Chapter Seven
Bram
T he doors to the ER open, and I follow Mom’s hurried steps inside. Mingling scents of antiseptic and citrus waft through the air, tickling my nose, as muffled conversations and the cries of an infant surround us.
I hate hospitals, though I’m sure no one actually loves them. The sounds and smells always bring back too many painful memories from the day Mr. Jones died.
Mom scans the waiting room before rushing over and hugging Ada. My stupid, treacherous eyes betray me, instantly seeking out Lois. Of course, she’s there. Sitting beside Lord Chadwick—I mean, Chad. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, his hand lightly stroking her hair.
A sharp pain pierces my chest at the intimate gesture. Turning my gaze away to collect myself, I say a quick prayer for strength. This is the first time I’ve seen them since Lois dropped the bomb that annihilated my life.
And no. It hasn’t gotten any easier.
I’m dying inside, and if it wasn’t for the waiting room full of people, I would run out of here faster than a nail shooting out of a nail gun.
Cyrus is standing in the corner, worry etching his face. Titus sits in the chair next to him, his forehead wrinkled in concern. Guilt twists within me. I need to focus on Quinn and comforting Ada. I drop into the chair beside Titus, propping my elbows on my knees.
“Any news?”
Cyrus shakes his head, sighing. “No.”
“Do you know what happened?” I glance between my brothers.
“Yeah. I was there.” Cyrus pauses and runs his hand over his face, ruffling his hair even more. His jaw works back and forth as he takes a deep breath. “We were talking. Laughing. She seemed fine. She bent over to pick up something and the next thing I knew, she was gripping the table and muttering nonsense. Then she just passed out. I barely caught her before she hit the floor.”
Titus grunts, his frown deepening.
“Is this the first time it’s happened?” I ask.
“As far as we know,” Ada says, joining us. Standing, I gather her into a hug and kiss the top of her head before letting go. “I know she hasn’t been feeling well lately, but she went to the doctor and said everything checked out.” Ada’s chin trembles. “Maybe she just didn’t eat enough this morning. She’s been working too hard.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Ada. We’re all praying for her,” I reply, wishing I could take the fear out of her eyes.
Ada pats my arm. “You’re a good boy, Bram.” If circumstances were different, I would laugh and tease her for calling me a boy. Instead, I offer her a small smile.
Any further conversation is interrupted when a man in scrubs exits the ER doors, glancing around the lobby. His eyes land on Ada. Smiling, he makes his way toward us.
“Hello, are you Mrs. Jones?”
“Yes, I am,” Ada responds.
He nods and stretches out a hand for Ada to shake. “I’m Dr. Murray.” Dropping Ada’s hand, he glances at the clipboard he’s holding. “I’ve got you listed as an authorized contact. Would you come with me so we can talk privately?”
Ada shakes her head. “No, no. We’re all family. You can tell us. Is my baby okay?” Her voice hitches at the question, and my heart goes out to her. The poor woman has already buried her husband and has sent countless foster kids back to their families or into the system. She’s a modern-day angel, and it tears my heart in two seeing her hurting.
Dr. Murray’s hesitant gaze briefly lands on each of us before focusing back on Ada. “Well, Quinn is resting right now, and she is stable.” He pauses a moment, looking around at everyone again. “I will say that she’s lucky someone was there with her when she went into diabetic ketoacidosis or we might be having a very different conversation.”
“Diabetic ketoacidosis?” Ada covers her mouth and Mom places a comforting hand on her shoulder. Lois moves to the other side, wrapping an arm around Ada’s waist.
“But Quinn isn’t diabetic,” Lois says.
He frowns. “She’s still a little incoherent, so I wasn’t able to get all the information I needed from her, but I did speak with her primary doctor, Dr. Phillips. Were you aware she recently diagnosed Quinn with Type 1 diabetes?”
“Diabetes?” Lois and Ada ask at the same time. Ada shakes her head. “I don’t understand. Quinn said everything was fine.”
Dr. Murray’s frown turns down even more and he lets out a soft sigh. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Jones. I’m not sure why your daughter didn’t inform you of the diagnosis. However, based on my talk with Dr. Phillips and Quinn’s blood sugar being so high today . . . I’d have to concur with that diagnosis.”
We all glance back and forth, watching as Ada takes in the information. “And what is this, diabetic ketoacidosis?” Ada asks.
