Read Online Happily Ever After by Susan May Warren - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan May Warren
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confusion.
Joe pulled away from the darkened window. What was Brian up to? He hadn’t liked the man from the moment he’d shaken his sweaty
palm earlier that afternoon when the city official had stopped in and arranged the ice-cream date. Joe’s defenses turned on
high when he’d caught the look in the guy’s eyes—like a tiger prowling. Then Joe had arrived home from the Garden to discover
Mona out alone with the predator. He entwined his fingers and clasped them behind his neck, battling irritation. It wasn’t
his business, he reminded himself. He didn’t live here; Brian did. Mona had a future with Brian Whitney, not with Joe Michaels.
Joe stalked to his closet, where he’d piled all the wrinkled clothes from his duffel, hanging the most important on three
lonely hangers. He unearthed a pair of black athletic pants, running shoes, and a red Wisconsin sweatshirt. He needed a run,
and the beach was just the place to unwind the mess of emotions from the day.
The moist night air, smelling of the lake and budding birch trees, cleared his mind and seeped calm into his soul. No wonder
tourists considered Deep Haven, with the waves singing from shore and seagulls calling in harmony, the perfect getaway. He
agreed that he’d like to dump his problems outside city limits and enjoy the sanctuary from life that Deep Haven offered.
However, he couldn’t afford to take a vacation from the choices he’d made that dictated his life. There was too much at stake.
Joe stretched briefly against the back steps, then lit out in a brisk run down the sidewalk. Lights from distant houses pushed
back the darkness in uneven patterns. A dog barked. Rip answered but stayed at Joe’s heels. Joe checked for traffic, then
veered out across the street, angling down a short grassy incline to the rocky beach. He dodged waves crashing against a jagged
shore, running so awkwardly he didn’t even break a sweat. But Rip loved dancing into the spray, and it gave Joe the opportunity
to behold the sky and praise the majesty of the Almighty.
Why am I here, Lord? The answer seemed clear—to get right with Gabe. But God often worked a mosaic, blending lives and purposes. Like when He’d
sent Joe to wrestle salmon on a fishing boat in Alaska. The work had been short-lived and excruciating, even dangerous. But
he’d seen a shipmate find salvation, saved a fella from washing overboard, and in the end, the adventure had opened countless
doors and kept his boss in the black.
God directed every move he made, inhabited every place he lived. Through his mother’s last plea, God had directed him to Deep
Haven, and Joe knew, just as he knew he’d take another breath, that God had a bigger plan for him here in this town. Bigger,
perhaps, than saving his own bacon, although the Almighty had come through on more than a few occasions.
Maybe he was here to help Mona. That idea had flitted through his mind various times over the past twenty-four hours. She’d
seeded a soft spot in his heart when he watched her lug out the phonograph, gritting her teeth and grunting. He’d politely
stifled his laughter when she wiped soot across her face, but he couldn’t help but erupt when she fought with the rolltop
desk. She had looked so perturbed, her face reddening with bottled frustration when it wouldn’t surrender to her prodding.
To say she was tenacious was an understatement. Maybe she really would whip her bookstore into shape. She had Napoleon dreams,
to say the least.
God’s plan definitely included Gabe. Warmth enveloped Joe, thinking of his little brother. The accepting smile, the exuberant
embrace, and the eagerness with which Gabe had unveiled his life, his friends—all were an exhilarating contradiction to what
Joe had expected. When he heard the word institution, it replayed an ancient nightmare in his head. He’d never been able to produce the term in his own speech. Somehow to say it
admitted
Joe pulled away from the darkened window. What was Brian up to? He hadn’t liked the man from the moment he’d shaken his sweaty
palm earlier that afternoon when the city official had stopped in and arranged the ice-cream date. Joe’s defenses turned on
high when he’d caught the look in the guy’s eyes—like a tiger prowling. Then Joe had arrived home from the Garden to discover
Mona out alone with the predator. He entwined his fingers and clasped them behind his neck, battling irritation. It wasn’t
his business, he reminded himself. He didn’t live here; Brian did. Mona had a future with Brian Whitney, not with Joe Michaels.
Joe stalked to his closet, where he’d piled all the wrinkled clothes from his duffel, hanging the most important on three
lonely hangers. He unearthed a pair of black athletic pants, running shoes, and a red Wisconsin sweatshirt. He needed a run,
and the beach was just the place to unwind the mess of emotions from the day.
The moist night air, smelling of the lake and budding birch trees, cleared his mind and seeped calm into his soul. No wonder
tourists considered Deep Haven, with the waves singing from shore and seagulls calling in harmony, the perfect getaway. He
agreed that he’d like to dump his problems outside city limits and enjoy the sanctuary from life that Deep Haven offered.
However, he couldn’t afford to take a vacation from the choices he’d made that dictated his life. There was too much at stake.
Joe stretched briefly against the back steps, then lit out in a brisk run down the sidewalk. Lights from distant houses pushed
back the darkness in uneven patterns. A dog barked. Rip answered but stayed at Joe’s heels. Joe checked for traffic, then
veered out across the street, angling down a short grassy incline to the rocky beach. He dodged waves crashing against a jagged
shore, running so awkwardly he didn’t even break a sweat. But Rip loved dancing into the spray, and it gave Joe the opportunity
to behold the sky and praise the majesty of the Almighty.
Why am I here, Lord? The answer seemed clear—to get right with Gabe. But God often worked a mosaic, blending lives and purposes. Like when He’d
sent Joe to wrestle salmon on a fishing boat in Alaska. The work had been short-lived and excruciating, even dangerous. But
he’d seen a shipmate find salvation, saved a fella from washing overboard, and in the end, the adventure had opened countless
doors and kept his boss in the black.
God directed every move he made, inhabited every place he lived. Through his mother’s last plea, God had directed him to Deep
Haven, and Joe knew, just as he knew he’d take another breath, that God had a bigger plan for him here in this town. Bigger,
perhaps, than saving his own bacon, although the Almighty had come through on more than a few occasions.
Maybe he was here to help Mona. That idea had flitted through his mind various times over the past twenty-four hours. She’d
seeded a soft spot in his heart when he watched her lug out the phonograph, gritting her teeth and grunting. He’d politely
stifled his laughter when she wiped soot across her face, but he couldn’t help but erupt when she fought with the rolltop
desk. She had looked so perturbed, her face reddening with bottled frustration when it wouldn’t surrender to her prodding.
To say she was tenacious was an understatement. Maybe she really would whip her bookstore into shape. She had Napoleon dreams,
to say the least.
God’s plan definitely included Gabe. Warmth enveloped Joe, thinking of his little brother. The accepting smile, the exuberant
embrace, and the eagerness with which Gabe had unveiled his life, his friends—all were an exhilarating contradiction to what
Joe had expected. When he heard the word institution, it replayed an ancient nightmare in his head. He’d never been able to produce the term in his own speech. Somehow to say it
admitted
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