
 had darkened his features only moments before had now
 lifted and brightened to a tender smile of
 remembrance. When he reached for her, fumbling
 to find her hand, Jennifer linked her fingers with his
 without thinking.
 "Did your mom ever yell at you for messing up
 her window like this?" Dan asked. He blew against
 the window, then took her hand and pressed her index
 finger against the cold, wet glass.
 "_Just-every-not-not-i-from-every-rather." 53
 "My turn." Still smiling, he transferred his
 hand from on top of hers to trace his finger in the fog
 on the glass.
 "Wait a minute--we ran out of steam,"
 Jennifer told him, laughing. "Breathe."
 "I am breathing."
 "On the _window, Dan. We need more steam."
 "Right. More steam." He opened his mouth to blow
 on the glass, then stopped. "Ah ... tell me                   28
 there's no one else in the room, Jennifer."
 "Just us."
 He leaned his forehead lightly against the glass,
 quickly steaming up more of the window, and Jennifer
 helped him write his name beneath hers.
 "This is a very symbolic thing we've done here
 today, Jennifer," he said gravely. "You
 realize that, don't you?"
 "Symbolic?"
 "Absolutely." He dabbed his wet, cold
 finger on the end of her nose. "Once you write
 your name in a man's breath, you become a part of his
 life."
 Even now, remembering the moment set
 Jennifer's heart racing. She had better get
 a grip, and soon. _He _wasn't _serious,
 she reminded herself. __It was a joke. Nothing
 _more.
 Jennifer forced her thoughts back to the present as
 she killed the motor of the car. Leaning back with a
 relieved sigh, she studied the "Kaine barn,"
 Dan's home. She had already heard a great deal
 about it. It was as unconventional and as unique as
 its owner. It truly _was a barn--a large,
 restored early American barn attached to a
 small clapboard house, which, as Dan had
 explained to her, now housed his indoor pool.
 Structurally spectacular, it had a sturdy,
 rustic appearance--dark oak siding, seamed
 metal roof, and varied styles and sizes of
 windows. It was tucked into the hillside and looked
 down on an absolutely breathtaking view of the
 valley.
 She dragged in a deep, steadying sigh as she
 slid out from under the steering wheel and began to trudge
 up the snow-covered walk to the house. "Speaking of
 breathtaking views," she muttered softly to herself.
 She stopped to stare for a long moment at
 Daniel Kaine, who had just thrown open the door
 and stood waiting for her with a smile that made her
 heart go into an unexpected tailspin. 55
 
 FOUR
 
 Dan dropped his hands lightly onto
 Jennifer's shoulders as he helped her shrug out
 of her coat. "Relax, kid. Mountaineers are
 very friendly folks. You don't need to get tensed
 up about being in a room full of them."
 Jennifer shook her head, marveling at his
 uncanny ability to sense her emotional
 barometer. "Nobody's ever given a party for me
 before. I'm a little nervous."
 He squeezed her shoulders reassuringly and was                29
 just turning to hang up her coat when Lyss
 walked up and took it from him. Jennifer stared at
 the two of them together, Lyss and Dan, struck again
 by how much they resembled each other. Lyss was as
 striking in her own way as Dan, with the same
 penetrating blue eyes and dusky hair that
 appeared to be trademarks of the Kaines.
 Naturally, it wasn't long before Gabe joined
 them. Jennifer had observed that wherever Lyss
 was, Gabe was sure to follow. The two were
 engaged--and had been, Dan had informed her, for
 nearly two years. Apparently Lyss was the
 holdout, insisting they have a down payment for a house
 before they married.
 The four of them started toward the kitchen, only
 to be stopped on the way by a small boy with
 silver-blond hair and apple cheeks. He
 came bounding up, with Sunny at his heels.
 Dan grinned tolerantly and hoisted the boy up
 to his shoulder in one easy motion. "Did you and
 Jim give Sunny her dinner like I asked?"
 "We put some good stuff in with her dog food,
 Dan. Hamburger and eggs." The boy gave
 Dan a hug and Jennifer a bashful smile.
 Jennifer grinned at him. She had already met
 Jason Lyle at church. The small
 eight-year-old with the enormous brown eyes was an
 orphan--mentally limited, but only slightly--
 who lived at the county children's home. Both of his
 parents had been killed in a motorcycle
 accident when he was only a few months old.
 Dan had first become acquainted with the boy through the
 Friend-to-Friend Association, a countywide
 mutual aid ministry for the disabled that Dan and some
 of the people at his church had helped to establish. The
 Kaines and Gabe took turns seeing that
 Jason got to church and Sunday school 57
 each week.
 He was an incredibly beautiful child, Jennifer
 thought, so physically perfect that it was difficult
 to realize he might never exceed the mental
 capacity he had already attained. She couldn't be
 near the boy without feeling a stab of resentment at
 the cruel blow that had been dealt to him. How could
 God give a child such remarkable appeal and then
 cripple his mind?
 Jason never failed to remind her of her younger
 brother Loren--gifted with an unusually fine
 mind but an imperfect body. To Jennifer's
 thinking, Loren and Jason were only two among
 many examples of divine injustice.
 She watched Dan swing the boy over his head and
 then set him lightly on his feet. There was an
 obvious flow of affection between the two of them. It         30
 was no secret around the station that Dan would like
 to adopt his little friend but was reluctant to do so because
 he wanted more for Jason than what he thought he
 could offer as a blind, single parent.
 "Go get Jim and the two of you take Sunny
 outside for a few minutes," Dan instructed
 Jason. "And bundle up good, you hear?"
 Jennifer watched the small boy trot off to the
 kitchen and begin to tug eagerly on Jim
 Arbegun/'s sleeve. Jim, the tall,
 sad-eyed teenager she had first seen in the studio
 on the day of her interview, was helping Papa
 Joe with the food. Jennifer had been immediately
 drawn to this boy with his uncertain smile and
 haunted eyes. He worked part-time at the station after
 school and on weekends. Gabe often referred
 to Jim, who followed Dan around with undisguised
 devotion, as "another one of Kaine's kids."
 A quiet, noticeably unhappy youth,
 Jim was the only son of a farmer who lived on a
 small plot of land just outside of town--a
 piece of ground Dan described as too
 anemic to yield anything more than a token crop
 of vegetables. According to Dan, Caleb Arbegunst
 supplemented his income by running a temporary
 shelter for delinquent boys, a kind of
 stopping-off place where the court sent youngsters
 until more permanent arrangements could be made.
 Apparently, some residents of the community had
 mixed emotions about the shelter. From time to time, questions
 were raised about the advisability of placing so many
 teens in the care of a man with Arbegun/'s
 reputation. He was rumored to be an 59
 alcoholic with a fiery temper, and some believed that
 his wife, who had deserted Caleb and Jim when
 the boy was still a toddler, had left because she could no
 longer deal with her husband's cruelty.
 Dan's voice pulled Jennifer's attention
 back to him. "My folks sent their best wishes
 --and their regrets that they couldn't be here." He
 moved Jennifer's hand to his forearm and covered it
 with his own as they began to walk through the house. "They
 won't be back from the convention until late tomorrow
 night. But they want you to come to lunch Sunday after
 church."
 Jennifer had already been to the Kaines' twice
 for dinner and would have jumped at any invitation
 to enjoy Pauline Kaine's cooking again. "You're
 sure I won't wear out my welcome?"
 "No chance. However, I _do have an ulterior
 motive for getting you invited."
 "Oh?"
 "Mm-him. I was wondering if you'd be willing
 to drive me up to the farm afterward. I should warn you,      31
 I suppose, that I'd like to take Jason
 along, too." He stopped walking and turned
 toward her.
 "The farm?" Jennifer was distracted by the music
 room at the far end of the house. Her glance
 traveled over an ebony grand piano occupying
 an enormous amount of space, two
 sophisticated-looking keyboards, a drum
 set, and a number of smaller stringed instruments.
 On either side, tall bookshelves held an
 impressive stereo component system.
 "Helping Hand," Dan went on. "The summer
 camp for disabled kids I told you about."
 Located about sixty miles from Shepherd
 Valley, the Helping Hand had once been a
 conventional farm. For the last three years, Dan and
 Gabe had been working hard to turn it into a large
 camp that could accommodate children with a variety of
 physical and emotional challenges.
 "Oh--sure, I can go. No problem."
 Jennifer expelled a quick breath of surprise.
 "You never told me you were a musician!"
 He gave a deprecating shrug. "I just
 play around with the keyboards some. It relaxes
 me. Mostly I use all this with my teen group.
 I like to have them out here to practice instead of
 rehearsing in the church basement. You'd be
 surprised at the cooperation I get when I
 promise a swimming party in exchange 61
 for a good rehearsal."
 "I've heard a lot about your teen choir.
 How big is it?"
 He grinned. "Don't ever let them hear you
 call them a _choir, Jennifer. They're an
 _ensemble, or a _group, or even a _bunch--but
 never, ever a _choir. We usually have about
 fifteen. Ask me on a bad night, and I'd
 say fifty."
 "And he loves every minute of it," added
 Lyss, who, along with Gabe, had followed them
 from the great room. "He and his drummer."
 "His drummer?"
 "In person," Gabe said, poking his head
 over Lyss's shoulder. "The kids call me
 _Sticks."
 "That's for your legs, man, not your drumming,"
 Dan cracked.
 "Uh, huh ... well, you don't want to know
 what they call you, old buddy," Gabe
 retorted dryly.
 The three of them insisted on showing Jennifer the
 pool house, Dan's special pride and joy.
 By the time they returned to the main living area, the
 house was filled with guests milling about.                   32
 Jennifer spent the next half hour meeting
 people, then went upstairs to the loft with Lyss and
 Jason. The boy had had an accident with his
 fruit punch and was in need of a quick cleanup.
 "This is where I sleep when I spend the night
 with Dan. I even keep some of my clothes here,"
 Jason told her proudly as they entered the large
 bedroom.
 For an instant, Jennifer had the peculiar
 sensation that she had just stepped onto a
 nineteenth-century ship. The room held a
 variety of nautical items, including a
 splendid teak-and-brass binnacle and a hand-rubbed
 ship's wheel. The massive bureau was topped
 by a model of a clipper ship, and the wall shelves
 were lined with such artifacts as a whaling harpoon,
 different kinds of lanterns, an antique
 compass, and a bell clock. The only things not
 directly related to the sea were the huge
 half-tester bed, covered with a colorful quilt,
 and a stone fireplace with an old,
 broad-bottom rocking chair in front of it.
 Jennifer breathed a long, appreciative
 sigh. "What a _wonderful room! Dan must
 love the sea!" 63
 Lyss nodded as she scooped a clean shirt from
 a bureau drawer and helped Jason change.
 "He does. He and Gabe were always building
 ship models when they were kids. Before the accident,
 they used to run white water on the Cheat River
 every chance they got. Dan has always been crazy
 about water--anything from the ocean to a swimming
 pool." With a smile, she gave Jason an
 affectionate swat on the bottom and sent him on
 his way. The boy flashed Jennifer a
 mischievous grin as he raced by her and headed for the
 steps.
 "The loft used to be just one big room,"
 Lyss explained, gesturing to an open doorway
 opposite the bureau. "But Dan started doing so
 much counseling a couple of years ago that we
 partitioned off enough space to make a guest room for
 visitors."
 "Counseling?"
 Lyss took a moment to run a comb through her
 dark hair, glancing over her shoulder in the
 mirror at Jennifer. "Every now and then one of the
 therapists from the rehab center in Pittsburgh
 sends someone down here to stay a few days, someone
 who's having a hard time emotionally."
 "I don't know how he does it," Jennifer
 said, shaking her head. "How does he keep up
 with everything? He must never have a moment for himself."
 "Well, he likes to keep busy. Sometimes                       33
 I think he takes on a little too much, but--was
 She shrugged, leaving the thought incomplete.
 "Lyss--how long did it take? For Dan
 to get over the accident?"
 Lyss turned, pushed up the sleeves of her
 bright red sweater, and walked to a nearby window,
 glancing out for a moment. When she turned back
 to Jennifer, her expression was grave. "I'm not
 sure anyone ever really gets over something like that."
 Feeling rebuked, Jennifer nodded. "It's just
 that he's so ..." She groped for a word, finding
 none.
 "I know." Lyss smiled a little and went to sit
 down on the bed, motioning for Jennifer to do the
 same. "It was difficult--horribly
 difficult--for a long time. Sometimes I didn't
 think he would ever be himself again," she said quietly.
 For a moment her attention seemed to drift away,
 and she sat plucking idly at the bed quilt.
 "It's hard to imagine Dan ever being different
 than he is now," Jennifer said. "He 65
 has to be the most amazing man I've ever met."
 Still not looking up, Lyss nodded and continued
 to smile. "He's pretty terrific." She
 ran her hand through her short, casually styled
 hair, then glanced across the bed at Jennifer.
 "He was such a great athlete. Did you know he
 took a gold at the Olympics? He's a
 marvelous swimmer! Of course, he's always
 excelled at anything he attempted--was
 She stopped short and laughed. "Listen to me--
 I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm not always very
 humble where my big brother is concerned."
 "No, I understand," Jennifer protested. "You
 have every right to be proud of him."
 "I _am proud of him. I think he's
 wonderful," Lyss declared almost fiercely. "It
 was a nightmare, seeing him lose so much, watching
 him fight so desperately to hold on to his
 dignity--and his sanity. He had to start all over
 again, just like a child--was Her bright blue eyes
 glistened with unshed tears, and Jennifer
 impulsively reached across the bed to squeeze her
 hand with understanding.
 "That's what was hardest for me," Lyss
 explained in a quieter voice. "Seeing him so
 ... defeated, so helpless. Dan's always been
 my hero. With six years between us, he spoiled me
 terribly the whole time I was growing up."
 She was obviously remembering things she would rather
 forget. "It was _awful, seeing him like that, reduced
 to almost total helplessness. Watching him trip,
 bump into walls, stumble, having to stand by while he
 tried to feed himself without spilling--was She stopped,      34
 her voice again shaky. But after a moment her
 expression cleared, and she went on. "Of
 course, that was all before his rehabilitation, and
 Sunny. After he came back from Seeing Eye,
 he hired a therapist to give him special
 mobility training. It was amazing to see what
 Dan learned in such a short time--how to arrange
 his clothing, code his money, organize the
 kitchen. The therapist even gave him a crash
 course in self-defense."
 Lyss got to her feet and walked around the bed
 toward Jennifer, who also stood. "Without a
 doubt, Dan's determination to be independent is
 one of the things that kept him going after the accident."
 She attempted a smile. "Of course, that
 unbearable stubbornness of his may have been a
 factor, too. But over the long haul, 67
 it had to be his faith in God that helped him
 survive."
 Jennifer's reply was faint. "I wonder how
 he did it." She glanced at Lyss. "How he
 managed to ... go on trusting, under the
 circumstances?"
 Lyss studied Jennifer, her gaze questioning but
 patient. "I don't think anyone but Dan could
 explain that," she answered.
 "Can I ask you one more thing--about the accident?
 What actually happened?"
 "Oh, I thought maybe Gabe had told you,
 or even Dan. He'll talk about it, you know; you
 don't have to avoid the subject with him.
 Actually, what made the whole thing even worse
 for me was that Dan was on his way back from visiting
 me at the university the night it happened."
 Her face contorted briefly with the pain of
 remembrance. "It was my birthday, but I had
 finals and couldn't come home. So Dan drove
 down to deliver my birthday presents. He did
 that a lot," she said, smiling a little as she
 continued. "He would just show up, without warning, always
 bringing me something--a new book or clothes or
 money." Her voice softened. "He was forever
 bringing me money. I always seemed to be broke
 when I was in college."
 "And the accident happened on his way home?"
 Jennifer prompted gently.
 Lyss nodded, leaning wearily against the
 doorframe. "It was late, and there was a heavy
 fog. It was a head-on collision."
 "The other driver--he was killed, wasn't
 he?"
 Again Lyss's eyes misted. "Yes. He was
 only sixteen. Apparently he was drunk--at
 least he'd been drinking a lot. The state                     35
 police told us they found an empty bottle
 at his feet, and his clothes reeked of liquor.
 They said the boy had probably died instantly from
 a broken neck, even though Caleb ran for
 help as soon as he was able."
 "Caleb?"
 "Caleb Arbegunst. Jim's father. You see,
 it was his truck. The boy who was driving was one of the
 boys from the shelter. Caleb was taking him to the
 detention center, but he got sleepy and let the
 boy drive. Evidently he started drinking as
 soon as Caleb fell asleep. Caleb
 didn't know the boy had alcohol with 69
 him."
 Lyss's mouth twisted with disgust. "At least
 he _said he didn't know. For my part, I
 don't believe much of anything Caleb
 Arbegunst says."
 "You know, I don't think I've heard a good
 word about that man since I came to Shepherd
 Valley," Jennifer said.
 "And it's not likely that you will, because no one can
 find anything good to say," Lyss told her, still
 frowning. "Anyway, Caleb was thrown from the
 truck and was unconscious for a long time. When he
 came to, he went to a nearby farmhouse to call
 the state police. They found the boy dead and
 Dan unconscious."
 An involuntary shudder gripped Jennifer for
 an instant. "And when Dan woke up ..."
 "He was blind."
 They were both silent for a long moment. Finally,
 Lyss gave a long sigh, then smiled.
 "Let's get you back downstairs. You're
 supposed to be the guest of honor at this shindig,
 remember?"
 
 
 Later in the evening, about the time Jennifer would have
 expected the party to break up, people began urging
 Dan and Gabe down to the music room. Lyss
 went along, making her way to one of the keyboards
 while Gabe sat down at the drums.
 Jennifer watched the three with delighted
 surprise, her mouth dropping open when Dan
 crashed into a thunderous cadence at the piano, then
 unexpectedly broke away to the driving beat of a
 top Christian contemporary number. Gabe
 immediately backed him up on the drums, and after the
 first few measures Lyss added the keyboard--and
 her voice. She and Dan blended together in a
 tight, professional harmony. Almost instantly,
 everyone in the room became a part of the music,
 clapping their hands or singing along through a number of     36
 contemporary and traditional gospel songs.
 Jennifer continued to gape with amazement at
 Dan. So he "played around with the keyboards
 some," huh? A warmth enveloped her heart as she
 watched him. He could probably do anything he
 wanted at a keyboard, she speculated, and his
 voice was more than adequate. The man never
 seemed to run out of surprises!
 The noise level in the room 71
 skyrocketed as Gabe plopped a green
 baseball cap onto Dan's head and strapped
 an old flattop guitar around his neck. When
 Gabe reached back into the corner for a fiddle for
 himself, Lyss picked up a banjo--and everyone
 went crazy.
 For the next twenty minutes, the trio indulged
 themselves in a bluegrass demonstration that left
 Jennifer wide-eyed and open-mouthed. She was
 astonished at the way Gabe could grind the
 fiddle, even more fascinated by Dan and his guitar
 as he turned it from a mournful, whining freight
 train one minute into a flashy, frenzied blaze
 of superior "pickin'" the next. Now she knew
 why his fingertips were so calloused.
 At one point, she was caught short by an
 unexpected--and unwelcome--pang of yearning.
 "This group could use a singer with a little class,"
 Gabe jokingly called out to her. For one
 precarious moment Jennifer was tempted.
 It had been a long, difficult road,
 burying the desire to sing, a desire that at one
 time had been more powerful for Jennifer than the
 craving for food. But bury it she had. Or so
 she had thought. Now here it was again, that aching,
 all-too-familiar pulsing in her veins that cried
 for an outlet. The need to create, to communicate,
 to celebrate--
 _No! With a determination that bordered on anger,
 she slammed the door of her mind, shook her head
 at Gabe, and forced her attention back to the
 music. The three of them continued to ham it up to the
 hilt until Lyss gave up her banjo in
 defeat, collapsing in a fit of laughter at the
 slapstick antics of Gabe and her brother.
 Finally, Dan tipped his baseball cap to the
 crowd, then tossed his arm around Gabe's shoulder.
 Jennifer stared at Dan, once again puzzling
 over his apparent enjoyment of life. Not for the first
 time, she wondered if the peace that seemed
 to emanate from him could actually be genuine. She
 found it increasingly difficult to doubt what she
 saw in him, yet in some inexplicable way
 Dan's strength and contentment stirred a sense of
 uneasiness in her own spirit that she found herself           37
 unwilling to face--as well as a longing that
 bordered on envy, envy for whatever it was that gave
 his life such a unique, shining quality.
 For Dan was a man who lived his life in
 darkness--or, as he had once corrected 73
 her, in "grayness." Because of his blindness, he walked
 among shadows, his steps guided only by his own
 personal faith. Yet he managed to shed a
 gentle, steady light on his surroundings wherever he
 went.
 Was it possible that she even _resented his boundless
 passion for living, his inconceivable serenity and
 strength? Perhaps his strength evoked in her some nameless
 guilt for her own lack of spiritual maturity. The
 very idea made Jennifer wonder what kind of
 person she had become.
 Almost irritably, she also wondered why she
 should be spending so much time and energy thinking of Dan
 at all.
 But that was another question for which she had no answer.
 
 The truck was well hidden in the thick grove
 of pine trees at the side of Kaine's house.
 He had parked just high enough on the first rise of the
 hill so he could watch without being seen.
 He could see everyone leaving now, laughing,
 calling back and forth to one another as they half
 walked and half slid to their cars. He had been
 waiting for over two hours. It hadn't been so
 bad at first. As long as everyone was inside, he
 could run the engine and keep the heater going. But when
 they started coming out, he was afraid someone would hear
 the truck, so he'd killed the motor. Now he
 was shaking with the cold. He crossed his arms over his
 chest and hugged them to his body as tightly as he
 could, shivering even as his anger heated.
 Kaine must have had half the town in there. You
 wouldn't think a blind man would be throwing parties. But
 Kaine wanted everybody to think he was no
 different from anyone else.
 Like the way he'd come on to the woman. He had
 seen the two of them before tonight, smiling at each
 other, just as though they were a normal couple, like they
 belonged together. Was that grinning ape really dumb enough
 to think she liked him?
 Everyone was gone now, everyone except for
 Kaine and the woman. He watched them come out of the
 house, the dog at Kaine's side. He was far
 enough out that the dog shouldn't notice the truck, but he
 squirmed, ready to pull out in an instant if he
 had to.
 Kaine walked the woman to the car. __As if
 he'd be any protection to _her.
 The man sneered and rubbed his hands together to warm         38
 them. Even with gloves, they were stiff from the 75
 cold. It wouldn't be long now, though. The woman
 was leaving.
 He cracked the window on his side just enough
 to listen. The light, steady wind carried their
 voices. ...
 
 "What would it take to get you to sing again?"
 Jennifer stared up at him. "Dan, I told
 you--was
 "I know what you told me, Jennifer," he
 interrupted agreeably. "I'm just asking if
 there's any chance I could change your mind."
 "None," she said without hesitating. "Why?"
 Dan shrugged. "I'm going to combine the adult
 worship choir at church with my teen group at
 Easter for a musical. Having a trained voice
 to sing the part of Mary Magdalene would be a real
 plus."
 "You've never heard me sing," Jennifer
 reminded him.
 "You hum around the station all the time, didn't you
 know that? I recognize quality when I hear
 it."
 "I--no. I'm sorry, Dan, but I
 can't."
 He nodded as if he understood. "I don't
 suppose you'd want to listen to it before you give me
 a definite no, would you?"
 "Dan, please--was
 He tilted his head toward her as though he
 might continue to press. But then he smiled and
 touched her lightly on the arm. "OK. Listen,
 you be careful on the hill. It's a lot worse
 going down than coming up when it's this icy."
 
 The man in the truck grimaced when he saw the
 woman place her hand over Kaine's just before she
 opened the car door. "I'll be fine," he heard
 her assure him. "Dan--thank you for tonight. No
 one's ever done anything like this for me before."
 Kaine dropped the retriever's harness,
 ordered the dog to stay, then placed his hands on her
 shoulders.
 __She shouldn't let him touch her like that ... she
 probably feels sorry for him ... or aims
 to keep her job by playin' up to _him. ...
 The man licked his lips, wishing he could hear
 what they were saying. But they were talking softer now,
 and the wind had shifted.
 __Is he going to kiss _her? 77
 No, she was getting in the car, starting the engine.
 Finally she pulled away and began to ease the car
 down the hill, leaving Kaine alone with the dog.              39
 Suddenly the dog raised its head and turned
 toward the truck, lifting its ears as a menacing
 growl started in its throat. Kaine jerked his head
 around, too, and for an instant the man in the truck
 froze.
 Then he remembered. Kaine couldn't see him.
 Kaine couldn't see anything.
 He grinned as he suddenly brought the truck's
 engine to life with a thunderous roar. He cackled
 to himself and came charging out from the grove of pine
 trees, heading straight for the blind man and his dog.
 He saw Kaine's mouth drop open, saw
 panic wash over his face, and he laughed even
 harder. He floored the accelerator and crushed the
 heel of his hand against the horn, skidding away from the
 blind man at the last possible minute, only
 seconds before he would have leveled him. The dog
 went crazy, snarling and barking like a wild thing.
 __That'll give him something to think about until
 I decide what I want to do _next. ...
 
