PROVIDENCE

Jamie McGuire

© 2010 by Jamie McGuire

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

Published by

Jamie McGuire, LLC

607 West McKinley Avenue

Blackwell, OK 74631

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

eBook Edition

Cover design by Justin McGuire

Interior design by J.C. Creech

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Jamie McGuire

Providence

ISBN 0-615-41717-2

ISBN 978-0-615-41717 (13 digit)

For Beth, who gave Providence its wings,

And for Mom, who provided the wind for it to fly

Contents

1.Loss and Found, 1

2.Invitation(s), 18

3.Suspicion(s), 30

4.The Ring, 45

5.Disclosure, 59

6.Truth(s), 77

7.Caught, 104

8.Purgatory, 119

9.Healing, 131

10.Fate, 143

11.The Hunt, 163

12.Eli, 180

13.Guilty, 197

14.Five Days, 220

15.The Last Supper, 246

16.The Arrangement, 259

17.Absolution, 276

18.Shax, 287

19.Saving Grace, 297

Epilogue 310

Chapter One

Chapter One

Loss and Found

The average daughter respects her father. She might regard him as her hero, or she may place him so high on a pedestal that no object of her affection could ever compare. To me, my father deserved more than respect, or loyalty, or even love. I had a reverence for him. He was more than Superman; he was God.

One of my earliest memories was of two men cowering in my father’s office as he spoke words I didn’t understand. His verdict was always final and never argued with. Not even death could touch him.

When I answered my phone on December fourteenth, that reality came to an end.

“Nina,” my mother sighed, “he doesn’t have much time. You should come now.”

I set the phone beside me on the bed, careful to keep my hands from trembling so much that it tumbled to the floor. The past few weeks had been an alternate universe for me, as I had been faced with one horrible call after another. The first from a nurse at the hospital informing me of my father’s car accident. My number was the most recently dialed on his cell phone, leaving me with the horrifying task of being the one to break the news to my mother. In his last days, when reports of no improvement were replaced with gentle suggestions to prepare for the inevitable, I was thankful to be at the receiving end of the phone calls.

It felt strange to walk across the room and grab my coat and keys. The tasks seemed too mundane to begin the journey to say goodbye to my father. I lamented the ordinary life that seemed so long ago as I walked out to my car and turned the ignition.