“A year ago tonight, I made a deal with God. I promised God I would stop obsessing about finding Mr. Right and trust Him to do the finding. I thought God would drop the guy right on my doorstep, but I must have prayed wrong or something. The year’s over and there’s no Mr. Right,” Meg explained.
Beth held her watch up to the light and said, “Thirty minutes to midnight. It could happen yet.”
Behind them came a familiar voice. “Hey, you two are missing the party.”
They turned to see Beth’s brother Ry strolling toward them with a killer smile and such easygoing confidence that Meg caught her breath. Ry was better looking than ever, and that was saying a lot.
Beth looked at her sharply, then at Ry and back again. A slow grin spread across her face. “Well, there you go,” she murmured so softly that only Meg could hear. “Talk about an answer to a prayer….”
PATT MARR
has a friend who says she reminds him of a car that’s either zooming along in the fast lane or sitting on the shoulder, out of gas. Her family says he’s dead right.
At age twenty, she had a B.S. in business education, a handsome, good-hearted husband and a sweet baby girl. Since then, Patt has had a precious baby boy, earned an M.A. in counseling, worked a lifetime as a high school educator, cooked big meals for friends, attended a zillion basketball games where her husband coached and her son played and enjoyed many years of church music, children’s ministries, drama and television production—often working with her grown-up daughter.
During downtime, Patt reads romance, eats too many carbs, watches too many movies and sleeps way too little. She’s been blessed with terrific children-in-law, two darling granddaughters, two loving grandsons, many wonderful friends, a great church and a chance to write love stories about people who love God as much as she does.
Man of Her Dreams
Patt Marr
I dedicate this book to the man of my dreams, the man
who has loved me for decades, my husband, Dave Marr.
Faith is the confidence that what we hope for
is going to happen. It is the evidence of things we cannot see.
—Hebrews 11:1
Dear Reader,
This book is dedicated to the man of my dreams. He is my rock, my strength and the greatest blessing of my life. When we fell in love, he said we would have fights, but I couldn’t even imagine it. I thought we would share everything, but it turned out that I didn’t want to fish any more than he wanted to shop. When he wasn’t interested in my every thought and feeling, I felt lonely. When our values and wants did not match, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. The man was not my best friend, and he didn’t need me to be his.
Are you nodding your head in understanding or shaking your head at my stupidity? Either is fine. I have shared my youthful misunderstanding for two reasons:
One—if your marriage is not what you thought it would be and you’re praying for an answer, maybe it’s to appreciate what you have and find a new best friend, maybe someone from church. Live each day with love and laughter.
Two—if you’re looking for Mr. Right, he may be closer than you think, but not as perfect as you dreamed. If he’s a good man, it may be your joy to love him forever.
My husband just came into the room. I said, “Listen to what I just wrote.” He was glad to and sat down, looking outside at a foursome on the golf course. I had just read, “He is my rock, my strength and the greatest blessing of my life,” when he jumped up and exclaimed, “Nice shot!”
That’s the way we are. I want to talk about life. My guy wants to live it. What do we have in common? Only our family, our friends, our church…and our best friend… Jesus. It is more than enough. So much more.
Please visit my Web site, www.pattmarr.com, and e-mail me from there or write to me at P.O. Box 13, Silvis, IL 61282. Hearing from you is such an encouragement.
In Him,
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Paramedic Ry Brennan and his partner pushed an empty gurney toward the ambulance bay of Manhattan General, both of them eager to reach their rig and finish their shift. Ry had a plane to catch, and his partner, a cranky, competent woman named “Doc,” had a secret life she wouldn’t discuss.
When his two favorite ER nurses stepped squarely in their path, ready to tease, his partner muttered, “Not again! Brennan, you mess around, and I’ll make you sorry.”
He laughed, enjoying this part of their daily routine. “The ladies just want to wish us a happy New Year, Doc,” he said, keeping her pace. Why irritate her more than usual? Hopefully, the nurses would move before Doc ran them down.
And they did. Parting, they walked beside the gurney. The taller one, Tonya, tossed a toffee-colored curl over her shoulder and said, “Look at him, Rachel. With that laid-back air and easygoin’ smile, doesn’t Ry Brennan just take your breath away?”
“Oh, brother,” Doc muttered with a long-suffering sigh.
“You gotta love a guy who’s all that and doesn’t seem to know it,” Rachel agreed, her dark eyes full of fun.
“Doc, how long do you think a man has to work out to get muscles like that?” Tonya asked, joking.
“Less time than you spend curling that pretty hair.”
Ry had to laugh. That was Doc, in for a zinger every chance she got. It was just silly talk, a balance for the misery and pain they saw in their work every day.
“Doc, you know this man better than most. Do you think there’s the slightest possibility that our guy Ry doesn’t have a New Year’s Eve date tonight?”
The silly way Tonya rhymed his name put a ghost of a smile on his partner’s face. Way to go, Tonya. She deserved a gold star. Doc could use a whole load of smiles. It bothered him how she seemed to hate life.
“Yeah, Doc, help us out here,” Rachel said earnestly. “Don’t you think Ry would like the company of a pair of love goddesses to ring in the new year?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Doc shoved the gurney on, not breaking pace.
He grinned at the nurses. They’d asked for that. Doc cared about her patients, but not much else. He and Doc had an unspoken rule. He didn’t talk about his love life—the quantity and quality of which was greatly exaggerated—and she didn’t talk about her life at all.
“Ladies, I’d love to celebrate with you,” he said, “but I’m catching a flight home to be with my family.”
“Aw, that’s nice,” Tonya cooed.
For once, Doc looked at him with approval.
“Where’s home?” Rachel asked.
“California.” No way would they get more than that. He was as secretive about his past as Doc was about her present.
“California!” Tonya said, a big grin on her face. “Why am I not surprised? I thought you looked like a surfer.”
Actually, he looked like a guy who’d played quarterback in college, though he was leaner these days. “That’s me, all right, hangin’ ten,” he said, making them laugh.
He would leave it at that. When he’d lived in California, he’d been too busy to surf even if the beach was close by. He’d loved his job as a pool boy, both for the money he earned to buy a forbidden motorcycle and for the endless embarrassment it caused his country club parents.
