I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well.

The Psalm reverberated so loud, James glanced towards his sister, wondering if she heard it.

“Hey, I better let you go,” he said, finally.

A flicker of disappointment flashed across her face and then recoiled to knock him in the gut. He blinked it away and heaved in a breath, but didn’t speak. What was there to say that wouldn’t aggravate the wounds, make them split open and deepen?

She crunched her mouth into a forced sweet smile and gave him a slight nod fueled by the resignation reflected in her eyes. With a tap to the window frame, she turned and walked away. Her hunched shoulders showed a palpable anguish.

His heart flooded with so many emotions, he couldn’t do anything more than blink back tears. I’m not the man you think I am, Mary. I’m not that hero. I never was. How can anyone put such stock in me? I left here, I left you all to battle the rust, to battle the losses, to battle the disappointments alone…I’m no hero…I’m just a man…one who came here to find solace…only to find you all need what I can’t even give.

He watched her go inside before he popped the truck into gear and headed down the road.

3

Diffused early morning light sparkled in the frosty condensation on the truck’s hood. James turned down the dirt drive and bumped along the road to the charred remains of the Pearce farmhouse. The rumbling engine seemed to disturb the reverence that James instinctively afforded the scene—so much so that he was grateful to cut the noise and slide out of the pickup.

A few birds chirped from some hidden place as if in tribute to the lives once living in this scorched, desolate place. The breeze whispered past James’s ear as he studied the blackened remains.

It’s been real horrible. His sister’s words from yesterday seeped into his mind. Horrible. When had Travis ever done anything horrible? The figure of Travis, his smile, the water boy, loping out to meet James and the team on the high school football field after a win dissolved his sister’s words and their implication. The innocent teen with the disheveled hair and quirky clothes could not have done this. His heart was too soft, too selfless. No matter how often James tried to picture it, the images just wouldn’t form. Travis might be odd, but he wasn’t dangerous, and until James heard the confession from Travis’s own lips, he wouldn’t believe it—maybe not even then.

So, what had truly happened here?

After one last look at the macabre scene, James climbed back into his truck and headed for the KMI. An appetizing breakfast at the Kipling Motor Inn’s diner would set him for the day ahead. A day he intended to complete by proving his friend’s innocence and finding out what really happened at the Pearce farm.