“You may have heard it referred to as DKA. To keep it simple, her body isn’t producing enough insulin, which we all need for energy and fuel. When insulin isn’t doing its job, your body starts breaking down fat to use for energy and gets everything out of whack. Her blood sugar was well over four hundred by the time she arrived, which means it was probably higher when she passed out.”
Dr. Murray glances around. “I can’t discuss any more details with anyone other than Quinn or you, Mrs. Jones. I can let you all know that her levels are stabilized for the moment and she’s asleep right now. We’ll be keeping her overnight for observation, but she may end up being in here two or three nights until we get her sugar under control.” Dr. Murray inclines his head to a more private area in the corner of the lobby. “Mrs. Jones, can I have a private word with you?”
Ada nods and follows the doctor.
Lois shakes her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “She’s going to end up killing herself.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why do you say that, LoLo?” I wince at using the nickname I’d given her during high school.
She snaps her head around, daggers shooting out of her tear-filled eyes. “Because she won’t take care of herself!”
“I still don’t understand how Quinn, of all people, has diabetes,” Cyrus shakes his head. “She just seems so . . . so healthy.”
Everyone mumbles their agreement, but I’m still stuck on what Lois said. “Why do you think she’s not taking care of herself?”
“Well, for one thing, she won’t find a job with benefits and the center doesn’t pay much.”
Chad rubs his hands down Lois’s arms, his eyebrows drawn together. “Why doesn’t she sign up for your”—he waves a hand in the air—“government health insurance?”
I’d almost forgotten that Chad existed during the doctor’s appearance. I scoff to myself. If only . . .
Grinding my teeth together, I wish I could evaporate into thin air. It was a mistake coming here. My flesh is weak, and I’m struggling with intense jealousy and anger.
God, help me. Help me remember she’s not mine.
“Quinn doesn’t qualify for the free state insurance, and the other health plans she’s looked into would end up costing her a fortune. She’s been healthy up to this point, so she figured she could pay with cash for whatever she needed.” Lois curls into Chad. “I don’t know how she’s going to afford the ambulance trip, ER visit, and who knows how many nights stay in the hospital. Not to mention all the other expenses with diabetes.” Lois ducks her head, brushing a tear off her cheek.
Chad purses his lips. “Can’t your mom help her?”
I force myself to breathe slowly to keep from punching the idiotic look off the guy. But as annoyed as I am with Chadwick over there, I know it’s misplaced. Has Lois not told her husband—I nearly choke even thinking the word—anything about her own family?
Lois sighs. “Mom can only do so much with her waitressing job. That’s one reason Quinn still lives at home. She helps with the finances so Mom can keep fostering.”
“Oh, right. Right.” Chad nods, his face flushing slightly. A small twinge of guilt washes over me as a sudden realization strikes. As hard as it is for all of us to get used to Chad, how much harder is it for him to get used to so many new people? He has to be feeling overwhelmed by the sudden influx of family members and friends.
I hold back a groan. I hate feeling even the slightest empathy for him. Yet, here I am. Seeing a glimpse of this entire situation through his eyes. I don’t like it. I’d much rather go back to feeling angry. At least I could wallow in self-pity that way.
Ada returns a moment later and informs us of what the doctor had told her. Dr. Murray believes Quinn wasn’t taking the insulin that Dr. Phillips had given her for the diabetes, or she was taking it incorrectly, which had led to her going into DKA—diabetic ketoacidosis. It is life-threatening if not treated immediately.
Maybe Lois is right after all. Quinn is going to end up killing herself if she doesn’t start taking better care of herself.
Mom puts a comforting arm around Ada as she weeps. “I knew something was wrong with her. But she told me everything was fine. I’ve been so busy at the restaurant, and then we took in Ella yesterday.”
“It’s not your fault, Ada. Quinn is a grown woman. She was probably just trying not to add anything to your plate.” Mom’s voice is soft and soothing.
Lois huffs, crossing her arms. “She’s just like you, Mom. Trying to take care of everyone else and never taking care of herself.”
Ada bristles and wipes her eyes. “Lois, honey. You know Quinn feels just as strongly about her work at the center as I do about fostering. It’s our calling and we’re not going to give it up.”
Lois’s shoulders stiffen. “Your calling is going to put you both in an early grave!” She storms off, leaving everyone in stunned silence.
Chad rubs his neck, looking between his wife’s departing form and those left in the waiting room. Again, I find myself feeling sorry for the guy. Clearing his throat, he attempts to brush things over. “She doesn’t mean it. She’s just worried about both of you.”
