Faith tore out of the jail's parking lot and prayed she wouldn't get a ticket. She turned Old Blue into the flowing traffic. Her heart pumped faster than a race car engine. Dear God, please don't let me be too late. She reached down and punched Matt's number again. Come on, Matt, where are you? Pick up. Still no answer. She snapped the phone shut and focused on the road ahead. Who could possibly have it in for him? He was such a great guy. She gassed the truck as she passed the city limits and left the jail behind. Why wasn't he answering? She'd never had a problem before. This wasn't like him.
Faith whipped into the drive. She jumped from her pickup, strode to the side door, and knocked. No answer. She pulled out her cell and tried again. It rang and rang, then went straight to the voicemail. This time, she hung up without leaving a message.
She yanked the screen door, and it flew open, unlatched. The door knob turned, and she shoved the door open and yelled, "Matt, are you there?"
No response. She briskly marched through the house and called his name. She checked each room. In Matt's office, the swivel chair faced the door. Blood spotted it. Faith's heart lurched. Oh, God, please don't let me be too late. She spotted blood droplets on the carpet and followed them back through the kitchen and to the garage. Matt's truck ran. Dear God, what will I find when I open this door? Please let me be in time. Why didn't Matt use his pistol?
Faith jerked the garage door, but it wouldn't budge. She ran to the kitchen and hit the automatic door opener. The door slowly opened. She raced inside the garage, and the gas fumes nearly knocked her out. She coughed and held her nose with one hand. Her eyes burned, but she yanked open the driver's truck door. Matt tumbled out.
She let go of her nose and turned off the truck. Faith slid her arms under Matt's and locked her hands in front of his chest. She hefted. He didn't budge. She had to get him out of there. Now. No time to waste. She hauled in a breath, grunted, and heaved. He lifted, and she pulled him toward the door. One foot. Two feet. Three more.
"Matt, we're out of the garage." Please, Lord, help me. She couldn't drop him now. The outside air hit her face and tears of relief filled her eyes. She tenderly laid him on the grass by the side of the cement drive and yanked her cell from its holster. She dialed 911.
Assured the ambulance was on its way, Faith closed her phone and felt for his heartbeat. She rubbed her knuckles against his breast bone and stroked his face. So still. She touched his neck and held her breath. No response. She tilted his head and lifted his chin, then put her ear to his mouth and listened. Nothing. She looked for chest movement. Nothing. She listened for air blowing through his mouth or nose, or on her cheek. Nothing. He wasn't going to die if she had anything to do with it.
She ran her tongue over her lip and tasted perspiration. Why did sweat always taste salty, and why would she even think to question that at a time like this? She took a quick, shallow breath and whispered, "Come on, Matt. Breathe! BREATHE!"
It'd been a long time since she'd trained for CPR. Would she remember what to do? A bluish pallor stole over Matt's complexion, and his body became a dead weight. She had no time to lose.
Faith pinched his nose and made a seal over his mouth with her own. She breathed big enough to make his chest rise, let his chest fall, and repeated the rescue breath again. She listened for an intake of breath, an exhale, but the only sound was the pounding of her own heart in her ears.
Faith whipped into the drive. She jumped from her pickup, strode to the side door, and knocked. No answer. She pulled out her cell and tried again. It rang and rang, then went straight to the voicemail. This time, she hung up without leaving a message.
She yanked the screen door, and it flew open, unlatched. The door knob turned, and she shoved the door open and yelled, "Matt, are you there?"
No response. She briskly marched through the house and called his name. She checked each room. In Matt's office, the swivel chair faced the door. Blood spotted it. Faith's heart lurched. Oh, God, please don't let me be too late. She spotted blood droplets on the carpet and followed them back through the kitchen and to the garage. Matt's truck ran. Dear God, what will I find when I open this door? Please let me be in time. Why didn't Matt use his pistol?
Faith jerked the garage door, but it wouldn't budge. She ran to the kitchen and hit the automatic door opener. The door slowly opened. She raced inside the garage, and the gas fumes nearly knocked her out. She coughed and held her nose with one hand. Her eyes burned, but she yanked open the driver's truck door. Matt tumbled out.
She let go of her nose and turned off the truck. Faith slid her arms under Matt's and locked her hands in front of his chest. She hefted. He didn't budge. She had to get him out of there. Now. No time to waste. She hauled in a breath, grunted, and heaved. He lifted, and she pulled him toward the door. One foot. Two feet. Three more.
"Matt, we're out of the garage." Please, Lord, help me. She couldn't drop him now. The outside air hit her face and tears of relief filled her eyes. She tenderly laid him on the grass by the side of the cement drive and yanked her cell from its holster. She dialed 911.
