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honorable calling, but she didn’t. At least not for Michael. She was certain the Lord had something special planned for Michael’s life, and she wasn’t sure that was being a police officer in Hidden Springs or anywhere else. She didn’t know what it was, but she claimed if Michael listened a little harder to what the Lord might be telling him, he’d figure it out.
    Michael hadn’t exactly shut his ears. He went to church and tried to keep his eyes open through the sermons. Most every morning, he said a grateful prayer or two when he got up and looked out over the lake behind his log house. He aimed to live right. On the other hand, he hadn’t ever asked the Lord to send him any career advice.
    â€œYou’ll have them back on task in five minutes,” Michael said into the phone.
    â€œWasted minutes,” Aunt Lindy said curtly. “Students these days throw their minds away if they get the slightest chance.”
    â€œBut you won’t let that happen. By the way, have you seen Anthony Blake today?” He hurried the question out before she hung up.
    â€œYou know he’s not in any of my classes.”
    â€œIn the hall, I mean.”
    â€œI stay out of the halls as much as possible. An old woman could get trampled out there.”
    â€œCome on, Aunt Lindy. You know none of the kids would so much as jostle you. But about Anthony. Could you check for me? See if he’s there.”
    â€œI can check, but he’ll be at the house tomorrow night for his lessons. I can ask him then.”
    Michael had talked Aunt Lindy into tutoring Anthony to keep him from flunking out of school and violating his parole agreement. “Does he ever skip those?” Michael asked.
    â€œOf course not. He knows that’s not allowed.” With that, Aunt Lindy disconnected the call without so much as a goodbye.
    That was Aunt Lindy. Decisive, determined, dedicated. As Michael handed the phone back to Betty Jean, he thought it was a good thing for him that she was. He owed his life to her. It was that simple. Or maybe there was nothing simple about any of it.
    Seeing death always brought back the memory of the heavy blackness that had trapped him inside his head for months after the wreck when he was fifteen.
    He was on the way home from church camp after three weeks as a junior counselor. His parents had been so happy to see him when they came to pick him up. His mother wanted to know all about the camp as they drove toward Hidden Springs, and Michael had tried to answer her questions even though his eyelids kept sliding shut.
    The night had been cloudy, raining some, thunder rumbling in the distance. The windshield wipers swooshed back and forth, dragging against the glass whenever the rain let up a little. The road was nearly deserted, and their car lights punched holes in the dark until it almost looked as if they were in a tunnel riding through the night.
    All at once lights flashed in front of them. His father had jammed on the brakes and jerked the car to the right, but the lights came straight at them. His mother’s scream was the last thing he remembered.
    The car crashed into a tree, killing his parents instantly,and the doctors held out little hope for Michael. It would take a miracle, they warned Aunt Lindy. Even if he kept breathing, he might never be a functioning person again.
    Aunt Lindy listened and then quietly moved into his hospital room, refusing to leave. Weeks without a response hadn’t discouraged her. She ignored the doctors, kept talking to him, reading to him, and exercising his arms and legs for the day when he’d regain consciousness. Her father had been a preacher. Her brother, Michael’s father, had been a preacher. She not only believed in miracles, she expected them. She had no doubt the Lord would heal Michael. Long before the blackness parted, somehow Michael had been aware she was there and knew she was refusing to let him