Ada nods sadly. “I know.”
I wrap Ada into another hug. “Do you need anything, Ada?”
“No, we’ll be okay.” She pats my arm lovingly as I release her. I wish I could do more for her. For Quinn. Something to ease the burden and help them both take care of themselves.
Titus hugs her. “You’ll let us know when she gets in a room?”
“Of course. I’ll send a text.”
“We can take turns visiting her. That way she’s not alone,” Cyrus adds as he takes his turn embracing Ada.
She smiles. “Thank you, boys. She’ll enjoy that.”
We leave with a rotation scheduled for all of us. Mom decides to stay with Ada for a bit, so Cyrus, Titus, and I head out to the parking lot in silence. Titus grunts a goodbye and walks off to his truck alone. He’ll probably be the one to show up early and stay late with Quinn. That’s how Titus rolls.
I parked next to Cyrus, so we head in that direction, neither of us speaking. Cyrus doesn’t do silence. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, taking in his drooping shoulders and downhearted expression.
“It’s not your fault, you know?”
Cyrus lifts his shoulders, releasing a deep sigh as they drop again. “Yeah. I know. But I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if I hadn’t been there.”
I suck in a breath, not wanting to think about the alternative. “But you were there. We can’t think about what-ifs.” I see the irony in my own words as soon as they leave my mouth. And I am trying. Really trying not to play the what-if game when it comes to Lois.
What if I would have opened up sooner about how I felt?
What if I would have followed her to Europe?
What if she had loved me instead of Chad?
I have to stop focusing on the what-ifs and start focusing on the what-now.
“Why were you with Quinn?” I turn to Cyrus, arching a brow at him. It isn’t unusual for one of us to stop by the Jones’s house, but it’s still odd Cyrus was there during the day instead of at work.
“You know . . . I’m not sure. I had this strong urge to go talk to her.” He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I dropped all my work on Titus and snuck out.”
“Hmm . . . ” I reply thoughtfully, narrowing my eyes at my brother.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cyrus’s clipped tone tells me he knows exactly what’s going on inside my head.
“Nothing,” I lift my hands, feigning innocence. “Just wondering if you might have a crush on Quinn.” Quirking a brow at him, I enjoy watching his face turn beet red. Huh. Am I on to something?
Out of all of us, Cyrus is the one with the longest list of girlfriends. Not that it was much of a competition. Titus acts like relationships are worse than the plague, and I’ve been wasting years pining away for Lois. I love Cyrus, but I’ve never been a fan of the broken hearts he leaves in his wake.
Cyrus stops dead in his tracks and stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “No. She’s like a sister to me. That’s all.”
“Sure,” I drag out, studying his face for any sense that he’s lying to me. “Whatever you say, Cy.” Shrugging, I continue toward my truck, Cryus on my heels.
“Bram, I’m serious. I’ve never liked Quinn in that way.” I want to keep teasing him. To make something light out of the rough day we’ve all had, but his sincere tone has me holding my tongue.
“Then what were you doing there?”
He huffs. “Do you want the truth, Bram?”
“Of course.” The way he asks the question causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand. Actually, I’m not sure I want to hear what he was about to say.
“I was checking on you.” He stuffs his hands into his jean pockets, his gray eyes locking on mine.
I cross my arms and lean against my truck. “What do you mean, checking on me? With Quinn? About what exactly?” I already know the answer. It isn’t a ‘what’ but a ‘who’.
“I wanted to know if you were really okay with the entire Lois thing. Because you haven’t seemed okay.”
Rolling my neck, I look away. “I’m fine, Cy. Really.” Sighing, I continue, “At least, I’m working on being fine. It’s hard, but I’m trusting God with it. It’s just going to take a bit.”
Cyrus nods. “Okay, then.”
“Now will you stop talking about me behind my back to other people? Wait . . . ” I pause, my heartbeat picking up speed. “You told Quinn about . . . ” I can’t even finish the sentence for the sinking feeling that’s settling deep inside my gut. I don’t like the idea of him discussing my unrequited feelings for Lois with anyone, especially her sister.
“No, Bram. I . . . well, I didn’t get a chance to finish my line of questioning because Quinn passed out on me.”
“But you were going to?”
Cyrus shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I was going to . . . tiptoe around it. I’m just worried about you.”