 
 FIVE
 
 Ever since her welcome party three weeks
 before, Jennifer had been living in overdrive.
 She didn't mind; in fact, she thrived on it.
 The only thing that worried her was the amount of time
 she seemed to be spending with Dan--more
 specifically, how much she _enjoyed the time she
 spent with Dan.
 In addition to all the hours she was putting in on
 the radiothon, she now had the afternoon drive time
 each weekday. She jocked her own show, consisting
 mostly of contemporary and gospel music,
 public service announcements, and
 top-of-the-hour news. It was informal,
 fast-paced, and fun.
 She was learning a lot, but she still had a lot more
 to learn. Because most of the station's procedures had
 been adapted to Dan's blindness, she had to take a
 slightly different approach to things she had once
 considered routine. With other tasks, she had to start
 from scratch.
 She had recently mastered his Braillewriter and
 could now type messages directly into Braille.
 Gabe had taught her how to make up the 79
 special, raised version of the "hot clock" he
 had designed for Dan--a clever variation of the
 pie-chart broadcasting schedule used by sighted
 disc jockeys. By now she had met most of the
 station's major advertisers, covered an
 assortment of community events, learned her way
 around town, and done a fifteen-minute feature                40
 on Helping Hand Farm after her visit with Dan
 and Jason.
 One of the things she enjoyed most was something for which
 she received no salary. Along with several other
 volunteers from the station and the community, she donated
 a few hours each week as a reader for the
 closed-circuit radio service the station
 operated. The service provided over twenty
 hours of weekly broadcasting for the blind, furnishing
 receivers free of charge to those who couldn't afford
 to rent them.
 In her spare time, she unpacked a box here and
 there. She was proud of the fact that after living in her
 little bungalow only six weeks, she had no more
 than four or five boxes left to empty.
 She was also making lists. Jennifer had
 decided that she needed a strategy for organizing
 her life. She had bought a book on time
 management at the bookstore in the mall and was
 following it chapter by chapter, line by line. She was
 going to take this seriously, she promised herself.
 If she was going to be an efficient assistant,
 she needed to get organized.
 At the moment, however, she was down on her hands
 and knees, burrowing in the bottom of her
 credenza. She was almost absolutely _positive
 she had put the entire stack of Braille scheduling
 charts for the radiothon in there. But she had been so
 busy over the last few days, she had taken
 to tossing everything that didn't require immediate
 attention onto the same shelf. Now the charts were
 missing--if they had ever been there in the first
 place.
 She grumbled to herself, then scrambled to her feet
 and turned around to--"Dan! Don't _do that!"
 He stood by her desk, looking mildly
 offended. "What exactly did I do?"
 "You--_appeared. You're so incredibly
 quiet. Clear your throat or something when my
 back is turned--was She grimaced. "Oh
 dear. I keep _doing it! Of course, you don't
 know when my back is turned."
 "Is your face red, Jennifer?" 81
 "It certainly is. And so are my knees.
 I've been trying to find those schedules for the
 radiothon--the ones I typed on the Braillewriter
 for you."
 "They're on my desk."
 "Why are they on _your desk?"
 "Didn't you say you typed them for me?"
 "Yes, but I put them in my office--was
 "No you didn't. You put them on my
 desk." He shook his head sadly. "The mind
 is the first thing to go, kid."                               41
 "Not in my case. It's in better shape than
 my back."
 "I have to go to the grocery store today." He said
 it with all the enthusiasm of a man facing an
 IRS audit.
 Jennifer perched on the edge of her desk and
 grinned at him. She found Dan's strong dislike
 for grocery shopping both interesting and amusing. He
 had been known to resort to trickery, even
 bribery, to wheedle someone else into doing it for him.
 He had successfully used his routine on
 Jennifer two or three times. __But not today,
 _Daniel, she thought impishly. _Not _today.
 "Fine," she said evenly. "I'll be happy
 to go along and help, if you like."
 He had been expecting just that response,
 obviously, and jumped on it. "You sure you have the
 time?" Dan was a master of the thoughtful, concerned
 frown.
 "Mm. No problem."
 "I'm really pushed this afternoon. If you're sure
 you have time, I'll just give you my list. It's
 only half a dozen items or so." If a
 man's smile could be relieved, smug, and
 victorious all at the same time, Dan's
 was.
 "No."
 He looked surprised. "No, _what?"
 "No, I'm not doing your shopping. I did it
 last week--twice. I said I'd _help.
 Today, we go together."
 He pulled his mouth to one side as if considering
 his choices. "Why together? It would be more efficient
 for only one of us to go, wouldn't it? It would
 certainly save some time." He arched one heavy
 brow in his best "I'm trying to be reasonable"
 expression.
 "For you, maybe. Not for me. It'll be faster
 for me if you go along," Jennifer said 83
 brightly. "You say you need half a dozen
 items. Fine--I'll pick up three, you get
 the other three. We'll be back at the station in
 twenty minutes flat."
 He slumped but accepted defeat graciously.
 "You want to go now?"
 "After lunch."
 "I suppose I'm buying."
 "Why, what a nice idea, Dan! I'll be
 ready in five minutes."
 After a quick lunch at PapaJoe's, they
 headed for the shopping center. A few minutes later
 Jennifer pulled off the road into the parking lot,
 splashing through an enormous puddle. She squinted
 her eyes, peering through the rain-swept windshield.          42
 "What is this, monsoon season?" she
 grumbled. "Isn't there ever a happy medium in
 West Virginia's weather? Something a little less
 severe than blizzards and cloudbursts?"
 Dan shrugged. "We'll have snow again by the end
 of the week. Maybe sooner."
 She glanced over at him. "And that's our radar
 weather exclusive for today, folks. News at
 eleven."
 "I'm as accurate as that guy on cable, the one
 who rhymes all his forecasts."
 "True. But he's a great-looking guy."
 "I would hope, Jennifer, that you're beyond being
 impressed by a handsome face."
 "No woman can resist a true poet,
 Daniel."
 "You actually watch that man?"
 "Every evening at six. Faithfully."
 He shook his head. "That's disgusting."
 She grinned. "I'm going to let you and Sunny
 out at the door while I park. Otherwise,
 you'll both drown."
 She waited until Sunny had guided Dan
 through the entrance of the supermarket before pulling away
 to look for a parking place. Finding nothing nearby,
 she nervously began to scout some of the rows farther
 out. It probably wasn't a good idea to leave
 Dan alone in the market too long, even with
 Sunny. He truly _did get a little strange
 about shopping. She suspected he felt slightly
 less confident in stores than he liked
 to admit. Still, he had Sunny, so he'd be
 fine. ...
 A few minutes later, Jennifer rushed into the
 supermarket wringing water out of her drenched 85
 hair. She stood near the checkout lanes and
 scanned the front of the store for a glimpse of
 Dan and Sunny, finally locating them at a
 nearby produce bin. She started toward them but
 stopped a few feet away, intrigued by the
 curious scene taking place.
 Dan, a somewhat grim smile on his face,
 was attempting to separate one flimsy plastic
 sack from another. With a soft grunt of frustration,
 he finally dropped Sunny's harness, pulled
 open the sack, and began to sort through the oranges
 in the case, squeezing them lightly before dropping
 one into the plastic bag.
 Jennifer was about to move and offer her help when
 a short block of a woman with square shoulders and
 white hair done up in sausage-link curls
 walked up to Dan. She squinted up at him
 belligerently.
 From her military stance at his right side, her               43
 head came only two or three inches above his
 waist. With a stern thrust of her chin, she gave a
 tug to her serviceable black raincoat and
 bellowed up at him in a voice that would have done a
 drill sergeant proud. "You shouldn't squeeze
 them oranges!"
 Dan, his hand suddenly suspended in midair
 over an orange, cocked his head to one side
 quizzically, then bent down toward her voice.
 "Ma'am?"
 His small, polite smile faded when she
 repeated her warning, with some elaboration. "You'll
 bruise 'em! You pick good oranges by their
 color, not by the way they squeeze. Here, let
 me show you."
 With no further fuss, she tucked her red
 umbrella under one arm and planted herself firmly
 next to Dan as she began to sort efficiently
 through the oranges. "Hmph! Men! Reckon your
 wife's at work."
 Too surprised to resort to his usual
 sense of humor, Dan simply stood
 alongside her, his mouth slightly agape. "Uh
 ... ma'am--was
 "Sent you to do the shopping, did she? Well,
 you'd best go along with her a few times and learn
 how to do it proper! I wouldn't have turned my man
 --God rest his soul--loose at the market
 alone, not for anything. Look here, now!" She
 thrust a slightly mottled-looking orange
 directly upward to within an inch of 87
 Dan's nose. "See all those green places
 t're pushed in? You don't want that, no
 sir!"
 Giving him no opportunity to react, she
 removed the bruised orange, trading it for a
 healthy one. "Here's a good one now. Well,
 open your _bag!" Shaking her head with impatience,
 she plopped the large, perfect orange into the
 plastic sack still dangling from Dan's fingers. His
 mouth dropped open a little wider, but he said
 nothing.
 Jennifer chewed the knuckles of her fist in a
 noble attempt to choke off a giggle, willfully
 choosing to ignore the small voice that prompted
 her to interrupt.
 "Well, are you gonna finish gettin' what you
 want out of that bin, young man? I have some shopping of
 my _own to tend to!" She hurled a withering look
 of disapproval at Dan.
 "Oh--sure ... yes, ma'am!" In his
 haste to oblige, Dan knocked one of the
 oranges from its fixed place on top of the rows.
 Twenty other round, ripe oranges promptly                     44
 tumbled down and over the produce bin onto the
 floor.
 Jennifer swallowed a groan of dismay and
 took a step forward, stopping again when Dan's
 accuser dropped quickly to her knees, hiking up
 her coat and dress enough to allow freedom of
 movement. Dan stood numbly mute, looking
 positively stricken.
 "I swan, I don't know how some folks
 find their way home," the woman muttered,
 clucking her tongue in exasperation. With deft
 movements, she rolled a few oranges up
 onto her arm, then proceeded to bob up and down like
 a tightly compressed jack-in-the-box until
 she had replaced all the fruit in the bin.
 Waiting, Dan scratched his head, looked
 embarrassed, and reached for Sunny's harness.
 Jennifer knew it was time to make an entrance.
 She fixed her face into what she hoped was a
 sober expression and approached the two of them.
 "Can I help?"
 A quick look at Dan's scowling face
 confirmed what she feared--he had heard the snap
 of amusement in her voice. In a tone thick with
 menace, he leaned over and growled at her. "Where
 did you park--Cincinnati?"
 "This your woman?" The fruit expert 89
 eyeballed Jennifer with disdain. "I'd handle the
 marketing myself, if I were you."
 Jennifer swallowed almost painfully, halting the
 explosion of laughter that she knew would ruin her.
 "Ah ... yes. Yes, I suppose I should,"
 she said agreeably, meeting the woman's frown
 with a smile.
 After this exchange, Dan squared his shoulders with
 dignity, cuddled the plastic sack of oranges
 to his chest, and pretended to glance innocently around
 at his surroundings.
 "He's slow, is he?" The woman lowered her
 voice to a grating whisper.
 "Slow?" Jennifer looked up into Dan's
 face, which was a classic study in self-control.
 "Well ..."
 The woman appraised Dan once more, without
 emotion, expelling a small grunt of sympathy
 for Jennifer. "I expect he's a handful, big
 boy like that." And with that sage pronouncement, she
 walked away.
 It was Jennifer who finally broke the silence,
 dredging up every shred of self-control available
 to her in an effort to sound reasonably serious.
 "Well, Daniel, what else would you like besides
 oranges?"
 "How long have you been standing there, Jennifer?"            45
 he asked in a deceptively mild voice,
 holding out the plastic sack to her as though it might
 be contaminated.
 Jennifer meekly took the bag. "How long?
 Oh--well, you see, Dan, I had to look for a
 parking place. I was hurrying--I know how much you
 hate being alone in the supermarket--when I saw
 this elderly lady trying to juggle her cane and
 umbrella in the parking lot. She had dropped
 her sack, and her groceries were spilling out into a
 puddle. I had to help her, of course. I
 couldn't just leave her there like that. I thought you'd be
 all right, since Sunny was with you."
 "That's good, kid. Very good," he said in a
 nasty tone of voice. "Go on. I can't _wait
 to hear the rest of this."
 "Daniel, it's _true, honestly, I'm
 telling you--was
 "How long, Jennifer?"
 She took a deep breath, prepared for his
 wrath--which, she had to admit, was deserved. "I
 don't think I missed too much, actually."
 She bit her bottom lip and waited 91
 expectantly. "Are you angry with me?"
 "Angry?" he repeated smoothly, flinging an
 arm around her shoulder and giving her a rather rough hug.
 "Oh, I don't get angry, Jennifer--was
 "I just get even," she echoed in unison with
 him.
 "You're doing better, though," he said.
 "What?"
 "Well, I was expecting you to tear into that poor
 little old lady with your standard lecture on how
 to treat the disabled." He gave her a tolerant
 smile. "I think it's actually a healthy sign
 that you were able to stand there and enjoy my misery,
 Jennifer."
 He laughed at her small, disgruntled sound
 of self-defense. "C'mon, kid. I'll show
 you how to handpick the finest apples in the county."
 Before they left the shopping center, Jennifer
 coaxed Dan into a quick visit to the pet shop.
 He did everything he could to talk her into taking
 home a cross-eyed Siamese kitten that stole
 her heart as soon as she walked up to its cage,
 but she reluctantly left it there.
 "I don't know if I can have pets or not. It
 didn't even occur to me to ask when I rented the
 house." She glanced behind her as they went out the
 door.
 "Well, why don't you find out? Joe Como
 is so taken with you, he'd let you stock your own
 ark if it made you happy."
 Once inside the car, Jennifer stared out at the               46
 dismal afternoon and the cold rain still falling steadily.
 "Another few hours of this, and the ark might be a
 real possibility."
 It was only a little after three, but the slate
 gray sky and the downpour made it look more like
 evening. Jennifer drove with the headlights on dim
 and the windshield wipers on high.
 Dan contentedly helped himself to a half-pound
 bag of chocolate-covered peanuts. "Want
 some?"
 Jennifer glanced at the candy with longing. "They
 make me hyper," she said ruefully, scooping out
 a handful.
 "What doesn't?"
 Ignoring him, she turned off the main highway
 onto the two-lane county road that provided a
 shortcut to the radio station. "I don't know ...
 maybe I should have stayed on the Drive.
 Visibility is zilch, and I hate this 93
 road."
 "It's getting colder, too," Dan said.
 "Better watch the bridge--it might be
 slick."
 Jennifer glanced in the rearview mirror.
 There wasn't another car in sight. "Looks like
 everyone else had sense enough to stay home today."
 They lapsed into silence for the next few
 minutes, listening to the station and munching peanuts.
 The new disc jockey was doing part of
 Jennifer's show in her absence.
 "He's not nearly as good as you are, you know,"
 Dan finally said, breaking the quiet.
 "Why, Daniel--and I thought you hadn't
 noticed." Jennifer attempted to cover the warm
 rush of pleasure she felt at his compliment.
 "Mm. I notice more than you think. Our
 advertising has increased quite a bit for that afternoon
 drivetime. Started about a week after you took the
 show."
 "Aha! _That's why you noticed. Money
 talks."
 He shrugged. "You're good. You've got a
 lot of class on the air. You're easy on the
 ears, witty--was He paused. "Your voice
 ... grabs people. Holds them. I think they hear
 the same thing in it I do."
 "What?"
 "The smile in your voice," Dan replied
 simply. "Were you smiling just now?"
 "Yes," answered Jennifer slowly. "How
 did you know?"
 "I can hear it. I don't have to see your
 smile to feel it. And I think our listeners
 feel it, too."                                                47
 Flustered, Jennifer tried to pass the moment
 off lightly. She looked at him out of the corner
 of her eye. "Your shopping is done, so that's not
 your game. What are you up to, boss?"
 Dan closed the candy sack and stashed it between them
 on the console. "There _is something I'd like to talk
 about."
 Instantly alert to the gravity of his tone,
 Jennifer nodded. "I knew it."
 She glanced sideways to see him lace his
 fingers together and crack his knuckles, an
 uncommon gesture for Daniel. "Jennifer
 ... how would you feel about ... going out with me?"
 "Going out with you?" Jennifer parroted his words,
 trying to concentrate on the highway, which was 95
 beginning to reflect a suspicious-looking
 glaze. It was sleeting. She moaned aloud.
 "Sorry--it was just an idea." Dan's face
 went immediately slack.
 "What--oh, no! I didn't mean--was
 "It's OK," he said quickly. "I don't
 always read signals right. My mistake."
 "_Dan--was Jennifer reached out to touch his arm--
 "I was groaning because it's _sleeting and the road is
 horrendous. Not because you asked me out!"
 He said nothing. Jennifer looked over at him
 again, bewildered by the unmistakable tension lining his
 face. He looked as if he were about to jump from the
 car.
 Daniel Kaine? _Insecure?
 Understanding finally dawned. "You're asking me for a
 date, is that it?"
 "In my own inimitable way," Daniel said
 dryly after a noticeable hesitation.
 "Oh." Jennifer bit her lower lip.
 Well, why not? A date was only a date,
 after all. She spent most of her waking hours with
 him as it was. What would be so different about a
 date?
 An alarm sounded somewhere in Jennifer's head.
 She was already too attracted to Dan and spent far
 too much time with him. An honest-to-goodness date
 would only intensify an already treacherous situation,
 and she really shouldn't. It would definitely not be a
 smart thing to do.
 "Of course I'll go out with you, Dan," she
 said softly. "I'd like that very much."
 He cracked his knuckles again. "Look, you
 don't have to say yes just because you work for me. I
 wouldn't--was
 "I didn't."
 "Didn't what?"
 "Say yes just because I work for you."
 "Well, there _are drawbacks, Jennifer.                        48
 I'm not exactly your conventional date."
 "I don't know that that's necessarily a
 drawback, Dan."
 "You'd have to pick me up, you know."
 "That's hardly a problem."
 "And Sunny goes with me."
 "Sunny and I are pals. What evening did
 you have in mind?"
 "We could ask Gabe and Lyss to come along.
 That way you wouldn't have to drive--was
 "I enjoy driving. When?" 97
 "Look, Jennifer, I want to be sure you
 understand that--was
 "_When, Daniel?"
 He grinned, relaxed his hands, and drew a
 long breath. "My mother does that."
 "Your mother does what?" Jennifer asked
 impatiently.
 "Calls me _Daniel in that tone of voice
 when she gets impatient with me. How about tomorrow
 night?"
 "It's a weeknight."
 He was instantly wary. "You're busy?"
 "Not unless you make me work overtime again, I'm
 not. Fine. Tomorrow night. But only if I can
 leave the station by five."
 "Four, if you like."
 "Deal. Just to satisfy my curiosity, why were
 you so uptight about asking me for a date?"
 "I wasn't uptight. What makes you think
 I was uptight?"
 "Your lips turned blue and you broke the
 knuckles on both hands."
 "I always do that. It doesn't mean I'm
 uptight."
 Jennifer waited.
 His expression sobered. "I just wasn't sure
 if you would want to. The employer-employee
 thing." He turned his face toward the window on his
 side. "And the blindness," he added, his voice lower.
 "There's not exactly a waiting list of women
 wanting to go out with a blind man. I'm sure you can
 imagine some of the possible complications."
 Jennifer remained silent for a moment.
 "Well, I think I can handle most of those ...
 complications by now, don't you?" she asked evenly.
 "Since we're together so much?"
 He turned toward her. "You're really comfortable
 with the idea?"
 Jennifer considered her reply. There were times
 when she felt distinctly _uncomfortable with Dan.
 Unsettled. Even disturbed. But she knew it
 had nothing to do with his blindness. It had more to do, she
 suspected uneasily, with some new and                         49
 unfamiliar emotions that wouldn't seem to give her
 any peace these days.
 She hoped she didn't sound evasive.
 "I'd say so. I--was She swallowed the rest of
 her words as she glanced out the side mirror. A
 pickup truck was moving up rapidly behind them.
 Too rapidly. She saw him skid on 99
 the slippery road once. Then again. But he
 continued to close in on them. Jennifer's hands
 tensed on the steering wheel.
 "What's wrong?" Dan asked, immediately alert
 to the tension in her.
 "I _hate it when people do that! There's a pickup
 truck right on my bumper."
 "Maybe if you slow down he'll go around."
 Jennifer glanced down at the speedometer and
 eased up on the gas pedal. When she looked in
 the mirror again, the truck had slowed down, too.
 He was staying right with her.
 She slowed even more. So did the truck.
 "Is he still tailgating you?"
 "Yes. And he's making me extremely
 nervous. There's ice on the road, and it's not
 safe--was
 "Pull off, why don't you? Let him
 pass."
 "I think I will. He's getting a little too
 close." She turned on her right blinker and
 slowed even more, easing the car over to the shoulder of the
 road.
 
 
 By the time Dan heard the sound of the truck's
 engine, it was too late. It was the same truck,
 he was certain of it. There was the choppy,
 distinctive miss of a blown head gasket and the
 additional loud whirring of something loose or
 broken under the hood. The sound he had heard the
 night of Jennifer's party. The sound of the truck
 that had tried to run him down--or at least had
 tried to make him _think it was going to run him
 down.
 "Jennifer, watch out--was
 The warning came a second too late. He
 felt the jolt, the sudden push from the rear on
 Jennifer's side of the car, heard the loud crunch
 of metal. The car went pitching off the pavement and
 into a ditch. He snaked out one hand to help her
 steady the wheel and cried out a sharp warning.
 "Don't brake! Go with it!"
 He heard her ragged breathing, heard her gasp
 for air, but he could tell by the way she was gripping
 the wheel that she hadn't panicked. The sudden,
 careening stop knocked his arm sharply against hers, but      50
 they were all right.
 He heard the truck go on by, heard the sound
 of the motor gradually fade as it roared 101
 on down the road. His hands were shaking as he
 released his seat belt and reached for her.
 "Jennifer--was
 "Oh, Dan--are you all right?"
 "I'm fine. What about you?" he asked
 gruffly, gripping her hand.
 For a second, they both sat speechless and
 stunned. Then Jennifer unlocked her seat belt
 and fought for a couple of deep breaths. Without a
 second thought, Dan ignored the console and reached
 across the seat, gathering her into his arms.
 Jennifer's tenuous self-control shattered, and
 she choked on a ragged sob. Dan felt his own
 hands tremble as he tried to calm her. He held
 her for a long time, pressing her face against his
 shoulder, murmuring soft sounds of comfort against her
 hair.
 "It's OK, now. We're fine, honey,
 we're just fine."
 "But it must be awful for you." Her voice sounded
 strangled against his shoulder. "Another car accident
 after what happened before. ..."
 Dan shushed her gently, smiling to think that, after
 what had just happened, her primary concern was for
 him. He cradled her tightly against his chest,
 rocking her back and forth as he would a child.
 "I'm perfectly fine," he assured her.
 "Gabe has given me a couple of much bigger
 scares in his old T-bird. Don't even think
 about it."
 "But, Dan, that was _deliberate! That truck
 intentionally rammed into us!"
 "Are you sure, Jennifer?" But he knew the
 answer to his own question. __He might have really
 hurt someone this _time, he thought. A cold
 trickle of fear iced the back of his neck as he
 realized that _someone could have been Jennifer. What
 was he going to do about this nut? He couldn't just let
 it go on.
 "Did you get a good look at the truck?"
 he asked her. "License number, anything?"
 "No," she said. "It was an old pickup,
 that's all I noticed. A Ford, I think."
 He had known it was a truck, had known by the
 sound of it that night when the guy came barreling
 over the hill at him. But another Ford? He
 swallowed hard. __Just a weird coincidence,
 that's all. There must be hundreds of Ford
 pickups in this _county.
 He cupped the back of her head again. 103
 "Shh ... there's nothing we can do about it now.              51
 He's long gone. We'd better get back on
 the road. Are you OK to drive?"
 Drawing away from him, Jennifer sniffed a
 few times. He heard her fishing for a tissue.
 She blew her nose, then expelled a long
 breath. "Yes, I'm all right. We're in a
 ditch, but I think I can get out. It's not that
 deep."
 She moved away from him, and he heard the
 click of her seat belt. After several minutes
 of rocking the car from reverse to drive, they were out
 of the ditch and back on the road.
 In the silence on the way back to the station,
 Dan could hear Jennifer's anxious breathing.
 Twice he heard her seat creak as she turned
 to look back over her shoulder. And he understood.
 If he hadn't been blind, he would have been looking
 over _his shoulder, too.
 
 SIX
 
 During the next few days Jennifer found herself
 growing increasingly concerned about Dan's peculiar
 quietness. He was pensive, unusually serious--
 even moody, she thought. Two or three times she
 had walked into his office and found him sitting at
 his desk, raking his hands through his beard in a
 gesture of weariness and frowning as if he were
 worried about something. When she tried to get him
 to talk about it, he pretended he didn't know
 what she meant and quickly changed the subject.
 The only times Jennifer had been with him over
 the past week had been during work hours at the
 station or on a work-related project.
 Objectively, she knew that shouldn't concern her.
 Still, she couldn't help but wonder why he had
 suddenly become so distant.
 Today had been no different. They had been on
 the church bus for over half an hour on their way
 to a youth rally in Clarksburg, and he had spoken
 no more than two or three sentences the entire
 time. She had helped him enough with the ensemble to know he
 was usually buoyant and full of fun when he was
 with the teens. At the moment, however, he seemed
 distracted and almost lethargic.
 "Does Gabe always drive the bus?" she
 asked, making yet another attempt at
 conversation.
 For a moment, she thought he hadn't 105
 heard her. But he finally answered. "Most of the
 time," he said.
 Something about his hands caught Jennifer's
 attention. They were clenched tightly in his lap, and
 every now and then he would squeeze them together as though   52
 they ached.
 Her gaze moved back to his face.
 "Jason is having a great time up there with Jim
 Arbegunst and the other fellows. Do you usually bring
 him with you to these rallies?"
 Dan nodded. "When we can. He likes being
 with the teens. They give him a lot of attention."
 "The ensemble is providing all the music
 tonight?"
 "Mm-him."
 Another long interval of silence followed.
 Jennifer glanced across the aisle to the other window,
 staring out with no real interest at the rugged,
 mountainous landscape. It had turned cold again,
 and the contoured hillsides were snow-covered against a
 deep gray winter's sky.
 "I think it's going to snow again."
 Dan made no reply. Finally Jennifer
 decided she'd had enough. "Dan, are you upset
 about something?" she demanded bluntly.
 That seemed to get his attention. He relaxed his
 hands as if he had only then noticed what he was
 doing and turned his face toward her. He looked
 surprised.
 "Upset?"
 "You're awfully quiet. In fact, you've
 been quiet all week. Is something wrong?"
 He frowned and shook his head. "No. I'm
 sorry, I guess I've just had a lot on my
 mind."
 "Are you angry with me?"
 His look of surprise returned. "Why would
 I be angry with you?"
 "I don't know." Jennifer thought for a moment.
 "I did nag you about calling the police last
 week, after that truck ran us off the road. I still
 don't understand why you wouldn't report it."
 "I told you why," he said tightly. "It
 wouldn't have done any good."
 
 Dan immediately regretted his shortness with her.
 He softened his voice. "We didn't even have a
 license number, remember? There are a lot of
 Ford pickup trucks in this county."
 "Well, I still think we should have told 107
 the police."
 Dan could hear the slight edge in her voice and
 knew she didn't understand. Why should she? More to the
 point, how _could she?
 He wasn't even sure _he understood. None
 of it made any sense. He was beginning to feel like
 a marked man. Ever since the incident with the truck
 last week, the phone calls had been coming more
 frequently, almost regularly. And each time he                53
 had had the peculiar sensation that the caller was
 angrier and more disturbed than ever. Worse still,
 he'd had the distinct feeling at least twice this
 week that someone was watching the house. He had
 tried to tell himself he was just going through another round
 of anxiety attacks. But he wondered.
 The man called the house every night, sometimes more
 than once. Occasionally, he spoke; more often he
 didn't. He had begun calling the station almost
 daily. But he never came right out and explained
 what he was up to. Over and over, Dan had
 asked himself whether the caller actually meant him
 harm, or whether he was simply trying to frighten
 him. Or, even more likely, if he was just a
 loose cannon looking for a target.
 He also wondered if there was any significance
 to the fact that as the radiothon drew nearer, the
 harassment seemed to intensify. A connection
 seemed unlikely, yet he was beginning
 to suspect that there might be one. Could the idea of the
 radiothon possibly be so abhorrent to someone that
 he would go to this length to stop it?
 He found that hard to believe. Yet he couldn't
 shake the feeling that in some way the radiothon was
 at the heart of this siege of madness.
 If he were right, he knew he would have to tell
 someone soon, no matter how odious he found the
 idea. Too many people were involved in the radiothon.
 He couldn't let his own stubborn independence
 overshadow common sense. If he waited too
 long and this turned out to be more than a scare
 tactic, he might put someone else in
 jeopardy.
 _Someone _like _Jennifer.
 The thought stabbed him in the heart.
 He reached over and covered her hand with his.
 "I'm sorry. I guess I _have been
 preoccupied," he said softly, turning toward
 her. "You have to understand. There's this lady in my
 life who's messing up my head. I seem to have
 a lot of trouble thinking of anything else 109
 but her these days."
 "You needn't apologize," she murmured.
 "I know you're busy."
 He squeezed her hand. "Am I forgiven?"
 She pressed her fingers against his but said nothing.
 
