Song of the Surf (Pacific Shores Book 3)
Read Song of the Surf (Pacific Shores Book 3) Online
Authors: Lynnette Bonner
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Table of Contents
Written in the Sand, Pacific Shores, Book 4
By Lynnette Bonner
More books in the
PACIFIC SHORES SERIES
by Lynnette Bonner
— Contemporary Christian Romance —
Beyond the Waves
, Book 1
Caught in the Current
, Book 2
Song of the Surf
, Book 3
Written in the Sand, Book 4
Coming Summer 2015
Other books by Lynnette Bonner
ISLANDS OF INTRIGUE: SAN JUANS
— Christian Romantic Suspense —
The Unrelenting Tide
—
Lynnette Bonner — Also available in
audio
Tide Will Tell
— Lesley Ann McDaniel
Deceptive Tide —
Janalyn Voigt
Coming Summer 2015
THE SHEPHERD'S HEART SERIES
— Christian Historical Romance —
Rocky Mountain Oasis
— Also available in
audio
High Desert Haven
— Also available in
audio
Fair Valley Refuge
— Also available in
audio
Spring Meadow Sanctuary
— Also available in
audio
HEART'S OF HOLLYWOOD SERIES
— Contemporary Christian Romance Novellas —
Find out more at
LynnetteBonner.com
Song of the Surf
PACIFIC SHORES, Book 3
Published by, Serene Lake Publishing
Copyright © 2015 by Lynnette Bonner. All rights reserved.
Cover design by Lynnette Bonner of Indie Cover Design -
www.indiecoverdesign.com
Images ©
http://www.bigstock.com, File: #30437840, Beach.
http;//www.peopleimages.com, File: #ID396421, Couple.
http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/, File: #blue-sky-and-clouds.
THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
Song of the Surf
is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination.
Published in the U.S.A.
Galatians 6:9-10
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the
proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not
give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us
do good to all people, especially to those who
belong to the family of believers.
Chapter 1
Dakota Trask wanted to weep with exhaustion and Monday hadn’t even closed up shop yet. The gloomy evening light reflected softly from her computer screen, doing nothing to disguise the evidence before her. She couldn’t believe LoriMay had done this. Scooting her chair closer to her desk, she leaned toward the screen and clicked the button to tally the column of numbers again. She grunted when the sum came out the same as before. This couldn’t be right, could it? The income showed a great deal more than the expense side, yet there were only a few cents left in the account according to the bank statement. So what had been purchased that hadn’t been recorded? Her stomach rolled over on a wave of dread. Or at the very least, where had that withdrawal gone?
Dakota rubbed her temples. How was she to balance the ministry’s budget when nothing seemed to be matching up?
She dropped her forehead onto her arm. “Lord, I didn’t sign up for this. Everything needs to be revamped and reassessed from the ground up!” If she had her car she would go see Pastor Mark right now. But she had loaned her car to Marie—whose Corolla had died again, and with her wedding less than a week away. So Dakota was stranded, for now.
But wait…she smacked her forehead and reached for her phone. The account was cloud-based, so she’d just call him and see if he had time to take a look. She pressed on Pastor Mark’s name and listened as it rang. The phone rolled over to voicemail. Disappointed, she hung up without leaving a message.
Maybe it would be better this way. She’d finish her assessment and have a better understanding of exactly what expenses the church would be facing to keep House of Hope operational, and hopefully a report on where the missing money might have gone.
Outside the wind picked up and whistled through the eaves. Which reminded her of another thing she’d noticed. The roofing on the place was badly in need of replacement. And the faucet in the first bathroom down the hall dripped constantly, while the toilet in the other one did the same. She needed to put an announcement in the bulletin at church for some volunteer handymen to come out and do the repairs for her.
Where had LoriMay appropriated the money for such things? Dakota breathed out a sigh and forced herself to sit up. Whatever category it came out of was probably severely lacking in funds, if all the others could be a measurement.