My shoulders tighten. “As much as I appreciate the concern, Cyrus, please stop. It would have been one thing if my feelings for Lois had gotten out before. But now that she’s married? Don’t you realize what a disaster that would be? For her? For me? For our families?”
“Yeah,” Cyrus mumbles, hanging his head. “Sorry, Bram. I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
I shift my shoulders, commanding them to relax. “It’s okay, Cy. No harm was done. This time. And all things considered, I think God put you there with Quinn at the right time or things could have turned out a lot differently.”
He lets out a long sigh. “Yeah. I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Me either,” I reply grimly.
“What do you think she’s going to do about the insurance and bills?”
I frown and shake my head. “I don’t know. But we’ll all figure something out to help her. She’s family. She needs to know that she isn’t facing this alone.”
We give each other a man hug—you know, one of those where we get just close enough to have it considered a hug, but then start pounding each other on the back as hard as we can to establish dominance. Okay, it’s not exactly like that. But close enough.
I slip into my truck, exhaustion taking over as my limbs grow heavy. I’ve been pushing myself harder at the gym over the last week, and I’m regretting it at the moment. Everything inside me wants to head home and crash, but I need to run by the worksite and check the progress on the housing center. When Cyrus sent out the family text letting us know about Quinn, I’d left one of our most trusted employees in charge.
Jerry Mitchell is a good, honest man, and an extremely hard worker. He’s about ten years older than me and has been with the company for almost twenty years. Still, with Dad giving me the responsibility of this project, I need to check in to make sure everything is going according to schedule.
When I start the engine, my phone’s Bluetooth immediately syncs with my truck. I’ve been trying to get into the habit of listening to either the Bible or a podcast on my ten-minute drive to work in the mornings. A section from the third chapter of 1 John begins playing as I leave the ER parking lot.
“But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need”—the narrator’s voice comes through the speakers in a comforting tone—“yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him?”
The chapter finishes, but something about the verse reverberates through my mind, wrapping a firm hand around my heart. I spend the next few hours between paperwork and demolition, but that one verse won’t loosen its grip.
God, what are You trying to tell me?
I scratch at the short beard covering my jawline, trying to shake the verse from my mind. It’s irritating the life out of me. I don’t like things I can’t understand.
If there’s something You’re wanting from me, can’t you slap me upside the head with it?
I sit perfectly still, waiting for thunder to strike or the “aha” moment to hit my brain like a cinder block when a group text comes in from Ada updating everyone on how Quinn is feeling. They’ve finally gotten her moved to her own room and she’s resting. Ada’s going to spend the night with her. I breathe a sigh of relief knowing Quinn is out of the woods for the moment.
A knock sounds at the door to our onsite office trailer, then Jerry sticks his head in.
“Hey, boss, we’re all good out here. Mind if we head out a few minutes early?”
“Nah, that’s fine. Thanks for taking the reins earlier, Mitchell. I appreciate it.” I always try to make our employees feel valued, and when they’ve worked hard and gone above and beyond, I tell them.
Jerry smiles. “No problem, Bram. How’s the Jones girl doing?”
“They’re keeping her for a couple of days, but she’s going to be okay.”
“Good to hear. Well, I’m heading out. My wife is making stuffed crab tonight.” Jerry groans and rubs his stomach. “I can already taste it.”
I laugh. “I can see you’re enjoying married life.”
Jerry’s eyes soften and his grin stretches across his face. “Man, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just wish I hadn’t waited so long. You should think about it sometime.”
I nearly choke. “Nah. I’ve got too much work to do.” I spread my hands around the piles of paperwork to prove my point.
Jerry makes a tsking sound and shakes his finger at me. “That’s exactly why you need a wife. Someone waiting for you when you get home. Someone who’ll make you forget about work.” He gives me a knowing look, causing heat to rise up my neck.
Shaking my head, I reply, “Nope. I’m pretty sure God’s calling me to live a life of bachelorhood.”
If anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need . . .
The verse whispers through my heart, but my mind is too tired to dwell on what it may mean. Still, there’s something about it that’s unsettling me.
I grab my keys off the desk. “On second thought, I’m going to head out, too,” I tell Jerry in a strained voice. Jerry raises a brow but doesn’t say a word as I follow him out and lock up. I need a good nap after the scare from today.
When I get home, I collapse on the couch, not even bothering to turn the TV or lights on. Sleep comes quickly, but it’s full of restless dreams.
Jerking upright, I try to slow my breathing as the dream plays over in my mind in Ultra 8k.
