Loving husband and father Lou Worley has spent many years living paycheck to paycheck in order to provide for his family. His commitment to his family, community, and country are unmatched. After he and his wife, Kati, visit their daughter in Montana, they refuel their private plane in the nearby airport, where Lou buys a novel, thinking it will be a good read. But little does he know that the adventurous tale about gold, gangsters, and airplanes will change the direction of his life forever.
Two years later, Lou embarks on a one-month vacation in search of the book’s setting—a remote Alaskan gold mine—where he soon makes an accidental discovery. Now the recipient of wealth and notoriety, he is unwittingly propelled straight into a dangerous underground world of drugs, murder, and political corruption that leaves him questioning everything in his life—including his spirituality. Then he meets Pastor William Shearer, their friendship places Lou on the road to a spiritual revelation—fortunately for Lou, as he is about to face death head-on.
In this exciting Christian tale filled with unexpected twists and turns, the faith of a simple family man is tested in ways he never could have imagined.
“What did you want to talk about Mr. Worley?” Beltray asked. “Well first off I would like to know if you answer to any other name then Beltray?” “When I was in prison they called me ‘B’tray’ but I didn’t much like it. If you want, you can call me ‘Tray’ or ‘Gibbs.” “Perfect” I said, “I’ll call you Gibbs. I have a hundred questions; first of all I am dying to know how you happened to show up at Glacial Lake when you did; just in time to save my life?” “I was on my way to Nome, and on that run I often fly low through the valley and over Glacial Lake to see the elk, that’s when I saw the yellow raft. As I flew over the Lake, I spotted your camp and decided to land to see if there might be a camper in trouble. I was a little suspicious that there wasn’t an airplane tied up somewhere and figured that was way to much gear for someone to pack in on their back. Also, it was the first time I had ever seen anyone camping on that lake. Most people are afraid to go there. Some say; there is a monster in that lake.” “Imagine that!” I exclaimed. “So, tell me what turned your life around? You are not the same man I busted for drug running back there at the old mine, and detained in my vault four years ago.” “I told you about Pastor Gee Gee, he is the one who led me to the Lord in the first place. I was floundering around not sure what I wanted to do with the opportunity you had given to me. I really didn’t want to be in the school, but knew that if I left, it would result in the end of me. Therefore, I reluctantly stuck it out. Then one day I over heard Pastor Gee sharing his faith with one of the fellows in the aviation program and something he said really spoke to me. He said to him… “God made you, and He has never made a mistake.” “I couldn’t get those words out of my mind. I had always been convinced that I was a mistake. I had no idea who my real parents were and the people who adopted me certainly did not care anything about me. So when I found Pastor Gee alone I approached him, and he led me to an understanding of my purpose for being alive, and to an understanding and acceptance of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. My life immediately took on new purpose, and I fell in love with Jesus my Savior. Where I go in the future will all be according to His divine will and purpose for my life.”… “Gibbs, what would you do if you were able to locate your biological mother?” Gibbs drew a long breath and slowly let it escape as if waiting for divine instruction on how to answer the question. “I would go to her and tell her what has become of her son.” “Would you like me to go with you?” Gibbs could not hold back the tide of emotion any longer. This time: it was I, who handed him, the box of tissues. “Her name is Loraine and I know how to find her when you are ready, just let me know.”… …we were headed south on the Douglas highway for West Juneau and the residence of Beltray Gibbon’s mother. I glanced towards Gibbs and could tell he was apprehensive because his hands were shaking. He had his eyes closed most of the time, probably praying. Pam turned off the Douglas highway onto Peters Place and into the parking lot of a very well kept Bible church. We walked around back to the front door of a duplex apartment that apparently was part of the church’s facilities. The chime was still ringing in my ears when the door opened and a petite, dark haired woman appearing to be in her middle forties, appeared in the doorway. Her face bore the impress of years of hard living, but still the beauty of her youth were detectable. Their similar features made it evident that she and Beltray were of the same DNA. With both her arms extended, Loraine greeted her cousin Pam. As the Attorney General’s wife ushered Beltray towards his mother, their eyes met. Loraine reached her arms towards her son: in that instant, the strength in her legs gave way. Beltray gathered his mother into his arms, lifting her to his bosom. There they remained for several minutes; the tears flowed freely, but not a sound came from either of them. Finally, Beltray carried his mother into her apartment and placed her on the couch. For the next two hours, Pam, Katie and I sat in a circle in witness to their moment. Dormant in Loraine, for over twenty-eight years, the overwhelming, maternal love for her son could no longer be silent. She had sat year after year, wondering what he looked like. How tall was he? Was he right handed or left handed? Now she had to wonder no more. Carefully she memorized every feature: the shape of his eyes, the creases around his mouth from his smile. Oblivious to his scars; pride for her son beamed from within. Every feature she observed in him was a mirror of her own DNA. Beltray saw himself in her as well. The need he felt to connect with his roots had lain buried for too long, like a gut-ache that had lasted a lifetime. Embraced in his mother’s arms he suddenly belonged; he had found his family. Holding her, he felt comforted and at peace for the first time in his life. We all knew that the love we were a witness too, was as pure as the divine hand that had re-united them.
D. L. Waterhouse has been a truck driver for over forty years. A long-time Christian and private pilot, he relies on his love for God, his family, and flying when writing. He currently lives in Carnation, Washington, with his wife, Florence.