Still of Night (A Rush of Wings Book #2) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Kristen Heitzmann

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248 pages

English

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Kristen Heitzmann's characters leap from the page with a balance of strength and fragility as they face anguish from the past. Jill and Morgan, once high school sweethearts, had loved and lost--each other and the baby whom Jill gave up at birth. Years later, Morgan is outwardly successful, but he is still haunted by the memory of the tiny child. And then Jill shows up again in his life with very disturbing news. With her trademark dramatic storytelling, Heitzmann takes readers on an unforgettable journey with two wounded souls as they struggle toward healing and restoration.

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 octobre 2003
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781585588060
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0403€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Copyright © 2003 by Kristen Heitzmann
Published by Bethany House Publishers 11400 Hampshire Avenue South Bloomington, Minnesota 55438 www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan. www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2010
Ebook update 09.06.2011, 04.12.2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-58558-806-0
Scripture quotations identified NIV are from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved. www.zondervan.com
Cover design by Dan Pitts
To Jim, for believing enough to become one
To Cathy, for the seeds
To Karen, for holding up my arms
To Kelly, for unflagging diligence and insight
Rather, living the truth in love, we should grow in every way into him who is the head, Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, with the proper functioning of each part, brings about the body’s growth and builds itself up in love.
Ephesians 4:15, 16 NAB
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
About the Author
Books by Karen Heitzmann
Back Cover
Prologue
H er legs still shook under the sheet, the smooth skin mottled and stained. The vise had released her, the arcing pain and frantic breaths. All that was past. But her arms would never forget this moment, wrapped around the warmed bundle, its weight transferred from within to her hesitant arms. So fragile, so tiny, yet . . . tenacious. And soon no longer hers. She allowed no internal argument; the ache was punishment enough.
The face beside her now spoke. “It’s harder the longer you wait.
They need these moments.”
She needed these moments. They would have a lifetime.
“You don’t want to bond.”
She knew it, yet it was beyond her to extend her arms and relinquish. . .
“Let me.” Helping hands.
“No.” She clutched one last moment before raising the bundle herself. Given, not confiscated . . . or destroyed. She would have that much.
CHAPTER
1
I nside the cushion-walled cubicle bathed in morning light, Jill watched Sammi’s euphoria dissolve into tantrum tears for the fourth time in less than an hour. The child’s medication was obviously out of whack, expressed by excessive displays of inappropriate behavior. They’d be lucky to keep her together until the final bell rang; never mind sending her out to regular classes, where she would overload and self-destruct.
Swiftly Jill snatched Sammi off the floor in a modified takedown motion before the kicking feet made contact with the other students in the special ed reading lab. As Sammi thrashed in her arms, Jill’s silent prayers started. Lord, give Sammi peace. Wrap her in your loving arms. Let her know you’re here in her struggle .
Classified SIED—severe intellectual emotional disability—Sammi, like most of the kids in Jill’s caseload, had the ability to learn and achieve, but her emotional upheaval sabotaged her efforts. How did one focus such a mind on phonics and structure when all her synapses were haywire? Might as well expect symphonic music from a nuclear reactor. Jill tried not to question why God made Sammi bipolar or why Joey sat in a world of his own until something irritated him out of it.
“Too loud!” Joey pressed his hands to his ears, ready to erupt.
Jill could hear his teeth grinding in conjunction with Sammi’s wails. She pressed Sammi’s face to her breast and confined her arm. Sometimes it seemed the tighter she held her, the more quickly she calmed. She would use a full takedown if it came to it, though she hated to, especially when it would go into the child’s report. Had her father forgotten today’s medication altogether? The call she had made to him was still unanswered—as usual. Please, Lord, comfort her . If Joey lost it, as well, she’d have to call for help. She could not contain them both at once.
She glanced at Pam, who looked over from her group under the window, ready if needed. Quickly assessing the situation as defusing, Jill nodded her assurance to Pam, who returned her focus to her own group. It was a judgment call, but she gave Sammi the benefit of the doubt.
