“He didn’t mean to do it. We tried to help but... I’m so scared. I’m so sorry. What’s gonna happen? What’s gonna happen? I’m so scared. Help, please help.”

Her body shivered in his arms, and James’s heart broke for her, for them all. “It’s OK. You’re OK. It’s all over.”

He pulled back to look at her, and she smacked away her own tears.

“You know we have to tell the sheriff the truth, right? We can’t let Travis take the blame for this.”

She nodded as she hiccoughed on a sob.

He raised his gaze to the others. Relief shone in every eye. These kids had borne a burden that had crushed lesser people. A horrible accident had transformed them into children who thought they had no future beyond the horror that hung over them. Giving the burden to him…to a minister, whom they thought had a direct line to God, had set them free.

…and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. The verse from John’s Gospel travelled through James’s head, and he said a silent prayer of thanks. Despite the cold night, warmth blanketed James. God had not abandoned him after all, He’d led him home and to the facts that would free Travis—and ease the burdens these teens had carried for so long.

James’s heart suffused with God, the Almighty lighting the places that had darkened, filling him with such joy that tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, although none fell. He took a deep breath and let it out.

With light shed on the truth, the entire town could heal. The Pearces were still gone; nothing could ever change that, but surely, an accident would be easier to bear than one of their own committing murder. Justice would repair the damage, forgiveness would heal them all.

Is this why you led me home, Lord?

The silent prayer again went unanswered, but this time James was not discouraged. Something inside him was restored, replenished. God’s silence wasn’t empty, it was comfortable—they were like old friends again, content to be in each other’s company without having to utter a word.

And in the middle of the winter snow, surrounded by young men and women he hardly knew, and with his Heavenly Father mute as a mouse, James felt the comfort of home.

13

“It’s OK.” James coaxed Amanda to speak.

She stood near the window looking past the glass and into the pristine, morning snow. She glanced at him, then Mrs. Wexler, and then Duane and Ian.

James wondered if she were nervous because of what she was about to confess or because her mother had told her to come alone. Whatever the cause, Amanda was facing her future.

James glanced at Ian, and then set his gaze briefly on his sister. She looked worried, and for that, James was sorry. He couldn’t ease the pain he knew Mary was going through at discovering her son had been lying to her all these months, but he admired her courage and loyalty. He expected nothing less. Mary had learned from their mom to nurture and love, and she did both with equal power. No matter what happened, she was here for Ian.