Sweet Sanctuary by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page B

and then Micah-your-friend must catch a train.”
    Nicky grabbed two handfuls of Micah’s hair as Micah headed for the door. The boy called out, “C’mon, Mama!”
    Lydia fell into step with Micah, and they ambled along the sidewalk under the morning sun. From his perch, Nicky waved and called greetings to neighbors. So this, then, was how it felt to be a family. For one brief moment, she believed her heart smiled. And then a tightness built in her chest. She should memorize the moment, because it could very well be the only time this pleasure would be hers.

6
    M icah leaned back into his seat, still shaking his head. That Allan Eldredge does enjoy managin’ things for people. . . . What a surprise to check out from the hotel and be told the bill was already paid in full. Then to receive his train ticket with the message that Mr. Eldredge would be billed for the expense. Of course, Micah wasn’t unappreciative of this interference—to be truthful, this little side trip was a stretch for his budget. He sent every spare nickel he earned to Jeremiah in the shape of food staples and articles of clothing.
    The train chugged into motion, creating an uncomfortable rolling in his stomach. As always, thoughts of Jeremiah brought an instant prayer to his heart: Lord, watch out for that brother of mine. After contracting polio as a young boy, Jeremiah depended on braces and crutches to walk, and his heart was weaker than most, but he didn’t allow any of it to slow him down. Jeremiah had more determination than the other four Hatcher boys put together. Which is precisely why he had willingly placed himself in the path of danger in Russia and Poland.
    Micah released a sigh. Oh, he was proud of this brother. Jeremiah was making a difference in the lives of war’s mostvulnerable victims—the children. But pride didn’t keep the worry at bay. Micah closed his eyes, his heart groaning another silent prayer. Lord, why must the innocent suffer? He continued to ask the question, even though he knew there was no real answer for it. Man’s sinful nature would always create sorrow.
    He had witnessed man’s sinfulness too vividly when the Japanese dropped their bombs on Pearl Harbor. Micah and the other medical personnel had worked around the clock on those victims. His heart still carried a burden for the men and women who had died. But God had opened his heart to a ministry in the midst of the attack. Micah’s lips twitched as he recalled the biblical admonition that “all things work together for good to them that love God”—there was a rainbow after the storm, his mother always said, if one would only look for it. Still, the sorrow of the storm itself was hard to accept.
    He shifted slightly in his seat, folding his arms across his queasy stomach—how he wished the train wouldn’t rock so—as he remembered Nicky’s sorrowful face when he’d hugged the little boy good-bye. Funny how that tousled-haired imp with the drooping socks had worked his way into Micah’s heart. This morning, walking with the boy’s weight on his shoulders and those small hands on his hair, he’d felt . . . fatherly.
    His thoughts flitted to Lydia, who hadn’t appeared any happier than Nicky at his parting. He’d enjoyed having her walk beside him in her graceful, feminine way, smiling up at Nicky on his perch and then letting her smile drift to Micah. He bit the inside of his cheek, recalling how she made him feel. It sure wasn’t fatherly.
    He squelched the thought immediately. Micah had committed himself to serving the immigrant population of New York and to helping with Jeremiah’s cause. There wasn’t time for anything more than those two commitments. Besides, Lydialived in one state while he lived in another. A relationship was out of the question.
    Micah remembered berating Lydia for her deception where Nicky’s parentage