A headache pinched at the front of her skull. “I need coffee.” She pushed herself up from the desk and strode to the Keurig she’d bought with her own money. One sip of the brew from House of Hope’s ancient yellowed Mr. Coffee machine that had added its own unique taste to every pot, and she’d made a special trip into town to buy a Keurig. She thrust her mug under the spout and popped in a K Cup, then pressed “brew.”
The pot whirred and gurgled and began to drip.
She glanced at her watch. Another hour and Reece and Marie would be by to get her. Striding to the window, Dakota planted her palms against the sill and leaned close to look out at the rain-sodden evening. Dark clouds hung ominously, and lightning forked in a jagged shard across the distance. The percussion of thunder followed bare moments later. The trees along the back of the property cowered in the face of the Oregon coast wind, bending farther than she’d ever seen them go before. She leaned low and craned her neck to see the tops of the tall evergreens. One of them was swaying like a skyscraper in an earthquake.
“Wow. Crazy.”
Mr. Novak’s garbage can fell on its side and tumbled across his backyard, spilling garbage everywhere. It crashed to a stop against the split rail fence that separated his property from House of Hope’s. Dakota sighed. Looked like tomorrow would be a day of cleanup.
A branch from one of the trees snapped and hurtled through the air straight toward her. Dakota ducked on reflex, but the branch lifted on a last-second current of air and skittered across the roof.
Dakota wrapped her arms around herself, thankful to be inside on such a terrible night.
Behind her the Keurig gave its last gurgling hiss, and the scent of fresh hot medium roast filled her nostrils, making her mouth water, and her tension ease at just the first whiff. A splash of peppermint mocha creamer and life would be righted again, if only for a few minutes. She opened the door of the mini fridge in the far corner and squatted down to snag the tall bottle of creamer from the back.
A huge crash shuddered through the building, and glass shattered. Adrenaline cinched up every muscle in her body. A wall of air slapped into her. Her hand slipped, and her forehead cracked into the corner of the fridge. She gave herself a little shake in an attempt to dispel the throbbing.
She’d somehow ended up on the floor. Had she really felt air? Another gust blew over her. Yes. Definitely. The chill sweep of icy Pacific wind, and the sting of slashing rain.
Rain?
She turned over slowly, groaning as pain sliced across her temple.
Where the corner of her office had been only moments ago, thick gray clouds hung low. Flying debris rocketed by, and a flash of lightning lit up the silver needles of water falling from the sky.
Her eyes widened.
What in the world…?
Pushing her hands into the carpet, she stood and lifted her gaze to assess what had happened. She staggered a sideways step. And blinked to clear her vision. Surely she was just seeing things. Disbelievingly, her focus swung back to the window she’d stood at only seconds before. The glass was now a web of fissures and jagged shards with a frame of mangled metal. But through a larger intact section, she could see that one of the trees that should be standing tall in the backyard was no longer there. She pressed a hand to the ache in her head. “Oh, wow. This is so not good!”
Her focus swung back to the missing corner of the house and began to pick out more details. Evening had fallen quickly, but the growing dusk did nothing to hide the serrated wall and splintered siding, the section of roof, and the large trunk of a tree with jagged branches that angled across her desk.
If I’d still been sitting there…
She swallowed.
Rainwater began to puddle and seep across the carpeted floor.
She jolted herself to action. “I have to do something!” She scooped her hand back through her hair. What? “Think!”
A tarp. She knew there was a tarp on the shelf in the garage. It wouldn’t stop all the water damage, but surely it would minimize it some.
My computer!
Only one corner of her monitor could even be seen. The rest of it lay smashed under a splintered beam, and she could see sparks pinging off of something. The desk lamp?
Electricity first. Then the tarp.
She tried to run down the hall toward the breaker box, but her legs trembled to the point of near uselessness, and it didn’t help that she was wearing her favorite mint suede heels. She finally reached the gray metal panel at the end of the hall and flung it open, feeling pain zing across a couple fingers. Where was the main switch? Daddy had always said in an emergency to throw the main breaker. This box didn’t seem to have one. Of course it didn’t. This house was as ancient as the tree that had just tried to kill it. She gritted her teeth and quickly began switching everything off.