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Authors: Clare Revell

Water lily in july

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Table of Contents

Title Page



What People are Saying
















Thank you

You Can Help!

God Can Help!

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Water Lily in July

Clare Revell

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Water Lily in July

COPYRIGHT 2016 by Clare Revell

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

Contact Information: [email protected]

All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R),NIV(R),Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.

Cover Art byNicola Martinez

White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC

www.pelicanbookgroup.comPO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410

White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC

Publishing History

First White Rose Edition, 2016

Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-996-6

Published in the United States of America


For Monica Schwartz (Ginny).

What People are Saying

Thursdays Child

This is the best one yet. What a great story! Ms. Revell keeps you on the edge of your seat either emotionally or in suspense throughout the story. Every emotional tug between Jared and Niamh will pull at your heartstrings. Your heart will break for them, hoping she will recover fully and he can reclaim her heart.

The suspense, the mystery, the danger — it's all as hot as the worst fire he battles. You won't want to put this one down! Oh, and keep those tissues handy. Donna B. Snow

Carnations in January shake the foundations

Violets in February are an aid to salvation

Daffodils in March bring betrayal and loss

Sweet peas in April consume all the dross

Lily of the Valley in May brings danger untold

Roses in June show hope in a heart filled with gold

Water lilies in July a town will submerge

Gladioli in August love from the ash will emerge

Forget-me-nots in September are on the front line of fear

Marigolds in October will test her career

Chrysanthemums in November show the burden of choice

Holly in December lets a broken family rejoice

Water lilies in July a town will submerge

From the ends of the earth I call to You, I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For You have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe.

Psalm 61:2-3


White surf pounded against the jagged rocks surrounding the red-and-white striped Wolf Point Lighthouse, sending spray several feet into the air. One hundred and fifteen feet above the rocks, sunlight shone on the paneled glass as Kaylie Wells cleaned.

What was it her mother always said? Never clean the windows when the sun shines full on them. Kaylie had to admit that, once again, her mother was right.

The problem was the lantern room was 360 degrees wall-to-ceiling glass on two levels which needed cleaning daily. No matter what the weather was like.

She was five weeks into a six-week shift as lighthouse keeper and loved every minute of it. The ocean surrounding her was vast, unchanging, awesome and powerful.

Just like her God.

From the top of Wolf Point Lighthouse she could see for miles on a good day. Even during the height of summer the weather could change instantly bringing rain, wind, and even fog rolling in off the sea onto the town, necessitating the light by day as well as by night.

She looked over the view loving the fact she could see for miles in each direction. Behind her, twelve miles to the west, lay the small coastal town of Wolf Point, from which the tall red-and-white striped lighthouse, bay, and vicious rocks took their names. The English coastline extended on either side of the town, stretching into the distance. The remaining three sides were the Atlantic Ocean.

Heavy footsteps clomped up the steps behind her. “We dinna pay ye to look oot the windows an' admire the view, lassie.”

“Youdon't pay me at all, Angus.” Kaylie turned to grin at one of the other two keepers currently on duty with her.

Angus McTavish's grizzled red face was framed by grey curly hair and an unkempt beard. His blue eyes twinkled as he fisted the blue cap that matched his navy sweater and tilted his head. “Aye. An' iffin I did…”

She chuckled. “I know.I'd pay ye tae work, no to slacken off. Now git.” She mimicked his Scottish accent perfectly and was rewarded with a grin.

“Exactly.” He cast his gaze seaward. “I shall miss the view.”

Kaylie carried on polishing the last glass panel. “How are you spending your retirement?”

“I'm moving back tae Perth. My sister and her family live oop there.”

“That's Morag?”

“Aye. She and Hamish have been married forty year now and the wee bairns are all grown up.”

“Kids have a tendency to do that.”

“Aye, they do. Craig made DCI this past year an' I remember when he were just a wee bairn kickin' a ball aboot the glen. Anyhoo, as that's the only family I have, that's where I'll go.”

“So long as you come and say goodbye before you leave.”

His final tour would end during her downtime, and he'd already cleared out his room in the keepers' cottage to make way for his replacement.

“I would nae dream of doing anything other, lassie. Now clean.”

Kaylie fired off a mock salute. “Aye, aye, cap'n.”

Angus tugged his hat on, nodded, and headed outside onto the lantern gallery.

Kaylie made her final swipes of the panel. The sooner she finished here, the sooner she could get down to the radio room. It was almost time forhimto call.Her fisherman,as the rest of the team called him. He'd first radioed for a weather update five weeks ago when her duty shift began. And he'd called every day since, sometimes more than once. Always asking for the weather, but gradually just wanting a chat after. Some days a conversation was all he wanted.

