LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

November breeze.

      The old swing was his thinking place, the spot where he went to sort out whatever was bothering him. More than one of his buddies had suggested he go see a grief counselor to deal with the lingering guilt of Jenna’s death. Maybe someday he would, but not until the Lord made it obvious that it was time.

      Chief came loping toward him, a ball in his massive jaws. He scratched the dog behind the ear then tossed the ball far into the yard. As the bullmastiff gave chase, Ryan’s phone rang.

      The number was unfamiliar, but the area code was not. Vine Beach, Texas.

      “Owen here,” he said by habit.

      “Hi, Ryan, this is Leah. Leah Berry?”

      The dog crossed the deck to deposit the ball at Ryan’s feet. Once again he threw it. “Leah, yes, hi.”

      “Hi.”

      Her pause let him hear the ocean in the background, a sound that made him smile. For all the reluctance he felt leaving Houston and the fire department, he certainly had no problem living at the beach. If only the circumstances were different. Then maybe...

      “So, I gave your name to a friend of mine from church. His name is Riley Burkett. He’s a part-time Realtor and he may have a few rentals for you to check out.”

      “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

      “I’m glad I could help.” Again the waves crashed in the background, a stark contrast to the sound of traffic on Heights Boulevard and the persistent noise of a car alarm going off in the distance.

      “Are you at the beach right now?”

      “I am,” she said.

      “Then I’m jealous.”

      “You’ll be here soon enough.” She paused. “So, anyway, Riley knows you’re in a hurry to find a place. He said he would try to catch you tonight so maybe the two of you could go out looking tomorrow. I told him I’d let you know he would be calling.”

      “Hey, that’s great. I owe you, Leah.”

      “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I could help.” Another pause, this time punctuated by the screech of a gull and what sounded like the meowing of a cat.

      “Thanks. And I mean it. I owe you.” He took a deep breath and let it out swiftly.

      “No need to owe me, Ryan. Really. I’m glad to help a friend.”

      He hung up not knowing whether the friend she referred to was him or this fellow Burkett.

      Chief now dropped the ball at Ryan’s feet. This time he ignored it to step inside, allowing the dog to follow. He’d kept out just enough in the way of kitchen utensils to scrape together a grilled-cheese-and-tomato-soup meal. And while it wasn’t bad, it certainly didn’t compare to the seafood feast he’d had for lunch.

      Ryan looked down at Chief who waited discreetly for any scraps that might come his way. The company had been better at lunch, too.

      He let his mind rest on Leah for just a moment. Although she’d been a little wary, or angry, or both, he couldn’t deny that she was...pretty.

      Chief gave him a look as if he could read Ryan’s mind, then lay down at his feet. Ryan leaned over to scratch the dog behind his ear then tossed him the remains of the grilled cheese.

      “She’s just a nice lady who offered to find a...” Ryan rose, shaking his head. It was the one-year anniversary of his wedding to a woman he’d barely been able to build a life with before he’d lost her. He was in no position to think of anyone as “pretty.”

      He opened the back door and let Chief out, then stood in the twilight. The car alarm had ceased, and the road noise had quieted to allow the sounds of the night to rise. Snagging his Bible off the counter, he made his way to the swing and settled down under the porch light.

      His reading this morning had come from Exodus, a passage detailing the tribe of Israel’s flight from Egypt by way of the less-traveled road. Ryan estimated he’d read that passage dozens of times, and never had he noticed that when the Lord finally allowed the tribe to make their escape, He did not take them through the most direct and obvious route.

      Ryan opened his Bible to read the passage again. This time he had to wonder: Was God doing the same thing with him? Was Ryan following Him down the less-obvious route—one that led through Vine Beach, Texas—or was he merely allowing a deathbed promise to send him in the wrong direction?

      Ryan went to bed that night turning the question over to the Lord and awakened without an answer. But at least he had a plan. And that was better than what he’d had for the past year.

      The next afternoon, Ryan arrived at the address Riley Burkett had given him. Situated across from the City Hall building where Ryan would have an office starting Monday morning, Burkett Realty was on the ground floor of a century-old building that also housed a beauty salon and a clothing store. Both were decorated for fall despite the warm salt-tinged breeze and the complete lack of fall foliage on the trees surrounding the courthouse and adjoining Vine Beach Gazette building.

      When Ryan stepped inside Burkett Realty, he was kept waiting only a minute before a woman who introduced herself as Riley’s wife, Susan, ushered him into a back office. Burkett was an older man with a head full of gray hair, a fact that surprised him given the enthusiasm he’d heard on the phone. With a pace much quicker than Ryan expected, they made short work of visiting the handful of rental properties available for long-term lease.

      He settled on a one-room furnished cabin situated a few steps from the sand with an upstairs deck that ran the length of the house. The yard was small, something Chief wouldn’t much like, but it was fenced and that would have to do.

      After returning to Riley’s office to sign the lease, all that remained was to head back to Houston for the few things he’d be bringing with him. The movers would deliver the rest of it to storage. Then there would be nothing left to remind the new tenants of the man who never managed to bring his new wife home to the house in the Heights.

      “You’re all set,” Burkett said. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

      “Actually there is,” Ryan said. “I’ll be looking for a church down here. Any recommendations?”

      Burkett grinned. “Glad you asked, son. I can help you with that.” He wrote down the name and address of a church on the back of his business card then handed it to Ryan. “I head up a widowers group called Starting Over, and Susan and I mentor the newlyweds.”

      Widowers group. Ryan glanced down at the card.

      Riley Burkett, PhD, LPC

      Certified Grief Counselor

      “Wait. I thought you were a Realtor.”

      “I am.” The older man looked down at the card he’d given Ryan. “Don’t know how that card got into the wrong place.” He gestured to a second cardholder. “I meant to give you one of those. Want to trade me?”

      “No,” Ryan said slowly. “I think this is the one I’m supposed to have.”

      “Really?” He gave Ryan an appraising look. “And why is that?”

      “Long story.” He paused to weigh the lease in his hand. For a second he considered telling Riley about Jenna, but the words wouldn’t come out. “Thanks for your help.”

      Riley looked at Ryan carefully. “Anytime, son. Anytime.”

      As he shook Riley’s hand, Ryan wondered if he could talk to Riley, if he could find some relief from the guilt that seemed to follow him around and weigh him down like a boulder on his soul. After all, he couldn’t keep it to himself forever.

      As he left the office, Leah stepped out of the beauty salon and right into his path. “Hey, stranger,” she said, her impossibly green eyes stopping him in his

Скачать книгу