A woman dressed in white walks down the aisle toward me, her head covered in an intricate veil. Love swells in my chest as she nears. My heart races as her small hand slides into mine. When I lift the veil from her face, I’m not staring into Lois’s eyes. I’m staring into the bright turquoise eyes that belong to her younger sister.
I almost laugh out loud. No, God. That’s crazy.
If anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him?
God, I’m not closing my heart against her! I see her needs. We’ll . . . we’ll set up a fund to raise money for her treatments and hospital bills. People do it all the time. But marrying Quinn? That’s insane!
If anyone sees his brother in need . . .
I stand and pace, tuning out the words. Man, I must be sleep-deprived to even be thinking these things.
Forcing the dream into the back of my mind, I make a sandwich for supper and sit down, picking up the J.D. Black book sitting on the end table. Diving into an action book will get my mind off . . . whatever that dream had been.
My eyes scan the page, and soon I’m lost in a world of spies and secrets. The heroine is in danger, and she and the hero are at the end of their options on how to keep her safe. I read faster, wondering how he’s going to get her out of this situation. Flipping the page, I choke on the bite of the sandwich I’d just taken when I read the words: “Marry me.”
What? They met two days ago. What is going on?
I skim the page, stones settling in my gut.
“It’s fiction,” I mumble, slamming the book closed and tossing it onto the end table. The hero offered her a marriage of convenience to save her.
“What a ridiculous idea.” I grab my plate and napkin, trying to shake off the eerie feeling enveloping me at the moment. Quinn’s beaming face behind the veil carves itself into my mind, and I growl in frustration.
After arguing with myself for a good thirty minutes, I’ve had enough. The cottage walls are smothering me, and I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get out of here. Maybe I already have.
Sliding into my truck, I drive to my parents’ house, listing the reasons it would be crazy and insane to marry Quinn.
She is Lois’s little sister.
We don’t love each other.
She is like a little sister to me.
She could be madly in love with someone else. Does she have a boyfriend? I don’t think so, but it’s possible. How much do I truly know about Quinn?
I am—no, used to be—in love with Lois. Not Quinn.
My fingers grip the steering wheel until my knuckles are turning white. No. I am not in love with Lois. That is over. Maybe one day my heart will catch up with my brain.
By the time I arrive at my parents’, my jaw hurts from grinding my teeth so hard.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I find Dad alone watching a hockey game. Mom’s probably still at the hospital with Ada and Quinn.
The thought of Quinn makes my throat tighten. Am I seriously getting ready to ask Dad for advice on this? I can’t. He’ll laugh in my face. And with good reason.
Still . . . I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s like a pressing weight on my chest making it difficult to breathe.
I take a seat next to Dad. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?” Okay, that’s not so bad. My voice didn’t shake. I didn’t stutter. I’m calm. Casual. Cool.
“Might as well spit it out, son,” Dad replies without even looking at me.
My mouth drops open before I let out a chuckle. Dad knows me well. “What makes you think I have something to say?”
Dad turns to me, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Because your mama isn’t here cooking up a meal. That means you sought me out. Which means, there is something on your mind.”
“Hmm . . . ” Distracting myself by picking at a loose thread on the chair, I fight for the words to explain to Dad everything going on inside of my head. It all sounds, well, crazy. Yet, my heart is still clenching from that verse and the dream of Quinn walking down the aisle. To me.
“You know,” Dad says slowly, “starting from the beginning is usually the best.”
Sighing, I unload on Dad, telling him everything. And I mean everything. No matter how much I want to go hide under a rock instead. If I’m going to get the best advice from him, he needs to know it all. Including the fact I’ve been in love with Lois for years.
He sits quietly the entire time, his eyes glued on me but not giving away his thoughts. The only time he speaks is to clarify something.
I end with the verse from 1 John and the dream of Quinn and me getting married.
“It’s crazy. Right? I mean, I’m crazy.” I run a hand over my face, feeling a little better to have gotten it all out. Dad will set me straight and tell me I’ve lost my mind.
Dad’s chin is in his hand, his gray eyebrows dipped slightly together.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I ask.
“Not quite sure what to say.”
“Because it’s crazy!”
Grunting, Dad replies, “Sounds like a real predicament. That’s for sure.”
I huff. “Tell me about it. Please tell me I’m crazy so I can get this out of my head and move on.”
Dad’s lips twist together in thought, and he takes a deep breath before exhaling it slowly. “Well, son, I’d like to. But I’m not so sure that I can.”
