A Distant Shore by Karen Kingsbury (books for students to read .txt) 📕

only ten in the morning, but they wanted to be here early. So they wouldn’t miss a thing.

So no other child was taken into captivity before Jack and Eliza had the chance to help.

There were only a few couples on the beach. Eliza wore a straw sunhat and a white lace cover-up over her bathing suit. He wore the navy swim trunks he’d worn in Belize and no shirt. The only way traffickers would believe he was a tourist on his honeymoon and not an agent.

Jack breathed in the sweet salty air. He wrapped his little finger around hers. “I got sad news today.” She was an informant now. She might as well know something of his work. Especially when it came to Belize.

“You did?” Eliza leaned her shoulder into his. “One of the agents?”

“No.” He breathed in the scent of her hair, her suntan lotion. It’s a job, Jack. Put her out of your mind. “On the day I met you, earlier that morning, I went to a Mennonite village called Lower Barton Creek.”

“You did?” She sat straight up and faced him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t about you.” He sat up and faced her. “I met with the town’s old historian. A man who I hoped would give me information about the disappearance of a different little Mennonite girl.”

“Oh.” She was wearing her sunglasses again, but he could still see her confusion. “I hope he helped you.”

“He did. But I just got word… he passed away.” Jack slid closer to her and eased her back against his chest. They both faced the water, and their conversation was easy. Gone was the snappy tone she’d used when they first landed in Nassau. “He told me that an American woman showed up one day with gifts and promises to host his granddaughter and her children at their beach house.”

Again Eliza sat up. This time she got up on her knees and faced him. “What… was the man’s name?”

“Ike. Ike Armstrong.”

Eliza gasped and she was suddenly on her feet. “Walk with me. Please.”

Jack had no idea what nerve he’d struck, but he did as she asked. He grabbed his backpack, his go-bag if something went terribly wrong during their time here today. With his free hand, he took hold of hers. “Eliza.” There was no one in earshot, so he used her real name. “What is it?”

She wanted to run, he could feel it in the way she gripped his hand. But she kept her pace even with his. When they were a long way down the beach, she stopped and faced him. Like a lover unable to keep her eyes from his, she framed his face with her hands. She was shaking. “Jack… Ike Armstrong… he’s my great-grandfather.”

Jack took a few seconds, but then he shook his head. “No… no, he told me his great-granddaughter’s name. He was very worried about her.” He searched her face. “The girl’s name was—”

“Lizzie.” Eliza moved into his arms and brought her face alongside his. “Lizzie James, Jack. That’s me.” She lowered her hands and eased her arms around his bare waist. Then she pressed her face to his chest and did something that absolutely wasn’t an act, something Jack had never expected with Eliza. She started to cry.

“I should’ve told you I was from Lower Barton Creek. I was trying… trying to keep my two worlds separate. It was the part of my past I wanted to keep to myself.” She closed her eyes for a moment before looking at him again. “And now… now my great-grandfather is gone.”

Her crying was too soft for anyone to notice but him. Still, he could feel her tears spilling onto his skin. Jack didn’t care if someone was watching them or not. He ran his hand along her hair and then wrapped his arms around her.

This can’t be happening! Eliza was Lizzie James? That meant that the woman Ike had talked about—Agnes Potter—was probably Betsy Norman. He felt sick. How come he hadn’t connected those dots sooner?

And why hadn’t he pushed her about where she’d been from? She had told him she couldn’t remember, but of course she could. And of course the girl was from Lower Barton Creek. The whole thing made sense now.

“Eliza, I’m sorry.” He moved back a few inches and faced her. “I didn’t know you were from Lower… How come I didn’t see it?”

“You mean… you knew his great-granddaughter was Lizzie James?” Tears still streamed down her face. “You met with my great-grandfather?”

Jack felt terrible. “He was a very… very kind man, Eliza.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Even though the last thing on his mind was the role he was supposed to be playing.

Eliza shaded her eyes. “What did he say… about me?”

“He believed you were still alive. You and your mother and brother.” Again Jack could see the sincerity in the old man’s face. “He told me your age. I think he was off several years.” Disappointment washed over Jack. “We figured out his great-granddaughter would’ve been in her early twenties. And there were no girls that age at the Palace.”

Eliza closed her eyes. When she opened them, it was clear she didn’t blame him for not realizing earlier who she was. “What did he tell you?”

“How this strange American woman named Agnes Potter came to the village and how he thought the woman was trouble. I had no idea the woman was Betsy Norman.” He hurt for Eliza. “When your mother and brother and you didn’t come home, your great-grandfather told me that word came back to the village that all of you had drowned.” Jack pulled her close again. “Your great-grandfather knew I was doing a raid on the Palace. It was beyond him, that something so wicked had made its way to Belize.”

“My great-papa.” She looked up, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. “He was the nicest man. He loved me… so much.”

Anyone watching them would merely think they were