Be ye not unequally yoked together with

       unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness and what communion hath light with darkness?

      —2 Corinthians 6:14

      Can two walk together, unless they be agreed?

      —Amos 3:3

      This book is dedicated, with affection and deep appreciation, to my editor, Krista Stroever, who gently and kindly eases me over the rough patches of the writing process with her humor, patience, enthusiasm and wonderful editing talent. And to my agent and friend, Joyce Hart. Without her faith in my writing, this book would not exist.

      Thank you to the ladies of the Literacy Volunteers of Cattaraugus County for graciously answering my questions about this important work. And to all of the volunteers at all of the literacy centers across America for their dedication in helping others to a better life.

      And I must extend my special thanks to Elizabeth Curtis, a sister ACFW member, who immediately stepped forward to answer my cry for help with the medical information I needed for this book. It must be all that E.R. trauma nurse training that makes her so quick to react! Whatever it is, she saved my skin. I couldn’t have written this book without your expert advice, Elizabeth. So again, thank you.

      “Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established.”

      Your word is truth. Thank You, Jesus. To You be the glory.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Epilogue

      Letter to Reader

      Chapter One

      David Carlson glanced at his mirrors, signaled then pulled over into the turn lane. Disappointment rode his shoulders. He needed a big story. He was so close to gaining a position among the top echelon of reporters at The Herald, and now the rumor about graft in the city’s transportation department he’d been investigating had fizzled into nothing but a disgruntled employee trying to get his boss in trouble.

      David frowned and made the right turn onto Monroe Street. He was feeling a little disgruntled himself. One thing was sure, he wouldn’t find his big story this afternoon. At least not until he cleared away this minor one. He scanned the buildings on the right, looking for numbers—1422…1424… Ah! There it was.

      David flipped on his blinker, pulled into the parking lot of the Westwood Literacy Center then glanced at his watch. Five minutes early. Perfect. Okay, Professor Stiles, let’s get this over with!

      Erin Kelly hurried down the hallway, crossed the entrance and stuck her head around the open office door. “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

      “Yes, yes. Come in, Erin, I’ll just be a minute.” The elderly man rummaged through a towering stack of papers on his desk, scowled then ran his hand through his thinning gray hair. “I had it here yesterday….”

      He thumbed his way through another pile. “I don’t know why I can never find—”

      Erin hooted. He scowled up at her. “Are you laughing at me, young lady?”

      “Not at all.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m laughing at your expectations.”

      “Humph!”

      The snort was one of fond affection. Erin’s grin widened. She gestured toward the litter of books, magazines and miscellaneous folders and papers that covered the large desk. “Do you really expect to find a specific item in that mess?”

      “I do.”

      She took a brave step forward. “Then perhaps if you tell me what you’re searching for, I could help.”

      “I don’t need any help! That’s what’s wrong.” The professor directed a baleful look toward his secretary in the entrance room and raised his voice. “That woman was in here straightening up again. She can’t leave anything alone.”

      “I only threw away things that were growing.”

      The words floated in over Erin’s shoulder. She laughed and turned toward the door. “Good one, Alice!”

      The secretary grinned at her, then faced the other way as the outer door opened.

      Erin shifted her gaze. A tall, broad-shouldered, gorgeous man entered. He looked vaguely familiar. She searched through the files of memories in her head as she watched him walk over to Alice.

      “Good afternoon. I’m David Carlson. I have an appointment with Professor Robert Stiles.”

      The sound of his voice did it. Recognition dawned. David Carlson appeared occasionally on Channel Four News. What was he—?

      “Hah! I’ve got it! One o’clock!”

      Erin turned back to find the professor waving a scrap of paper through the air like a flag of triumph.

      “That’s what I thought, just couldn’t remember for sure.” The professor ducked his head and squinted