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mind?
    He needed to speak to Debbie, but he couldn’t. Not now. He reached under the seat to retrieve the painting. It was real. He must be losing his mind. It was Cat. Cat had to be behind this somehow. He rubbed his eyes, and stashed the watercolor carefully back under the seat.
    He pulled his Mercedes into rush hour traffic as the phone roused him from his reverie. “Yes?”
    It was Clemente. “Hey! We’re outta here tomorrow night.”
    “Okay.” Not what he wanted to hear. “Not much time to tie up loose ends.”
    “You can handle it. Pearson wants us both on this ya know.”
    “Yeah. Talk to you later.” This was unfortunate timing. He had hoped to see more of Debbie.
    He considered the task at hand and necessary preparations, as he drove through stop and go traffic. Celestial pale blue eyes appeared in front of him. What would Debbie paint for him? Realizing this lapse of concentration could well be fatal, he was perturbed. How did this strange, frail creature cast such a spell over him? A helpless young woman who refused to eat now controlled his thoughts. How could this happen?
    A helpless young woman who’d painted his life as a child. The same forest, the same place, where he often camped with his father, brother, and closest friends. And Debbie had painted the winter scene – the familiar snowy trees, icy rock and bubbling stream. The peaks in the distance just as he remembered them. The old-fashioned snow shoes planted in the snow, not far from their campfire. How could this happen?
    “I always like to jump into my paintings. Like Mary Poppins. I like to pretend that I’m there. It’s always more fun having adventures in those worlds, than staying in this one.”
    David had always been able to shut down his emotions. He was able to withdraw so completely into himself, that he became an observer of his own actions, not a participant. By the time he reached the driveway of his Beverly Hills residence, he thought Debbie and her remarkable painting were safely and completely buried in the recesses of his mind and heart.
    He stumbled out of the car like a drunkard, blue eyes fixed on him, he was certain. Prayer Warriors? Or insanity? He shuddered and rubbed his eyes.
    He decided life might be worth living.
    He’d go back to the boat tonight.
    He strode through the house to the pool. There they were, relaxing in the last rays of the sun. “Hmmm David, I’ve been waiting for you,” she purred. Rising from the lounge, her robe slipped from her shoulders.
    He watched her deliberately parade toward him. Sylvie had an amazing body, and she used it expertly.
    Darla eyed them both with cool interest. She followed them upstairs.
     
    ***
     
    It was after midnight when he arrived at the marina, boarded his boat, and headed to the small galley. He put his backpack on the table, and took out the painting and a frame. Carefully he mounted it on the wall, and placed the document behind it. Pearson would be bullshit he couldn’t get it to him sooner. Nothing he could do about it now. Pearson should have known to expect the unexpected from him.
    You can’t just order the execution of a U.S. senator and go on holiday.
    He took the velvet box from the backpack, headed out, and sat on the deck. He looked up at the night sky and saw Debbie’s sweet face. Healing smile. Heavenly blue eyes. Silken blonde hair that lit up her face like a halo.
    God is real . He knew it now. He knew it in his core. Cat had told him long ago. But Debbie switched on the light.
    He removed the ring from the box and held it in his fingers. He noticed it sparkled a bit in the moonlight. A full moon. He supposed he was crazy.
     
    Debbie
     
    My parents found me as bright and sunny as the new day. Dr. Gallagher did not offer an explanation for my sudden improvement. Neither did Cindy or Glori. But we all heaved a sigh of relief when they left the hospital that morning.
    Glori rolled her pretty eyes. “So when do you think our knight in