 Jennifer and Dan started through the entrance of the
 host church while Jim took Sunny for a pit
 stop. Distracted for an instant when Gabe
 yelled a question at them from the bus, Jennifer
 turned back to Dan, only to see him narrowly
 miss being hit in the face by the swinging church
 door.                                                         54
 She started to cry out a warning, but it died on
 her lips as he pivoted smoothly away from the
 door, narrowly avoiding its impact.
 "How did you do that?"
 "Do what?" Dan waited for her to guide him
 down the hall to the auditorium. "I wish Jim
 would bring Sunny on back. I could use her for a
 while."
 "You've done it before," Jennifer said, bending
 over to pick up some music she'd dropped. She
 tucked her free hand under his arm and began to walk
 with him. "You avoid collisions as if you could see
 them coming."
 "I have facial vision," he replied.
 Just then, Jim and the retriever came through the
 door, and Jennifer waited while Dan put
 Sunny's harness on.
 "What's facial vision?"
 "Radar," Dan said shortly, allowing
 Sunny to lead him up the steps to the platform.
 Jennifer stared at him for a moment, then
 followed. "Figures," she muttered dryly.
 "Batman and Robin together again."
 "Great team," he answered cheerfully.
 "Jim, if you're going back to the bus, tell
 Gabe I need him in here as soon as possible
 to help set up the sound.
 "It really is a kind of radar," he went on
 to explain to Jennifer. "Bats have it. When
 objects--or people--move, they send out sound
 waves. If you really work at it, you get to the
 point where you can estimate the size of an
 object. It's helped to save my head a
 number of times."
 He stood unmoving for a moment, as if trying
 to get his bearings. "Give me the layout of the
 platform, would you? I haven't been here 111
 for over a year. I don't especially want
 to provide any unexpected entertainment for all
 these teenagers by falling on my face."
 "You're at the front right now." Jennifer
 glanced around them. "There's nothing up here except
 a grand piano and a console organ a few feet
 to your left. And there's a podium at the far
 left front. Of course, we haven't got
 any of our stuff in place yet." She opened his
 music case and searched until she found the
 program for the evening, which she had typed into Braille for
 him.
 Jason came bounding up the steps just then,
 screeching to a sudden halt in front of Dan.
 He started to pet Sunny, then stopped.
 "Dan, can I take Sunny off her harness and
 keep her with me?"                                            55
 "No. Remember what I told you about that,
 Jason," Dan said firmly, squatting down
 on one knee by the retriever. "Sunny has a
 job to do, and she expects to take her orders from
 me. When the harness is on, that means she's working
 and can't play. When I take it off, she knows
 it's all right to have fun."
 "Oh yeah ... I forgot. You're her
 boss."
 "Something like that." Dan stood, hooking his thumb
 in the harness.
 "And you're Jennifer's boss, too." A
 frown ridged Jason's forehead. "How does
 _she know when it's all right to play?"
 Dan lifted one dark eyebrow in obvious
 amusement. "Ah ... right. Well, you see,
 Jason, Jennifer likes her work so much she's
 always having fun." He turned around with a smug
 grin. "Isn't that right, Jennifer?"
 Jennifer crossed her arms over her ski
 jacket and weighed her answer carefully. "That's
 exactly right, Jason," she declared, watching
 Dan incline his head in anticipation. "That's why
 I work so much overtime. It's strictly for
 _fun."
 "_Dan--was Jason shifted impatiently from
 one foot to the other.
 "All right, all right. Take her and go."
 Dan removed Sunny's harness and hustled the
 dog and the boy off with a grin. "But stay close
 to Jim."
 The boy hesitated. "Will you be OK, Dan?
 Without Sunny?" 113
 "I'll be just fine, sport," Dan said with a
 smile. "Jennifer will be my eyes for now."
 As Jason and the retriever took off, Dan
 turned slightly, raising his chin in the alert,
 listening expression he often wore. "So--what do
 you think of my little buddy?"
 "Oh, he's adorable! It's just too bad.
 ..."
 Dan's smile faded. "Too bad?"
 "You know--that he's the way he is." Jennifer
 had heard the tone of his voice change and glanced
 up at him.
 "Retarded, you mean?"
 Jennifer wondered at the somber expression
 on his face. "Dan? Did I say something
 wrong?"
 "No. Not really." His smile was strained and
 quickly gone. "I'll be honest with you. That phrase
 --_it's _too _bad--has been a pet peeve
 of mine ever since the accident. I understand it
 bothers a lot of people with disabilities. It's ...           56
 a little like someone raking long fingernails across a
 blackboard, you know?"
 She saw him clench and unclench his right hand as
 he went on. "A quadriplegic I met through
 Friend-to-Friend told me it always made him think
 of a gaggle of mourners standing over a coffin and
 clucking their tongues over the body."
 Embarrassed, Jennifer bit her lower lip
 nervously. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
 His mouth softened to a more natural smile. "You
 couldn't. Don't worry about it. Sometimes I
 overreact. But what you said about Jason ..."
 He hesitated, took a deep breath, then
 exhaled slowly.
 "Dan, I didn't mean to--was
 He dismissed her protest with a wave of his hand.
 "I understand what you meant. But I don't agree
 with you. I guess I don't think about Jason as
 being--deprived. Just special."
 "Are you saying it doesn't bother you that
 Jason is so ... _limited?" she asked
 incredulously.
 He shrugged. "You tell me, Jennifer--is
 Jason really so much worse off than other
 kids? Than _normal kids?"
 "But he's such a beautiful little boy!"
 Jennifer countered sharply. "Doesn't it make
 you angry, Daniel, seeing the unfairness of his
 life? Doesn't it hurt you, knowing 115
 he's--trapped like that?"
 "Trapped?" Something flickered in his eyes--the
 eyes that usually held only tenderness or
 laughter or concern--and his chin lifted just a
 fraction.
 "Well," she stammered uncertainly, "he's
 never going to be able to lead a normal life."
 Dan's jaw tensed even more. "You see
 Jason as a tragedy, do you?"
 "I--no! That's not what I meant, I--was
 "No? What, then?"
 She heard the accusation in his voice, saw a
 muscle tighten at the corner of his mouth. The
 conversation had suddenly gone wrong, and she hurried
 to end it.
 "I think it's so unfair, that's all," she
 murmured. "I don't understand why God allows
 some of the things he allows--was
 Dan moved just a step closer to her and
 straightened his shoulders. Then, unexpectedly, his
 expression began to gentle and his mouth curved into a
 thoughtful smile. "And you'd like to correct a few
 of his mistakes, wouldn't you?" he asked
 quietly.
 "What?"                                                       57
 "Let's forget it," he suggested abruptly,
 still smiling.
 "Not until you explain that last remark."
 Jennifer dug in, not about to budge.
 He remained silent for a moment. Then a
 familiar glint of amusement crossed his face.
 "You're such a rebel," he said mildly, reaching
 out to entwine a strand of her hair around his finger.
 "In the sixties, you would have spent most of your
 time at sit-ins and protest marches, I'll
 bet." With a small nod of his head, he added,
 "Instead, you're stuck with an exasperating blind
 man and a mentally limited little boy. No real
 challenge for a gal with a burning heart."
 "At least you didn't say _bleeding heart,"
 she muttered grudgingly.
 "Now you're angry with me." Suddenly he
 looked extremely vulnerable.
 "No." Jennifer found it next to impossible
 to be genuinely angry with Dan, even though he
 _could be the most exasperating man at times. But for
 now, she could feel her petulance fading as she
 studied him.
 His face was so ... _endearing, she thought. It was
 the face of a man who had known great pain 117
 and enormous loss, yet had miraculously
 retained the ability to laugh deeply and live--
 even love--fully. Shadows had marched across that
 face, but they had been powerless to destroy the light
 of the man. A quiet flame glowed from within, the
 subtle blending of gentleness and strength, humor
 and kindness, that made him Daniel Kaine.
 "Jennifer, I wasn't criticizing you."
 He spread his hands with apology. "We just look
 at things differently. You see Jason as
 trapped. I don't. If I did, I'd have
 to see myself the same way ... and I don't
 dare.
 "That boy," he continued quietly, "has a
 precious gift of wonder. He appreciates
 all the little ordinary things that other people never even
 notice. To Jason, a colored rock is a
 special gift. A seashell is magic. A
 butterfly is a friend. And life is ... pure,
 unqualified joy."
 The warmth in his tone deepened, and tenderness
 filled his smile. "He has a faith that you and
 I can only envy. He _knows the Father. He
 holds God's hand, talks to him about every little thing
 in his life--frogs and rainbows and ladybugs, the
 dream he had last night, the scrape on his
 knee, the hurt in his heart." Dan shook his
 head in a knowing gesture of affection.
 "I believe that Jason says `I love                            58
 you` to the Lord with every breath he takes. He has
 an enormous capacity--and a tremendous need--for
 love. Just like all of us," he added quietly.
 Jennifer lowered her eyes to stare at the
 floor. She suddenly felt terribly young and
 insensitive.
 "Do you really think," he asked, his voice
 deep with emotion, "that's what it's like to be
 trapped?"
 "I'm sorry, Dan," Jennifer choked out.
 "Obviously, I don't know what I'm talking
 about."
 "You _are upset with me. Don't be," he
 urged her. "I hate it when your voice loses
 its smile."
 She looked away from him, feeling a sudden
 need to hide her agitation, even though she knew
 he couldn't see her face. "No. Really,
 I'm not!" she protested, trying to force a note
 of brightness into her words.
 He stood unmoving, as though he were 119
 attempting to search her mind, to probe the corners
 of her heart. Neither of them spoke for a long time.
 Suddenly she felt his hands on her shoulders,
 a light, uncertain touch. Then he tipped her
 chin upward, forcing her to face him. Jennifer
 caught her breath. The tenderness in his expression
 made her heart ache.
 "Jennifer," he said very quietly, his hands
 tightening on her shoulders, "I wish I could find
 a way to convince you to let go of your anger."
 "Anger?" Again she looked away, unable
 to endure the depth of feeling that had settled over
 his features.
 He nodded sadly. "Anger. That's what it
 is, you know. You're angry with God. About your
 singing career. My blindness. Jason. So many things.
 "You think God is unfair. So you beat your
 fists against his will." His expression was gentle, his
 tone firm but not censuring. "It doesn't work,
 Jennifer. I can tell you from experience that being
 angry with God doesn't work." He brushed her
 cheek lightly with one finger. "He's not your
 enemy, Jennifer."
 Jennifer tensed under his hands. She didn't
 want to argue with him. She didn't want
 to explain herself or try to defend herself. Dan was
 right about the anger, but she didn't want him to know
 the extent of it. She didn't want to expose the
 barrenness of her spirit to a man whose faith seemed
 to scale mountains and soar with the eagles.
 Ridiculously, she almost wished him less
 than he was, a weaker man, because suddenly she
 wanted desperately to be big enough for him, to be            59
 _good enough for him.
 She knew that any woman who would love this
 man would have to have wings on her faith, wings that would
 enable her to rise above the shadows and fly beyond the
 darkness.
 Unfortunately, the wings of _her faith were
 pitifully weak. Perhaps even irreparably
 broken.
 
 SEVEN
 
 When they stepped outside three hours later,
 they were met by an angry blast of wind and swirling
 snow. Obviously, the snow had been falling for
 some time; the ground was already covered.
 "I simply love this weather," Jennifer
 muttered. 121
 "Might as well get used to it," Dan said.
 He slung one arm around her shoulder as he held
 Sunny's harness with the other hand.
 Jennifer wrinkled her nose and squinted her
 eyes against the pelting snow. Ahead of them,
 Gabe was hustling everyone onto the bus, growling
 out orders to speed up the loading of equipment. The
 teens, trying to meet his demands, were running back
 and forth from the bus to the auditorium, sliding and
 skating on the pavement as they tugged their instruments
 up the steps of the bus.
 Jennifer brushed snow from her hair and face as
 she followed Dan and Sunny down the aisle.
 On the way, she exchanged wisecracks with the
 teens who were already on board. She stopped long enough
 to settle Jason into a seat beside Jim before going
 on to the rear of the bus to sit with Dan.
 He waited until she scooted in next to the
 window, then coiled his long frame into the seat beside
 her, with Sunny settling herself in the aisle by his
 side. "This may be a long ride," he said,
 opening the cover of his Braille watch and touching its
 face. "We'll be lucky to get home by one if
 the roads are as bad as Gabe thinks they're
 going to be."
 The words were no more out of his mouth than Gabe
 stood up from the driver's seat and turned to face
 his passengers, giving the zipper of his coat a
 sharp tug. His voice was unusually serious and
 authoritative. "People, I want you to do your
 driver a big favor. Just lean back, relax
 --and sack out! Beginning now. This is _not a good
 night for giving old Gabe a hard time. In
 fact, I strongly recommend that you don't even
 breathe too heavy."
 The request was unnecessary. Most of the teens, already
 drowsy from the late hour and the rich food they had          60
 eaten after the rally, fell asleep within minutes.
 Lulled by the warmth from the heater and the monotonous
 roar of the tires on the snow-covered road,
 Jennifer felt her eyes growing heavy. Even
 so, she made an attempt to carry on a
 conversation with Dan.
 "You look tired, Daniel."
 "I am." With a large, contented yawn, he
 leaned his head back against the seat, turning his
 face to Jennifer. "You?" He reached for her,
 wrapping her slender hand snugly inside the warmth
 of his larger one.
 "Because my speech is slurred and my 123
 eyes won't focus? Of course not. Comatose,
 maybe, but not tired."
 He laughed softly. "I'll lend you a
 shoulder if you want to take a nap."
 "Mm ... you're tempting me, Dan, you
 really are." Jennifer's voice thickened as she
 fought to keep her eyes open.
 "My pleasure," he assured her in a
 whisper, his free hand gently coaxing her head
 onto the broad warmth of his shoulder.
 "I probably can't sleep, you know,"
 Jennifer protested with a huge yawn, trying hard
 to ignore the crazy flip-flop of her heart.
 She glanced uneasily over her shoulder at the
 icy window beside her. Snow was pelting the bus,
 driven by a moaning, angry wind.
 Shivering, she nestled a little closer to Dan's
 warmth. "Bad weather always makes me nervous."
 "Anything you can't fix makes you nervous,
 rebel. Go to sleep. The Lord can handle this one
 without your help."
 Too tired to protest, Jennifer yawned again.
 "Mm-hmm ... I s'pose. ..."
 
 
 Dan smiled with enormous pleasure, leaning
 closer to accommodate Jennifer's head on his
 shoulder. He felt like a king as she leaned
 contentedly against him. He touched his cheek to her
 hair, and the soft fragrance made him almost
 dizzy.
 It occurred to him that this was probably one of the
 few times Jennifer wasn't actively
 protesting ... _something ... and he smiled.
 She moved her hand, bringing it to lie against his
 chest as she stirred in her sleep. He covered it
 with his own, curling her slender fingers under his as though
 he were sheltering a small dove beneath his palm.
 __Please, Lord, let it be her ... after all
 these years of waiting, being afraid to hope and being
 _afraid not __to ... please, let her be the                   61
 _one.
 Within moments, he closed his eyes and fell
 asleep.
 
 Jennifer awoke to the engine drone that had
 soothed her to sleep. She looked up at Dan
 from under heavy-lidded eyes, her heartbeat quickening
 when she saw the tender way he had locked her hand
 in his. A warm blanket of sweetness 125
 enfolded her as she gazed up into his sleeping
 face. His silken charcoal hair was ruffled from
 sleep, falling away from his face instead of forward
 as it usually did.
 In the rare vulnerability of the moment, she thought
 she could detect just a glimpse of the boy he had
 once been. A tendril of sadness coiled around
 her heart as she studied him. What was it like for him
 when he woke up morning after morning to the same
 gray void--always the same, whether he was awake
 or asleep? How did he face day after day of
 getting up in the dark ... going to bed with no
 moonlight creeping through his window, no stars to wish
 on? How did he live, knowing it would never again be
 daylight for him?
 __Such a good, kind man, _Lord, she thought
 sadly, unaware for a moment that she was praying.
 __Why did this have to happen to him? With all the
 cruel, wicked people in this world--people who bring nothing but
 misery to others--why did such a terrible thing have
 to happen to _Dan?
 A familiar well of bitterness bubbled up in
 her again, and her thoughts turned even more resentful.
 __Why Daniel ... or Loren ... or my
 mother ... or little Jason? Not one of them ever did
 a mean thing in their _lives.
 A random thought of her own personal hurt
 insinuated itself among the others--her dream, her
 special, bright, shining dream. The focus of her
 life had been to sing, to bring people to their feet in awe
 of the music, the glorious music. ...
 __I won't think about it. I promised myself
 I'd never think about _it.
 She looked up at Dan again. odd, how in
 such a short time she had come to count on this man,
 to trust him and believe in him when she couldn't
 seem to believe in much of anything else. She
 thought she could literally throw her life into his hands
 with complete confidence. What a strange,
 inexplicable way to feel about--a blind man.
 Suddenly, an old, bittersweet memory
 drifted into her mind, a memory touched with pain and
 poignant with love. She saw her mother's face,
 frail and white and drawn in the last remaining
 days of her life. She heard the strained voice,               62
 once so melodious and resonant, now drained of
 its rich, vibrant strength. And she saw herself,
 a frightened, angry teenager, fighting to hold on
 to her mother. To the end, she had gone on fighting.
 ... 127
 It was one of the last times they had prayed together,
 and Jennifer had had to force herself to keep her head
 bowed and her thoughts turned to God. She was so
 terribly angry by then. And afraid. Afraid
 of what was coming, the suffering her small mother would yet
 endure, the desperate loneliness her father would have
 to bear, the adolescent Paul's confusion, and
 poor little Loren's bewilderment. Loren had been
 unable to understand, at only eight years old, why
 his irritable, anxious older sister was suddenly
 doing all the things for him his mommy had once
 done.
 In spite of her weakness, her mother's voice
 had been surprisingly strong that day.
 "... Jennifer is such a good girl, Father, a
 strong girl. She will need a strong man, Lord.
 I know that even now you are preparing such a man for
 her, just as you're preparing Jennifer for her
 future husband. I pray that he will be a very
 special man, Father ... very special indeed, for
 Jennifer is special, too."
 She had opened her eyes then and looked
 directly into Jennifer's gaze, her frail hand
 clasping her daughter's even tighter. "You must be
 sure to wait, Jennifer. Wait for God's
 man."
 Unhappy, sick with pity and worry for her
 mother, Jennifer had only managed a disinterested
 mumble. "Yes, Mother. I will."
 Her mother had smiled then, her eyes brimming with
 love and certainty. "He'll be ... different,
 I imagine; no ordinary man. The Lord knows you
 need a strong, different kind of man to help you
 harness that independent spirit of yours and bring it into line
 for God's work." She had moved her hand
 to Jennifer's cheek, still smiling into her daughter's
 eyes. "You wait and see, Jennifer. He'll
 be a very special man. ..."
 Suddenly, Jennifer looked up at Dan and
 felt a need to touch him. She reached out to smooth
 a dark wisp of hair away from his forehead, and he
 slowly opened his eyes. He squeezed her hand,
 his slow, gentle smile enveloping her in its
 warmth.
 "I didn't mean to wake you," Jennifer
 murmured. She thought she should probably move
 away, but she felt a sudden sense of loss at
 the very thought.
 Had her mind not been so thick with fatigue and               63
 clouded with memories, she might have 129
 felt a trace of amazement at how easy it
 was, how right it felt, to be almost in his arms.
 Indeed, she _was in his arms, she suddenly
 realized, with one hand against his chest, still tucked
 inside his, and his other arm now coming to rest
 securely around her shoulders. But she felt not
 even the slightest inclination to move away.
 "Is it still snowing?" he asked softly.
 "Are you admitting a radar failure?" she
 teased in a whisper. Glancing out of the corner of
 her eye--as much effort as she could bring herself
 to make at the moment--she shuddered at the lack of
 visibility. "It's _awful! I can't see
 anything."
 He gently cupped her shoulder with his hand,
 moving her closer to him until her face was almost
 touching his. "Then don't look," he said
 softly, smiling the irresistible slow smile she
 had grown to cherish so very much.
 Jennifer was unable to look away from his face.
 They were so close, their lips almost brushing. But still
 they didn't touch. She sensed that he was waiting,
 wondering, and she felt herself dropping deeper into the
 dark stillness wrapped around them.
 "Is the gang still asleep?" he finally
 whispered, moving his hand from her shoulder to lift and
 comb gently through the tousled waves of her hair.
 "I think so. Hard to believe so many teenagers
 can all conk out at once, isn't it?"
 Jennifer felt an irrational urge to start
 babbling, to chatter away the sweet intensity of the
 moment.
 "No one's awake but us?" His voice was low,
 so low it made her catch her breath.
 "Just ... us," she answered weakly. "And
 Gabe, I hope." Her words stuck in her
 throat when he began, with an achingly gentle
 touch, to trace the pattern of her face. His rough
 fingertips traveled over her smooth skin, lingering
 on her lips. "Why?" she choked out.
 "Because ..." The word was no more than a whisper as
 his thumb tenderly rubbed across her dimpled chin.
 "I don't especially want an audience the first
 time I kiss you."
 Jennifer saw his eyelashes flutter
 uncertainly against the upper ridge of his
 cheekbones. His hands framed her face as he
 lowered his head. At last he found her lips,
 touching them with his own in a kiss as light as a
 whisper. 131
 Jennifer's heart seemed to melt like a
 low-burning candle when Dan breathed her name, just
 once, against the softness of her cheek. She could            64
 hear her pulse pound in her ears, the only sound
 around them in the darkness.
 He gathered her as close as the seat would
 allow, kissing her once more, a longer kiss of
 tenderness and searching and meaning. When he finally put
 her gently away from him, Jennifer heard him
 sigh as though it made him very sad.
 "Ah, Jennifer," he whispered against her
 cheek, "you are such a gift ... such a precious
 gift."
 "Daniel--was She reached up to touch the
 textured velvet of his bearded cheek, and he
 quickly covered her hand with his own.
 "So fine," he murmured. "Everything about you
 is so ... _fine ... _so _beautiful ... and you
 don't even know it. You have no idea how very
 precious you are ... especially to me."
 Jennifer's head suddenly began to pound. __It
 can't be Daniel, Lord ... it can't be him, can
 it? He's strong--but he's too strong. Far
 too strong for me. I could never be what he
 needs, what he deserves. Never. I don't
 understand this man, I don't understand his strength or his
 obedience to you or his peace. It can't be Daniel
 ... that wouldn't work at all, Lord ... it just
 wouldn't work at _all.
 She buried her head in the warmth of Dan's
 shoulder, ignoring--for the moment at least--how very
 different they were from each other and the thought of how
 impossible it would ever be to reconcile those
 differences.
 
 EIGHT
 
 The man leaned back as far as possible against the
 torn seat of the truck. The streetlight wasn't
 shining directly on him, but it was shedding enough of a
 glow to make him nervous.
 He chewed his lower lip anxiously with his
 teeth, then sneered at his own skittishness. No
 one was paying any attention to the truck. Kaine
 couldn't see anything, and the woman wasn't looking
 anywhere but at Kaine. The other two, that
 blabbermouth Denton and Kaine's sister, were
 looking in the window of the music store next to the
 restaurant.
 He narrowed his eyes as he stared at 133
 the guide dog walking beside the blind man. Frowning,
 he stroked the deep vertical line that edged one
 side of his mouth. That dog could be a problem. He
 might have to take care of the dog first.
 He watched the four of them, laughing and horsing
 around like a bunch of kids as they got
 into Denton's T-bird and pulled away from the                 65
 curb.
 Kaine was all lit up tonight, a stupid grin
 plastered all over his face. If he wasn't
 such a Sunday do-gooder, a body might think
 he'd lifted a few.
 His mouth curled into a contemptuous smile. It
 was the woman; that's why Kaine was glowing like a
 Christmas tree. He had been watching them for
 over two weeks now. They were almost always together.
 Sometimes they'd go to her house and eat, then she'd
 take him up the hill to his place. They went
 to Como's restaurant a lot, too. Sure,
 Kaine could afford that. He had to be loaded, the
 way he was always throwing his money around.
 Yeah, they were getting real thick. He'd been
 watching. He liked to watch the woman. She almost
 always closed her drapes over the sheer curtains
 in her living room, but there was enough of a gap at the
 side of the window that he could still see in. When
 Kaine wasn't there, she'd curl up on the couch
 with a pencil tucked behind her ear and read or listen
 to music.
 She was a pretty woman. Too good-looking
 for a man who couldn't even see her. She had a
 nice voice, too. Sometimes he listened to her
 on the radio. But once in a while Kaine would
 be on the air with her, and then he'd turn them off.
 He wouldn't listen to them talk to each other on the
 radio. You could hear her get all smiley when
 they were together. You could hear in her voice that she
 liked that big hairy ape.
 It didn't matter. Kaine wasn't going
 to be around much longer. As soon as he tormented
 him some more, made him pay for the misery he'd
 brought on him, he'd turn him off for good.
 The thought made him snicker out loud. He
 waited a minute, then pulled out and followed the
 Thunderbird, staying well behind.
 Just as he had hoped, they went to the Terry
 woman's house. He slowed down almost to a stop
 and watched as Denton let Kaine and the woman out,
 then took off with Kaine's sister.
 Good. That meant he'd have time to pay a 135
 visit to the blind man's empty house.
 He pressed the gas pedal a little harder and
 took off. He felt anxious and excited. With a
 chuckle of elation, he reached into the deep pocket
 of his hunting jacket, removed a small
 flask, and took a quick swig of its contents.
 After two more gulps he stuck the flask back in
 his pocket. That was better. He felt warmer
 now. Ready to deliver his little surprise to the
 Kaine residence.
 He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand,                 66
 glancing down at the floor on the passenger's
 side of the truck. His anticipation flared as he
 looked at the gallon bucket and the crowbar lying
 beside it.
 __You like games, Kaine. You been playing
 games with me for a long time, making me wait,
 worrying me half-crazy ... now I'm gonna
 have the fun. It's my game now, blind man. And
 you're gonna be the _loser.
 A sudden unpleasant thought sliced through the
 thick haze of his mind, causing his laughter to die
 abruptly. __The woman ... what if Kaine
 has told the _woman?
 The two were always together. All you had to do was
 watch them and you could see they had something going.
 Kaine had kept quiet all these years--
 probably just biding his time, planning to ruin him
 eventually--but he hadn't had a girlfriend until
 now. Wouldn't he likely tell his woman?
 The slight tremor in his hands turned to an
 almost violent shake as he fought to keep a grip
 on the steering wheel. He began to nod his head up
 and down, pulling his mouth into a furious snarl.
 __Maybe he's already told her ... maybe she
 already _knows.
 He didn't want to hurt the woman. Not
 yet. He had plans for her, once Kaine was out
 of the way. Still, he ought to find out what she knew,
 if anything.
 He glanced down once more at the floor of the
 truck before turning up the hill to Kaine's
 place. He'd make his little delivery, then go
 back down to the woman's house and see what he
 could find out.
 He had eavesdropped on them before. Standing
 outside by the living-room window, he could hear them
 pretty well. That's what he'd do. There was
 time. Plenty of time. This was his game now. He'd
 call the plays. 137
 He smiled. And he'd name the players. The
 woman was just another part of the game, after all.
 
 END OF VOLUME I
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
                                                               67
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 STORM AT DAYBREAK
 
 by
 B. J. HOFF
 
 
 
 Volume II of Two Volumes
 Pages i-ii and 139-297
 
 
 
 
 Published by: Tyndale House Publishers,
 Inc., WHEATON, ILLINOIS. Further
 reproduction or distribution in other than a
 specialized format is prohibited.
 
 
 
 
 Produced in braille for the Library of Congress,
 National Library Service for the Blind and
 Physically Handicapped, by Braille International,
 Inc., 1998.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Copyright 1986 by B. J. Hoff
 
 
 
 
 
 
                                                               68
 
 
 
 
 
 STORM AT DAYBREAK 139
 
 NINE
 
 Dan set his empty pie plate on the table
 beside the couch. Then he stretched, locked his hands
 behind his head, and leaned comfortably back against the
 plump cushion, smiling with obvious contentment.
 "Well, Jennifer, your banana cream pie
 more than makes up for your coffee," he said
 lazily.
 Jennifer returned from the kitchen with a fresh
 cup of coffee for herself and a second glass of
 milk for him. "I think you should know, Daniel, that
 no one else has ever complained about my coffee."
 He continued to smile, and her heart turned
 over. It occurred to her that Dan always looked
 larger in her tiny living room. It also occurred
 to her that he looked entirely too handsome in that
 ivory silk shirt.
 "Your mustache is white," she told him
 dryly as he took a big gulp of milk.
 Sunny stirred restlessly, raising her head
 to glance at them, then around the room. Dan stroked
 her ears, and she soon settled down again. "Have you
 noticed how much more relaxed Sunny has been
 tonight?" Jennifer asked. "I think she's finally
 getting used to the house. Remember how restless
 she was last week when you had dinner here?"
 He nodded. "A lot of things affect her.
 Even the weather. She's probably hoping for a
 reward if she's especially good tonight. Like her own
 piece of banana cream pie, maybe."
 "And she just may get it, too. By the way,
 Daniel," she said with exaggerated emphasis,
 sitting down beside him. "I read the article in this
 morning's paper about the award you're getting. I
 can't believe you didn't tell anyone about it before
 now."
 The local paper had carried a front page
 announcement that a well-known national organization
 would be presenting their annual humanitarian
 award to Dan in recognition of his continuing efforts
 for the disabled, specifically his work with Helping Hand
 Farm and the Friend-to-Friend Association.
 He shrugged and set his glass down by his
 plate, dabbing the milk from his mustache with his
 napkin.
 "You're going to be a folk hero if you get                    69
 any more awards, Daniel," Jennifer teased,
 thinking of the impressive array of 141
 plaques and medallions already decorating his
 office.
 He smiled a little. "It seems to me that the
 real heroes are the ones who don't get any
 awards." He rolled up the sleeves of his
 shirt, then leaned over to give Sunny a pat
 on the head.
 "Dan, you deserve that award," Jennifer
 protested.
 "The ones who really deserve the awards," he
 went on as if he hadn't heard her, "are the
 families and friends of the disabled. Sometimes it's even
 tougher on them than it is on us, but I'm not so
 sure anyone realizes what _they go through."
 Jennifer collected their dishes and took them
 into the kitchen, watching him across the counter as she
 loaded the dishwasher.
 "When something happens--like what happened to me,"
 he went on, "we get so caught up in
 _surviving that we're often too absorbed in
 ourselves to realize what's happening in the lives of the
 people who love us.
 "We become so involved in the rehabilitation
 that we tend to lose touch with what our families
 are going through. To some extent, we can vent our
 frustration in the process of rebuilding our
 lives. But the ones who have to stand by us ..." His
 voice drifted, and he waited until Jennifer
 returned and sat down next to him before going on.
 Finally, he leaned forward and rested his elbows
 on his knees, lacing his fingers together. "I know my
 family--and Gabe, too--have kept as much of their
 own pain away from me as possible." His smile was
 touched with sadness. "But they've suffered right along
 with me. A lot."
 "Your family," Jennifer said sincerely,
 "is nothing short of wonderful."
 "They are, aren't they?" Dan agreed, his tone
 distracted. Jennifer knew he was remembering.
 
 He remembered that the first sound he had heard,
 waking up from the nightmare to an even worse
 reality, had been his mother's soft weeping from across the
 room. Once she realized he was awake, though,
 the sobbing had stopped. There had been only her
 cool hand brushing his hair away from his forehead as
 she attempted to give him what was left of her
 own strength. Even now Dan could feel her soft,
 fragrant cheek pressed against his, as though she
 could somehow absorb a part of his pain 143
 into herself.
 And his dad ... kneeling by the hospital bed,                 70
 gripping Dan's hand, holding onto him as he
 prayed unceasingly. Those skillful, highly
 trained physician's hands that for years had
 strived to heal the pain and illnesses of others had
 suddenly been helpless to heal the agony of his
 only son. Even so, his father had forced him
 to fight, to reject self-pity and discouragement, in
 favor of sheer grit and determination. Lucas
 Kaine had shed his tears alone, so his son need not
 be wounded even more by his grief.
 Lyss had been there, too, of course. Dan
 could still remember lying there, listening to her pace
 back and forth in her long-legged, smooth,
 athletic stride. The soft scent of the baby
 powder she always used had been strangely comforting in
 its familiar freshness. Sweet Lyss, trying
 to be so strong and cheerful and encouraging ... never
 letting on how desperately frightened she was for her
 big brother.
 And Gabe ... faithful friend and brother of his
 heart. Gabe, who for years had made the story
 of David and Jonathan come alive for Dan.
 It had been Gabe who had restrained Dan and
 made him face what he was doing to those who loved
 him that awful day--or was it night--when he learned
 the final verdict, the sentence that had threatened
 to destroy his hope ... and his sanity. ...
 He had reached up to push Gabe away, out of
 his life, along with everyone else. But then he
 felt the dampness of his friend's tears, and finally they
 had wept together for Dan's loss. ...
 