His name was Rob, and he was a fisherman who spent days at a time out at sea. But his voice was—she studied her distorted reflection in the glass—intoxicatingwas the best word to describe his voice. Smooth, deep, something secret and hidden. If she had to guess what an angel sounded like, she'd guess it'd sound like Rob.

She finished the panel and put the cleaning equipment back in the cupboard, and then she trotted down a level to the library and radio room. The smell of beef and onions wafted up the stairs from two flights below. Crispin was on cooking duty this week and was so good at it Kaylie often teased him about being in the wrong profession.

Kaylie checked her watch. It was almost time for him to call. She sat at the radio desk ignoring the kaleidoscope of butterflies that fluttered through her. She flipped on the CD of hymns. As it filled the air she pulled over the log and wrote up the latest entry. Then she turned to the radar and weather reports.

Nothing happening out of the ordinary for this time of year.

Which was exactly the way she liked it.


Rob Peacock sat on the deck ofSeascape. The fishing vessel might be small, but she was his. Before that she'd belonged to his father. He'd been a fisherman, as had his grandfather before him. Fishing was in their blood and went back several generations. The way he fished may differ vastly from the old days, but the love of the sea and tranquility of the job never changed at all.

Rob whistled as he sewed the net on his lap, the last hymn from Sunday still stuck in his brain. The overnight catch had been heavier and bigger than he'd anticipated. Not necessarily a bad thing, except he'd torn the net and it'd taken him the best part of the day to fix it. Still, the fish were safe in the icebox inside the hull, and if he fixed this soon, he would be back working before nightfall.

His shirt lay tossed to the deck, his already tanned skin reddening in the hot July sunshine. He glanced across the sea and pushed a hand though his long brown hair and grimaced. He needed a shower.

He'd finish the net and then dive overboard for a swim before it was time to radio in. Salt water was better than none and he was running low on fresh water. He'd only intended to be out for one day, not three. Food he could cut down on. Water he couldn't.

His fingers grazed his stubbled chin. Maybe he should shave before he spoke to her. Then he shook his head.It's radio, Rob, not video.

She wouldn't see him, so it didn't matter how he looked. Her name filled his mind. Kaylie, the lighthouse keeper. He knew she went to church as a few times she had hymns playing in the background when he spoke to her. He didn't know what she looked like, or what she read or which church she went to when she wasn't working.

But her voice—oh, how he loved the sound of her voice.

It was soft and melodic, like silver bells on Christmas morning, a breath of wind on a hot summer's day and a healing balm on his tortured soul.

He could get his weather reports from the radio, and he got them over the Satcom anyway, but he needed a reason to talk to her.

The net finally finished, Rob tossed it to the decking and stood. He stretched his aching back and shoulder muscles before shedding his jeans and diving over the side of the boat. The water was cold after the heat of the sun, and he rose to the surface, gasping yet invigorated. He pushed the water from his face. The Lord was so good to him. A job he loved, with the chance to thrive in an environment he adored, surrounded by the vastness, awesomeness and beauty of creation.

Hauling his dripping body back on board, Rob dried off before pulling his jeans and shirt back on. He headed into the wheelhouse. It was way too small to be considered a bridge by any self-respecting sailor. He picked up the radio and thumbed the mic. “Wolf Point Lighthouse, this isSeascape. Are you receiving? Over.”

Kaylie responded almost immediately. “Seascape, this is Wolf Point Lighthouse. Receiving you loud and clear. Over.”

Rob's face broke into a huge grin, and a surge of joy filled him. “How's my favorite lighthouse keeper today?”

“Don't let the others hear you saying that. They might revolt, and I'll have to man this place on my own.”

“Don't you meanwomanit on your own?” he teased, trying to make her laugh.

She giggled. “Do you practice your bad jokes all by yourself?”

“All the time. Until they sound right, then I practice them on you. Have you got the forecast?”

“Wind west to southwest three or four, increasing to five at times. Sea slight to moderate. Weather is fair with occasional rain and fog later. Visibility is moderate, but occasionally very poor.”

Rob read the same information on the screens in front of him. “Thank you. So, do you ever get time off?”

“Yes, a whole month.”

“Really?” It wasn't that he didn't believe her, but that seemed like a really long time.

“Work six weeks, get a month off. There are always three of us here to cover the whole day.”

Rob looked out the window. “That must be hard. Locked in a tower of men for weeks on end.”

Kaylie laughed. “They're all old men. Well, one's married, one has this adorable mother who makes us cakes each week, and the other is really, really old.”

“I heard that, lassie.” Another voice came over the radio, and Rob imagined Kaylie blushing.

“Ignore him,” Kaylie said. “He'll miss me once he retires in a few weeks.”

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