Frequently they flew blind, taking each day, each child in stride—short staffed, underfunded, yet still required to provide free appropriate public education in the least restrictive environment for kids whose functionality would never allow the success Jill wanted so much for them. But she ran the program the best she could.
“Jesus loves you,” she murmured too softly for Sammi to hear. Yet it seemed to help. The wails became sobs, which didn’t violate Joey’s receptors as deeply. He rocked himself, refusing eye contact, and pulled the skin between his thumb and forefinger. It would be raw again before he stopped unless Jill could distract him.
But Sammi first. If she could only control everything that might set them off. In a perfect environment she could even teach them to read. As it was, she’d feel grateful to accomplish Sammi’s goal of initiating and maintaining one healthy social contact, and to overcome Joey’s lack of receptive language.
Lord, you balance the whole universe. Help me to balance these needs . As Sammi calmed, Jill watched the erupting forces in Joey subside, as well. She glanced at the other two students. Angelica was labeled SLIC: significant limited intellectual capacity. She had brain function that simply couldn’t match her desire to learn. Her type A personality would not let her give up, and Jill longed for her success, especially when getting the brighter, more capable kids to even try was a challenge. Some days Angelica was truly her saving grace. She was well named.
And there was Chris. Jill suspected his condition was more likely sleep deprivation than low functionality. The domestic strife in his home was heard all down the block at all hours, and his blank, semicomatose refusal to perform could be partly attributed to that. Even in the midst of Sammi’s tantrum, he looked glazed.
“All right, pay attention. I want to read you a story.”
Angelica’s round brown eyes found her immediately. She loved stories and curled her legs up under the pink skirt that matched the many pink barrettes clipped onto tiny coarse black braids. Sammi’s sobs became gulping breaths.
Jill used a firm, soothing tone. “Do you want to hear the story, Joey?”
He kept rocking but stilled slightly when she said, “It’s about a rocket. And a monkey.”
Sensing peace, Jill risked loosening her hold on Sammi. The girl was big for eight, a possible growth disorder in addition to her chemical imbalances. Sammi glared at Chris, who had expended the energy to set her off in the first place by making fun of her reading. Climbing down, Sammi deliberately kicked his knee.
“Ow!”
Chris kicked back, and Sammi charged him. As Jill moved to intervene, he pulled a fishing knife from his pocket. Jill lunged for the knife, gripped Chris’s arm, and took him down. Chris, who hardly had energy to write his name, fought until she trapped and subdued the scrappy nine-year-old. Jill’s heart pounded. This was not some innercity school where kids knifed each other; this was small town, middle America farm country—probably why it was a fishing knife and not a switchblade.
Within moments, Pam had hold of Sammi, and they pulled the children apart, still kicking and hollering.
“Too loud!” Joey pressed his hands to his ears.
Jill couldn’t worry about that now. She jerked the knife from Chris’s hand. “Where did you get this?”
“It’s mine.”
“Not anymore.” With the knife in one hand and the child in the other, Jill marched for the office. Presenting herself in this sort of situation to Principal Fogarty would not be pretty, but she had no choice. Her kids were rarely armed but invariably volatile. It came with the territory, but somehow Ed Fogarty always saw it as her fault. Still, she had no choice. School policy left no ambiguity in this situation.
As the stress drained, she realized Chris had grown soft in her grip. Why did he carry a knife? Protection? She frowned down at him. “Don’t you know better than to bring a knife to school, Chris?”
He had retreated into his stare.
He would be automatically suspended. She could possibly advocate against expulsion, due to his independent educational program. Even so, she would probably not see him until next school year. Disappointment and failure threatened her resolve. But there was no way around things now. She just hoped Pam had kept Joey from harming himself. Pam was a good teacher, but the kids didn’t always respond as well to her somewhat abrasive style.
As they approached the office, Chris held back. Jill stopped and turned. “I’m sorry, Chris. You made a really bad choice. Not only did you bring something dangerous to school, you used it as a weapon.”
“He’ll kick me out.”
Jill nodded. “Yes, for a while. You should have known that would happen.”
His eyelids drooped. “I’ll have to stay home.”
Jill heard the anxiety behind his dull words. “Yes, y