 "Dan?" Jennifer reached out to touch his shoulder,
 then hesitated.
 He lifted his face, and slowly his features
 cleared. "Sorry." He smiled, a smile again
 tinged with sorrow. "I was thinking about heroes."
 He slipped his arm around Jennifer's
 shoulders, and she leaned back against him, thinking how
 quickly she had grown to feel comfortable and strangely
 secure with this big, gentle man.
 "Tell me about your family, Jennifer," he
 said casually.
 After a moment's hesitation, Jennifer began
 to speak of her father and her brothers. She told him
 about Paul first, who at twenty-four had a new
 wife and a new job as a park ranger.
 "To Paul, there's nothing worse than a 145
 city apartment or a crowded room," she said,
 smiling. "He would make a wonderful hermit."
 Her tone sobered as she told him about Loren,
 just recently turned nineteen. A victim of
 cerebral palsy, Jennifer's younger brother
 spent his days in a wheelchair. "Loren is so                  71
 special," she said softly. "I don't think
 he has ever been bored, not once. He has this
 incredible thirst for learning. He would be--he could
 have been--a marvelous teacher."
 She let her words trail off, then shifted her
 attention back to Dan. "He and Dad want
 to meet you. They're both _very impressed that I'm
 working for an Olympic star."
 "Your dad must be a pretty impressive
 guy himself," Dan commented. "The last few years
 couldn't have been easy for him--without your mother."
 "Actually," Jennifer replied, tilting her
 head so she could look up at him, "Dad is a
 lot like you."
 "Oh? Is that good or bad?"
 Jennifer studied his face, then replied as
 truthfully as she could. "Dad is ... very strong.
 Nothing shakes him. He simply--copes.
 He's a rock." She sighed deeply. "He
 loves people, too--like you. Dad always finds the best
 in everyone, and he never seems to take time for his
 own concerns because he's too busy helping
 everybody else with theirs."
 She was surprised to see that Dan appeared
 strangely flustered by her words. His voice was
 almost gruff. "Thank you, Jennifer."
 "For what?"
 "For comparing me with a man like that." He turned his
 face away slightly, but not before Jennifer saw
 a shadow pass across his features. "I'm
 afraid," he added quietly, "your observation
 isn't all that accurate. But I'm still
 flattered."
 Neither of them spoke for several minutes.
 Finally Dan broke the silence. "Your mother died
 of cancer, you told me?"
 "Yes," Jennifer replied tightly. "When
 I was sixteen."
 His hand tightened on her shoulder, and he rubbed
 his chin lightly across the top of her head. "That must
 have been tough for all of you. Was she ill a long
 time?"
 "Two years."
 He nodded. "You've had a lot of 147
 pain in your life already."
 Surprised, Jennifer looked up at him.
 "Nothing compared to the pain _you've had."
 "Pain is pain, Jennifer," he said gently.
 "When you lose something or someone precious to you, it
 leaves a hole in your life."
 A hole in her life. That's exactly how
 Jennifer felt sometimes. As if somewhere, deep
 inside her spirit, there was a huge, gaping vacuum.
 An emptiness.                                                 72
 Dan pulled her a little closer. "Jennifer
 ... tell me why you won't sing anymore."
 "I can't," Jennifer said without explanation.
 "Can't--or _won't?" he parried quietly.
 "Is this a counseling session, Daniel?"
 Jennifer's tone was sharper than she'd intended.
 "Not unless you want it to be," he replied
 agreeably, squeezing her shoulder. "I think
 I know a little about what it's like. It feels as
 though there's a _deadness inside of you. Like there's
 nothing where the music used to be except a kind
 of--silence."
 Jennifer stiffened at his incredibly incisive
 perception, then slumped her shoulders. "Yes,"
 she whispered, not trusting herself to say more.
 "I understand that."
 She squeezed her eyes shut in response
 to the note of tenderness in his voice.
 "I know that emptiness, Jennifer," he went
 on, his tone infinitely gentle. "The `vacuum
 of despair,` it's called. I suppose I
 could describe in detail how you feel. But I
 can also tell you that it doesn't have to last forever."
 His fingers lifted a strand of her hair as he
 went on, obviously choosing his words with a great
 deal of care.
 "Losing hurts. And so we grieve. There's
 nothing wrong with that. We _need to grieve.
 Grief is a vital part of being healed. It
 doesn't pay to try to shortcut the process.
 You have to just ... go through it, experience it, be
 engulfed by it. At least for a time."
 His arm around her tightened protectively.
 "But sooner or later you have to face the pain. You
 have to admit that you can't handle it alone. At that
 point, you have only two real choices. You can
 accept the circumstance, whatever it is, and lay it
 down at the feet of the Lord. To do that, you have
 to believe that God has a reason for allowing even
 suffering. Whatever the pain, you can be sure 149
 that God will work in and through it for your good--and for his
 glory."
 His voice grew even quieter. "Or, you can
 fight it. You can throw your spiritual fists up and
 refuse to surrender. If you choose to fight--was
 he hesitated a fraction of a second, then
 continued--"you leave that hole in your heart
 unhealed, and it just keeps getting bigger. The
 emptiness keeps on growing until it finally
 swallows you up, until your entire life is
 absorbed into that gaping, empty abyss ... and
 there's nothing left except pain and anger and
 misery."
 "I _have accepted it," Jennifer murmured                      73
 dully. "I'm not fighting ... not anymore."
 He sighed deeply as he reached to tip her chin
 up toward his face. "I don't think so,
 Jennifer. I think what you've done is
 _resign yourself. There's a difference--a
 critical difference--between resignation and
 acceptance." He held her tightly, but with
 exquisite tenderness.
 "Resignation doesn't leave any room for
 hope or joy," he said. "It's a closed
 door. And sometimes a lot of anger and resentment
 are trapped behind that door. But acceptance leaves
 the door open for God to work his will." He paused
 for a long moment, then added, "What I hear in your
 voice, Jennifer, is _resignation."
 As though anticipating her protest, he
 stopped her words by gently touching a finger to her
 lips. "When we're children, trust comes naturally
 to us. We accept--because we still see God as a
 loving Father. But when we grow up, well, we
 seem to find resignation easier than acceptance.
 "We grow older, and we learn about things like
 cancer and war and famine and AIDS. Sometimes we
 start to think that God has changed, and we lose
 our hope, or we assume he was never what we
 believed him to be in the first place--and we lose
 our trust. As our world gets bigger and wider, we
 discover that a lot of it is ugly and filled with
 injustice and pain. But what we forget," he said,
 his voice dropping until it was scarcely more than
 a whisper, "is that the God of our childhood is
 still bigger than the world and all the suffering it can bring
 us."
 He coaxed her head against his chest and held her
 for a long time. Jennifer somehow sensed that Dan had
 just thrown her a lifeline--if only she 151
 could make herself grab hold of it. She heard the
 truth and the wisdom of his words. But she wasn't
 anything like Dan. What was easy for him might
 well be impossible for her.
 In contrast to his maturity, strength, and
 wisdom, she was full of confusion and bitterness and
 rebellion. Regrettably, she feared that no
 amount of understanding or caring or even love could ever
 close the gap between them.
 As if he could sense the turmoil going on
 inside her, Dan put her gently away from him
 for a moment and pulled something out of his shirt
 pocket. "Here--I brought you something."
 Jennifer looked at him.
 He pressed an unlabeled cassette tape
 into her hand. "It's the demo for _Daybreak. I
 thought you might want to listen to it. Sorry I
 don't have a book--all I had at home was my                   74
 Braille score." He paused a beat and said
 quietly but pointedly, "You just say the word, and
 I'll get a book for you."
 "Dan, please don't--was
 "I want you to listen to the tape," he insisted.
 "That's all. The music--and the lyrics--are
 special to me." His smile made something warm and
 infinitely tender wrap itself around Jennifer's
 aching heart. "All I'm trying to do is share
 something that's special to me with someone ... who's
 also very special to me."
 Jennifer took the tape.
 Abruptly, Dan stood and pulled her to her
 feet. As if to shift the mood to a more comfortable
 lightness, he informed her he was now ready for his
 second piece of pie. "Before old Gabe shows
 up and does me out of it."
 "Right, boss," Jennifer agreed, grateful
 for the change in mood.
 They headed for the kitchen, with Sunny padding
 along behind them. "I suppose you want another
 glass of--was
 Jennifer stopped dead as she saw the face
 staring in the window of the back door. Dan crashed
 solidly into her from behind, the sudden thrust of his
 weight nearly knocking her off balance.
 "Whoa! Your turn signal's out, lady!"
 he said, laughing as he caught her shoulders with
 both hands.
 At the same time, Sunny muttered a low
 growl and charged the rest of the way into the kitchen.
 She hit the back door full force, 153
 barking and snarling, looking back at Dan as if
 to reassure herself that he was safe.
 "Daniel ..." Jennifer's throat felt like
 sandpaper. An icy rope of fear snaked the
 entire length of her body.
 Dan stood unmoving, obviously tense.
 "What's wrong?"
 The skull-like face at the window was gone. He
 had turned to flee as soon as he'd seen
 Jennifer approaching. But she was still unable
 to move, riveted in place by the memory of that
 spectral face peering in at them.
 "Jennifer?" Dan pressed more insistently.
 "What is it?"
 "Daniel, someone was out there--watching us."
 Dan tightened his hold on her shoulders.
 "What do you mean? Where?" His voice was suddenly
 rough.
 "Outside--at the kitchen door. He ran as
 soon as he saw me." Jennifer's voice was
 trembling as violently as her hands.
                                                               75
 Dan heard the tremor in her voice, even
 above the din Sunny was making. He silenced the
 retriever with an abrupt command, calling her
 to his side. He stood unmoving, holding
 Jennifer to him as he tried to think.
 After a moment, she slipped out of his grasp.
 "I'm going to look out the side window," she
 whispered.
 "Be careful," Dan cautioned her, feeling a
 wave of anger and frustration rise at his own
 helplessness. "Do you see anything?"
 "No, nothing. I'm sure he's gone. I
 probably scared him as much as he scared me,"
 Jennifer said, her voice still unsteady.
 "What's Sunny doing? Is she still watching the
 door?"
 "No. She's watching you."
 Dan gave a nod. "Then he must be gone.
 But stay away from the door. And turn out the
 lights." He hesitated. "If there are any
 curtains or drapes open, close them."
 Dan listened to her moving around in the living
 room, flipping switches and drawing drapes.
 The sound he was waiting for came within seconds--the
 familiar sound of a pickup truck pulling
 away. His stomach knotted when he heard the
 faint rattle and the recognizable miss as the
 noise of the motor faded into the night. 155
 Jennifer returned, touching his shoulder. He
 wrapped an arm around her. "This just infuriates
 me," she grumbled. "I haven't had a Peeping
 Tom since I was in college. You'd think--was
 She stopped suddenly. "Dan--what's wrong?
 You're pale as a ghost!"
 Instinctively, Dan gathered Jennifer even
 more tightly against him.
 "Dan? What is it?"
 Dan's mind was reeling. __It had to be the
 same truck ... the same _man. The realization
 chilled him. Had the man been watching _him ...
 or Jennifer?
 Guilt stabbed at him as he realized that his
 silence about the phone calls and threats might have
 endangered her. If his obsession about his precious
 independence had jeopardized Jennifer in any
 way, he would never be able to forgive himself.
 "_Daniel--was
 "It's all right--he's gone."
 "Yes, I heard the car leave, too, but
 why--was
 "It's not a car, it's a truck."
 "Oh--you can tell just by hearing the engine? I
 don't know how you--was
 "It's the same truck that ran us off the                      76
 road," he said shortly.
 "Are you sure?" She sounded skeptical.
 "I'm sure," he said, not explaining. "You can
 turn on the lights now. And call Gabe. Then
 we'll call the police."
 "The police?"
 Dan heard the confusion in her voice. "He
 could come back," he said. "Just ... call
 Gabe, would you? I'd like him to be here when the
 police come. He'll still be at Lyss's
 apartment. Have him bring her, too. You can go back
 to her place to spend the night."
 "No, I don't need to do that--was
 "_Jennifer--would you just do what I ask!" He
 felt her tense at his sharpness, and he quickly
 gentled his tone. "Please. I'll explain
 later."
 Silently, she moved out of his embrace and
 made the calls.
 
 TEN
 
 Gabe and Lyss were no more than three or four
 minutes ahead of the police. 157
 Within minutes, both officers had come back
 inside from checking the area to report they had found
 nothing except some footprints and tire
 tracks.
 "You were right, Miss Terry," said the taller
 of the two policemen. "Apparently, he'd been
 standing close to the front window, as well as on the
 back porch. You can track him through the snow."
 Jennifer offered coffee to both officers, and they
 drank it in the living room while Dan gave
 them an accounting of his anonymous phone calls and the
 incidents with the pickup truck. He also revealed
 his suspicion that someone had been watching his house
 at night--probably the same man Jennifer
 had seen at the kitchen door. He kept to himself
 --for the moment at least--his hunch about a possible
 connection between the harassment and the upcoming
 radiothon. Nor did he reveal the depth of
 rage and sick hatred he had sensed in his
 tormentor.
 When he had finished his tale, he waited.
 Even though he couldn't see their faces, he
 sensed that Gabe and Lyss--and probably
 Jennifer--were more than a little upset with him.
 Lyss wasted no time in confirming his
 assumption. "I can't _believe you've kept
 all this to yourself, Dan! _Why?"
 Jennifer was quick to jump in with her two cents
 worth. "Dan, how _could you? You could have been
 hurt--or even worse--and none of us would have even           77
 known you were in danger!"
 Surprisingly, Gabe waited until the
 women had vented their outrage before pointing out
 to Dan that he should have at least told _him. "I have
 been known, on occasion, to keep my mouth shut if
 it's absolutely necessary, you know. This wasn't one
 of your brighter moves, pal."
 Dan nodded his agreement to every charge they hurled
 at him, making no attempt to defend himself.
 "If you're all finished, I think the officers have
 a few questions they want to ask me," he said
 quietly.
 An embarrassed hush fell over the room as
 Lyss and Jennifer muttered hasty apologies.
 "Dan, do you have _any idea who might be doing
 this?" asked Rick Hill, one of the policemen.
 Dan pushed his hands down into his pockets and
 shook his head. "No, I don't, Rick. It
 could be anyone." Hesitating, he made a quick
 decision, then added, "But I've got a 159
 hunch the radiothon may be yanking this fellow's
 chain."
 "Why do you think that, sir?" asked the other
 officer, a rookie Dan hadn't met before tonight.
 "Because the phone calls and all the rest of it
 started when we first began to advertise the
 radiothon on the air," Dan explained.
 "He's made several cracks about me `minding
 my own business` or `sticking my nose in where
 I don't belong.`"
 Neither policeman spoke for a few seconds.
 Finally, Rick Hill began to question Jennifer.
 "Miss Terry? Is there a man who might be
 upset with you or Dan? An ex-boyfriend,
 maybe?"
 Dan heard the puzzlement in Jennifer's
 voice. "There's no one like that," she said.
 "Besides, as I told you, I didn't
 recognize the man I saw at the door."
 Again she described the face she had seen,
 shuddering at the memory. "I think he was
 middle-aged--or older. Very thin ...
 extremely thin. He looked almost--was
 When she stopped, the younger of the two officers
 gently prompted her. "Yes, ma'am?"
 "It sounds ridiculous," Jennifer went on,
 "but he had a face like a--a corpse. Bony,
 sunken--and very pale."
 Dan heard the policeman's pen scrape the
 paper as he made a note of her words.
 "Well, there's not a whole lot we can do tonight,"
 said Rick Hill. "But one thing's for sure,
 Dan--you shouldn't be by yourself until we find out
 what's going on. You're entirely too--was He                  78
 let his sentence drift off, obviously feeling
 awkward.
 "Helpless?" Dan supplied, with a slight
 lift of his chin.
 "Well--not that, but certainly ... vulnerable."
 "He won't be alone," Gabe said flatly.
 Dan jerked his head in Gabe's direction, a
 sharp retort on his tongue. Instead, he bit
 back his protest and said nothing.
 It was starting, just as he had known it would.
 As they all made ready to leave, Dan was
 surprised when Jennifer drew him into the kitchen.
 "Dan," she said, holding tightly to his arm,
 "I want you to know ... if I seemed angry a
 few minutes ago, I wasn't. It's just that
 I'm so afraid for you. And I hate it 161
 that you've been going through all this alone."
 Before Dan could reply, she added, "What
 I'm trying to say is that, even though I wish
 you'd told us, I think I understand why you
 didn't."
 A wave of gratitude, almost painful in its
 sweet intensity, swelled deep inside Dan.
 Jennifer tightened her grasp on his arm as she
 went on. "I think I know what your freedom--
 your independence--means to you, Dan." Her voice
 sounded small and unsteady. "I also know that the
 only reason you finally told us the truth is because
 you were concerned for _me. Please promise me
 you'll let Gabe stay with you until this is over.
 I need to know you won't be alone."
 Dan nodded in resignation. Somehow, the
 realization that she understood made everything a little
 easier, a little more bearable. But that shouldn't
 surprise him. Jennifer had her own special
 way of making everything she touched just a little bit
 better ... at least for him.
 
 
 
 
 ELEVEN
 
 "Gabe--I want your word that you won't say
 anything about this yet to my folks."
 The two of them were sitting at the counter in
 Dan's kitchen, drinking coffee and talking. It
 was almost eleven, but Dan was too tense to sleep,
 and he could tell by Gabe's voice that his friend's
 nerves were stretched as tightly as his own.
 Gabe uttered a small grunt of
 skepticism. "You don't really think Lyss
 is going to keep quiet about this, do you?"
 "She will," Dan said meaningfully, "if you ask                79
 her to and explain why you agree with me."
 "Buddy, you overestimate my influence with your
 sister," Gabe grumbled. "But I'll give it
 a try. I'd better call her yet tonight before she
 has a chance to get on the phone with your mother."
 Dan nodded with relief. "While you talk
 to Lyss, I'm going to do a few laps. I've
 got to loosen up if I'm going to get any
 sleep." He stood and walked across the kitchen
 to the door that opened into the pool area. "Come on in
 and join me when you get off the phone."
 Gabe's voice was laced with 163
 exaggerated disgust. "You know I believe in
 total sloth after seven P.M. No, you run
 along and play, Daniel. I'll talk to the
 lovely Alyssa and then take Sunny outside
 for her bedtime thing. Maybe by then you'll have come to your
 senses."
 Dan grinned and shook his head, then went on
 to the pool, flipping on the light in case Gabe
 decided to follow after all. For a moment, he thought
 he caught a whiff of an unfamiliar odor.
 He frowned, shrugged, then went on to the small
 dressing room on the east wall and changed.
 He dove into the pool quickly, plunging himself
 immediately under the water. He was eager for the quiet
 comfort, the soothing blanket of calm that he knew
 would soon wash over him.
 But something was wrong. A slight difference in the
 rhythm of the water, a barely discernible
 sluggishness, made him suspect a problem with the
 filtering system. Curious, he surfaced and
 gasped for air.
 The strange, unfamiliar smell he had
 noticed on entering the pool area assaulted him
 full force. At the same time, he felt a
 thick, sticky mass thread its way down his
 face and begin to spread over his shoulders. He
 shook his head violently back and forth in an
 attempt to throw off whatever it was. When it
 didn't budge, he treaded water and began
 to pull his fingers through his hair and over his beard.
 The stuff was like liquid glue. He turned a
 few inches in the water, and when he did, the same
 viscous muck slapped relentlessly at his upper
 arms and torso.
 For the first time in his life, Dan panicked in the
 water. An unholy dread assailed him, and his
 heart seemed to stop. In desperation he
 scissored himself and plunged beneath the water, trying
 to wash away the revolting substance from his body.
 But when he broke above the water again, he knew
 instantly he had done himself no good. The stuff was
 like tentacles, and there seemed to be no shaking it.         80
 He fought to put down the paralyzing grip of
 panic. He forced himself to swim, shouting wildly
 for Gabe as he hurtled through the water.
 At the side of the pool, he struggled to pull
 himself out of the water. He heard Gabe cry out and
 at the same time slipped and lost his balance.
 Totally disoriented now, he groped wildly for
 something to hang onto. He cracked his 165
 elbow, then hit his head on the wall of the pool
 before Gabe was finally able to grasp him firmly under
 the arms and haul him out of the water.
 The room suddenly became a surreal chamber
 of Gabe's shouts and Dan's labored gasps for
 air. He felt himself losing consciousness and
 wondered if he was going to die. Gabe was
 gripping his shoulders so hard that pain shot down his
 back. Lights flashed on and off in his head. The
 smell grew stronger.
 Gabe sounded furious, desperate. "Dan!
 _Dan! Can you hear me? It's all right, buddy,
 it's all right ... it's only paint ... it's
 red paint, man, that's all ... just paint."
 Gabe kept yelling at him, crying his name.
 He was panicky, too. Dan could hear it in his
 voice.
 "I thought it was blood. ... I heard you shout
 and I saw you coming up out of that water ... covered
 with that red mess. I thought it was blood ... I
 thought you were bleeding ... I thought you were dying,
 man!"
 Dan finally caught a breath, then slumped in
 Gabe's arms.
 
 Humiliation was no stranger to Dan. In five
 years of being blind, he had suffered his share of
 indignities and had survived any number of
 embarrassing moments. He had handled most of them
 without completely losing his sense of humor.
 He reminded himself that no one but his best friend had
 witnessed the scene in the swimming pool. But for some
 reason he still felt like a fool.
 He sat on a chair in the large bathroom
 off the pool, docilely allowing Gabe to wash
 paint off him. The entire bathroom--especially
 himself, he thought with a disgusted sniff--reeked of
 turpentine.
 He was aware that Gabe was doing his best to snap
 him out of his black mood. "Don't get within ten
 feet of an open flame for the next few days,
 buddy. You don't want to be responsible for the
 big boom all on your own."
 When Dan made no reply, Gabe tried a
 different tack. "Does Jennifer like your
 beard?"                                                       81
 "What?"
 "Your beard, man. Does she like it?"
 "How do I know if she--was Dan thought for a
 moment, then sighed. "She's never 167
 complained about it."
 "So you'd like it saved, I suppose."
 "Saved?"
 "It would be easier if the beard went," Gabe
 said carefully. "Along with an inch or two of your
 hair, my friend."
 Dan made no attempt to match Gabe's
 humor. "I've had a beard ever since the
 accident. It's a lot easier than shaving in the
 dark."
 "Right," Gabe said quickly. "We'll just soak
 it in turpentine."
 Neither made any further attempt at
 conversation for a long time. Finally, as if he were
 unable to stand the silence any longer, Gabe said,
 "You all right, buddy?"
 "I'm fine," Dan answered wearily. "Just
 tired."
 "The police are coming out again first thing in the
 morning," Gabe told him.
 "Why? They weren't able to find anything when they
 were here tonight."
 "It won't hurt to check around again when it's
 daylight. The guy might have dropped something they
 missed in the dark."
 "Did he break the pool-house door when he
 jimmied it?" Dan asked.
 "No. The lock is sprung, but the door
 wasn't even splintered. We'll get a
 deadbolt put on there tomorrow."
 "I'm glad Jennifer went home with Lyss.
 I'm worried sick that this nut will try something with
 her." Dan's pulse hammered at the thought.
 "I still can't believe he pulled a stunt like
 this," Gabe grated out. "I'm telling you,
 Dan, we've got to watch you every minute until
 they catch this guy. He's a real sicko."
 "Nobody's going to watch me every _minute!"
 Dan spat furiously. "I had enough of that before!"
 Gabe halted his ministration to Dan's face.
 "I know," he said quietly. "But the
 alternative could be a lot worse. Dan, this
 is no practical joker we're dealing with here.
 Someone out there wants your skin. Whoever he is,
 whatever his reasons, he's out to get you. This guy
 is a _nut _case, Dan!"
 Dan swallowed hard and slumped a little lower in
 the chair. "It's Jennifer I'm worried about."
 "Well, that balances out, old buddy," Gabe
 said lightly. "Because it's _you 169                          82
 Jennifer's worried about. As for me, I'd
 kinda like to lock both of you up for a while."
 
 The nightmare came again that night. Dan fought
 it, as always, sensing even in the labyrinth of his
 subconscious that this time might be the time he
 didn't survive the terror. But it burrowed through
 his defenses, through the tunnel of his sleep, just as
 the headlights had cut through the mountains that foggy
 night. ...
 __He felt the car bumping and weaving on the
 narrow, potholed road ... heard the soft
 background music of the radio, turned to his own
 station ... smelled the new-leather scent of the
 Buick ... tasted the dank humidity of the
 night. He even saw his own eyes in the
 rearview mirror as he lightly tapped his
 fingers on the steering wheel in time to the _music.
 ...
 But this time the nightmare didn't end as it
 usually did. This time there was something different about
 it. It went on, past the headlights and the deafening
 crunch of metal and his own scream of terrified
 denial. A flash of color suddenly zigzagged
 in front of him, a spray of red and black--
 And then it was over, and he was awake. He sat
 bolt upright in bed, drenched in perspiration and
 gripped by a new, almost irrational fear. Tonight he
 felt more terrorized than ever before. He could have
 screamed with his desperation to banish the horror from his
 mind once and for all.
 Instead, he faced the sickening, inescapable
 conviction that it would simply go on and on, through
 countless nights of his life, until he finally
 discovered whatever it was that waited for him at the end.
 At least he hadn't wakened screaming this time.
 He expelled a shaky breath and kicked the
 blankets off, then got up and made his way to the
 bathroom to splash cold water on his face.
 Sunny padded quietly along behind him, waited,
 then returned to the bedroom with him--as though she,
 too, sensed the need to watch over him more
 cautiously than ever.
 His head was still pounding. He figured his blood
 pressure must peak at stroke level every time he
 had the nightmare, and tonight had been even worse.
 For a long time, he sat on the side of the bed and
 rested his head on his hands, thinking ... and finally
 praying. ...
 __Oh, Lord, please forgive me for 171
 my selfishness of these past weeks, for staying
 silent about the phone calls and everything else. I
 know it was nothing but pride. Lord, help me to get
 past this stubborn need to handle everything on my own.       83
 Just look at what I've done. ... If
 Jennifer had been hurt, I think I'd die,
 Lord. I couldn't live with knowing I'd hurt her
 by my own foolish _pride. ...
 After a while he stretched out on the bed, reached
 to give Sunny a reassuring pat, and then lay,
 eyes open, for another hour or more. Occasionally
 he thought about Jennifer and managed to smile.
 Once he wept. Finally, he fell into a
 restless, troubled sleep.
 
 TWELVE
 
 Jennifer spent the next few days in an
 agony of suspense and dread, but the time was
 surprisingly uneventful. Even the phone calls
 to Dan had stopped. No more uninvited visitors
 at her bungalow, no more hair-raising attacks
 by the pickup truck, no more terrorizing pranks
 like the episode in Da
 haswimming pool.
 Unfortunately, no new leads had developed
 in the police investigation either.
 Dan had had a professional service drain,
 clean, and refill the pool. It had taken most
 of the week. By Sunday, Jennifer's routine had
 also returned to normal. She could almost relax and
 pretend that everything was as it should be. But there was no
 denying the undercurrent of foreboding that never quite went
 away. Dan had revealed enough about _his
 suspicions to trigger her own anxiety, and she
 lived with an underlying apprehension that affected her
 every waking hour.
 Her enthusiasm for the radiothon had ebbed, the
 initial excitement changing to dread. She had
 suggested to Dan that he cancel, or at least
 postpone, the whole event. But she might as well
 have saved her breath. A stubborn thrust of his chin
 and a firm shake of his head were his only reply.
 He was obviously determined to go through with the
 radiothon, and that was that. The best they could hope for
 was that the police would soon turn up a clue that
 would lead to the end of this sick campaign of
 terror.
 Jennifer could scarcely bear to think about the
 incident with the paint in Dan's swimming pool.
 He finally seemed to be snapping out of the 173
 despondency that had settled over him after that
 awful night. But this cruel wave of torment was
 taking its toll on him. His step lacked its
 usual spring these days. His smile faded a little
 more quickly, and his voice held a note of
 hesitancy that hadn't been there before. It was as
 though small pieces of his confidence were being hacked
 away, one chip at a time. He seemed to have to work           84
 much harder these days at maintaining his sense of
 humor. Still, he managed to surprise her in the
 most unexpected ways.
 Like this afternoon's phone call.
 "_Sledding? No, Daniel, I am not coming
 up to go sledding with you and Jason. I am _tired.
 Can you say _tired, Daniel?"
 Jennifer shifted the telephone receiver to her
 other ear as she edged the kitchen curtains back
 to look outside. An unexpected spring
 snowfall brightened the late afternoon gloom. It _was
 beautiful. ...
 But, no. Definitely not. She was going to bed
 early tonight, just as she had been promising herself for
 several days now.
 "You may function very well on nothing but
 adrenaline," she said to Dan, "but we weaker
 mortals need something called _sleep."
 She could almost believe the apologetic note
 in his voice was genuine when he answered. "I'm
 really sorry, Jennifer. I _have kept you too
 busy the last few days, haven't I?"
 "You might say that," Jennifer agreed
 dryly.
 "I understand. I'll explain to the boys. Jim
 Arbegunst is here, too, so he can help
 Jason with his sled. Mom will be disappointed,
 though. She wanted us to come to dinner afterward. Pork
 roast and dressing." He paused, then added, "And
 fudge cake."
 Jennifer glanced down woefully at her
 half-eaten peanut butter and pickle sandwich--
 her Sunday dinner. "That's bribery,
 Daniel."
 "It is, isn't it?" he admitted
 cheerfully.
 "Well," she waffled. "I'd have to eat and
 run. Your mother might be offended." With a frown of
 distaste, she dropped the remainder of her sandwich
 into the trash can by the refrigerator.
 "She knows how swamped we are," Dan put
 in. "She'd probably even send some 175
 dessert home with you, if you couldn't stay."
 "You think?"
 "I'll see to it. You'll come, then?"
 "I suppose. But I _am leaving early,
 Daniel."
 "Oh, absolutely."
 Suddenly another thought occurred to Jennifer.
 "What about Gabe? He _is still staying with you at
 night, isn't he?"
 "Not tonight. He drove over to Clarksburg
 to cover the concert at First Baptist, remember?"
 "_Dan--you promised you wouldn't stay alone                   85
 at night until--was
 "It's already taken care of." Jennifer heard
 the forced patience in his tone. "That's why Jim is
 here. He's staying over tonight."
 "Jim is only a teenager, Daniel--was
 "Jim is nearly six feet tall," Dan
 pointed out, "and perfectly capable of providing
 exactly what I need--a person in the house
 who can see what I can't."
 Jennifer didn't like it. But he had used his
 "don't push me" tone of voice. And maybe
 he was right, after all. The important thing was that
 he have someone in the house with him who could see.
 Not that he seemed to require a lot of
 assistance. Jennifer didn't even stop to wonder
 how Dan would manage sledding.
 _Radar, _how _else? she thought with a wry
 smile, slipping into a pair of thermal underwear and
 her oldest jeans.
 
