Page 135 of Ford

No!

Floating. Silence.

Heartbeat in his ears. Fading.

He blinked away the sting in his eyes, the thunder of the surf against the unseen shore a dull hammer in his brain.

He closed his eyes.

I’ll meet you on the beach.

The voice, strumming through him, like fire in his bones.

He stood in the surf, grubby, thin, broken, triumphant, his chest burning.I made it, Dad.

Silence.

Thunder, louder.

I knew you would.

The waves caught him up, carrying him.

Let God be your power, Ford. You can do nothing on your own.

The surf crashed over him, buried him, dragging him down.

Let God be your power.

Sand.

He scrabbled against it, but his feet refused purchase.

Darkness, pulling him down.

Heavy.

His lungs burned.

Are you done yet?

Yes.The word fell through him, almost a gasp.

The current picked him up, yanked him back.

He broke the surface. Gulped.

Riptide. He felt it in the tug of the sea.

He lay back, letting the current carry him, too tired to fight.

Ham’s voice.Stand still. To cool your jets—the Lord would fight for you.

The cave walls turned his body to ice.

Light, in his eyes, blinding. Hands around him, heat against him, in his core.I got you, son. I got you.

He drew in a breath. Compassion in his father’s eyes.