Saved

SHE DID IT AGAIN ~ Captivating, suspenseful, full of emotion and love.
Brings a family together in support and compassion. Can't wait to read more about the Friessen family.

Amazon Reviewer -
Tanatha

Eckhart hits one out of the ballpark with this great story.

--Cindy
Himler
--RT Book Reviews

Riveting...
very unexpected plot. VERY good book. The faith of a little boy says it all. Heart warming, tear jerking story.

Debra Bahr

Start Reading

Afterw
ord

Other Works by Lorhainne Eckhart

About the Author

Contact Information

Copyright Information

Table of Contents

Prologue

Thursday June 19, 2004

The Northern Arabian Gulf

There was a point right at the break of dawn when darkness parted swiftly, much like a curtain drawn open to make way for the coming day. On a typical day, this was
welcoming, a sign of a new journey to look forward to, but for Abby, today could very well be the last day of the rest of her life. She knew it, she felt it deep in her bones, but she also had hope.

As she watched the bright orange and yellow reflection at the edge of the water, she wondered if maybe today would be different—maybe today she had a chance, maybe today she’d finally make it. She’d come this far against all the odds, so she needed to hang on just a little longer. She rested her head against the stiff side of the rubber dinghy and shivered under the dark
abaya, damp and sticky from her sweat. It was so humid, the air thick and heavy, that she had to struggle to breathe as she stared at the miles and miles of open water, still with nothing in sight. She probed her tongue gently to the side of her chapped, swollen lips. She was so thirsty she’d do anything for a cup of cool water. It was painful, horrible, being so thirsty, because that was all she could think of. Staring at miles of open water only tempted her. How long could she go without water before her body started breaking down? The dew clinging to the side of the dinghy glittered like a handful of diamonds, and, like a starved woman, she licked it with her tongue and gagged from the saltiness. She dropped her head to the side again.

She was so tired. She’d lived on fear for so long that it had become her constant companion, keeping her on her toes, awake in an instant, as if her soul knew it wasn’t safe to sleep. As always, she felt it slice out of nowhere, the buzz that ripped through her, keeping her body and mind on the edge of sanity. She couldn’t rest, even though she needed to. Abby peeked over the side, her eyes burning into the shadows, and she squinted, wondering if she was seeing things. Was he coming for her? Was that a boat on the horizon? She swiped her palms hard across her eyes and looked again, and for a
minute she stopped breathing, moving, but she couldn’t still the thud of her heart. It had a mind of its own and pounded the walls of her chest so hard she thought her ribs would burst. She waited and blinked again.

“It’s just water. Come on, get a grip.” It hurt to speak, but she needed to believe it. Those brave words weren’t convincing her at all, though, because it was only a matter of time—and
time was not on her side—until he found her. She knew he’d search to the ends of the earth to find her. He never let go of what was his, ever.

Abby had no idea where she was, as she was floating with no paddle. Being at the complete mercy of the waves meant just one more thing she had no control
of. Each minute the sun rose higher, she could feel the heat climb. Out here it was so intense, rising as though someone had switched on a furnace, slowly building until it scraped her lungs as she struggled for each breath from air that was so thick and humid that she’d swear a knife would have trouble slicing through it. Out of nowhere, a sharp gust of wind blew from the northwest, rocking the dinghy up and over the waves, and for a moment the breeze was unexpected and welcome. Then the dinghy bounced faster, higher, moving through the water and crashing down as the water slapped the sides, awakening her again to the reminder that she wasn’t safe. Any minute, he could appear on the horizon, and there was nowhere to hide. Maybe that was why she didn’t think as she dropped down and curled onto her side. A burning jab poked her ribs, shooting shards of fire through her, and she bit on her lip, drawing blood as she fought not to scream. “Don’t move, stay still and you’ll be fine,” she whispered to herself and panted out huffs of air. Even though there was no one to hear her breathing, she was still afraid.

The skill she had survived on, always being on guard, wouldn’t let her stay still, so she peeked up again, her shoulders taut and wound so tightly her head was starting to throb. She couldn’t think about tomorrow, only now, this moment, because her future wasn’t anything tangible—
it was a speck of ashes that could disintegrate in an instant. She stroked her dry, chapped hand over her rounded belly and blinked back tears. Their future right now wasn’t looking like a mother and child’s should. It should have been a magical time when she dreamed of holding her tiny baby, whispering her love while planning their future. But what possible future could her child have?