 Dan and the boys were already outside when Jennifer
 pulled into the driveway. Jason, out of breath with
 excitement, met her at the car.
 "Are you going to ride on my sled,
 Jennifer?"
 Jennifer rumpled his hair and, taking his hand,
 walked with him up the driveway toward Dan and
 Jim. "Is that shiny red sled yours, Jason?"
 His head bobbed up and down. "Dan gave it
 to me for Christmas!"
 "Well, since red is one of my favorite
 colors," Jennifer said, grinning at him, "I
 am definitely going to ride on your sled."
 She walked up to Dan and gave his hand a quick
 squeeze. "Is it dinnertime yet?"
 He shot her a cryptic smile as he
 zipped up his gray snowmobile jacket. "You
 have to earn your dinner, Jennifer." 177
 Jennifer glanced warily from Sunny--who was
 off her harness and obviously ready for fun--
 to Jason. "Oh, no," she groaned. "This
 looks suspiciously like a three-on-a-sled
 deal to me!"
 Dan's arm went around her shoulders
 companionably. "You catch on fast."
 Jennifer turned to Jim. "Why do I get
 myself into these situations?"
 The boy turned his haunted eyes on
 Jennifer, as if infinitely grateful for her
 attention. "Don't worry, Miss Terry.
 I'll take Jason and Sunny with me."
 "You're a brave boy, Jim," Dan said
 with a chuckle. "And I'm not even going to argue with
 you. All right, gang, let's get going!"                       86
 "You're really going to ride with me?" Dan
 pulled their sled with one hand as Jennifer took his
 other arm. Sunny had already bolted ahead with the
 boys.
 "Only if you promise no
 belly-whoppin'," Jennifer warned him.
 "Well ... it might be better if you steer,"
 he suggested after a second or two.
 "Actually, Daniel, I had already thought of
 that."
 By the time they reached the top of the hill, they met
 Jim and Jason on their first trip down.
 Jason was squealing with delight and hanging
 tightly onto Sunny, who was tucked
 securely between the two boys.
 Jennifer almost gave up before they even got
 started. Trying to fit on a sled in front of
 Dan was next to impossible. "You need a
 two-seater," she ranted, eyeing his long legs
 hopelessly.
 Laughing, Dan enfolded her as tightly as
 possible inside his arms, tucked his legs
 precariously outside hers, pulled her snugly
 back against his chest, and yelled, "_Geronimo!"
 Their first slide down was surprisingly smooth.
 In fact, by their third downhill run, they
 agreed they made quite a pair and that there was really
 nothing to it except skill and lightning-fast
 reflexes.
 But on their fourth trip down, Dan leaned
 too far to the left, causing them to lose control.
 Before either of them knew what had happened, they found
 themselves tumbled together in the middle of an enormous
 snowdrift. 179
 Jennifer scrambled awkwardly to her knees,
 staring open-mouthed at Dan, who was laughing so hard
 he choked on a spray of snow.
 Rolling onto his side, he caught his breath
 and molded a sizable snowball, which he proceeded
 to toss at Jennifer with surprising accuracy.
 Jennifer scrambled toward him. Wiping the snow
 from her face, she began to pummel him with her
 mittened fists. This only made him collapse
 into helpless laughter. Finally he hauled himself
 onto his knees and caught her by the wrists.
 "Don't you beat on _me, slugger!" he warned,
 still laughing. "_You're supposed to be the
 navigator here, remember? I'm just along for the
 ride."
 "Ohhh! Just let me up! Get away,
 Daniel! I mean it, now! Let me up,
 I'm going to--was
 "You're going to _what?" he drawled,
 balancing on his knees. "You're all right,                    87
 aren't you, hon?" he asked with a phony
 expression of concern. "Here--I've got something
 for you."
 "What?" Jennifer narrowed her eyes.
 "Just open your mouth."
 "Daniel Kaine, don't you _dare--was Her
 last words got swallowed up by the handful of snow
 he pushed at her face.
 Yanking herself free, Jennifer then let go with a
 few snowballs of her own. But within seconds,
 she gave up. Dan, as if sensing her
 surrender, poised on his knees and smiled a
 slow, lazy smile, then dipped his head in search
 of her face. Jennifer ducked, deliberately
 twisting back and forth so he couldn't find her, then
 breaking up in laughter at the determined smirk
 on his face.
 "Stop that, woman," he ordered sternly,
 finally catching her chin in his hand and holding her
 steady. "You're fouling up my radar." His
 expression suddenly sobered. He whispered her
 name as if savoring the sound of it, then covered her
 mouth very gently with his own.
 Something infinitely tender and achingly sweet
 squeezed Jennifer's heart. She watched him from
 a soft haze, wondering at the small sigh he
 uttered as he released her, then brushed her cheek
 with a fleeting touch of his gloved fingertips.
 Both of them remained silent, unmoving, like
 two statues in the snow, Jennifer 181
 searching Dan's face. Slowly, he removed his
 gloves, tossed them to one side, and framed her
 face between his hands. He held her gently but
 firmly for a long moment before touching his lips to her
 temple. "Jennifer ... I love you."
 
 THIRTEEN
 
 The incredible power of emotion behind his words made
 Jennifer lose her breath. She stared up at
 Dan's love-softened face, involuntarily
 reaching out a hand to caress his bearded cheek. Her
 breath, when she finally found it again, was as ragged and
 uneven as his.
 Dan slipped his arms around her and gathered her
 to him, cradling her against his chest and rocking her
 slowly back and forth in the snow. Jennifer thought
 her heart would break and shatter into a thousand
 pieces when she heard his anguished whisper against
 her forehead. "Ah, Jennifer ... what I would
 give to look at you, to see you--really _see
 you--just once."
 Those achingly honest words opened her heart and her
 senses as nothing else could have. All her fears              88
 about being wrong for him, all her doubts about being good
 for him, were swept away for one wonderful,
 unforgettable moment.
 She pulled her gloves off and cupped his
 face between her hands, pulling his head gently down
 to her. "Oh, Daniel, you _have seen me," she
 murmured just before touching her lips to his. "You've
 seen my heart."
 His hands trembled on her shoulders. "I know
 I have the most colossal gall in the world to say this
 to you. And I may be way out of line, but I have
 to say it now because I might not ever have the courage
 again."
 Jennifer held her breath, half afraid of
 what she was about to hear.
 He turned her slightly in his arms so he could
 rest his hands more firmly on her shoulders, keeping
 her close, yet holding her just far enough away from
 him that she could see his breath in the cold air.
 Gone now was his earlier expression of uncertainty
 and the faltering note of doubt in his voice. Instead
 he wore a look of decision, the expression of a
 man who has met his destiny and is about
 to surrender to it.
 "I am head-over-heels, hopelessly in
 love with you, my sweet rebel." The 183
 tenderness that settled over his face caught
 Jennifer's heart by surprise and held it
 captive. "I think," Dan added softly, "I
 was as good as totaled the first day you walked into the
 station, when I found you stumbling around with your eyes
 closed so you'd know how it felt to be blind."
 He gave a slow nod, and Jennifer saw a
 fleeting gleam of insight dart across his features.
 "You've changed my life, love. For the first time
 in years, I feel like a whole man again.
 Jennifer ... I'm asking you ... if you'll
 marry me."
 Jennifer could do nothing but stare at him, as
 limp beneath his hands as a rag doll. She hadn't
 expected this. Of course she had known he cared for
 her ... but _love? _Marriage? Impossible.
 She was light-years away from this man in every way that
 mattered.
 "I know I can't offer you anything but broken
 pieces," he was saying quietly, "but I'll
 love you more than any woman has ever been loved
 by a man. I can promise you that much, at least."
 Jennifer looked at him with dismay. She
 swallowed, cleared her throat, still unable to face
 the growing uncertainty now settling over Dan's
 face. "Dan ... I don't know. I'm not
 sure, that is--what to say. ..."
 He smiled, though his voice was unsteady when                 89
 he answered. "How about something like, `I can't
 live without you, Daniel` for starters? I could be
 content with that. For a while, anyway."
 "Oh, Dan--I _do care for you, but--was
 "How much?" His hands tightened on her
 shoulders.
 "What?"
 "How much do you care for me?"
 "Well, I can't put my feelings into words,
 exactly. I can't just--was
 "Try."
 Jennifer gaped at him, her mind suddenly
 reeling at this whole impossible situation.
 "Well, I care a _lot, I suppose,
 but--was
 "Do you love me, Jennifer?"
 "Daniel, you don't just answer a question like that in
 the middle of a snowdrift! Besides--we really
 haven't known each other long enough to--was
 "Do you _love me, Jennifer?"
 He reached for her hands and enfolded them between his
 own. With an expression of great 185
 patience, he waited.
 "Now, Daniel ... you know we're nothing
 alike. In fact, we're total
 opposites."
 He nodded agreeably.
 "Oh, we may have a few things in common," she
 conceded, "but basically we're like--was
 "Oil and water?" he supplied helpfully.
 Jennifer blinked. "Well--that may be a bit
 extreme. But certainly we don't see things the
 same way at all. You're very patient, and
 I'm not."
 "Mm. That's true."
 Jennifer looked at him. "You're
 very--accepting. And tolerant. And we _both know
 I'm not."
 He nodded his head sagely. "I'm afraid
 that's also true."
 "Nothing seems to bother you. You're just a very
 mellow, easygoing man."
 "Granted."
 "You're--philosophical. I'm
 analytical. You're careful and precise.
 I'm impetuous and completely unorganized.
 And tense. I'm very tense. I'll probably have
 ulcers by the time I'm thirty."
 "Marry me and have kids instead." He raised
 both her hands to his lips and skimmed a gentle
 kiss over her knuckles.
 "And we never agree on anything, besides--was
 Jennifer glanced up at the lazy smile on his
 face. "What did you say?"                                     90
 "I think I just proposed again," he said, still
 smiling.
 The soft touch of amusement in his voice faded
 to a more serious tone. "Tell me something,
 Jennifer. Does my blindness have anything to do with the
 way you're evading the question?"
 Jennifer gasped, appalled that he could think
 such a thing about her after all this time. "Of course
 not!"
 As she watched, a subtle look of relief
 crossed Dan's face. "Forgive me. I had
 to ask. You, more than anyone else, know the
 problems that will accompany me into marriage."
 "Oh, Daniel," she murmured, the words
 breaking her heart even as she spoke them. "It
 has nothing to do with your being blind! You're--a
 _wonderful man! You're sweet, and you're
 strong, and you're thoughtful--a woman 187
 couldn't hope for a finer man than you! But you
 deserve someone who's ... more _like you, not someone like
 me."
 He seemed to wince at her words. "Jennifer
 ... my love, I'd do anything to make you see
 the truth about me." He clasped her hands
 tightly in his. "Don't you understand, Jennifer?
 There's nothing special or unique about me!
 If I were as strong as you think I am, I'd
 get out of your life today. No, love--I'm just
 a man, a very ordinary man who wants the same
 things any other ordinary man wants. All I
 want," he said, his voice almost a whisper, "is
 a woman to love, a home to share with her, and
 maybe some children to call me Daddy."
 He hesitated, then asked her again,
 "Jennifer ... do you love me?" Jennifer
 held her breath. She saw his hopeful
 expression change to a stricken look of defeat.
 Without quite knowing what she was doing, she moved more
 closely into his arms. "Yes," she said in a
 voice so faint it was nearly lost in the wind,
 "I'm afraid I do."
 She looked up into his face then, and she thought
 the expression of relief and happiness settling
 over him was the most beautiful sight she had ever
 seen in her life.
 He wrapped her snugly in his arms and
 whispered against the hollow of her cheek. "Don't
 be afraid, Jennifer. Don't ever be afraid
 to love me. I'll never hurt you. Don't you
 know by now that I'd die before I'd ever hurt you?"
 They remained silent for a long moment, locked
 in each other's embrace.
 Jennifer finally broke the silence. "Dan--
 I _do love you. But that doesn't mean I'm                     91
 ready to talk about marriage yet."
 "I'm really sorry to hear you say that,
 Jennifer," he said with mock disapproval, "because
 if your intentions are anything other than honorable,
 this relationship will never work."
 "Stop that!" she scolded, poking a finger
 into his chest. "This is very serious, Daniel."
 "Uh ... can I say just one thing, love?"
 "What?" she snapped.
 "I hear the happy sound of children's laughter.
 Could we possibly continue this conversation inside,
 where it's a little warmer and a whole lot more
 private?"
 Startled, Jennifer peered over his 189
 shoulder. Sure enough, Jim and Jason and
 Sunny were barreling over the slope of the hill,
 only a few feet away from them. "We may be
 able to manage the warmth by going inside to the fire,
 Daniel. But privacy?" She shook her head.
 "Don't count on it."
 
 Later, after everyone had changed into dry clothes
 and warmed up with hot cocoa, Dan agreed to let
 the boys use the pool. "But we'll have to leave
 here no later than five if we don't want
 to miss dinner. So when I say it's time, you
 guys will have to move."
 Sunny, obviously determined not to miss the
 fun, squeezed through the door with the two boys as
 they left the kitchen.
 "It's odd how well they get along together,
 considering the age difference," Jennifer commented.
 She was sitting on one side of the kitchen counter,
 noting Dan's easy but precise movements as
 he placed their cups in the dishwasher and wiped off
 the sink with a sponge.
 "Jim is absolutely starved for attention, for
 someone to care about him."
 Surprised, Jennifer looked at him. "But
 what about his father?"
 Dan gave a sigh and dried his hands. "Jim
 is a lonely, unhappy boy," he said with a
 troubled frown. "I'm afraid his father's idea of
 attention is a strong rod."
 Jennifer puzzled over his words, but he
 didn't explain. Instead, he walked around to her
 side of the counter and tugged lightly at a damp
 strand of hair. "So," he said, changing the
 subject, "have you listened to the tape I gave you
 yet?"
 "No, I haven't listened to the tape you gave
 me yet," Jennifer retorted glibly. "When
 exactly do you think I would have had time?"
 "I seem to remember you having a cassette                     92
 deck in your car," he countered. "Why are you
 putting it off?"
 "I'm _not putting it off."
 A knowing smile curved his mouth, but he said
 nothing.
 "I really _haven't had time, Daniel! And
 we know whose fault that is."
 He shrugged agreeably. "It's just as well,
 maybe. There's something else I probably should
 have given you first." 191
 He walked to the large rolltop desk that sat
 between the dining area and the living room, returning with a
 loose-leaf notebook.
 "What's this?" Jennifer asked as he laid the
 notebook on the counter in front of her.
 "Actually, it's a kind of journal," he said
 quietly.
 Jennifer glanced curiously from him to the
 notebook. "A journal?"
 Dan nodded. "It's something I started not too
 long after the accident."
 He went into the living room and bent down to stir
 up the fire. Then he straightened, turning back
 to her. With his hands in his pockets, he stood,
 saying nothing as he scuffed the toe of his shoe against
 the floor.
 His attention abruptly shifted back
 to Jennifer. "I'm sure it'll be hard to read,"
 he said, gesturing to the notebook. "My
 handwriting was pretty bad even when I could see.
 Katharine didn't start typing my notes until
 later."
 He lifted his chin, his expression uncertain.
 "I just thought it might help you with some of the questions you
 seem to have," he said carefully. "I thought--was
 He choked off a sound of frustration. "I don't
 know _what I thought. I'm sorry, Jennifer,
 I know I don't have any right to push my
 opinions onto you." He turned away from her
 to face the fireplace.
 Jennifer stared at his back for a moment, then
 glanced down at the notebook. She opened it and
 began to leaf through it, her eyes drawn to the words
 on the first few dog-eared pages. There seemed
 to be page after page of Dan's own words,
 miscellaneous quotes, and Scripture
 verses, scrawled unevenly but still legible.
 Something sad and poignantly tender wafted through
 her as the significance of what she held in her
 hands finally registered. Before her were months of
 Dan's most personal, excruciating agony
 ... hundreds of his heartrending, soul-searching
 thoughts and discoveries. He was opening his deepest,
 innermost feelings to her.                                    93
 She got up very slowly and walked to him. When
 she reached his side, she laid her hand gently on
 his shoulder and waited for him to face her.
 "Daniel," she said softly, "are you sure you
 want me to read this?"
 He nodded but didn't answer right 193
 away. "Yes. I do," he finally said, his
 voice quiet. "And not entirely because I'm
 hoping you'll find something in it--to help you. Some of
 my reasons are selfish, I admit."
 His tone was gentle but steady as he explained.
 "I think I'm selfish enough to want you to understand
 what it was like--after the accident--and coward enough not
 to want to tell you."
 Jennifer stared up at him, then shook her head
 slowly from side to side. "No--was Her voice
 broke and she hesitated. "I don't think so.
 I don't believe you have a selfish or cowardly
 bone in your body, Daniel Kaine."
 He frowned at her words. "That's another
 reason I think you need to read that journal,
 Jennifer. Sooner or later, you're going
 to realize I'm not the man you think I am.
 We'll both be better off if you know it now, not
 later."
 Saying nothing, Jennifer studied him carefully
 for a long time. Finally, she dropped her hand from his
 shoulder and hugged the notebook tightly against her
 heart. "Will you just tell me one thing, Dan? Why
 are you so determined that I ... learn to accept
 life the way you do? Why does it matter so much
 to you?"
 He didn't respond right away. Finally,
 he reached for her hand and, going to the couch, sat down
 with her beside him. "Jennifer, I love you too much
 to ignore your hurt, the pain I hear in your
 voice," he said quietly, still clasping her hand.
 "With all my heart, I want you to be able
 to surrender that pain to the Lord."
 He drew her closer. "I just want to help
 you see that once you stop fighting God, at that very
 point you win," he said. "Jennifer, the Lord will
 never, ever give you less than his best. Even when
 life brings loss or suffering or a broken
 heart, God knows exactly what he's doing.
 He can redeem anything and turn it to good."
 Jennifer studied his strong, kind face, wishing
 she could simply take what he seemed so
 determined to give, at the same time knowing it could
 never be that easy for her. "Daniel ... how can
 I possibly accept what I don't even
 _understand?"
 Dan moved closer, gently coaxing her head
 onto his shoulder. "That's your problem, love,"               94
 he said quietly, stroking her hair. "You try
 to _understand first. The fact is, though, that 195
 understanding isn't the issue. There will always be things that
 are beyond our understanding. That's why it's absolutely
 vital that we take God on faith and just trust
 his love--for ourselves, and for others."
 He seemed to choose his next words with great
 care. "We see today, Jennifer, but God sees
 eternity. We yearn for our comforts, but he wants
 our maturity, even if that maturity entails
 pain. In our search for happiness, we live for
 ourselves. But God says, `Die to yourself. Live
 for _me.`"
 Silence hung between them for several minutes as
 Jennifer searched her heart for a response,
 only to find none. "Daniel ... it isn't that
 I don't want--what you have. I _do want it!
 I want it with all my heart. I've been a
 Christian for most of my life, but I still don't
 have the kind of faith you're talking about. It seems
 so easy for you. But it's not easy for me,
 Daniel! Not at all."
 He went on stroking her hair. "Jennifer,
 whatever faith I have was a gift. God gave it
 to me only after I stopped ramming my head against
 his will."
 He paused, then went on. "This may not make
 much sense to you, but I can tell you truthfully that
 I never knew the meaning of peace until after the
 accident--after I lost my sight."
 He must have felt Jennifer tense in his arms,
 because he nodded and smiled. "It's true. The Lord
 used that time to teach me something I might never have
 learned otherwise. Oddly enough," he said, "I
 found my personal key to faith in the book of the
 Bible I was named after--the book of Daniel.
 "Remember when King Nebuchadnezzar warned
 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego that unless they
 worshiped the golden image, he would toss them
 into the fire? I had read that story for years," he
 said, smiling faintly, "without ever paying much
 attention to their answer. But once their words really
 sank into my heart, I knew that I had discovered
 an entirely different kind of faith than I'd
 ever known existed. They told the king that their God
 `was able to deliver` them out of the fiery
 furnace--but that even if he _didn't, they
 weren't going to stop worshiping God and start bowing
 down to an idol."
 Jennifer moved in his arms just enough that she could more
 clearly see his face. When she did, she
 wondered at the expression of almost 197
 youthful enthusiasm that now lined his features. "It
 was like being struck by lightning," he said. "I had          95
 accepted Christ as my Savior when I was just a
 boy. But I had never let him be sovereign in
 my life--I had always stopped short of allowing
 him to be my Lord and Master. What I finally
 came to realize, after the accident, was that Christ
 has the right to either deliver me or _not deliver
 me." He paused. "But I _don't have the right
 to base my love for him and my trust in him on
 what he does for _me. He's already given his
 life for me. _That's what I base my faith
 on--the Cross. Nothing else."
 Something deep within Jennifer's spirit began to stir
 ever so slightly. Dan's words had struck a
 distant chord, and now she thought she could almost catch
 a glimpse of a light she had thought extinguished,
 a hope she had lost sight of long ago.
 She still didn't understand. But somehow she knew
 he was talking about a kind of peace that would change
 her life. Slowly, she lifted her head to study
 him. "Daniel," she said finally, "will you pray for
 me?"
 His smile was immediate and wonderfully tender.
 "Love of my heart," he said in a voice rough
 with emotion, "I have been praying for you since that first
 day you crashed into my life. Why would I stop
 now?"
 
 FOURTEEN
 
 Late Wednesday afternoon, everyone at the station was
 racing against the clock in preparation for the radiothon
 on Friday. Jennifer and Dan had been
 swamped all day, trying to clear up last-minute
 details between their spots on the air, advertising
 meetings, and eleventh-hour instructions to other
 members of the staff.
 They were about to finish up the afternoon drivetime.
 Dan had volunteered to help Jennifer jock
 her show so she could move in and out of the studio to work
 on other projects as necessary.
 "I put that cart you wanted Jay to use this
 evening right on top," Jennifer said as the last
 selection came to an end. "And an extra copy
 of tomorrow's log so he can double-check it."
 Dan nodded, waited a few seconds, then
 opened his mike for the last spot of the afternoon.
 "... Just a quick reminder about the weekend
 radiothon." He spoke into the 199
 microphone in his slow and easy drawl.
 "Beginning Friday night at eight o'clock, we're
 going to furnish you with thirty-six straight hours
 of your favorite Christian music, some guests
 you won't want to miss, and, of course, our own
 Jennifer Terry, doing her incomparable imitation              96
 of Mighty Minnie Mouth. ..."
 Grinning, he took a good-natured stab at
 Gabe, then turned serious. "On the sober
 side, people--was Jennifer groaned at his unintended
 pun--"if you turn the station on even a few
 minutes a day, you already know what we're doing this
 weekend. We're hoping for a flood of phone
 calls, letters, and donations to help us put some
 serious pressure on the people who make this
 country's drunk driving laws."
 He paused for only an instant, long enough for his
 tone to turn grave. "Most of you know me, so you
 know that I'm a victim of a drunk driver--one
 victim among thousands of others. I'm blind because of
 someone else's lack of judgment and disregard for
 human life. But, friends, I'm one of the _lucky
 ones."
 Jennifer caught her breath, fascinated by what
 she was hearing. She had heard some very straight
 talk from Dan since he'd begun to advertise the
 radiothon, but not like this. The expression on his
 face was steady and calm, but she knew him well
 enough to know that he disliked any mention of his disability
 over the air. He was always extremely careful not
 to exploit his blindness. He wouldn't consider a
 "personal pitch," as he referred to it, unless
 he was convinced it would benefit someone else.
 "I'm more fortunate than many others," he
 continued. "I survived. I'm _alive. A
 lot of victims of drunk drivers don't
 live to protest. I did. And quite frankly, I
 don't like what happened to me. I had something very
 precious taken away, and I had absolutely
 nothing to say about it. But thousands of people every year--
many
 of them not yet old enough to vote--comlose their
 _lives. That's what this weekend is all about.
 I'm asking you to stay with us for those thirty-six
 hours and listen to some of the things we hope to achieve
 with these nationwide radiothons, then do your part
 to help. Please."
 After a moment, he closed his mike, took off
 his headset, and walked slowly out of the studio as
 if he had just completed a routine broadcast.
 Jennifer followed him, tears in her 201
 eyes and an enormous lump in her throat. She
 was so proud of him she could have wept, yet so
 angry at what had been done to him she would have
 lashed out in fury had there been somewhere to strike.
 Two hours later, she was still in her office,
 sorting through programming schedules for the weekend,
 checking the log, and trying to get as many details
 as possible buttoned down for Gabe. She was
 bone-tired. She had planned on leaving before                 97
 five today, but there had simply been too much to do.
 Dan had promised her three days off after the
 radiothon, and she knew she was going to need the
 break. Even though she was reluctant to leave with
 everything that had been happening, she was still looking
 forward to going home.
 She decided to quit for the day. She stacked the
 file folders on the credenza behind her desk, then
 left her office for Dan's.
 "Dan, do you want that guest schedule tonight, or
 can it wait until--was She stopped just inside
 Dan's office when she saw Gabe and Dan with
 their heads together over some papers on the desk.
 Gabe glanced up and gestured for her to come on
 in. "We're finished, Jenn."
 Gabe started for the door, and Dan got to his
 feet. "Why don't you go on home?" he said
 to Jennifer. "You sound exhausted. We can finish
 up the rest of the schedules tomorrow."
 "You don't have to coax me," Jennifer said.
 She turned to leave, then stopped. "You're taking
 Dan home?" she asked Gabe.
 He nodded. "After I take him to Sager's
 for a chili dog."
 Dan groaned and made a face, then waved
 Jennifer off.
 In the lobby, she noticed a brown-paper
 package about the size of a shoe box on top of the
 receptionist's desk. She stopped to look, and,
 seeing that it was addressed to Dan, tucked it under
 her arm and started back down the hall.
 Gabe had gone back to his office, and Dan
 was just putting Sunny's harness on her when
 Jennifer told him about the package. "Go ahead
 and open it for me," he said.
 "Might be the new postal scale I
 ordered," Jennifer said, slicing through the sealing
 tape with a letter opener. "Nope. It's a shoe
 box."
 Dan straightened and came back to his desk.
 "I didn't order any shoes. 203
 What's in it?"
 Jennifer put her purse down and pulled the
 lid off the box. For a moment she could do nothing but
 stare in horror at the contents. Her sharp cry of
 disgust brought an answering bark from Sunny. In
 an instant, Dan was at her side. Jennifer
 struck out at the box, pushing it away.
 "Jennifer? What's wrong?"
 Dan caught her arm, and Jennifer turned
 toward him. At the same moment, Gabe came
 striding back into the office, stopping when he saw
 Jennifer's face. "What's going on?"
 Jennifer motioned to the shoe box on the desk,                98
 her gaze following Gabe's as he picked up the
 box and looked inside.
 Gabe's reaction to the three dead mice with their
 eyes gouged out was as vehement as Jennifer's had
 been. He turned to Jennifer, his face ashen.
 "__Is anybody going to tell me what's
 _wrong?"
 Dan's harsh question broke the silence. Jennifer
 looked at him, then at Gabe, whose eyes
 blazed with a mixture of anger and revulsion. "This
 is sick," he choked out. "Really sick."
 Dan waited only another second or two
 before stepping around the desk and fumbling for the shoe
 box. Gabe stopped him just in time, grabbing his
 arm. "__Don't! Don't ... touch _it!"
 Slowly, Dan pulled his hand away.
 "What?" he said quietly. "What's in the
 box?"
 It was Gabe who finally told him, his voice
 as hard as stone. "Field mice. Dead field
 mice."
 Dan went pale. "Field mice?" he
 repeated.
 "Three of them," Gabe told him. He
 stopped, glanced at Jennifer, then added, "Their
 eyes ... they have no eyes."
 Jennifer reached for Dan's hand, watching him
 closely.
 He looked stunned. His mouth went slack,
 then tightened. "No eyes?" he repeated
 softly. Then he gave a slow nod. "Three
 ... blind ... mice."
 Jennifer gripped his hand even tighter. "Kind
 of a weird way to make a point, isn't it?"
 Dan said, trying to smile, not quite managing it. His
 voice was low and none too steady.
 Gabe pulled a piece of paper from 205
 beneath the dead mice with an expression of distaste.
 "There's a note," he said, his voice tight and
 furious.
 "Read it," Dan said evenly.
 Gabe read it to himself first, glanced at
 Jennifer, then cast a worried look at Dan.
 "Read it, Gabe," Dan said again.
 A muscle at the side of Gabe's mouth
 twitched as he cleared his throat. "It says--
 __This is no bluff, blind _man."
 Jennifer saw Gabe's eyes cloud
 dangerously. She sensed that he was close
 to exploding. He held up the note and began
 to ball his hand into a fist, as though to crumple the
 paper.
 "Gabe--no!" Jennifer cried quickly.
 "Don't! We have to show it to the police!"                    99
 He stopped, looking from her to the note.
 "I'll call them," he said shortly, pitching the
 note onto the desk.
 He moved toward the phone, then stopped,
 turning to Dan. "This is a real psycho, Dan.
 He isn't just out to scare you. He means to _hurt
 you." Then he picked up the phone and dialed
 9-1-1.
 Jennifer didn't realize how tightly she
 had been gripping Dan's hand until he gently
 pried her fingers loose and tucked her hand
 securely inside the crook of his arm. "You all
 right?" he asked quietly.
 She stared up at him. "I'm frightened," she
 said simply. "Really frightened."
 He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It'll
 be all right. He may just be hoping to make us
 drop the radiothon."
 "Oh, Dan, it's more than that, I'm sure of
 it! But maybe we _should postpone the radiothon,
 at least until--was
 He gave a deep sigh. "Jennifer ... I
 can't cancel it now. Think of all the time and work and
 money we've sunk into it. We _have to go ahead.
 If I let every kook who didn't like my choice
 of programming dictate what I do or don't
 do, I'd soon be off the air for good!"
 Jennifer studied him, wondering how much of his
 composure was genuine. "How can you _not be afraid,
 Daniel? Don't you see the significance
 of--this?" She pushed the shoe box farther down the
 table.
 He pulled her a little closer. 207
 "Let's not jump to any conclusions until we
 talk to the police, OK? Let's see what
 they have to say."
 
