“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He counts the number of the stars;
He calls them all by name. Great is our Lord, and mighty in power.
His understanding is infinite.” Psalm 147: 3, 4 (NKJV)
“Shelly stood, went to her carry-on bag and took out her Bible. She started to sit in a plush chintz-covered chair beside the bed, but inhaled a deep breath, returned to the door and unlocked it. Then she opened it slightly so she could hear Millicent if she called.
She took the Bible back to the chair, but instead of sitting and reading it, she put it in the chair and began pacing again as her ricocheting thoughts transported her back to the scene in the kitchen. “Franklin,” she said aloud. “That’s Millicent’s late husband’s name, the same name she called the stranger.” She hesitated a few moments before continuing the audible debate with herself. “He couldn’t be her…son. Could he?” She stopped pacing. “But he introduced himself as Mick. Mick McKenna. When I asked Millicent in London if she had children, she told me she had a son when she was forty-four, a son they lost tragically years ago.”
A light switched on in her brain. “She never said he’d died, but that they’d lost him. I only assumed he’d died. Franklin-Mick McKenna-is Millicent’s son and from all appearances, very much alive.”