Chapter 3
Nell Rehman was completing the last steps of her two-mile morning walk, and she thanked the good Lord for the cooler temperature
today that didn’t leave her drenched in sweat or out of breath. She slowed her steps and intently watched the tracker app
on her phone as she approached her long, winding driveway, which forked off the gravel road in rural Chatham County, Georgia.
The app’s icon of her daughter’s face showed her slowing down to zero miles per hour, safely arriving in the dorm parking
lot after the drive back from an off-campus class. Taylor merging onto the freeway to get to the veterinary science building
on Tuesday mornings always made Nell anxious.
Relieved that Taylor was back on school property, Nell slipped her phone into the pocket of her light gray windbreaker. Suddenly,
a nagging concern overtook her mind, prompting her to grab the phone once again. Quickly opening the app, she followed Taylor’s
footsteps across the large parking lot to make sure she safely reached the dormitory. Distracted by the phone screen, Nell
failed to notice a twisted branch left on the driveway from last night’s storm and stumbled over it. Although she managed
to steady herself and avoid a fall, the unexpected jolt left her heart racing. Before tucking her phone back into her pocket,
she watched a few more of her little girl’s steps on the screen.
Nell stopped to get a stack of mail from the redbrick mailbox.
On the very top was another army recruitment letter—straight to the trash it would go.
If Tate saw it, he’d take it as another sign to run off to serve his country and leave his parents and the safety of his hometown behind.
Next in the pile was an embossed envelope with Moira Allyson’s return address neatly stamped on the back flap.
Still standing at the mailbox, Nell opened it to find an invitation to Moira’s home for her fiftieth birthday celebration.
Surprised that she’d even received it, Nell put the invitation in her left hand, alongside the army’s prompting for her only son, her baby boy, to “be all he could be.” She continued her walk toward the house—toward the trash—where both were destined, as both were invitations to a bad time.
The clock on the nightstand glowed red in the dark: 2:12, then 2:13, then 2:14 a.m. Nell lay on her back, her green eyes wide
open, staring at the ceiling as the minutes ticked by. Beside her, Chip snored softly, one arm draped over the blanket, his
breathing slow and steady. The sound made her jealous—a reminder that at least one of them was sleeping.
She turned her head toward the window, where the pale glow of the moon brightened the blinds. The house was quiet, and the
world outside felt even quieter. But her mind wouldn’t settle.
She thought of her strawberry-blonde girl being over two hundred miles away at the University of Georgia, too grown up for a curfew and rules and too far away for Nell to pop in with a hug.
The news that appeared on her social media pages daily hadn’t helped ease her worries—all that talk of danger, campus crime, and girls going missing, topics she refused to google after dark.
And now Tate—her sweet boy—included the army in nearly every conversation.
She pressed her hand to her chest and felt her heart thudding with worry.
“Lord,” she whispered into the silence, barely moving her lips, “I need you tonight.”
All she could hear was the steady hum of the fan and Chip’s soft snoring.
“I gave you my addiction, Lord,” she said on a breath. “I laid it at your feet, and you broke the chains. You got me through
the cravings and the shame. You s-still do,” she added, her voice cracking. “Please, Lord, I need that same strength again.”
She reached for the Bible on her nightstand, its edges worn from use. She also grabbed her phone and brightened the pages
with its light. The Bible naturally opened to Psalm 121—the one she’d clung to during the hardest days of her recovery.
“He who watches over you will not slumber,” she read silently as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and onto her pillow. “You’re awake when I can’t be. You’re
watching over Taylor. You’re walking beside Tate.” She claimed these truths out loud.
She placed the tattered book back onto the nightstand and folded her hands over her chest, letting the verse settle over her
like a blanket. She didn’t feel better—not exactly—but she felt held. And maybe that was enough for tonight.
She closed her eyes, knowing sleep might not come easy. But also knowing she wasn’t alone in the waiting.