 The police judged the threat real enough that
 Daniel should have round-the-clock protection. The
 problem was, they simply didn't have the manpower
 to provide it. But they promised to work out some kind
 of coverage, at least throughout the radiothon.
 Dan rebelled at the idea, just as Jennifer
 and Gabe had expected him to. But in the end, the
 firm, common sense demands of the police stopped
 his protests. It was decided that Gabe would spend
 the night at Dan's house with an officer stationed
 outside.
 When one of the policemen stated that a man would
 also be placed outside Jennifer's house, Dan
 turned sharply in the direction of the officer's
 voice. "You think she's in danger, too?"
 The young patrolman hesitated before answering,
 darting a quick glance at Jennifer. "I think we              100
 don't want to take any chances, Mr. Kaine.
 We don't know what kind of nut case we're
 dealing with, and someone _was outside Miss Terry's
 house the other night."
 Jennifer felt a cold trickle of fear
 snake down her spine, but she was far too frightened
 for Dan to get bogged down in worry for herself.
 "Gabe," she suggested, "couldn't the two of you
 stay at Dan's parents--just for tonight?"
 "_No." Dan's retort was curt and sharp.
 Gabe looked at him thoughtfully. "That might
 not be such a bad idea, Dan--was
 "And it's not a good one, either," he responded
 shortly. "We're not bringing my folks into this.
 We're not going to tell them anything about it,
 Gabe. Forget it."
 Gabe rolled his eyes at Jennifer and
 shrugged. "You're the boss," he said grudgingly.
 "OK. Why don't we get out of here so everyone
 can get some rest?"
 
 It had been years since Jennifer had spent
 a totally sleepless night. Not since her last
 week in Rome, after her hopes had been crushed
 by the blunt pronouncement of Maestro Paulo,
 had she sat in a darkened room and watched the
 long, tedious hours of the night plod wearily
 toward dawn.
 Tonight seemed even more endless. The 209
 presence of the unmarked patrol car gave her no
 comfort. She could only think of Dan.
 Finally, because she knew she might go mad
 by morning if she didn't find something to help her
 pass the hours, she placed the _Daybreak demo
 tape in her tape player and lay facedown on
 the bed to listen. At one point, she remembered the
 notebook Dan had given her, but she was too
 keyed up to read.
 An hour later, she played the tape over
 again. It was quite simply one of the most powerful
 musical scores she had ever heard. It was a
 musical journey, a journey through the darkness of
 despair--as detailed by the blind man Jesus had
 healed; a journey through the darkness of sin--Mary
 Magdalene's account; and a journey through the darkness
 of unbelief--a Roman soldier's experience.
 Each of them was searching for an end to their personal
 darkness. And each of them found the Light of the World
 in God's gift of his Son, Jesus Christ.
 It was beautiful. It was unique. And
 Jennifer knew it contained the power to change
 lives. No wonder Dan was so taken with it.
 For one brief moment, she ached to try the songs
 of Mary Magdalene. She knew in her heart that                101
 her voice was right for the music. But just as quickly,
 she reminded herself that her voice wasn't the
 problem. It was her _spirit that could no longer sing.
 
 FIFTEEN
 
 On Friday evening, fifteen minutes before the
 beginning of the radiothon, Jennifer sat in the
 lounge, staring vacantly outside.
 It had been what Dan called a "mizzling"
 day. The morning had been dreary and
 oppressively humid, the rest of the day even
 gloomier. A fine drizzle of rain was now
 beginning to dampen the evening--and Jennifer's mood.
 She would have given almost anything for a few hours
 of untroubled sleep and an entire day of peace and
 quiet, a day in which she had to do nothing but simply
 _think.
 Certainly, she had a few things to think about.
 But the one thing she really _wanted to think about--
 _needed to think about--had to be pushed onto the back
 burner of her mind, at least for now. How could she
 hope to be objective about the fact that a man
 had recently declared he loved her--and had asked
 her to marry him--when she was in the midst 211
 of a thirty-six hour physical and emotional
 blitz; when her daily routine consisted of
 Peeping Toms and pickup truck assaults;
 and when the man she loved was being hounded by a
 psychopath?
 With a heavy sigh, she turned her attention
 back to the moment. Her top priority for now was just
 to get through this weekend, though try as she might,
 she couldn't shake the chilling premonition that somewhere
 a bomb was ticking madly away--a bomb that could
 explode at any second.
 Although she dreaded leaving Dan--especially
 since the incident with the dead mice in the shoe box
 --she felt she _had to go home for a few days.
 She hadn't seen her dad or Loren for weeks,
 and then only for one day; their disappointment had been
 painfully obvious when she had left after only a
 few hours.
 There was also no denying the fact that she needed time
 away from the station--time away from _Dan. Time
 to think.
 Glancing out the window again, Jennifer saw a
 patrol car park in the station's lot and a
 policeman approach the sidewalk leading to the
 front door. The police had promised that an
 officer would be at the station throughout the weekend. The
 protection should have been reassuring, but at the
 moment it didn't seem to help very much.
 Jennifer drained the last of her coffee and                  102
 rubbed the back of her neck. With a grim smile,
 she decided she was beginning to feel a little like a character
 in an old science fiction story--a man who had
 been imprisoned in a room with walls slowly
 moving inward and a tide of water gradually seeping
 up through the floor. The man knew he would
 eventually be crushed by the walls or drown in the
 water; his dilemma was deciding which way he
 preferred to die.
 Dan and Sunny came into the lounge just then.
 Dan looked disgustingly fresh, except for his
 red-rimmed eyes. As always, his clothes were neatly
 pressed, his grooming impeccable.
 Jennifer glanced down at her own outfit, a
 hasty, last-minute selection she'd had
 to settle on this afternoon when she realized that most of
 her clothes were in the laundry basket. Her
 sweater was a size too big and tended to hang in
 a lopsided slouch over her waist, and her
 slacks could have done with a good pressing.
 "Jennifer?" Dan stopped a few 213
 yards from her chair.
 "Be with you in a minute. As soon as I
 finish sticking pins in my arm to see if I'm still
 alive."
 His smile was affectionate. "You didn't
 sleep either?" He was to have napped on the couch in his
 office while Jennifer rested at home for a few
 hours that afternoon. But from the looks of his eyes, he
 hadn't slept all that much.
 "Not really. But why is it that I look like a
 bag lady while you look as if you've been
 posing for TV commercials?"
 "What kind of commercials?"
 "Oh, you know the ones--the guy has perfect
 hair and perfect teeth, and he's leaning back
 on a fencepost with his face lifted to the wind while
 he watches a gorgeous white stallion
 gallop through the heather on the hill."
 "You didn't say anything about a perfect
 nose."
 "You noticed, huh?"
 She studied his face, unable to stop a tug of
 tenderness that made her heart turn over. "So--
 how are you, boss?" she asked him softly.
 He shrugged. "OK. I rested a little."
 "Good thing, since we have the first shift. Speaking
 of which, we'd better be getting to the studio."
 Dan yawned deeply and followed her out the
 door. "Katharine said she put a fresh pot of
 coffee and cups in the studio. We must look
 pretty bad."
 "Nah. Batman and Robin, in charge as
 usual. Come on, let's go wake up Shepherd                    103
 Valley."
 "I think we'd better wake each other up
 first."
 
 Dan and Jennifer stayed on the air until
 eleven that night, then yielded to Gabe and Jay
 Regan for three hours. As they walked down the
 hall from the studio, Dan told Jennifer about a
 phone call he had received that afternoon.
 The supervisor at the county children's home,
 Mrs. Grayson, had called to tell him that a
 couple had recently inquired into adopting a
 special child. They were interested in an older child, not
 an infant, and specifically wanted a boy.
 They stopped at the door of Jennifer's
 office, and she studied him with concern. "Are they
 considering Jason?" 215
 He nodded. "Mrs. Grayson said she'd like
 to talk to me about it before she interviews the couple.
 She wanted me to come in today or tomorrow, but when I
 explained about the radiothon, she offered to come up
 to the house Sunday afternoon."
 Jennifer could tell that he was shaken by this
 unexpected news. "You're upset, aren't you?"
 He bent down to release Sunny from her
 harness, then stood and leaned against the doorframe of
 Jennifer's office.
 "To tell you the truth, I'm not exactly
 sure _how I feel about it." He crossed his
 arms over his chest, saying nothing for a moment. "I
 just want whatever's best for Jason," he finally
 said. "And I've never been convinced that living with
 me would be the best thing for him. A single parent--
 who's also blind ..." He shrugged. "I used
 to think that he might be just as well off at the children's
 home. I hadn't thought much about someone wanting
 to adopt him, though I suppose I should have
 realized it might happen."
 A faint, sad smile touched his lips, then
 faded. "Can I ask you something? Just supposing you
 might agree to marry me--how would you feel about a
 ... ready-made family?" As if he sensed
 her surprise, he quickly added, "Does
 Jason still make you uncomfortable?"
 "I don't--it isn't that he makes me
 uncomfortable," Jennifer said carefully. "I just
 feel so _sorry for him! Dan, we can't talk
 about this right now--was
 "I know," he assured her quickly. "I'm not
 being fair to you. one crisis at a time is enough,
 right?" His smile was tender as he reached out to touch
 her hair. "Tired?"
 "Mm. Not me. I'm past fatigue. I'm
 now into the zonk stage."                                    104
 "The what?"
 "Zonk. Total collapse. The mind shuts
 down but the mouth goes on."
 "Oh. Kind of like the way Gabe is all the
 time."
 "Exactly."
 He nodded and started to turn away. "I'll have
 someone call you in about three hours."
 "Gently, Daniel. Tell them to be sure
 and call me very, very gently, otherwise--was A
 distant rumble interrupted her in midsentence.
 "What was that?"
 "What was _what?" 217
 "That noise."
 "_That noise?" he asked right after another low
 growl of thunder echoed far away. "I believe,"
 he said sagely, "that's the sound of an approaching
 storm."
 "A _thunderstorm? At this time of year? We had
 snow a few days ago!"
 "You're in the mountains now, love. The
 temperature can move up--as it has over the
 past few hours--or down with no warning. It's not
 unusual for us to have some nifty storms this time of
 year, once it starts to warm up."
 "Oh." Jennifer shivered.
 "What's wrong?"
 "Nothing," she said quickly, her voice a
 half-tone higher than usual.
 "No," he drawled softly. "I don't
 believe it. Not you."
 "What?"
 "You're afraid of storms?"
 "Who said I'm afraid of storms? Did I
 say I'm afraid of storms?"
 "You _are, aren't you?" He brushed the
 knuckles of one hand lightly under her chin.
 Jennifer shrugged, trying to keep her voice
 light. "I don't exactly _like storms, I
 suppose, but I wouldn't say I'm _afraid of
 them."
 "I see." He grinned down at her and
 tapped her lightly under the chin once more. "What
 _would you say?"
 "Terrified," she said after a second. "I'd
 probably say terrified."
 He shook his head in disbelief. "Well,
 somehow I think that once you hit that couch, you'll
 forget all about the storm." He tousled her hair
 affectionately. "Now go on--sack out while you
 can."
 
 Dan's last thought before drifting off to sleep was
 that he might have been wrong after all. Maybe the           105
 radiothon wasn't going to bring his psycho caller
 out from under his rock. Maybe nothing would happen.
 Maybe he needn't worry about the rest of the
 weekend. ...
 __And then he was on the mountain road _again ...
 but this time it was different, totally different. The
 nightmare propelled him at a dizzying speed
 past the headlights, past the crunch of metal,
 past his own terrified scream. He saw 219
 the flashes of color again, like last time. He
 knew he was dreaming, but he couldn't stop it,
 couldn't stop the car or the dream or even slow
 things down. He was slammed against the wheel,
 tossed back and forth against the seat, then against the
 wheel again. And the truck just kept right on coming,
 closer, closer, faster than ever before. There was a
 face--no, it was only an open mouth, no face
 --just someone screaming at him in anger ... or in
 fear ... and then he was back at the beginning. It
 was starting all over again, and he knew what was going
 to happen ... he would feel the pain and the
 mind-freezing terror again. He had to stop the
 nightmare or it was going to kill him this time ... the
 truck wasn't going to take his sight, it was going
 to take his life, and he had to stop it. ...
 He _couldn't stop it; there was something he had
 to see, something he'd forgotten, and it was
 desperately important that he remember ...
 now, right now. He had to go a little closer, even
 let himself be hurt, so this time he'd remember, this
 time he would know. ...
 
 "Dan! Daniel! Wake up! Dan!"
 Jennifer was shaking him gently, framing his
 perspiration-soaked face between her hands. "It's
 all right," she murmured. "You're just dreaming,
 Dan. It's all right, I'm here ... it's all
 right now."
 Dan threw an arm over his face to shield
 himself from the pain, to stop the truck.
 "_Jennifer?"
 "Yes." Her voice was shaky, and he knew
 he must have frightened her. "Are you all right,
 Dan?" She wrapped her arms around him, burying
 her face against his shoulder. "You must have had an
 awful nightmare."
 Dan couldn't answer her yet, couldn't quite
 focus his mind. Jennifer was with him, but where were
 they? He blinked his eyes once, then again. It was
 still dark. He couldn't see.
 Then he remembered. And the memory hit him
 with the cold thud of sick reality, just as it had every
 morning for over five years. He couldn't see
 because he was blind. He wasn't ever going to see again.     106
 He let Jennifer hold him, secretly
 drawing what calm he could from her, allowing himself
 to be soothed by her. He was always alone after the
 nightmare. There was never anyone to comfort him,
 to ease the terror. With grateful 221
 relief, he let Jennifer hold him now and
 murmur softly to him until he could face the
 darkness again.
 
 SIXTEEN
 
 By Saturday night Dan knew what he had
 to do. Even though there hadn't been so much as a
 minor incident during the radiothon, which would end
 tomorrow morning, all his instincts told him something was
 going to happen and that this weekend would somehow trigger
 whatever it was.
 He had decided to go on the offensive. If
 at all possible, he wanted to put an end to this
 madness while Jennifer was safely out of harm's
 way. She would leave by noon tomorrow to visit her
 family in Athens. That meant he had two days
 to take the initiative, to provoke his tormentor
 to make a move.
 He thought he knew how to go about it. But he would
 have to wait. First, he intended to make certain that
 Jennifer was gone.
 
 The man in the pickup truck sat staring at the
 back of the radio station, his view distorted by the
 rain slashing the windshield. Occasionally, his eyes
 would flick back and forth in rhythm with the halting,
 noisy scrape of the windshield wipers. Mostly
 he stared straight ahead.
 Anticipation quickened his breathing. He rolled
 down the window a few inches and tossed a
 half-smoked cigarette outside onto the
 saturated ground, immediately pulling another from the
 pack in his jacket pocket. Squeezing it
 tightly between his nicotine-stained fingers, he
 squinted as the smoke from the match burned his
 eyes.
 It was late, but the radio station was only
 dimly lighted. No more than half a dozen cars
 were in the parking lot, including the black Cherokee
 that belonged to the station, the Terry woman's
 Honda, and Denton's Thunderbird. And a
 police cruiser.
 He curled his lip as he stared at the patrol
 car. He hadn't counted on the police staying this
 late. He had waited all evening, his pickup
 safely hidden behind the brush and pine trees on the
 hill. But the cruiser was still there.
 His chest tightened painfully, and the sour taste in         107
 his mouth grew even more rancid. He 223
 might just as well go home for the night.
 He fiddled with the radio dial. Even this
 close, the station was laced with static, the night
 sparked with electricity. A gospel song came
 over the air, and he turned it off with a snap.
 Kaine hadn't been on the air for a long time.
 He wondered what he was doing in there. Not that it
 mattered. He wasn't going to be able to finish him
 tonight anyway. He'd have to wait till tomorrow. But that
 was all right. Kaine would be worn out by then. And he
 wouldn't be surrounded by so many people. Maybe it would be
 even better, easier to take care of him at
 home. Alone.
 
 By seven Sunday morning, Dan knew he could
 delay no longer. The radiothon would end in an
 hour. Jennifer was down the hall, briefing Jay
 Regan and Gabe, who would be handling the regular
 Sunday broadcasting; she wouldn't hear him on the
 air. He opened his mike, took a deep,
 steadying breath, and began to speak. "And now a word
 for my friend in the noisy pickup truck." He
 paused, then went on. "I got your package.
 And your messages. Now I've got a
 message for _you." He kept his voice level
 as he spoke softly into the mike.
 "I know who you are. And I know what you're
 doing, and why. So let's stop playing games.
 I've known what you want for a long time now. And
 after this weekend is over, the police will know
 everything _I know." He hesitated for an
 instant, then added, "__The blind man is calling
 your bluff, _pal."
 He turned off his mike, quickly cued up
 another song, and said a brief, silent prayer.
 __You and I both know it's me who's bluffing,
 Lord. I don't have a clue who this nut is, but
 I've got to make him show himself while
 Jennifer's gone. I have this sick feeling that he
 might try to get at me through her. I don't know
 what else to do, Lord. I can't shake the thought that
 I'm running out of time, that he's closing in. I
 have to force his hand now, before someone besides me gets
 _hurt. ...
 
 The man hurled his coffee cup across the room,
 his eyes blazing as the pieces shattered on the
 wall and fell to the floor.
 _Big-mouthed _ape! Who did he think he
 was, anyway? Talking to the whole town 225
 like that!
 His eyes were watering, and he wiped them on a
 dirty sleeve, then slumped down onto the                     108
 torn plastic seat of a kitchen chair. So,
 he'd been right all along. Kaine _did know.
 But he must not have known too long. Otherwise, he
 would have done something about it before now.
 Well, it was a good thing he'd already planned
 to get rid of him. Once Kaine blabbed to the
 police, it would be too late.
 __They'd never believe me, not against that blind
 self-righteous hypocrite! The whole town thinks
 he's some kind of a saint or something. Who's going
 to take my word against _his?
 Well, after today he wouldn't have to worry
 anymore. With Kaine out of the picture, no one
 would ever know the truth. He'd be safe. Finally
 safe.
 
 SEVENTEEN
 
 Dan missed her already, and it was only one
 o'clock. Jennifer hadn't even been gone three
 hours yet, but her absence was like a hole in his
 heart.
 If it hurt this much when she left him for two
 days, how would he live with it if she refused
 to marry him, if he had to settle for living on the
 outside fringes of her life forever? She was as
 important to him as breathing by now. Without her,
 he'd just be taking up space.
 __Oh, Lord, you know how much I love her.
 I've let myself believe that you brought her into my
 life for me to love, to marry. But what if I'm
 wrong? What if I'm _wrong?
 Would she talk to her father and brother about him?
 Would they try to discourage her from getting involved
 with a blind man? With a stab of apprehension, he
 realized he couldn'tck
me them if they did.
 If Jennifer were his daughter, he might do the
 same. How many fathers would encourage their daughters
 to marry a person with his disability?
 He sank down onto the piano bench, letting
 his fingers run idly over the keys with no
 purpose other than to fill the emptiness of his
 house with sound ... any sound. It seemed
 strange to be alone. Of course, it wouldn't
 last. But he was glad for it now, at least.
 He had tried to put Gabe's mind at rest
 about leaving him alone for the afternoon, insisting it 227
 was more important that Gabe be at the station the rest
 of the day. Gabe had agreed only after Dan
 promised to have Lyss or his dad pick him up as
 soon as his appointment with Mrs. Grayson was
 finished.
 Dan had already called the police and told them
 they needn't keep an eye on the house this afternoon,        109
 that he'd be leaving shortly. Now he had nothing
 to do but wait for Mrs. Grayson. He had every
 intention of leaving the house as soon as she did.
 Earlier he had almost decided to spend the afternoon
 alone, waiting for his psychotic friend to make a
 move. But he had finally admitted to himself that he
 wasn't that brave. Or that stupid.
 He was beginning to think his scheme to lure his
 unknown adversary into the open had been full of
 holes from the beginning. Because he'd been so
 determined to force his assailant's hand during
 Jennifer's absence, he had ignored the fact
 that, if this nut came after him while he was alone,
 there was very little he could do to stop him. Even Sunny
 would be little help in a situation like that.
 Besides, while his first thought had been to protect
 Jennifer, he didn't want anyone _else
 getting hurt either.
 Preoccupied by his thoughts when the doorbell
 rang, he misstepped on his way to answer it and
 stubbed his toe against the rolltop desk. He
 opened the door, appalled to discover that Jason was
 with Mrs. Grayson.
 "I hope you don't mind my bringing him
 along, Dan," the superintendent said as they
 entered. "But he's missed you terribly the last
 few days, and I thought it might be good for the two of
 you to spend a few minutes together."
 Dan hesitated, then replied, "Sure.
 That's fine. Jason, you can play with Sunny
 while I talk with Mrs. Grayson."
 In truth, he was disturbed that Jason had come.
 He was tense and edgy enough without having to worry about
 something happening to the boy. But he managed a
 smile and a playful cuff on the chin before sending
 him off with Sunny to the loft.
 "I'm sorry I haven't been able to spend
 any time with him this week," Dan said as they sat
 down in the living room. "I explained about the
 radiothon--was
 "I understand," Mrs. Grayson assured him.
 "But the child has become terribly attached to you,
 Daniel, and he's unhappy when he's 229
 away from you for any length of time. That's what I
 wanted to talk about."
 Dan remained silent while she told him about
 the inquiry she had received from the prospective
 adoptive couple. "I just wanted to be
 completely sure you weren't interested in adopting
 Jason yourself before going any further."
 Surprised, Dan hesitated for a moment before
 answering. "I _would be interested--very interested--if
 I weren't blind ... and single."
 "I understand that. But I've seen you and the boy            110
 together, Daniel, and quite frankly I have my
 doubts that a physically perfect couple can meet
 Jason's needs any better than you can--if as
 well."
 Caught off guard by her words, Dan was
 uncertain how to reply. "There would be problems,"
 he began.
 "There are _always problems when you become a
 parent," she said, and Dan could hear the smile in
 her voice. "But I've worked with children and
 adoptive parents for years, and I've seen some
 otherwise insurmountable problems overcome
 by plenty of love and common sense."
 "I _do love the boy," Dan said thoughtfully.
 "And I'd jump at the chance to have him with me if
 I thought I wouldn't be cheating him."
 "How could _loving the boy possibly be _cheating
 him?" Mrs. Grayson gave Dan no time
 to respond. "If you should decide to pursue the
 idea, it might be advisable for you to fill out a
 preliminary application. It wouldn't bind you
 to anything," she assured him quickly. "But it would
 let us get started on a home study and reference
 check. And it would allow me to place you in the
 file for consideration as a prospective parent.
 In addition to others, of course."
 Dan rubbed one hand over his chin, then gave a
 small nod of his head and smiled. "There's someone
 I'd like to discuss this with, Mrs. Grayson. Would
 I be hurting my chances if I waited until the
 middle of the week to turn in an application?"
 After encouraging Dan to take his time and consider
 his decision carefully, Mrs. Grayson rose
 to leave.
 They called Jason and Sunny downstairs,
 but the boy begged Dan to let him stay. "Just
 while Mrs. Grayson does her errands,
 Dan. Please? I'll be real quiet."
 Dan was uncomfortable about being alone 231
 at the house with Jason right now, but he couldn't
 explain that to the boy. Finally, he agreed that
 Jason could stay, but only until Mrs.
 Grayson returned from her errands.
 Jason and Sunny trooped off to play in the
 yard while Dan walked Mrs. Grayson to her
 car. The superintendent advised him not to say
 anything to Jason that would give him false hope,
 but did suggest that the two of them might at least
 discuss the possibility of adoption.
 After her car pulled away, Dan called
 Jason to him. "Let's give Sunny a few
 minutes to run, now that the rain has stopped," he
 told the boy. "She's been cooped up inside
 the station with me all weekend."                            111
 The afternoon was heavy with a thick humidity. Dan
 let Sunny romp off, knowing she'd return
 to check on them now and then. Besides, Jason liked
 the idea of guiding Dan around the yard, and they
 usually made a game of it.
 "There's something I'd like to talk about, sport,"
 Dan said, taking Jason by the hand.
 "What, Dan?" The boy's tone was
 distracted. Obviously, his attention was more on
 Sunny than the conversation.
 Dan proceeded to tell the child, simply and
 sincerely, how he felt about him. "You're very
 special to me, Jason. I like being with you, and I
 love you very much. In fact, you're like my own little
 boy. That's how much I care about you. Do you understand
 that?"
 They stopped walking, and Dan felt Jason
 clasp his hand even tighter. "I love you, too,
 Dan," the boy said. He surprised Dan with his
 immediate, sober response and his perception. "And I
 wish you were my daddy."
 Dan felt a little tug at his heart when he
 heard how small and serious Jason sounded.
 "Why, Jason?" he prompted. "Why would you
 want me to be your daddy?"
 "So I could stay with you forever."
 After a pause, Dan asked, "You'd like that,
 would you? To stay with me, even though you might never have
 a mother?"
 Jason considered that for a moment. "I'd like to have
 a mother, too. But I wouldn't be sad without one if
 you were my daddy." Then something else occurred
 to him. "Maybe Jennifer would like to be my mother.
 I think she likes me. And I _know she likes
 you!" 233
 Dan's grin was a quick flash of pleasure at
 Jason's words. "You think so, huh?" Laughing,
 he picked the boy up and swung him to his
 shoulder, then set him lightly to his feet.
 
 The retriever bounded over at the sound of
 laughter, eager to be included. Suddenly she
 stopped, alert to a sound the others had missed.
 Her instinct, born of long, intensive
 training, years of experience--and immeasurable
 love--was to immediately ignore her own desire
 to play, even to ignore the fact that she wasn't
 on her harness. Moving like a fireball, she
 hurled herself directly at her master.
 The dog took the first bullet in her side and
 yelped. The boy, thinking the retriever wanted
 to play, jumped toward her. He caught the
 second bullet.
 Dan heard Sunny's shrited f pain, then                       112
 heard Jason go down with a surprised cry. In
 one lightning-fast instant, he realized what he
 had heard--and knew the shots had missed their
 intended target.
 With the third explosion, he reacted by raw
 instinct, pitching to the ground in an attempt
 to remove himself as a target. After another
 second or two, he choked out Jason's name,
 then called for Sunny.
 No sound broke the deadly quiet on the
 mountain. He could hear nothing but the pounding of his
 heart as he lay, silently waiting. He forced
 himself to lie perfectly still, hoping the sniper would
 think he'd been hit.
 __He'll eventually come to make sure he
 got _me. The thought froze him with panic. He
 felt his skin grow cold and wet with perspiration,
 and he thought he might be sick. He swallowed
 hard against the hot taste of bile rising in his
 throat. He wanted desperately to reach out and
 grope for Sunny or Jason, but he didn't
 dare.
 He was totally helpless, a sitting duck.
 There was nothing he could do, no way he could help
 Jason and Sunny.
 He didn't even know for certain where they were.
 They might still be alive, but they would bleed to death
 if he didn't get help for them.
 __Help me ... merciful God, help
 _me. ...
 He stiffened, held his breath, and 235
 suddenly his entire body began to tremble. He
 heard an engine, someone coming up the driveway.
 He clenched his teeth together until the tension hurt
 his jaw, forcing himself not to move, not to cry out. Was it
 a truck? He tensed even more, then melted with
 relief. No. Closer now, he knew it was a
 car. It couldn't be Mrs. Grayson coming back;
 it was too soon. But the car was familiar.
 His dad's Lincoln! __Thank you ... oh,
 my dear Lord, thank _you. ...
 Then he realized he had to warn his dad. He
 couldn't let his father pull in the driveway and get
 out of the car without knowing--he had to warn him.
 He waited until the solid, powerful sound
 of the big engine slowed as it turned into the
 driveway, waited until the exact instant the
 ignition died before pushing himself to his knees and
 hauling himself upright to wave his hands and shout a
 warning.
 
