Beowulf: Explosives Detection Dog (29 page)

Father says the Great Satan is not innocent
.

But how could
all
of them be guilty? How could all the children in that village have been guilty?

“What kind of plan?” Her eyes were thoughtful, words soft. But they angered me. I pushed to my feet and moved away from her.

Why? Why am I angry?

“I will pray for Isa to help you.”

Whirling around with a mind full of rage, I growled, “No! No
Isa
!” I stomped toward her. Though I felt the demons of rage and violence whirring through my veins, it was as though I couldn’t stop myself. “No more Isa.
No more!
”

Nafisa came to her feet.

Though I expected to see anger in her face, maybe hurt, all I saw was sadness.

“You believe in the ways of Allah, Dehqan, but I believe in Isa, that He was
more
than just a prophet. That He is God triune.”

Allah forgive me, but I cursed at her.

“Not anger, not threats, not death can change my mind or my heart.” A smile, genuine and full, lit her beautiful face. “Isa said, ‘I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.’ ”

“Ha! Life,” I scoffed and tossed my hands at her. “Where was that life when those children were cut down and killed? Where was Isa?”

Nafisa stilled. “What children?”

I hung my head. “Never mind.” Turning away from her did not quiet my mind. With one arm around my midsection and one bracing my head, I warded off the … I don’t know what it was. It just …
pounded
. Not a headache. It’s inside me. “But you must stop talking about Isa. I do not want to hear about Him anymore. No more of your lies.”

“I only quote what is written, Dehqan, and as much as I care for you, I will not quiet my voice even for you.”

“How can you say that? Don’t you know I can have you killed?”

Her eyes widened and she drew back a little—but then quick as a mouse, her strength returned. “You could cut off my voice, but you cannot cut off the voice of God, Dehqan. He is calling to you.” Hurt pinched her delicate brows together. “Can’t you see it, feel it?”

“I see and feel nothing!” The lie clumped in my throat. I coughed. Thumped my chest—regretted it as a fresh wave of pain from the bullet wound gripped me—and planted myself in the chair at the head of the table we’d used for studying. She could not sit close to me then. “You should leave.”

“Something eats at your soul, my friend,” Nafisa said as she crouched at my side, thin, long fingers holding the carved arm of the chair. “It wrestles within you, seeking solace. Seeking comfort. What you seek is Isa.”

“No!”

“It is!” Vehemence coated her words as thickly as my own. “He has His hand on you. He is calling you out, just as He called me to be here, to be your friend, to help you see the truth.”

“What is truth, Nafisa? Is it the colonel’s truth? Is it the Qur’an? The Bible? The guard’s truth? How do I know which one is right?”

Her full, rosy lips twisted in a conspiratorial smile. “ ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life.’ ” Her eyes were alive. “Isa said that in the book of John when Thomas asked how he could know the way.” She touched my arm, and it felt like a current of electricity. “You can know the way, too, Dehqan. You feel alone, yes?”

How she knew this, I couldn’t understand. Heat rose to my cheeks.

“Isa said He will not leave us as orphans but will come to us—”

My heart stuttered. “Orphans?”

        Eighteen        

N
asty!” Four-year-old Hayden wrinkled his nose and jumped up from his seat.

Tony sat at the end of the table, his father at the head, and refused to acknowledge what was happening. Refused to take another breath. He looked at his second helping of lasagna. Was it his imagination or was it wilting?

“I’m so sorry,” Timbrel whispered.

“What’s that smell?” Marlee waved her hand in front of her face. “Eww!”

The breath forced itself from his lungs. And in flooded a noxious, rancid smell he was sure burned his nose hairs.

Okay, nope. He couldn’t take it anymore. Tony punched to his feet.

His mom stood. “Why don’t we go out onto the patio?”

“It’s still ninety degrees out there,” Stephanie objected.

“Yeah,” her husband said, “but at least you’ll be able to breathe.”

“Who cut one?” Hayden asked, laughing as his parents hauled him outside.

“Hayden Anthony!” Stephanie scowled at her son.

“Aw, that isn’t anything,” his dad said. “Try breathing in tear-gas training!”

His mother smiled politely. Fakely. “I’ll bring dessert and the bowls.”

Out in the yard, Tony stifled his laugh as his brother-in-law, Chad, stomped down the porch laughing. “That was something awful.”

“Sorry,” Timbrel managed as she sat on the wide steps with her Beowulf, the culprit of the stench that chased them from the house. “He tends to have room-clearing flatulence.”

