Read Online The Wonder of You by Susan May Warren - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan May Warren
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he loved shouldn’t feel like he was choking.
Maxwell Sharpe should definitely not feel as if something dark and lethal had climbed inside his chest, waiting, stalking, ready to devour him.
To gnaw away at his joy.
The feeling had started on their wedding night, at a resort on Isla Mujeres, the Caribbean breeze warm through the window, thewaves a melody against the shore, singing into their cottage. In the cool, sweet night air, Grace Christiansen —now Sharpe —slid into his arms and became his wife.
Afterward, as he’d stared at the ceiling, her hand on his chest, her blonde hair splayed out on the pillow, her breathing full and deep, Max wanted to weep with regret.
Thankfully, the feeling had died in the sunlight of the day, in the glorious abandon of their honeymoon, and he’d thought himself free of it. They’d flown back to Minneapolis, and he’d agreed to the impromptu trip north to Evergreen Resort to tell Grace’s family the good news. Or at least he hoped it would come as good news.
They’d eloped. The word sounded like a gong, a thunderclap of doom resounding louder with each mile northward.
But Grace didn’t seem flummoxed by the fact that they’d denied the family a trip down the aisle, a chance to dress up and stand in honor beside them as the couple made their vows. In fact, she thought it might be a relief after the drama of Casper and Raina’s recent news and with Owen still on the run.
Maybe he knew her family better than she did.
Because even though the Casper-Raina-Owen triangle seemed soap opera worthy, it all paled when set against the brutal reality of Max’s terminal future.
A future that played cruel games, because while right now he proved to be the poster boy for health and vitality, playing forward for the St. Paul Blue Ox, one day his body would ambush him, his latent Huntington’s gene striking like a sniper to his future. And sadly, he wouldn’t go quickly and easily either, but mercilessly, one languishing day at a time, while Grace cared for him, watching him suffer.
Yeah, Max had no trouble at all picturing her father’s reaction to the bombshell of their elopement.
Because he could hardly stomach the shame of succumbing to his own desperate heart, falling in love, breaking his own rules, and marrying a woman who would sacrifice her best years watching him die.
His troubles seemed to vanish, however, when they pulled up to the accidental drowning of practically an entire family. Two members had died on-site, and the mother later, at the hospital —leaving behind a little girl who, providentially, landed in Amelia’s care. And was apparently now in the care of Grace Christiansen. Er . . . Sharpe.
“She should be more traumatized than she is, so we’re going to watch out for shock,” said the doctor on call in the ER, where Amelia and Grace had taken the girl on the advice of Kyle Hueston, deputy sheriff.
The girl sat on an examination table in her pretty pink dress, those red ribbons in her braids loose, kicking her skinny legs against the metal and playing a game on Amelia’s iPhone. She hadn’t responded to their questions, although Amelia claimed she’d spoken Russian or something like it at the river. She’d finally found a name for her —written on the inside of her jacket. Yulia.
Amelia sat behind the girl, reaching around her now and again to help with the game. Grace talked on her own phone to Ivy, working out the child’s sleeping arrangements.
It helped that Grace already had Ivy on her speed dial, as her sister-in-law.
“Weren’t Mom and Dad cleared as foster placements last year when they took in my cousin? Don’t you think —? Oh, okay. But temporarily?”
Pause, then, “Yeah, me too. Okay, do your best.”
She hung up. “Ivy talked with Kyle. They found next of kin, a sister in college in Minneapolis. Apparently her parents recently adopted Yulia from Ukraine. The sister is in no shape to take her, so Ivy’s
Maxwell Sharpe should definitely not feel as if something dark and lethal had climbed inside his chest, waiting, stalking, ready to devour him.
To gnaw away at his joy.
The feeling had started on their wedding night, at a resort on Isla Mujeres, the Caribbean breeze warm through the window, thewaves a melody against the shore, singing into their cottage. In the cool, sweet night air, Grace Christiansen —now Sharpe —slid into his arms and became his wife.
Afterward, as he’d stared at the ceiling, her hand on his chest, her blonde hair splayed out on the pillow, her breathing full and deep, Max wanted to weep with regret.
Thankfully, the feeling had died in the sunlight of the day, in the glorious abandon of their honeymoon, and he’d thought himself free of it. They’d flown back to Minneapolis, and he’d agreed to the impromptu trip north to Evergreen Resort to tell Grace’s family the good news. Or at least he hoped it would come as good news.
They’d eloped. The word sounded like a gong, a thunderclap of doom resounding louder with each mile northward.
But Grace didn’t seem flummoxed by the fact that they’d denied the family a trip down the aisle, a chance to dress up and stand in honor beside them as the couple made their vows. In fact, she thought it might be a relief after the drama of Casper and Raina’s recent news and with Owen still on the run.
Maybe he knew her family better than she did.
Because even though the Casper-Raina-Owen triangle seemed soap opera worthy, it all paled when set against the brutal reality of Max’s terminal future.
A future that played cruel games, because while right now he proved to be the poster boy for health and vitality, playing forward for the St. Paul Blue Ox, one day his body would ambush him, his latent Huntington’s gene striking like a sniper to his future. And sadly, he wouldn’t go quickly and easily either, but mercilessly, one languishing day at a time, while Grace cared for him, watching him suffer.
Yeah, Max had no trouble at all picturing her father’s reaction to the bombshell of their elopement.
Because he could hardly stomach the shame of succumbing to his own desperate heart, falling in love, breaking his own rules, and marrying a woman who would sacrifice her best years watching him die.
His troubles seemed to vanish, however, when they pulled up to the accidental drowning of practically an entire family. Two members had died on-site, and the mother later, at the hospital —leaving behind a little girl who, providentially, landed in Amelia’s care. And was apparently now in the care of Grace Christiansen. Er . . . Sharpe.
“She should be more traumatized than she is, so we’re going to watch out for shock,” said the doctor on call in the ER, where Amelia and Grace had taken the girl on the advice of Kyle Hueston, deputy sheriff.
The girl sat on an examination table in her pretty pink dress, those red ribbons in her braids loose, kicking her skinny legs against the metal and playing a game on Amelia’s iPhone. She hadn’t responded to their questions, although Amelia claimed she’d spoken Russian or something like it at the river. She’d finally found a name for her —written on the inside of her jacket. Yulia.
Amelia sat behind the girl, reaching around her now and again to help with the game. Grace talked on her own phone to Ivy, working out the child’s sleeping arrangements.
It helped that Grace already had Ivy on her speed dial, as her sister-in-law.
“Weren’t Mom and Dad cleared as foster placements last year when they took in my cousin? Don’t you think —? Oh, okay. But temporarily?”
Pause, then, “Yeah, me too. Okay, do your best.”
She hung up. “Ivy talked with Kyle. They found next of kin, a sister in college in Minneapolis. Apparently her parents recently adopted Yulia from Ukraine. The sister is in no shape to take her, so Ivy’s
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