 EIGHTEEN
 
 The steady downpour of rain had been with her                113
 since she left Athens, turning the road
 outside her windshield into an eerie, distorted
 rivulet. But Jennifer had cried so hard since
 her frantic departure that she no longer knew
 whether it was her tears or the rainstorm obscuring
 the road.
 Lyss's call that evening had come only hours
 after Jennifer's arrival at home. She had
 been so badly shaken by the news that her dad begged
 her to stay overnight and leave in the morning. But
 she couldn't possibly have waited, had instead
 thrown her things back into her suitcase and,
 kissing her father and Loren good-bye, had started for
 West Virginia.
 The ache at the back of her neck was nothing
 compared to the ache in her heart as she remembered her
 conversation with Lyss. "Dan told me not to call
 you, Jennifer, but Gabe said I should."
 Lyss's voice had been frightened and strained as
 she relayed the bad news about Jason and
 Sunny. She had gone on to explain that, according to the
 police, the shots had been fired from a
 high-powered hunting rifle, probably from the
 upper side of the hill behind Dan's house. The
 sniper's getaway would have been easy and quick.
 Jason had still been unconscious when Lyss
 called Jennifer. Fortunately, the 237
 shot had just grazed him--but the boy must have hit his
 head on a rock when he fell, causing a
 concussion. Lyss's father had indicated it might be
 several hours before they had a clearer picture of the
 child's condition.
 As for Sunny, apparently she had been hit
 in the side. The vet seemed to think she would be
 all right, but it was too soon to be sure.
 Jennifer couldn't bear to think what this had done
 to Daniel, although Lyss had been painfully
 honest about her concern for her brother.
 "Physically, Dan is fine," she had
 assured Jennifer. But as she'd gone on,
 Jennifer had realized that she was weeping
 quietly, even as they spoke. "He's so ...
 _shattered, Jennifer! And he's blaming himself for the
 whole thing!"
 Lyss explained then how Dan had
 deliberately tried to bait his tormentor
 into making a move while Jennifer was gone.
 Dismayed that he would have endangered himself on her
 behalf, Jennifer remained silent while Lyss
 continued.
 "You're not going to find the same Dan you
 left, Jennifer," she had warned. "I haven't
 seen him this way since the accident."
 Now Jennifer wiped at her eyes, squinting                    114
 against the monotonous swipe of the windshield
 wipers. Lyss's final words evoked the memory
 of what her father had said upon learning of her love for
 Dan--and his proposal--before they'd heard about the
 shootings.
 "You know, Jenny--was no one but her father ever
 called her Jenny--"I think the secret of your
 Daniel's remarkable spirit is that he's placed it
 in the hands of a loving God, a God who is far,
 far wiser than any of us. Daniel has allowed
 God to work his will in whatever way he chooses,
 even through a tragedy like blindness."
 Steven Terry's dark brown eyes had studied
 Jennifer for a long time. "That's how it was with your
 mother, too. Even in those last few days at the
 hospital, just before she died, she allowed the Lord
 to use her illness--to use _her--to make a
 difference for others."
 His eyes had misted and his voice had been
 unsteady as he explained. "You need to know,
 Jenny, that there are at least half a dozen
 lives somewhere out there that might never have been changed
 if it hadn't been for your mother's faith." 239
 He had paused a moment before going on. "I
 believe with all my heart that, if she could, your
 mother would tell you to look for the glory in things, not the
 grief."
 Jennifer was trying, but at the moment she was
 finding it almost impossible to see any glory.
 Well after eleven, she drove into town, the
 rain coming down so hard she could just barely make out
 the red lights of the radio tower on the hill. For
 some inexplicable reason, the sight of the tower
 saddened her. Dan's life revolved around that
 station--he ate, lived, and breathed it. It was that
 way with Jason and Sunny, too--they had
 become such an essential part of Dan's life.
 She felt a wrench of dismay as she realized that
 it almost seemed as though Dan were being cut off from
 everything that mattered most to him.
 The thought made her press the gas pedal a little
 harder. Suddenly it seemed absolutely vital
 that she get to Dan as quickly as possible.
 
 She found him at the hospital with Lyss and
 Gabe. She stopped short for a moment when she
 got off the elevator on the second floor.
 She could see the three of them sitting in the small
 lounge at the far end of the hall. Taking a deep
 breath to steady herself, she began walking down the
 corridor toward them.
 Gabe stood as soon as he saw her and gave
 her a weak smile. Lyss also got to her feet,
 glancing from Jennifer to Dan, who sat                       115
 woodenly, his head buried in both hands.
 He raised his head when he heard her
 approaching steps. Jennifer thought uneasily that
 his features registered no real surprise or
 pleasure, only a kind of sullenness.
 "Jennifer?" His tone was as wooden as his
 expression.
 Now that she was close enough to get a good look at
 him, Jennifer felt almost ill with dismay. She
 found it difficult to respond to Lyss's
 welcoming hug or Gabe's quick squeeze of her
 hand. Instead, she could only stare with concern at
 Dan. His hair needed combing, his blue
 sweatshirt was spotted with what appeared to be
 grass stains and blood, and his face was haggard,
 engraved with stark, grim lines of fatigue and
 worry. Other than voicing her name, he made
 no move to acknowledge her presence.
 She took a deep breath, then forced 241
 herself to stoop down beside him. "Dan--are you all
 right?" She covered his hands with her own, but he
 held himself rigid, unmoving, offering only a
 small nod to her question.
 "Jason--how is he?"
 When Dan didn't answer, Jennifer looked
 up at Gabe and then Lyss, who shook her
 head. "No change. He's still unconscious."
 Returning her attention to Dan, Jennifer
 studied him, still hoping for some sign of welcome.
 Finally he spoke. "Who called you?"
 "Lyss. She knew I'd want to be here."
 "She told you what happened then," he said
 heavily.
 "Yes. Oh, Dan ... I'm so sorry.
 I know how much they both mean to you." She paused,
 then tried to reassure him. "They're going to be
 all right, Dan."
 He slumped back against the chair. "Even
 now," he said thickly, "we still don't know who
 he is."
 "But we'll find out," Jennifer insisted,
 getting to her feet. She turned to Gabe.
 "Haven't the police learned anything yet?"
 With a look of abject frustration, Gabe
 shook his head. "Not a clue."
 Just then Lucas Kaine, a big,
 silver-haired model of his son, walked out of a
 room a few doors down and approached them.
 Jennifer thought Lucas appeared to be as
 exhausted as Dan. But his eyes lighted when he
 saw her standing there, and he managed a smile for
 her.
 "Jennifer, I'm so glad you're here." He
 darted a quick glance at his son. "There's no                116
 change, Dan. I just checked Jason again."
 His gaze took in everyone at once. "I
 think all of you should go home now and get some
 rest." He held up a restraining hand when
 Lyss started to object. "Jason will be
 monitored throughout the night. That's all we can do
 right now." He hesitated, then added sternly,
 "You look terrible--every one of you. You're not doing
 anyone any good this way."
 He then turned a meaningful look on Gabe.
 "I want Dan to stay with us tonight. Will you take
 him out to the house? I'm going to stick around here for
 another hour or so."
 Gabe hesitated and looked uneasily at
 Dan, who simply gave a brief 243aslehake of his head. "I'm staying with Jason. In
 case he wakes up."
 With an uncertain glance at Lucas, Gabe
 closed the distance between himself and Dan. "Dan,
 you're not going to accomplish anything except to wear
 yourself out," he told his friend.
 "I'm staying," Dan said flatly.
 With a tired sigh, Lucas met Gabe's
 eyes and shrugged. "All right. If that's what you
 want, son."
 "Take me to the room, please, Gabe,"
 Dan said dully.
 Gabe looked at Dan with surprise, as if
 he'd just become aware of Sunny's absence.
 He reached out tentatively to take Dan's arm.
 "Sure, buddy. This way."
 Surprised and disturbed, Jennifer watched as
 Dan docilely allowed Gabe to lead him down
 the hall to Jason's room. He hadn't even
 told her goodnight. She had to fight back tears
 of pain and rejection as she watched the two of them
 walk away. Dan's shoulders were slumped, his
 steps uncertain and shuffling.
 For the first time since she'd met him, Jennifer
 thought with sick despair, Dan actually looked
 ... blind.
 
 NINETEEN
 
 Over the next few days Jennifer saw all
 too clearly what Lyss had meant about Dan not
 being the same.
 On the surface, he seemed to go about his
 usual routine. He went to work. He went home
 --although "home" had temporarily become his
 parents' house. He went to visit Jason at
 the hospital and Sunny at the vet's. Although
 Jason remained unresponsive, the doctors
 were still hopeful that his condition would improve. As      117
for
 Sunny, she seemed to be recovering nicely.
 She recognized her visitors and nuzzled
 Dan's hand lovingly when he approached.
 Somehow, it was Dan who seemed to be the most
 wounded of the three. He had become an empty
 reflection of his former self. His sustaining sense
 of humor, his upbeat disposition--even his warmth--
 had all but vanished. He came to the station but
 stayed out of the studio, remaining in his office to work
 behind closed doors. He ate most of his meals
 alone at his desk, and Jennifer knew 245
 that much of his food ended up in the trash can. If
 he happened to venture into the lounge when others were
 present, he sat quietly drinking his coffee,
 never really participating in the conversation. Even
 to Jennifer, he was merely courteous, but
 impersonal and distant.
 He had taken to walking with a cane and wearing
 dark glasses, both of which had come as a shock
 to Jennifer. The first time she saw him with the
 unfamiliar gear she wanted to weep for him and,
 at the same time, shake him.
 As if he had sensed her surprise--and
 possibly her disappointment--he made a lame
 effort to explain. "Without Sunny, I'm a bit
 of a menace," he said. "I stumble easily,
 bump into things. The cane helps me to avoid
 breaking my neck. That and the dark glasses let
 others know I'm blind."
 When Jennifer offered the cautious observation that
 Sunny's absence was only temporary--a few
 days at the most--he said nothing, but merely went
 on down the hall, the cane tapping in front of
 him on the way.
 Gabe hated the cane and the glasses as much as
 Jennifer did. "When Dan came back from
 Seeing Eye with Sunny," he told her, "he
 said he'd _never use that `despicable cane`
 again. Those were his exact words." He went on
 to explain that, although the cane and dark glasses were
 perfectly acceptable props, it bothered him that
 Dan had come to rely on them again. "I can't
 help but think it's just another indication of how
 depressed he really is."
 Jennifer made every effort to return their
 relationship to what it had been, all to no avail.
 Her attempts at humor bombed hopelessly;
 her not-so-subtle hints that he was avoiding her
 seemed to fall on deaf ears. Dan had shut her
 out, along with everyone else. And there seemed to be
 nothing she could do about it.
 By Wednesday evening, she was physically and
 emotionally exhausted. Combined with Dan's                   118
 bewildering and painful rejection was her continual
 concern for Jason and Sunny--not to mention the grim
 reality that somewhere out there a lunatic was still loose,
 and more than likely still bent on hurting Dan.
 At the moment, she could think of nothing else but
 Dan. She had left the station earlier than
 usual, bogged down in a black mood that was
 growing worse by the minute. Driven 247
 by sheer desperation to find something--anything--that would
 help her understand what Dan was going through, she now
 sat at her kitchen table, hunched intently over
 his journal. She didn't know what she was looking
 for--perhaps some kind of magic key that would unlock
 the secrets of his heart so she could help him
 to get through this awful time.
 Before tonight, she had scanned a few pages of the
 journal but had been reluctant to plumb the
 depths of emotion and insight she suspected the
 pages might contain. This evening, however, she
 began on page one, stopping only when her
 attention was captured, a few pages later,
 by something in Dan's notes, an observation that
 reminded her of one of the musical selections from
 _Daybreak.
 At the same time, a splash of color tucked
 in the back lining of the notebook caught her eye,
 and she pulled out what appeared to be a book
 jacket. She studied it curiously for a moment,
 then drew in a sharp breath of astonishment. What
 she held in her hands was the cover to the published
 musical score of _Daybreak. It clearly
 identified Daniel Kaine as the composer of both
 lyrics and music.
 Jennifer stared at the cover for several
 minutes, her gaze locked on Dan's name.
 Finally, she reached behind her to the portable tape
 player on the counter. The demo for _Daybreak was
 still in place, and she pushed the play button
 to start it. Then she returned to the journal.
 For the next few hours, she was held captive
 by this extraordinarily personal, penetrating
 glimpse of the mind and heart of a man she was only
 now beginning to understand. It was an intensely painful
 process. Her eyes often blurred by tears,
 Jennifer followed the spiritual and emotional
 journey of a man groping his way toward the reality
 of a loving God, a man seeking sanity in the
 midst of a nightmare, hope in the midst of
 despair, and faith in the midst of destruction.
 Long after the last light of evening had turned
 to darkness, she continued to trace Dan's steps,
 to walk with him through the long and dreary midnight of
 his soul.
 She even found herself praying with him--not the quick,      119
 routine type of prayer her devotions had
 degenerated to over the past few years, but the plea
 of an injured child in the first throes of recognizing
 her own need for healing. 249
 She was there with him, beside his hospital bed years
 before, when his horror-stricken brain refused
 to acknowledge reality but continued to anesthetize itself
 to time and place. __In dark places he has
 made me _dwell, she read, __like those who have
 long been _dead. ...
 She sat by the bed and watched him fight his way
 through the maze of pain and shock and denial, felt his
 sickening awareness of being violated, mutilated,
 and humiliated. __I am the man who has seen
 affliction. He has driven me and made me
 walk in darkness and not in light. He has
 besieged and encompassed me with bitterness and
 _hardship. ...
 She smelled his fear and tasted his tears, shared
 his anger and suffered his defeat, until she thought
 she could no longer bear the haunted labyrinth of his
 heart. __He has made me desolate ...
 my soul has been rejected from peace; I have
 forgotten happiness. My strength has perished, and
 so has my hope from the _Lord. ...
 But she couldn't leave him. By now she was his
 partner in agony as she saw him fumble his way
 past utter despair and finally get to his
 knees, then stand and begin to fight. __I have called
 you by name; you are mine! When you pass through the
 waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will
 not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will
 not be scorched, nor will the flame burn _you. ...
 She echoed his anguished questions during those first
 weeks after he left the hospital, as he
 suffered the frustration and humiliation of dependency.
 __Oh, that I knew where I might find him.
 ... I would present my case before him and fill
 my mouth with arguments. It is God who has
 made my heart faint, and the Almighty who has
 dismayed me, but I am not silenced by the darkness,
 nor the deep gloom which covers _me. ...
 Then, slowly and reluctantly, she began
 to listen with him throughout the weary days and weeks and
 months of searching, as God spoke and challenged
 and thundered his truth from the pages of his Word. __I
 am the Lord, and there is no other, the one forming
 light and creating darkness ... I am the Lord who
 does all these. Who has given to me that I should
 repay him? Whatever is under the whole heaven is
 _mine. ...
 Weakly, she knelt with him in the garden of his
 final battle, waiting and watching as he finally
 admitted his humanness, his weakness, and his 251            120
 sin. __Who are you, O man, who answers back
 to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder,
 "Why did you make me like this," will it? Or does
 not the potter have a right over the clay? Behold, like
 the clay in the potter's hand, so are you in my hand.
 Woe to the one who quarrels with his _maker. ...
 She fell facedown with him in the dust and ashes
 of his pride as his broken, shattered spirit once and for
 all acknowledged the truth of his Creator, the
 sovereignty of his Savior, and the infinite love
 of his Redeemer. __My spirit is broken. I have
 declared that which I did not understand, things too
 wonderful for me, which I did not know. Shall we
 accept good from God and not accept adversity? I
 know that my Redeemer lives. ... Though he
 slay me, I will hope in _him. ...
 And finally, Jennifer realized, as Daniel
 had, that he had been weak until the Lord made
 him strong ... that he had been frightened until the
 Lord made him brave ... that he had been
 rebellious and angry until the Lord made him
 gentle and kind ... that he was no more than what his
 Lord had made him, and the best of what he now was
 had come out of the fire of affliction.
 On these pages born of his pain, she saw his
 pride, his stubbornness, his rebellion, his
 fury, his fear, his denial, his doubt, and his
 weakness. She watched him come to the end of his own
 resources, humble himself, and acknowledge the
 majesty and sovereignty of his God. She
 witnessed a man broken by grief and pain
 transformed into a restored, whole man of God.
 __And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job more
 than his beginning ... the Lord gave and the Lord has
 taken away. Blessed be the name of the _Lord.
 And then Jennifer knelt and allowed the Lord
 to begin the same healing and renewing process in her
 own life, knowing this was what Daniel had meant.
 This was what he had wanted for her.
 She wept and prayed for what seemed like hours,
 giving God her anger and rebellion, her
 confusion and resentment and hopelessness. She gave
 God her fractured ego, her shattered dreams,
 her broken heart.
 And finally, she knew her healing had begun.
 While still on her knees, Jennifer caught a
 new, incisive glimpse of truth about the man
 she loved more than life, a truth Dan himself had
 already tried to convey to her. He was no giant, no
 spiritual colossus. He was only a 253
 man, human and imperfect and subject to the
 same faults and frailties as she was. He
 was a wounded hero who had fought on the battleground
 of his faith--and overcome. Through his loss, he had         121
 won; in his weakness, he had become strong; and in
 his surrender, he had been made much more than a
 conqueror.
 Jennifer had long wondered at the secret of
 Dan's peace. Now, ever so slowly, that secret
 began to come to light in the shadows of her mind.
 Daniel had realized--and acknowledged--God's
 absolute right to do with his creation as he willed.
 And then he had learned to trust the Lord's love enough
 to surrender his own broken heart and his searching soul
 to that love. In the abyss of his pain, he had
 finally thrown himself upon the mercy of his God ... and
 God had taken the bitter dust of blindness and
 breathed a new life of faith into being. This was the
 light that glowed from Daniel Kaine, the light at
 which others warmed their hearts.
 But now his light was flickering and threatening to go
 out. He was giving in to defeat and guilt and
 despair. Jennifer sensed in him a weariness, a
 hopelessness that simply refused to fight another
 battle. And she understood, even sympathized with,
 his inclination to retreat. Once more the humiliation and
 despair of dependency had been thrust upon him.
 Added to that was his loss of pride and sense of
 helplessness at being unable to protect those he
 loved.
 Jennifer ached for him. But she couldn't allow
 him the crutch of guilt or the comfort of
 self-pity. Somehow she must make him remember
 what he had tried so desperately to teach _her.
 In her heart, she knew she might well be the
 only one who could give him the will to stand and fight
 again.
 
 TWENTY
 
 By Friday evening, Jennifer knew it was time
 to confront Dan.
 It was another odd, unseasonably warm
 night. The atmosphere was almost oppressive with
 electricity. Thunder drummed faintly in the
 distance, and thick, ink-black clouds hung
 ominously above the valley. Jennifer gripped the
 steering wheel, shuddering when the sky suddenly blazed
 with lightning.
 She saw with relief that Dan's 255
 house was bathed with light, inside and out. The
 security light by the garage was on, as were the
 carriage lights on either side of the front
 door. Inside, the lower level was aglow throughout.
 The apprehension she had felt upon learning from
 Dan's mother that he'd returned to his house for the
 weekend faded when she saw a police cruiser
 parked on one side of the driveway.                          122
 Shepherd Valley was small enough that the police
 force always seemed to be short of manpower. But ever
 since the shooting incident with Jason and Sunny,
 the department had made certain that a patrolman was
 nearby whenever Dan had to be alone for any length
 of time.
 According to Dan's mother, he had been extremely
 restless and depressed all evening. Finally, he
 had insisted on going home, and Gabe had driven
 him.
 Pauline Kaine had sounded worried. "Gabe
 is going back to stay the night at Dan's, but
 first he and Lyss are dropping by to check on
 Jason. I wish Dan had gone with them."
 Jennifer cut the engine and got out of the car.
 She tucked Dan's journal under her arm, then
 covered it with her raincoat before hurrying up the
 driveway to the porch.
 Rick Hill, the same patrolman who had
 been at her house the night of the Peeping Tom
 incident, unlocked the door, leaving the security
 chain on until he saw Jennifer. He was in
 uniform, and Jennifer noted uneasily that his hand
 was touching his holstered service revolver when he
 opened the door for her to enter.
 "Good to see you, Miss Terry," he said
 politely. "Mrs. Kaine called to tell me
 you were coming."
 Jennifer tossed her yellow slicker over a
 dining-room chair, holding on to the journal.
 "Dan's in there," the policeman said,
 gesturing toward the door that led from the kitchen into the
 pool area. "Sounds like it's cooking up a storm
 outside."
 Jennifer nodded. "Something's headed this way,
 I'm afraid."
 She pushed up the sleeves on her sweater and
 started toward the pool area, opening the door
 slowly and quietly. She stopped just inside.
 Dan was in the water; obviously, he hadn't
 heard her enter. Jennifer stood watching him with
 fascination, remembering Dr. 257
 Rodaven's words when he had first told her about
 Dan's blindness: "Kaine was a real powerhouse in
 the water."
 _He _still _is, Jennifer thought. But she sensed
 that the power now emanating from him as he thudded through the
 water in a perfectly executed front crawl
 was at least partly born of anger and frustration.
 She expelled a sharp breath of appreciation as
 Dan reached the far end of the pool, did a
 lightning-fast flip turn, then roared through the
 water again. He was approaching her now, and she could
 see the mixture of anguish and rage contorting his           123
 features.
 As he turned and did another lap, Jennifer
 glanced from the man in the water to the two photos
 on the pool wall--photos which, according to Dan, his
 mother had insisted on hanging. They had been taken
 at the Olympics the year he won the gold
 medal for the United States. A younger, beardless
 Dan was standing in the middle of a beaming huddle
 consisting of his parents, Gabe, and Lyss. He
 looked pleased and flushed with victory.
 Jennifer's eyes misted as she turned her
 gaze back to the pool. Dan had stopped in the
 middle of a stroke and was treading water. The strong
 emotions that had been playing on his features
 only a moment before had relaxed to a look of
 weary resignation.
 "Dan--was Jennifer walked around to the side
 of the pool and stopped, waiting.
 He jerked with surprise, bobbing up and down in
 the water a few times before making his way to the side
 of the pool. "Jennifer?" He hauled himself up out
 of the water and sat down on the edge of the pool,
 fumbling for a white terry cloth robe lying
 nearby. Jennifer stooped to hand it to him.
 "Do you see my towel anywhere?" he asked,
 shrugging into his robe.
 Saying nothing, Jennifer retrieved the towel
 off a nearby aluminum chair and pressed it
 into his hands.
 "What are you doing here?" Dan's guarded tone
 stopped just short of being rude.
 "I--thought perhaps we could talk."
 His eyes narrowed as he began to towel-dry his
 hair. "Something wrong?"
 "No," Jennifer said quickly, hesitating before
 going on. "But ... I thought it was time I gave
 you an answer." At his puzzled expression, she
 added, "To your proposal." 259
 He froze, his arms suspended above his head.
 An expression very much like anger settled over his
 features, but he remained stonily silent.
 Jennifer cleared her throat and continued. "You
 asked me," she said as evenly as possible,
 "to marry you. Remember?" She held her breath,
 watching him.
 Dan's face darkened, and for a moment he looked
 uncertain. Then, unbelievably, he began
 to dry his hair again with slow, steady motions.
 "Go home, Jennifer," he said quietly but
 not unkindly. "Don't do this. Not now."
 "Don't do what?" Jennifer clenched her hands
 at her sides. "Don't you want my answer?"
 "_Just ... _don't." His voice was hard with
 warning. But Jennifer instinctively understood his           124
 reaction. He thought she had come out of pity.
 She had to remind herself that this was Dan. Not as
 she had learned to know him and not as she had grown
 to love him ... but Dan, nevertheless.
 "I see," she said quietly. "You weren't
 serious, then ... when you asked me to marry you?
 When you told me you loved me?"
 She knew she had hit a nerve. He
 actually flinched and stopped that inane, monotonous
 toweling of his hair. "Things are different now. I
 don't have to tell you that." He dropped the towel
 onto the chair beside him, letting his hands dangle
 loosely at his sides.
 It struck Jennifer suddenly that he had lost
 weight. And she was certain there were lines fanning out
 from his eyes that hadn't been there a few days ago.
 Suppressing the pity that threatened to unnerve her,
 she went on. "What exactly has changed,
 Dan? Your feelings about me?"
 He turned away from her, but before he did,
 Jennifer saw his face glaze with pain.
 "Listen," he bit out, "You don't owe me an
 answer. You don't owe me anything. Just go
 home. Please."
 "No."
 He pivoted around in surprise.
 __Please, Lord, let me get through to him.
 Let me reach him, help him ... _please.
 ...
 "Daniel, you said you loved me. Has that
 changed so quickly?"
 "What are you _doing here?" His voice sounded
 strangled.
 "Humiliating myself, apparently," 261
 Jennifer replied in a small voice,
 determined not to cry.
 "Jennifer--don't ..."
 "I came to tell you that my answer is _yes,
 Daniel. I want to marry you." She could hear
 her own weakness in her tremulous words. "Unless,
 of course, you _have changed your mind. About us."
 She felt a quick stab of hope when she saw a
 parade of conflicting emotions begin to march across his
 face. But abruptly he shook his head, lifting
 a restraining hand as though to stop her from going any
 further.
 "Jennifer, don't do this to me, don't--was
 "And if you're thinking," Jennifer pressed
 on, determined to hold what small edge of
 advantage she had gained, "that this has anything
 to do with my feeling sorry for you, forget it." She
 deliberately sharpened her tone.
 He started to reply, but she moved in even
 harder. "I don't feel sorry for you at                       125
 all," she said firmly. "In fact,
 Daniel, if you want the truth, I think I'm
 angry with you."
 His dark brows knit together in a confused frown.
 "What--was
 "I read your journal," she said
 matter-of-factly. "And I have to tell you that it
 seems to me you've forgotten a few things."
 "Now, _listen--was
 He was angry. Good. At least he was feeling
 _something.
 Jennifer slammed the journal down on the
 aluminum table near the pool. "What you wrote
 on those pages, Daniel," she said carefully,
 knowing she was treading on shaky ground, "and the
 glorious piece of music that came out of it, is
 life-changing." She paused. "I know it's
 changed _my life."
 The angry set of his mouth relaxed only
 slightly. "What are you talking about?"
 "I can't help wondering, though, about some of the
 things you wrote in your journal. If they were true
 five years ago, aren't they true today?" She
 took a deep breath, then decided that after going this
 far, she couldn't quit now. "Has God changed
 in the meantime?"
 She was amazed at her own insolence. She
 prayed she wasn't going beyond the point of
 forgiveness.
 "What exactly are you getting at?" 263
 The anger he was so obviously fighting to control was
 like a physical blow to Jennifer. Thunder, much
 closer now, rolled and slammed against the house, a
 fitting accompaniment to the fury blazing in
 Dan's eyes. Jennifer shivered involuntarily
 when lightning cracked and lighted the darkness
 outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
 Unexpectedly, her thoughts rioted, and an
 enormous wave of guilt washed over her. Who
 did she think she was, violating his privacy like
 this? She had come here, intent on trying to shock
 Dan out of his depression. But she had never
 intended to hurt him. He had been hurt enough.
 Certainly she didn't want to be the one
 to inflict even more.
 Her eyes began to sting, and she suddenly wished
 she had never begun any of this. She felt as though
 she were losing an already tenuous grip on something very
 fragile, but very, very precious.
 "Dan--was She heard the uncertainty in her
 voice. And so, apparently, had he.
 "Don't stop now, Jennifer." His face could
 have been carved in stone.
 Jennifer took a deep breath, then spilled                    126
 the words out in one jumbled rush. "Everything you tried
 to tell me ... it was all true."
 Still he remained motionless, an impassive
 statue.
 "You were right--about all of it."
 He gave a small shake of his head and
 frowned. "What _are you talking about?"
 She squeezed her eyes shut for an instant,
 then opened them again. Through her tears, she was
 relieved to see that his anger appeared to be ebbing.
 Now he simply looked confused.
 "Your journal, Dan. The things you wrote
 ..."
 His frown deepened. "What about it?"
 "Oh, Daniel ... it broke my heart!
 And that's exactly what had to happen! I had
 to be broken--completely broken--before God
 could put the pieces back together the way he
 wanted them. You can't mend something that isn't
 _broken!"
 Her words spun between them, churning into an echo that
 bounced across the hollow recesses of the pool
 house. Hesitantly, Jennifer took a step,
 then another, until she had closed the distance between
 them. Her heart was in her throat, her pulse
 thundering. She hadn't realized until that 265
 instant just how tightly she had been holding herself
 together.
 Finally, when she was close enough to touch him, she
 stopped and stood perfectly still, raising her eyes
 to study with infinite caring his strong, firmly
 molded features. A look that was at once
 forlorn and hopeful now gentled his smoldering
 expression of moments before.
 Unable to help herself, she lifted an unsteady
 hand and lightly touched her fingertips to his face.
 "Daniel ... I understand now. What you've been
 trying to tell me all along. About having faith
 enough to trust God's love, his right to work his will in our
 lives ... even when it seems that he's being
 unfair or that he's only doling out punishment."
 She paused. Perhaps it no longer made any
 difference, but she had to tell him everything. She had
 to share the life-changing explosion that had occurred
 in her spirit.
 "In your journal," she went on, "toward the
 end, you wrote out Romans 828. `And we
 know that God causes all things to work together for good
 to those who love God. ...` That's the message
 of _Daybreak, too, isn't it, Daniel? That
 God took the ugliest, most shameful symbol
 ever known--the cross--and turned it into glory. That
 what seemed to be the most awful event in history
 was changed into the most _important event in                127
 history."
 Even in the face of his passivity, Jennifer
 couldn't control her newfound joy. "oh, Dan,
 don't you understand? I'm _free now! I don't
 have to fight God anymore! I don't have to be
 angry anymore! You knew it long before I
 did, but I had to find it out for myself! And I
 did! Because of _you! It was all there, in your
 journal--and in your musical, _Daybreak."
 For a long moment, it was as though he would never
 move again, and Jennifer dropped her hand away from
 his face, letting it fall to her side in
 reluctant defeat.
 "Maybe it doesn't matter anymore," she
 said in a near whisper, agony straining her
 voice. "But I just had to tell you." Her final
 words were nearly lost in the repeated blows of thunder
 that shook the windows of the house.
 Dan's sightless eyes slowly filled with
 tears, and he tried to turn away from her. But
 Jennifer saw and grasped his shoulders with both
 hands, holding him. "No--don't turn 267
 away from me, Dan! Don't shut me out,
 please."
 Had she caused the grief that washed across his
 face when he turned back to her? "Jennifer
 ... I can't--was He swallowed with obvious
 difficulty. "You deserve so much more than I can
 give you."
 "I don't _want anything more than you can give
 me!" Jennifer cried. "I just want _you." She
 studied him, her heart filled with love and
 determination. "I want to be your wife, Dan."
 "Jennifer, don't you understand?" he said,
 misery lacing his words. "I can't look after you the
 way a man should." His despair was almost
 tangible. "I couldn't even protect an
 innocent little boy ... or my own dog. That could
 have been _you that day! You could have taken the bullets
 meant for me--and I wouldn't even have known you were in
 danger!"
 The words exploded from him, a harsh, agonized
 cry that stunned Jennifer into momentary silence.
 She stared at him, understanding finally dawning.
 "Is _that what's wrong?"
 He didn't answer.
 "It _is, isn't it? You're punishing yourself.
 Because you tried to bait this lunatic to come after you in
 order to protect me. And then Jason and
 Sunny got hurt--was
 He grabbed her arm in an almost painful vise.
 "_Yes! And _I caused it! It was my stupid
 pride, my stubbornness!" Abruptly, as though
 he realized he might be hurting her, he gentled              128
 his grasp on her arm.
 "I thought I could manage it," he said
 harshly. "That's always been my way. To manage
 things on my own."
 His jaw tensed and he shook his head at
 Jennifer's small cry of protest. "I thought,
 after the accident, that I'd finally gotten rid of that
 insufferable pride of mine. I even reached the
 point where I could actually accept help from people."
 He gave a nasty, short laugh. "You'd
 expect me to have a healthy dose of humility after
 I had to learn to eat and brush my teeth all
 over again, wouldn't you?"
 Tears trickled slowly down Jennifer's
 cheeks as, outside, the sky finally released its
 pent-up deluge amid the growling thunder and flashing
 lightning.
 "Then you came along." Dan's 269
 gentle smile of wonder--the first sign of his former
 tenderness Jennifer had seen in days--nearly
 broke her heart. "And suddenly I needed my
 pride back all over again." He reached out a
 tenuous hand to lightly graze one side of her
 face. "I wanted to be ... enough for you, don't you
 understand? I wanted to be everything you thought I was
 --a giant."
 Jennifer blanched. It was true. That's
 exactly what she had made of him in her mind.
 A giant of a man ... even a spiritual giant.
 His smile now turned bitter. "I may have
 made a halfhearted attempt to convince you I
 wasn't the man you thought I was. But the truth
 of the matter was that I enjoyed your fantasy. I
 wanted to be _exactly what you thought I was.
 Strong. Capable. In charge. It didn't take
 too long for the old stubborn pride to rear its
 head again. I was determined to have a--_normal
 relationship with you. Love. Marriage. A
 family. I wanted it all. I wanted to be
 everything you wanted me to be. And all the while,
 I knew I was asking for the impossible."
 Jennifer closed her eyes. When she could
 finally bring herself to look at him again, her heart
 wrenched to see that tears were now falling freely
 down his face.
 "Oh, Dan," she murmured with dismay, "you
 _are everything I want, can't you understand that? _I
 _want _you ... exactly as you are. You say you
 couldn't protect a little boy or your own dog.
 But Dan ... I'm _neither. I'm a grown
 woman. You don't have to watch over me. I can
 watch over _myself. Daniel--I don't need you
 to _protect me. I need you to _love me!"
 Somehow she made her way into his arms. She                  129
 felt his strong shoulders slump. He leaned against
 her, burying his face in her hair ... and he
 wept.
 Jennifer now fully understood his former pain and
 his near-ruin, the hopelessness that had very nearly
 defeated and destroyed him five years before. Her
 face was soaked with his tears and her own, and she was
 blind now, too, her vision blurred by their mingled
 tears. Outside, the night sky wept with them,
 and the mountain roared as though in its own agony. But
 Jennifer knew nothing except the man whose hurt
 she now tried to absorb into her own soul. She
 held him as tenderly as she would have a child,
 promising him silently that he would never 271
 again bear his pain alone.
 And she knew then, as she could never have known before,
 how it must have been for him after the accident. She
 saw with a startling clarity how incredibly wrong she
 had been about the man who now wept in her arms.
 She saw how weak he must have been, and she
 realized for the first time the infinite amount of strength
 the Lord had given him, the awesome quality of
 faith God had woven from that weakness. She saw
 how very far her beloved had actually come ... such a
 long, hard way.
 "Jennifer ... I need you. ..."
 She nodded, and murmured softly against his
 bearded cheek.
 "You make me whole ... you make me a man
 again. ..."
 "I love you, Daniel. ..."
 "You really will marry me?"
 "Oh, yes, love, of course I'll marry
 you."
 "Soon ...?was
 "Whenever you say. ..."
 The fury outside the house muted the shrill
 ringing of the telephone. "Dan--the phone--was
 Ever so slowly, he lifted his head and wiped the
 dampness from his eyes with the back of his arm. "Would you
 get it?"
 Moving reluctantly out of his embrace,
 Jennifer walked to the wall phone and lifted the
 receiver.
 It was Pauline. As soon as Jennifer
 answered, Dan's mother exploded with the good news.
 "Jennifer--Jason is conscious! He's asking
 for Dan! Lucas just called. Tell Dan that
 Jason is going to be all right!"
 The excitement in her voice carried across
 to Dan. Jennifer saw him whisper, "__Thank
 you ... thank you, _Father."
 "Yes, of course, I'll drive him to the
 hospital," Jennifer said into the receiver as she            130
 watched Dan begin to nod. "Yes, we'll go right
 away!"
 By the time she hung up, Dan was beside her, his
 arms around her. He kissed her lightly, saying,
 "I'll get dressed. While I change, why
 don't you tell Rick he can go, that we're going
 to leave? There's no point in his staying here without
 us."
 Dan smiled--his old smile, the one
 Jennifer loved to distraction--and she 273
 knew that everything was going to be all right. It really
 was.
 
