Free Sounds of Silence by Elizabeth White

figure out how to get back.
    “I could really use a friend,” she said on a sigh. “I just never imagined it would be—” She stopped, looking self-conscious.
    “Me?” Eli supplied. Dennis Carmichael’s son falling in love with Rico Valenzuela’s widow. Some might say God had a cruel sense of humor. Eli rejected the thought. “I happen to think there’s a reason we’ve been thrown together like this.”
    “I don’t know.” Isabel shook her head. “Ever since you came over that day, asking me to meet Mercedes, I started having nightmares again.”
    “Nightmares? You mean about Rico?”
    “Yes.” Isabel’s voice was low and strained. “Every night I dream about that place over in Eagle Pass where he died.”
    Eli wanted to move close to her and take her in his arms. He didn’t dare. Instead he looked at her steadily, keeping his voice even. “Have you talked to a counselor? The pastor?”
    Her eyes widened. “No! I don’t want anybody to think I’m…crazy.”
    “Isabel, you’re not crazy. Even though I wasn’t there, I dream about that scene, too—or I used to. Sometimes I’m jerking the gun out of my father’s hand, sometimes I step in front of the bullet.” He shook his head. “The counselor said that’s normal.”
    “You went to a counselor?” Isabel tipped her head. “You’ve never seemed to let what happened bother you.”
    “Oh, I’m bothered all right.” Eli looked away. “Some days it’s all I can do to look you in the eye.”
    “Oh, Eli.” Isabel swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”
    “Well. We’re both sorry, huh?” He offered a smile, which she returned softly. “But the good news is, once I told somebody—the counselor—how I was feeling, the nightmares started to fade. I try to remember the good parts of my father as I was growing up. I try to realize that God may be up to something in me, making all the bad more than a pointless tragedy.”
    “How do you…how do you get there?” Isabel’s tone was wistful. “I do okay in the daylight, but at night…”
    Eli looked upward. Lord, help me here . After an imperceptible pause, he sighed. “Patience, I guess. Prayer in every breath. Memorizing Scripture that I can spout back at the devil when he attacks.”
    “It feels like that, doesn’t it?” Isabel said. “An attack.”
    “Oh, yeah. For me, it was my whole concept of fatherhood on the block. For a while I couldn’t trust God because of what my father had done. And I didn’t trust myself. Maybe,” he added painfully, “maybe I’m still dealing with that.”
    Isabel stilled, her eyes flashing. “You are a very good man, Eli Carmichael. Don’t ever doubt it.”
    He laughed, pleased at her fierce loyalty. “All right. So noted.” He slid one arm under Danilo’s legs and lifted him against his chest. “I’m pretty sure it’d take a planetary invasion to wake this kid up. How about showing me where his room is.”

    Eli slammed the door of the patrol car and settled in with a cup of coffee, ready for a long, uncomfortable vigil. He’d been spending every night when he wasn’t working parked down the street from Isabel’s house. From this angle he could observe the front, side and unfenced backyard, making sure she and the children were safe.
    Owen thought Eli was off the deep end. If Marlon Dean found out what he was doing, he’d be fired, or at the very least put on suspension pending a psychological checkup.
    Eli shifted to put his back against the door. Maybe he was a bit loony, from lack of sleep. He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to guard Isabel, look for Bryan Hatcher’s killer and do his job. He’d managed to snatch a couple hours rest yesterday during lunch, which was going to have to do him for the foreseeable future.
    One thing was for sure. He had plenty of time to think. Reaching under the seat, he pulled out his Bible and a flashlight, then sat there in the dark with the sound of Isabel singing to Mercedes