The fresh air, though hot and upward of eighty-five according to the outdoor thermometer, also helped Tony with the choked feeling he had around Timbrel. He just didn’t know where to go. Letting her off easy, forgiving her—he wasn’t sure that’d get through to her. He’d gone all out for her, been willing to do anything …

He wasn’t mad. Not like he was three hours ago when he didn’t know if she’d delivered herself from this world or not. But he just didn’t know how to move beyond the fact she’d been able to walk away from him so easily.

Okay, maybe it hadn’t been so easy. It’d taken a toll on her—she’d all but admitted to trying to drown herself.
Drowning herself
. An ache kinked his gut. Did she really think so little of herself? She had to get some serious grounding on her worth. He knew firsthand that if you didn’t ground that identity first in Christ, then you would forever be searching for identity, for approval, for recognition.

She now sat next to his father, talking and laughing. Beo lounged between them. What a strange connection between those two. And odd that his father had been lucid and calm for most of the afternoon.

Since Timbrel arrived.

Yeah, that was a total coincidence since the only thing Timbrel Hogan excelled at was agitating people. What was it about her that drove people like his sister to catty, petulant words and activity?

She’s perfect
.

The words sifted through his frustration. Yeah. She was.

But she was also dogheaded and fiercely independent. Too afraid to let anyone in. But she’d let him in and it’d unglued her entire compass.

If he let her back in—and he knew he would because he loved that girl like crazy—he had to do it with the knowledge that she’d break his heart again. Because there sure wasn’t an easy fix or remedy to the deep-seated fear that controlled her.

Maybe if he set conditions …

Love has no conditions
.

He rubbed his jaw. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to leap off the cliff for her. No—he would. He’d had a warrior’s heart since kindergarten, but what weighted him now was wondering if Timbrel would even care if he jumped.

“Nana!” Five-year-old Marlee rushed over to his mom as she delivered the pie and plates to the table outside. “Did you see the necklace Uncle Tony got me?”

“Oh, so pretty.” His mom served the first slice to his father. “That stone matches your pretty green eyes.”

The back door swung open and Grady joined them. Finally. “What happened in there? Food’s still on the table.”

“Timbrel’s dog farted,” Hayden announced as he braced the soccer ball under his foot. “We had to escape. Boy did that stink.” Nose scrunched, he waved a hand in front of his face. “It’s better out here.”

“Hayden, you apologize,” Stephanie said.

“No, he’s right,” Timbrel said.

When Stephanie shot a look at Timbrel, apparently for going against her, Timbrel redirected her attention to the pie his mom offered.

“Pie, Grady?” Mom asked as she cut more slices, clearly wanting to divert the conversation.

“Marlee gave Beowulf some cheese,” Hayden announced.

Batting blond hair from her face, Marlee fumed. “It wasn’t my fault he farted!”

“Shh.” Mom tugged the little girl closer. “That’s enough, now.” She turned her attention to Grady. “Did you want pie?”

“Sounds great.” Grady cocked his head and made eye contact with Timbrel. Something went primal in Tony at the way his brother sized her up and made his way over to her. “Grady VanAllen.”

She shook his hand. “Timbrel Hogan.”

“She’s Uncle Tony’s girlfriend,” Marlee said in a sweet voice as she spooned her dessert. “You can’t have her, Uncle Grady.”

“Marlee!” Stephanie gaped and offered an apologetic look to Tony.

In his periphery, Tony noted Timbrel jerked her head toward him. He ducked, not wanting to betray himself with his eyes. She needed to figure out a few things before she could know what he felt. What he fully felt. And God help him, because these feelings wouldn’t go away just because of a fight between them. However, he wouldn’t take this thing any further until she did understand.

“That so?” Grady gave her an appraising look as he eased into the seat next to her. “Never known Tony to bring a girl home.” He nodded thanks as Mom gave him a plate of pie à la mode.

“He didn’t … We’re not …”

Yeah, let’s see her dig herself out of this one. She wouldn’t dare admit to anyone what she’d done. She almost hadn’t admitted it to him. Timbrel wet her lips, apparently uncomfortable with the tension that had exploded through the quiet, awkward evening. “I …”

Totally wrecked everything? Ran off with another guy—a 120-pound furry, four-legged guy?

Nothing like being beaten by a drooling, flatulent hound of hell
.

“You telling me my little brother finally decided he loved a woman more than war?”

Teeth gritted against Grady’s penchant for direct-hitting conversation, Tony shifted in the chair but kept himself seated so his brother wouldn’t know how close to “center mass” he’d come this time. “Timbrel’s here because her home burned to the ground three nights ago.”

“And what? She doesn’t have family to stay with?” Surprise of all surprises, Stephanie teamed up with Grady this time. This had to be a record.