Her Minnesota Man (A Christian Romance Novel) by Coulter Brenda

Author:Coulter, Brenda [Coulter, Brenda]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-05-26T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

On the sofa in his music room, Jeb was hunched over an acoustic guitar inventing a new finger-picking technique when his B-string snapped. He got up to hunt for a new one in the old walnut desk that even nine years after his father's passing, he hadn't quite made his own.

There were still three whiskey bottles in the bottom-right drawer, but Jeb wouldn't touch his old man's stash for anything. Not even tonight, when he had a powerful craving for something stronger than coffee.

He wouldn't sit in his father's chair, either, so he simply bent over it to open the center desk drawer and paw through the mess of string packets, coiled pickup cords, and small boxes of guitar picks.

Laney said the chair was a beautiful antique, elegantly crafted, so Jeb couldn't get rid of it. He was too ashamed to admit that the scared kid inside him was haunted by the notion that if he sat in that chair, he'd become as hard and cold as his father had been.

It was nonsense, of course. But while his brain accepted that truth, his deformed heart just couldn't seem to absorb it.

He was growing desperate to talk to some knowledgeable Christian about spiritual matters. He'd thought about sneaking off to visit one of Laney's pastors, but had discarded that idea because Laney deserved to know his news before any of her friends did.

He found what he needed and shut the desk drawer. Absently shoving the new guitar string into a back pocket of his jeans, he wandered over to the tall bay windows and stared up at Laney's dark bedroom window.

He hoped she was sleeping soundly. He cared more about her health and happiness than he did about drawing his next breath, and he hated the purple half-moons he'd been seeing under her pretty eyes lately.

Moved to pray for her, he leaned his forehead against the window. He was just about to close his eyes when he became aware of a faint, flickering light outside. Vaguely disturbed, he went to look out his living room windows, which faced the street.

What he saw from there shoved his heart into his throat. He tore out of the front door, racing in a blind panic toward Mrs. Lindstrom's burning house.

"Jeb!"

Laney's voice. Nothing else could have penetrated his shock and halted him. At the end of his driveway, he whirled around to locate her in the semidarkness and assure himself that she was all right.

"I'll get Mrs. Lindstrom out!" he yelled as he took off running again. "Call 9‑1‑1!"

Pounding across the quiet street, he noted that only one end of the long, ranch-style house appeared to be burning: its two-car garage. If Mrs. Lindstrom was in a bedroom at the opposite end, she might be okay.

Her front door was locked, naturally. Jeb kicked it as hard as he could, slamming his heel against a spot right next to the doorknob in hopes of breaking the lock.

It wasn't as easy as it looked in the movies.

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