If it was a boy, maybe.
For a girl, there was no hope. Not here. Not now. “One day at a time, Abby.” She stripped off the dark abaya and took in the pale blue cotton of her loose dress. The front was splattered with blood, and she couldn’t remember if it was hers. If it wasn’t…she might very well come to wish she was dead. Her body seemed to follow her mind, as it started shaking and couldn’t stop. It had too much adrenaline, and she recognized that her fight or flight instinct had been all that was keeping her running for so long now. As she stared up at the blue sky, she wondered about the inevitable and whether she’d have the strength to jump in the water when the time came. Could she do it, allow the weight of the abaya to pull her under? Drowning herself would be better than the alternative, if she had the courage to do it, to end her life and her baby’s, too.

“How will I ever survive this?” She ran her tongue over the swell of her bottom lip. It
was split, and she tasted dried blood. “Ugh.” She touched it with her fingers, and, pulling them back, she stared at the fresh blood. She pressed her fist to her mouth. “Shh,” she whispered, but she was so tired she didn’t think she could stay awake much longer. She had to stay awake, though, and keep watch, even though she didn’t have a clue what she’d do if she spotted his boat or saw him coming. Her eyes ached, and she’d swear sand coated the whites of her eyes. When she shut them, the back of her lids scraped her eyes like broken glass. Closing them seemed almost worse, but her lids were becoming so heavy it hurt to keep them open, so she gave herself a minute, and then another, until warmth and a bright light surrounded her, and for one moment she felt peace. She breathed softly again, and again, until there was nothing more.

Alarms sounded and buzzed over and over, louder and louder. Footsteps pounded up the stairwells and ladders as emergency lights flashed in the passageways. The five-hundred-foot guided missile destroyer cut a wide path through the waters of the Northern Arabian Gulf, and the roar of the engines against the power of the water slapping and vibrating against the steel hull had his every instinct buzzing and ready to react in an instant. The speed of this ship could let them easily overtake their enemy. Captain Eric Hamilton braced his hand on the wall as he ducked his head, making his way onto the bridge of his ship, the USS Larsen. Eric took everything in as he moved, and his crew snapped to attention. He shouted, he commanded and ordered, and he didn’t ever consider whether he’d hurt someone’s feelings. This was the US Navy—he didn’t coddle his crew. He expected loyalty, and his crew would do what he expected or they’d find themselves on the wrong side of a man whom many feared. Oddly, knowing how he was seen by his crew didn’t bother him at all.

By the time he crossed the bridge, the hair on the back of his neck was poking up like sharp wires that sent a chill through him, a warning that kept him on his toes. It was a warning that had saved his butt
time and again, a warning he lived by, and he swore he’d die before ever ignoring it. The crew were on edge, alert. He could always pick up the change in their voices. They shouted above the alarm that continued to buzz over and over, their eyes wide. With an instinctive reaction at the snap of his fingers, his crew jumped to respond. Eric could feel the adrenaline pumping from all of them. Everyone was at their stations. Even though the humidity was at an all-time high this early in the day, he knew the beads of sweat trailing down his back and soaking his shirt were from the unknown that they were racing into. This damn war around them kept him pumped and his adrenaline surging like a shot of high caffeine. He lived for it and couldn’t imagine any other way. To him, this was normal. He loved this, life and death, power in his hands and under his command.

By the time he reached the windows spanning the width of the bridge, binoculars
had been thrust into his hand. Up until now, he hadn’t said one word, as his officers knew their parts and their roles.

“Captain, there’s a raft just off the starboard side.
Can’t tell from here whether there’s anyone or anything on it.” Lieutenant Commander Joe Reed approached from behind. The man was Eric’s good friend and the current XO, executive officer, on this deployment.

He didn’t need to turn as he raised the binoculars and zeroed in on a black dinghy that appeared empty at first sight as it rocked up and over the waves. For a minute, he felt sick, and his pulse pounded harder and faster still when the thought of the USS Cole bombing popped into his head. No, it couldn’t be that again. He wouldn’t let it happen.

He glanced at Joe beside him. “What the hell are we walking into?”

Joe shook his head. He was never one to talk out of turn or to guess. Joe was Eric’s right-hand man and more often than not was the voice of reason
among him and the crew—and just about everyone else.

Eric raised the binoculars again and stared at the black dinghy. He didn’t know what he expected.

“We have no reports of a ship in distress in the area, Captain,” announced the communications officer.

Eric squinted, thinking. “What about fishing boats?” he snapped.

“No, sir, no reports.”