âWe donât dare assume that anything that happens from now on is innocent or simple.â
Lowering his voice, Mitch added, âThose kids in there are orphans because somebody purposely killed their parents.â
Jill felt a shiver zing up her spine. Mitch was right. She grabbed his arm in a viselike grip. âYou donât think the children are really in danger, do you?â
âI donât know.â His eyes narrowed. âAre you willing to take the chance they arenât and let down your guard?â
âOf course not!â She didnât release her hold until sheâd said, âIâm scared, Mitch.â
To her chagrin, he replied, âYeah. So am I.â
The last thing Jill wanted to do was frighten the children more than they already were. Mitch seemed to sense her uneasiness. He paused and laid a hand of gentle comfort on her shoulder. âItâll be okay. Iâll take care of everything. I promise.â
Dear Reader,
I spent many years working with elementary-school children. Thatâs probably why, when it comes time to write about them, I usually create characters between four and eight years old. Those are the ages I think I understandâas much as any adult can. In those days I saw my job as a way to demonstrate the love of Christ in a secular atmosphere. Now I do it mostly in print.
This is the first book in my new miniseries, The Defenders, that features the work of CASA volunteers. These court-appointed special advocates represent children in regard to the legal system, appearing before any judge who is being asked to decide their fate. Itâs a thankless, unpaid position that must make all of heaven rejoice, especially when there is a happy ending.
I pray that your personal happy ending includes a commitment to Jesus Christ. Mine certainly does. I love to hear from my readers. The easiest way to reach me is by email, [email protected], or send a letter to P.O. Box 13, Glencoe, AR 72539. You can also see my other work at www.valeriehansen.com.
Blessings,
VALERIE HANSEN was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.
Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for all of the Love Inspired lines.
Life doesnât get much better than that!
My husband and son were career firefighters
and my daughter also volunteered before she went into nursing.
The men and women in the fire service
put their whole hearts into their work and no amount of praise or thanks for their efforts will ever be enough.
Thanks also to the dedicated CASA volunteers
who take over after disasters and help children put their lives back together.
Whoever receives one of these little children in
my name receives me; and whoever receives me, receives not only me but Him who sent me.
âMark 9:37
Boom!
Fire station windows rattled. Overhead lights vibrated. Captain Mitch Andrews froze, held his breath and braced himself with both palms on his desktop.
âWhat in the world was that?â someone shouted down the hallway.
Mitch figured every telephone in Serenity was already tied up by folks asking each other the same question. Their dispatcher would be fortunate to receive information giving a halfway accurate location of the problem, let alone a clear report of conditions at the scene.
A firefighter stuck his head through Mitchâs office doorway. âWhatâs going on?â
âI donât know. But it must be bad. Get ready to roll.â
What he desperately wanted to do was grab a phone and call Jill; at least hear her sweet voice and make sure she was far from the current danger before he left the station. Duty didnât allow him that luxury. Not this time.
Sprinting for the hangar, he slammed his fist into the buttons that raised the bay doors. The siren mounted on the roof was starting to scream, rising and falling in pitch until he could barely hear his own voice over the wail.
âJake, you round up the volunteers and get them moving as soon as you can,â Mitch yelled, hailing the first man to clear the door. âI have a feeling weâre going to need every piece of equipment we own on this one.â
âYes, sir,â the engineer shouted. âWhat blew up?â
âDonât know yet.â
Mitch listened to the details coming in over his handheld radio, then answered with, âCopy. All units responding to the vicinity of the county airport. ETA five minutes or less. Are ambulances started?â