Assured the ambulance was on its way, Faith closed her phone and felt for his heartbeat. She rubbed her knuckles against his breast bone and stroked his face. So still. She touched his neck and held her breath. No response. She tilted his head and lifted his chin, then put her ear to his mouth and listened. Nothing. She looked for chest movement. Nothing. She listened for air blowing through his mouth or nose, or on her cheek. Nothing. He wasn't going to die if she had anything to do with it.
She ran her tongue over her lip and tasted perspiration. Why did sweat always taste salty, and why would she even think to question that at a time like this? She took a quick, shallow breath and whispered, "Come on, Matt. Breathe! BREATHE!"
It'd been a long time since she'd trained for CPR. Would she remember what to do? A bluish pallor stole over Matt's complexion, and his body became a dead weight. She had no time to lose.
Faith pinched his nose and made a seal over his mouth with her own. She breathed big enough to make his chest rise, let his chest fall, and repeated the rescue breath again. She listened for an intake of breath, an exhale, but the only sound was the pounding of her own heart in her ears.
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Trailer of Last Resort
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About Author
B. J. Robinson is an educator and novelist. She makes her home in Florida with her husband, two dogs, and a cat named Frankie. Barbara says, “There is no one in life as capable of encouraging and motivating one’s soul as the blessed feel of the Holy Spirit, like a hand on my shoulder reassuring me. I have never felt closer to God than when I feel the touch of the Holy Spirit in times of need. That slight touch lets me know that I do not walk through this world alone. I have a heavenly Father who meets my every need. That heavenly touch makes all the difference in my life. I thank Him most of all for the blessed gifts of my children.”
Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
Visit B, J. Robinson at http://barbarajrobinson.blogspot.com for book reviews and news of her writing and new releases. Her debut Christian romantic suspense novel Last Resort releases from Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc. July 15. http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/StoreFront.bok and will be available at Barnes and Noble and Amazon.com as an eBook. It will also be available in all other eBook formats. She recently signed contracts for two others: Southern Superstitions, releases January 11, 2012, and Whispering Cypress, releases August 11, 2012.
Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
Visit B, J. Robinson at http://barbarajrobinson.blogspot.com for book reviews and news of her writing and new releases. Her debut Christian romantic suspense novel Last Resort releases from Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc. July 15. http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/StoreFront.bok and will be available at Barnes and Noble and Amazon.com as an eBook. It will also be available in all other eBook formats. She recently signed contracts for two others: Southern Superstitions, releases January 11, 2012, and Whispering Cypress, releases August 11, 2012.
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My Review
Faith had given up on love after escaping the abuse of her fiancee. She had given her heart to him, believing in true love, and that he would love her until death do them part. Sadly, all she found was a man who not only cheated on her, but physically, emotionally and mentally abused her. At the time, Faith did all that she could do, run.
Faith loved the Lord and trusted in Him and His word. She prayed daily for guidance and unconditional love that only God could give. She had given up on having a life mate to spend her life with, and who would love her like a man should love a woman in the Lord. Faith had no family to turn to, she had lost her sister to a eating disorder and her mother to cancer. So, Faith left the city to move to the country to do what she and her mother loved to do, raise strawberries.
She had noticed him church, and in passing coming and going to her home. She had a young man name Matt who lived on one side of her and a very jealous prissy Lily on the other. Faith was attracted to Matt because she felt there was something about him and he always seemed to be around when she needed someone, and she found she needed someone quite a bit when things started crumbling around her. Things that would turn her world upside down, things that would cause Faith to fall to her knees in prayer to a loving God, asking for help. No matter what life threw at her, she never gave up her faith in the Lord.
Take a journey with Faith who couldn't see the true love that had found her for the dark shadow that lurked in the woods watching her every move. A shadow that was determined to have her at all cost, even to the point of doing something as harsh and only as a 'last resort'.
I can tell through the author's words and characters that she walks with the Lord and writes stories of the trials and tribulations that can only be 'fixed' with prayer and supplication. Each of her characters love the Lord, even if they don't realize it until they hit rock bottom. I found the book very clean, non graphic, non sexual, no foul language, and she still managed to write a very inspiring , uplifting story. I found myself envying Faith for finding a wonderful Christian man who loved the Lord as much as she did. Throughout my life, I have yet to find that, and it is one of my life's regrets. But I know the Lord has plans for me, and instead of deciding how my life should turn out, I need to turn it over to Him, for He knows what is best for His children.
Thank you B.J. for writing a book of hope, and reminding the reader God is in command and all you have to do is turn it all over to Him.
I give Last Resort five stars and many blessings... *****
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