All of the air whooshes out of me as my mouth drops open. “Wha-what? You think I should actually do this?”
He holds up a hand. “Now, I didn’t say that exactly. I do think you need to pray about it. Then, if you’re still feeling this conviction, you need to talk to Quinn and ask her to pray about it, too. After all, if she’s agreeable to the idea, it’s a big decision for both of you.”
I gulp, my heart pounding heavily against my chest. Nervous energy courses through my veins, and I jump up and begin pacing the living room. “This is nuts.” I let out an uneasy laugh. I’ve lost my mind over Lois, then Quinn getting sick, and all the sleepless nights. That’s what’s wrong with me. This entire nonsense about marrying Quinn is coming from my heartbroken, sleep-deprived mind. That’s all it is.
“Maybe. But maybe it’s what God wants for both of you. I want to ask you something first.” He pauses, giving me a heavy look.
“What?”
“Who are you doing this for?”
I blink. “I don’t understand. If, and that’s a big if, I do this, it would be for Quinn. To help her. If she even agrees.”
“I don’t doubt that. But are you doing this because you can’t have Lois now so you’re going with the next best thing?”
“Wh-what?” I sputter, indignation burning my chest. “That’s a horrible thing to say,” I barely keep from shouting at the accusation.
He raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed by my outburst. “It’s an important question. And one you need to know the answer to before you go any further in this. You absolutely cannot go into this trying to use Quinn as a replacement for her sister.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Geez, Dad. Of course, it’s not like that. I would never do that to Quinn.”
He studies me quietly for a moment, his gaze penetrating. I have to force myself not to flinch under his scrutiny. Finally, he nods. “Okay, then.”
“Okay?”
Dad rises and comes to stand in front of me. “Abraham, I have never, ever known you to do something on a whim. I’m not God, and I can’t say what He’s calling you to do. What I can say is that if you pray about it and Quinn prays about it, and you’re both agreeable . . . well, I think you would have a good marriage. You have a good friendship. You’re both strong Christians. It doesn’t matter if you fall in love before or if you fall in love after your vows. If you both keep Christ as the center of your marriage and strive to live Biblically with one another, God will bless that, son.”
Putting his hand on my shoulder, his blue eyes bore into me. “Love isn’t always a feeling. It’s a choice. That’s why so many relationships don’t work out. It’s because once all the butterflies and the warm and fuzzy feelings get covered up by the trials and busyness of life, people think they have fallen out of love. That isn’t how it works. You have to get up each day and choose to love your wife the way Christ loved the church.” He slaps my shoulder. “If you choose every day to love her, and she chooses every day to love you, then you might be surprised at how much the love will grow between the two of you.”
I chew on Dad’s words the rest of the evening. I left before Mom returned home and roped me into staying for a late supper. One of her home-cooked meals sounds nice, but I need some quiet time to think. And to pray. Plus, she’d take one look at me, her mom-radar would go off, and the interrogation would start until I spilled all my secrets to her, too. Telling Dad was bad enough. I wasn’t about to tell Mom the crazy thoughts I’m having.
At home, I pace the floor, praying. Listing pros and cons. Asking God to give me a clear answer.
I don’t know how many laps I make around my house until finally, I have to get out. I change into my swim trunks and grab my board.
As soon as my bare feet hit the sand, the weight on my chest eases. Not completely. Just enough where I can finally draw in a deep breath. I don’t do a lot of night surfing, but tonight, I need to feel in control of something.
My body may be in the water, becoming attuned to the waves and my board as I tackle one wave after another, but my mind never strays far from Quinn. To anyone looking, it might seem as if I’m fighting the waves, working to establish my rule over them. To conquer them.
Truthfully, I’m fighting God. I don’t think I’ve ever pushed back on something as much as I am with the idea of marrying Quinn. Not that anything is wrong with Quinn. Except she isn’t Lois. My heart has already been ripped to shreds. What do I have to offer Quinn anyway? Besides insurance?
Doing God’s will has always been a top priority in my life. I’ve never scoffed at it before. It’s always seemed easy. Simple to follow.
But this? This is not simple or easy or even wanted. I don’t want to marry Quinn, and I know she isn’t going to want to marry me either.
Yet, the more I pray and mull over the situation as I ride along the surface of the waves, the more certain I am of God’s direction.
Now, I just have to work up the nerve to discuss it with Quinn.