 TWENTY-ONE
 
 Jennifer leaned out the door to watch the patrol
 car pull out of the driveway. The wind-driven
 rain sprayed her face, and she was about to duck
 back inside when something caught her attention.
 The headlights of the patrol car flashed across the
 east side of the house, momentarily illuminating the
 dense grove of pine trees only yards away.
 Jennifer stuck her head out even farther, ignoring
 the rain. She had seen something, she was sure of it,
 out there among the trees. Craning her neck as far
 as possible, she squinted into the darkness. But the
 lights from the patrol car were gone now, and she could
 see nothing but rain-swept shadows.
 Still, she waited uneasily, trying for another
 glimpse of whatever she thought she had seen.
 Suddenly, an eerie blue-white glow framed the
 entire lot, followed by a roll of insistent
 thunderclaps. Jennifer winced, hunching her
 shoulders and squeezing her eyes shut--and missing
 the opportunity to get another look at the
 lightning-illumined field.
 She shook her head in self-disgust as she
 jumped back inside and shut the door behind her.
 If she wanted to see anything, she had to keep
 her eyes _open.
 She stood there for a moment, her back against the
 door, trying to shake off her fear of the storm.
 Finally, she turned and started back toward the
 pool house.
 She had just begun to breathe a little easier when a
 dazzling bolt of lightning nailed the ground
 outside the window to her right. She stopped dead,
 riveted by the iridescent explosion, then screamed
 at the boom of thunder that shook the mountain and
 plunged the house into total darkness.
 Jennifer's blood froze. For one breathless
 moment, she could do nothing but stand motionless, rigid
 with fear.
 The darkness around her was as thick as ink. She             131
 felt lightheaded and hoped she wasn't going
 to pass out. She had to get back to Dan, to tell
 him about the lights going out.
 __But it wouldn't matter to Dan that the lights were
 _out, she thought fleetingly. It would only matter
 to _her. 275
 She pushed a fist against her mouth, then dropped
 it, and clenched her hands tightly together. After a
 moment, she began to grope her way toward the open
 door of the pool house. She stumbled in the
 darkness, grazing her hip against the kitchen counter and
 kicking Sunny's food bowl across the floor.
 Finally she grabbed the doorframe and stopped just
 inside the entrance, peering down the length of the
 pool.
 "Dan?" She squinted into the warm dampness of the
 room. "Dan, the power's out. Should I call--was
 The question died on her lips. She halted in
 midstep, her heart hammering with a vengeance.
 Lightning streaked, over and over again, revealing
 two shadows close to the door of the dressing
 room. On the other wall, the outside door
 stood open, an ominous, gaping black hole.
 Jennifer realized that one of the shadows--the larger
 one--was Dan. He appeared to be facing the
 wall, while the other shadow pushed against him.
 Disoriented, Jennifer struggled to take in the
 scene in front of her. Another flash of
 lightning illuminated the pool house, and now she
 realized that Dan was pinned against the wall, with a
 man holding a gun at his back!
 Too terrified to be cautious, she screamed.
 The gun-wielding man whirled toward her, his
 corpse-like face illuminated for a dazzling
 instant, framed for all time in her memory. It
 was the same cadaverous face she had seen peering
 in her kitchen window!
 She lunged forward, intent only on helping
 Dan. The man waved the gun, took a wild
 shot at her, and Jennifer dropped to the floor.
 She lay there, panicked, watching as Dan
 pivoted around and snaked his foot out in a low
 kick that knocked his assailant off-balance and
 sent him sprawling, arms waving, into the pool. The
 gun sailed out of his hand and went bouncing over the
 tiled floor, echoing loudly all the way down the
 room.
 Jennifer clambered to her knees and lunged
 toward Dan. But she stopped dead when he shouted,
 "__Jennifer--get the _gun!"
 Jennifer's gaze scanned the floor in search
 of the gun. She saw it, lying only inches from the
 rim of the pool. Glancing back at Dan, she
 saw him shrug out of his robe and slide smoothly             132
 into the water. He was going after his assailant!
 Her mind felt numb. She couldn't 277
 think. A tight thread of hysteria threatened
 to snap somewhere inside her, and she was able to hold
 onto her reason only by sheer force of will--and the
 awareness that Daniel was alone in the pool with a
 madman.
 "Daniel, what are you _doing? I'm coming in,
 too! You can't see where he--was
 "_No!" he shouted over his shoulder. "I can't
 keep track of him _and you! Just stay quiet so
 I can hear--and _get _the _gun!"
 Still Jennifer hesitated. Finally, her stomach
 clenching with panic, she forced herself to pick up the
 gun. She held it extended from her body as far
 as possible, staring at it as though it were something
 alive and extremely deadly.
 
 Dan felt the water enfold him like a warm
 blanket as he pushed himself away from the side of the
 pool and began to quietly bob up and down,
 listening and waiting. Within seconds he had a fix
 on his assailant's location, the man must have
 panicked. There was no time to waste; the other might
 regain his senses any moment.
 Dan went under the water with one smooth
 scissor motion and began to push forward slowly but
 confidently. The pressure in his ears and on his
 lungs was nothing in comparison to the weight of
 desperation closing in on him.
 Who _was this lunatic, anyway? Someone he
 knew? What had he ever done to evoke this kind of
 hatred in the man?
 The muffled exclamations above the surface of the
 water were much louder now. Dan began to feel the
 current lapping against his face from the other's
 thrashing movements. He knew he was close. Very
 close.
 He also knew he had all the advantages
 for a few more seconds, at least. The sensation was
 rare, but exhilarating. For years he had lived
 with the feeling of always being at a disadvantage. He
 liked the idea of being in control for a change. There
 was also the fact that the other man was fully clothed,
 while he was still in his swim trunks. The weight
 of his assailant's soggy clothing would go against
 him.
 Best of all, Dan thought, the power was out. His
 adversary would be as much in the dark as _he was.
 And he had smelled alcohol on the man. If
 his reflexes were diminished, that would only give
 Dan even more of an advantage. 279
 He swam quietly, feeling a change in the
 ripples as he went. Apparently, the man had                  133
 begun to move away. His cries sounded farther out,
 and the current from the churning of the water had also begun
 to drift off. Dan followed the movement and the sound
 as closely as he dared, staying under the water and
 remaining totally quiet.
 Until at last he knew he had him.
 Dan roared up through the water in one
 explosive motion, grappling for his assailant.
 He took him from behind, raising his arms directly
 above the man's head and pushing him down into the
 water. The man tried to wave his arms. He
 cursed and shrieked, striking Dan in the face
 several times before catching him in the midriff with his
 elbow.
 But Dan was much bigger and in far better
 condition. Every move the other made was in vain.
 Finally, with one large, powerful shove, Dan
 plunged him under the water and followed him down.
 The man tried to fight, but was quickly pulled to the
 bottom by the weight of his clothes and his own
 panic. Dan refused to let him go. He
 followed him to the bottom and efficiently locked
 an iron forearm around his neck in a relentless
 hold.
 
 As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Jennifer
 stood by the side of the pool, staring with terror into the
 water. She could make out dark shadows of movement
 beneath the surface, but nothing else. Trembling,
 she gripped the gun, steadying it with her other hand.
 They had been below for what seemed like hours.
 She waited, scarcely breathing. She should call
 the police, but she couldn't move until she
 knew that Dan was all right. If they didn't come
 up in the next few seconds, she was going in.
 She even kicked her tennis shoes off in
 preparation.
 How much longer should she wait? How long could
 they stay down?
 She screamed and nearly dropped the gun when a
 wave of water sprayed her in the face as both
 men suddenly broke above the surface. Weak with
 relief, she saw Dan swim to the side of the
 pool, dragging the other man along with him. When
 he reached the pool wall, Dan hauled himself
 partly up out of the water, holding his assailant
 securely with one arm until he could pull him the
 rest of the way out. 281
 "Jennifer--was
 She was already beside him. "Daniel! Are you all
 right?"
 She stopped when light flared as the
 electricity suddenly returned. "Dan, the
 lights!" she exclaimed. "The lights are back                 134
 on!"
 Dan was panting heavily with exertion. "Good!
 Take a look at this guy. Who is he
 anyway? Do you recognize him?"
 Jennifer was still shaking. "I don't know his name,
 but he's the same man who was at my door the
 other night."
 Dan nodded as if he weren't surprised.
 Flipping the still unconscious man over onto his
 back, he knelt beside him and lowered his head
 to listen to his chest. "He swallowed most of the
 pool. I'm going to have to pump him out."
 He raised the man's head and checked his
 airway, then flipped him--none too gently,
 Jennifer noticed--onto his stomach and began
 applying firm pressure on his back to pump the
 water from his lungs.
 "Jennifer, you'd better call the police."
 Jennifer carefully placed the gun on the
 table, then ran to the poolside phone to dial the
 police. Once she had delivered her
 message, practically screaming into the receiver, she
 hurried back to Dan, going to her knees to see
 if she could help. But the man was already gulping and
 coughing up water.
 "Check his pockets, Jennifer. I want
 to know who he is," Dan told her as he continued
 to knead the man's back.
 Jennifer pulled a soaked, ruined billfold
 out of the back pocket of the man's khaki work
 pants and opened it. The contents were soaked and her
 hands were trembling, but she finally managed
 to separate the driver's license from the other
 papers. "OK," she muttered, "here's his
 license. Let's see--was Jennifer stared down
 at the wet, laminated card and made a strangled
 sound of disbelief.
 
 TWENTY-TWO
 
 "Daniel--it's _Caleb _Arbegunst!
 Jim's father!"
 Dan froze in midmotion. Beneath his hands, the
 man spewed out water and coughed 283
 convulsively. "_Caleb? Are you sure?"
 "That's what it says!" Jennifer continued
 to stare down at the license for a moment, then
 scanned the other papers in his wallet. "Yes--
 here's a credit card. And ... here's some kind of
 social services I.D. They all say the
 same thing. But _why, Dan? What does
 Caleb Arbegunst have against _you?"
 He shook his head. "I hardly even know the
 man! I had only seen him once before the                     135
 accident, and I haven't talked to him since."
 Jennifer had nearly forgotten that Caleb
 Arbegunst had been with the teenage boy who hit
 Dan's car and caused his blindness. Still, what
 possible reason could he have for trying to kill
 Dan?
 "It doesn't make any sense," Dan said,
 his voice puzzled as he rolled Arbegunst over
 onto his back. "The man is a virtual
 stranger to me. I--was
 Suddenly he stopped, and Jennifer watched in
 horror as his face contorted in pain. "Dan!
 What is it? What's wrong?"
 He seemed riveted in place, his face
 frozen in a look of anguish. He started
 to tremble, and Jennifer almost panicked, afraid
 he might be going into shock.
 Seeing the robe he had tossed by the side of the
 pool, she scrambled to her feet and went after it.
 She returned, draping it around Dan's
 shoulders.
 She knelt down beside him, watching him
 closely. Finally the tremor racking his body
 began to subside. He shook his head back and
 forth as if trying to clear his mind. "Something--about the
 nightmare," he said, then stopped. His shoulders
 slumped, and he frowned as he grazed the fingers of
 one hand over the scar at his eyebrow. "I can't
 think. ..." His voice drifted off.
 They both jumped in surprise when the man between
 them stirred and twisted, then began to flail his
 arms. His bloodshot eyes were wild and
 disoriented, his soaked clothing plastered to his
 emaciated body.
 Dan quickly pinned him to the floor and held him
 there. Arbegunst thrashed, twisting his head from side
 to side as he tried to free himself from Dan's
 grip. He cursed and shrieked at them as he
 struggled to break free.
 Jennifer's stomach knotted as she 285
 watched them. When she saw Dan begin to shake
 again, she laid her hand on his forearm, thinking
 to steady him. He didn't seem to be hurt, but
 he was obviously in the grip of some kind of
 emotional storm she couldn't comprehend.
 Suddenly the insane babbling from the man on the
 floor penetrated her consciousness.
 "... should have killed you the first time ... knew
 it. Knew you'd cause trouble. ..."
 Dan choked off an exclamation and frowned,
 listening.
 "What trouble, Caleb? What kind of
 trouble?" he prompted.
 Arbegunst went on muttering in a crazed                      136
 monotone. "Just waitin' on me, weren't you ...
 just bidin' your time to ruin me, so you could take my
 kid ... thought you'd drive me nuts, didn't
 you, then you could have my boy. ..."
 Jennifer looked at Dan and saw his jaw
 tighten even more as he bent low over Caleb
 Arbegunst.
 "Daniel--what is he talking about?"
 Dan waved off her words. "Waiting on
 _what, Caleb?"
 "All these years, you knew ... just waitin'
 to tell, tryin' to make me crazy, tryin'
 to take my boy. Well, you ain't gonna get
 him. I'll shut you up for good this time, Kaine.
 ..."
 Dan pressed him harder to the floor. "Tell
 what, Caleb? What is it you think I'm going
 to tell?"
 Jennifer framed her face with both hands in
 sick horror and bewilderment. She looked from
 Dan, whose face was a mask of self-control,
 down to Arbegunst, shaking and thrashing in weak
 futility.
 "You saw me ... you knew I was drivin' that
 night. They said you couldn't remember anything, but
 I knew better. Your memory came back a
 long time ago, you were just waitin' to tell. You
 waited so you could get my boy, didn't you? You
 went and gave him that job, coddled him, took him
 places, let him swim in your big, fancy
 pool. ..."
 "Driving?" Daniel echoed hoarsely. "_You
 were driving ... the night of the accident? Not the
 boy?"
 Arbegunst uttered an ugly snort, and
 Jennifer felt suddenly nauseous, as 287
 much from the stench of alcohol as the emotional
 maelstrom.
 "I wouldn't let one of those no-good punks
 drive my truck," Arbegunst snorted. "He
 wanted to ... said I was drunk. I wa, in
 drunk, never been drunk on the road ...
 I'd had a few beers waiting for him, that was
 all. Wasn't drunk. ..."
 Jennifer heard no more, the rest of his words lost
 to her as she reached out to grasp Dan's arm. She
 felt dazed and sickened by what she'd just heard.
 The man was admitting what he thought Dan already
 knew. But Jennifer took one look at
 Dan's face and realized that Dan _didn't
 know. He had _never known!
 "Dan ... does he mean what I think he
 does?"
 Her question fell between them, dying quickly in the         137
 silence. Even the storm outside was subsiding,
 nothing left of it except a few weak spurts
 of lightning and the sound of muffled thunder moving off
 into the distance. The earlier torrential rain had
 turned to a gentle, rhythmic patter, almost
 hypnotic in its steady thrum against the metal
 roof.
 Jennifer continued to watch Dan, fearful of
 what he might do. His grasp on Arbegunst
 never faltered. He was like a kneeling statue,
 frozen in place. The erratic rhythm of his
 breathing, the thin line of perspiration that had begun
 to drape itself along the ridge above his dark brows,
 the sudden, uncharacteristic paleness that settled over his
 face were the only hints of the storm that might be
 gathering in his soul.
 "You were driving the truck, Caleb?" His
 voice was ominously quiet. "Not the boy?"
 Jennifer had never had such an urge to lash out
 and strike a man as she did when she heard the
 high-pitched explosion of laughter that ripped from
 Caleb Arbegun/'s mouth.
 "Dumb kid, tried to grab the wheel from me
 ... coulda got us both killed. ..."
 Dan's face contorted into a thunderous mask of
 rage. He moved his hands from Arbegun/'s
 shoulders to his neck, and Jennifer gasped when
 she saw his fingers clench and unclench. "Dan--was
 "The boy _was killed, you drunken--was
 Suddenly Dan stopped, shook himself almost
 violently, and Jennifer saw his hands tighten
 once, then again, before dropping back 289
 to Caleb Arbegun/'s shoulders.
 "You put the boy under the wheel--after the crash."
 He made it a statement, not a question.
 "Yeah ... you were out cold ... you didn't
 see me, nobody saw me. He was just a
 scrawny kid; I pushed him right under the wheel.
 Nobody ever knew. Even poured whiskey on
 him so they'd think he was drunk. They didn't
 even check me out. Nobody saw. Nobody
 knew ..." His red-rimmed, watery eyes
 cleared and focused on Dan. "Except you."
 Jennifer watched Dan, afraid of what he
 might do. His features were unreadable. "No,
 Caleb," he said, his voice chillingly quiet.
 "I never knew. No one knew but you. Until
 now."
 Slowly, little by little, the man on the floor
 quieted, the insanity temporarily stilled. He
 stared up at Dan, as if unable to grasp or
 accept the truth of what he had heard.
 "You're lyin'! You knew--you always knew! You
 wanted to make me crazy ... you wanted my                    138
 boy. ..."
 Dan shook his head in a sad, hopeless
 gesture. "You poor fool," he murmured
 softly. "You sold out your whole life--even your
 own son--for a bottle of temporary escape and a
 soul full of guilt."
 Still holding Arbegunst to the floor, Dan
 looked like a man coming out from under a long sleep.
 "I never knew," he said again. "I had nothing
 to go on except a nightmare. A bad dream that
 never seemed to end. Your secret would probably
 have been safe for a lifetime."
 Arbegunst twisted his head back and forth in
 violent denial. "No, you knew ... you always
 knew. You even said on the radio you knew who
 I was. ..."
 Dan didn't answer right away. When he
 did, his tone held a note of surprise. "I
 wasn't talking about the accident. I was just trying
 to bait you, draw you out into the open so you'd make a
 move. And then I nearly caused Jason and
 Sunny to get killed. No," he said once more,
 very softly. "You were the only one who knew the
 truth, Caleb."
 They heard the sirens then, wailing up the
 mountain. Jennifer drew her first long breath in
 what seemed like hours and rose trembling to her
 feet to open the front door for the 291
 police.
 But Gabe was already through the door, using the key
 he always carried. He blasted through the entrance to the
 pool house, nearly knocking Jennifer to the
 floor in his effort to reach Dan. "What happened
 --what's going on? The police chased me all
 the way up here!"
 Jennifer saw with relief that there was a ghost of a
 smile on Dan's face when he answered.
 "Relax, buddy--everything's under control."
 At that moment, two police officers brandishing
 revolvers charged in behind Gabe. Dan hauled
 himself to his feet and, after turning Caleb
 Arbegunst over to the police, slipped into his
 robe.
 Almost at once, Gabe began shooting questions
 at Dan, who gave him a few brief but
 concise answers, then held up a restraining hand.
 "I need a minute. Take everyone into the house
 and leave me alone, would you?"
 Jennifer thought he sounded--and looked--
 extremely weary. Gabe darted a questioning look
 at her, and she managed a weak but reassuring
 smile.
 Dan pulled in a long breath, then said again,
 "I need to be alone ... just for a few minutes.              139
 Please?" He paused, then added, "Then if
 someone will take me, I want to go to Jason."
 "Isn't anyone going to tell me what's
 happened?" Gabe's voice was decidedly
 testy.
 "Jennifer," said Dan, "talk to the man, would
 you? I'm going to change into some dry clothes."
 Jennifer stood with Gabe and watched Dan as
 he turned and began walking slowly toward the
 dressing room. She thought with admiration that
 Daniel Kaine was the only man she had ever
 known who could wear a terry cloth beach wrap with as
 much style as a royal robe.
 He went on walking, her stricken prince, and
 she saw his slumped shoulders gradually lift and
 finally straighten in the familiar mantle of
 determined strength he wore so easily and so
 well.
 Abruptly, he stopped beside the aluminum table
 near the pool and after a slight hesitation picked
 up the cane he had left there. For a moment he
 stood unmoving, as if he were making a decision.
 Then, with a jaunty flick of his wrist, he
 tossed the cane lightly into the air, 293
 caught it easily on its descent, and sent it
 sailing smoothly into the deepest part of the pool.
 Jennifer couldn't see his face, only his
 back. But she knew beyond a doubt he was wearing the
 vagabond grin she had grown to love so well.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 EPILOGUE
 
 Daniel felt the warmth, the excitement, and the
 special hush of hope in the sanctuary unique
 to Easter Sunday. He heard the choir stir                    140
 slightly, readying themselves for the finale of
 _Daybreak.
 As Jennifer began the solo, he wondered if
 he would ever find it possible to separate that rich and
 glorious singing voice of hers from the low, endearing
 speaking voice of the woman he loved.
 Just as it had during rehearsals, her voice
 once again moved him to worship. He realized
 anew that one of the miracles of her gift, one of the
 wonders of her voice, was the way the Lord seemed
 to lift it, temporarily, above human things,
 using it to bring people to their knees in simple
 worship. For the next few moments, she would no
 longer be his Jennifer, his beloved, but instead, an
 instrument of praise.
 With that thought, he straightened his shoulders and
 readied himself for what he knew he and the entire
 congregation were about to experience. He smiled to himself
 in anticipation and silently thanked his Lord for
 all the doors that had been closed ... 295
 and all the new doors that had been opened ...
 to lead Jennifer to this place--to _him, to the music,
 and to her new peace of spirit.
 Dan gave thanks, as he so often had, that her
 voice, deemed less than enough for operatic
 stage, was so wonderfully perfect for the Lord's
 purposes. And then he simply listened and let
 his own spirit soar along with the voice and the music.
 ...
 
 Slowly, Jennifer returned from the place the
 music had taken her. She opened her eyes and
 saw Dan standing there, smiling to himself, yet smiling
 at her, too, and she knew once more that, even
 though he couldn't see her face, he was seeing her
 heart. He was looking deep inside her, seeing
 what was there and loving what he saw.
 As she held the last note and heard it echo and
 fade into the hushed sanctuary, she thanked her
 God for the light he had poured into her heart,
 into her spirit ... and into their love, hers and
 Daniel's.
 She smiled a little when the choir breathed a
 collective sigh with the congregation, and Lyss,
 standing next to her, squeezed her hand. At the end
 of the row, Gabe gave her an uncommonly
 serious nod of affirmation.
 She watched the effect of the music gradually
 lift away from the congregation, seeing many of them
 dry their eyes before flinging themselves to their feet in a
 combined accolade to their God, to the choir--and
 to Daniel.
 She saw the proud, happy faces of her dad
 and Loren smiling up at her. And she watched little          141
 Jason--her future son--grin from ear to ear as
 he waved eagerly to her. She smiled at Jim
 Arbegunst, seated between Dan's parents, who now
 had temporary custody of the boy. She thought it was
 the first time she had ever seen Jim looking happy
 and healthy and unafraid.
 Her eyes filled when she saw Dan finally
 relax his shoulders from the monumental effort into which
 he had poured so much of his heart and soul. He
 wiped a handkerchief across his forehead and dabbed at
 his cheeks. Then he turned around to the congregation and
 raised one hand in a sweeping motion of tribute
 to the choir and the large wooden cross that stood behind
 them. Finally, he turned back to the choir,
 gently smiling in Jennifer's direction ... and
 her spirit started to sing all over again. 297
 As the choir began to leave the platform, she
 waited for Dan. Together the two of them, along with
 Sunny, walked down the aisle, following the
 choir out while the congregation waited. When they were
 almost to the door, Dan took her hand and placed it
 snugly on his forearm, covering it with his own.
 "Is the sun shining this morning, love?"
 Jennifer glanced up at his smiling face, then
 down at her hand and the diamond solitaire
 gleaming there. The ring captured a sunbeam, a
 rainbow of light streaking in through the stained-glass
 window nearby.
 "Oh, yes, Daniel," she replied,
 glancing from her ring up to him. "The sun is
 definitely shining this morning."
 
 THE END
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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