Avenger of Blood by John Hagee Read Free Book Online Page A

accept Victor and learn to love him? What if Galen hadn’t even waited for her? What if he had given up hope and married someone else?
    Word of their return had spread quickly. Just before noon on the day following their arrival, Galen appeared at the villa. When the steward had told Rebecca that Galen was waiting for her in the garden, she was filled with joyous anticipation as well as a good deal of apprehension.
    The low noise of the fountain covered the sound of her footsteps on the tiled walkway, and she approached without his notice. She stood to one side and took a moment just to look at him. If possible, Galen was more handsome than ever. And just as preoccupied. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, staring intently into the fountain; but his eyes, she knew, were looking beyond the water, his subconscious mind creating objects that only he could see.
    She walked into his field of vision and he slowly sensed her presence. “ I closed the shop and rushed here as soon as I heard . . .” His voice trailed off when he looked up, and his eyes clouded over as he took in her appearance. “Oh, Rebecca.”
    He stood and reached for her and she fell against him, relieved. There had been love in his expression as well as shock. They clung to each other, both of them too overcome to speak.
    After a while Rebecca pulled back, embarrassed. “I look awful,” she said, patting her still-damp hair. She had pinned it up before it dried completely, not wanting anyone to see how unevenly she’d had to trim it to get rid of the impossibly tangled ends. “You look beautiful to me,” he said gallantly. But Rebecca could see the pain in his eyes as he looked at her. The evidence of her suffering wounded him.
    He asked her about it rather awkwardly, and she found for once that she couldn’t talk about it. So she asked him questions instead, making him talk about his work, about the church.
    After a few minutes, conversation with her fiancé began to seem more normal to her, and he appeared to have recovered somewhat from the initial shock of seeing her.
    Tears filled her eyes as he held her hand and told her how much he had missed her. This was what she had waited for, hoped for, dreamed for—and God had brought her back for this.
    Finally she was able to speak about Devil’s Island, but only the less painful things. She told him about John’s glorious vision of Christ, and how the Apostle had called her “Scribe” because she worked for months making copies of his letters for the churches in Asia. And she made him laugh about the previous occupants of their cave, who had remained frequent visitors even after John had tried to forcefully evict them: two rats he had named Damian and Domitian.
    As their laughter died down, she thought she heard Victor crying. She looked up and saw Marcellus standing on the colonnaded walkway. He was holding the baby. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but Victor’s hungry. It’s time for you to feed him.”
    The stricken look on Galen’s face pierced her heart. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him about Victor yet; they’d only been talking for a short while. But when she looked at the sundial, she discovered they had been sitting on the garden bench for almost two hours. Rebecca’s heart sank. She should have prepared Galen for the news; finding out this way was all wrong.
    She glanced at her squalling son and then back at her fiancé. “We still have a lot to talk about,” she said.
    â€œIt appears so.” Galen’s face had turned to stone but his dark eyes flashed, and she sensed a hint of anger brewing beneath the surface. She didn’t blame him. How could he help but feel betrayed? But he would understand as soon as she explained it.
    â€œI’ll be right there,” she called to Marcellus.
    â€œGalen, don’t think the worst until you’ve heard my