Man Of Her Dreams
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At the Brennans’ house, it was a totally different atmosphere. Meg hated to go there. Their professionally landscaped grounds won Garden Club prizes, but they weren’t designed for kids to enjoy. The whole house was kid-unfriendly. TV and electronic games were not allowed, and the maid had to enforce Mrs. Brennan’s no-snacks rule if she wanted to keep her job. If she gave the kids a break, Trey invariably told.
Trey—Dr. James Thomas Brennan III. Just the thought of him made Meg’s stomach churn. He’d been a snooty, bratty kid, and he’d become an arrogant, unlikeable man with an arrogant, unlikeable wife.
Maybe she was wrong, but Meg still blamed Trey for Ry leaving the way he did, though Deborah Brennan might be more to blame. The pressure his mother put on Ry would have turned any good kid into a rebel who chose to go his own way, no matter the cost.
Meg hated the idea of having to be civil to that woman and to the other Brennan men—Trey, his dad, his granddad and his uncles—all of them medical doctors who looked down on Ry for breaking free. She was glad he had, and sad for Beth who hadn’t escaped. Sure, Beth said she liked being a doctor, but Meg had to wonder. Apart from her work, Beth had no life.
Meg plopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing she hadn’t promised Beth that she would show up tonight. For Beth, who would soon occupy an office at Brennan Medical Clinic, the party was a command performance. If Meg weren’t so lonely for Beth’s company, she would rather stay right here, just as she had last year, and party with a liter of diet cola, a bag of microwaved popcorn and a six-pack of Snickers.
She’d had offers for group parties as well as single dates, just none from anyone who mattered. At midnight, if she couldn’t be in the arms of a man who put stars in her eyes and a forever feeling in her heart, she’d rather be alone. Like Valentine’s Day, New Year’s Eve was for lovers, only better because it was all about hope for tomorrow.
She glanced again at the little bedside photo of Beth, Ry and herself—three happy little kids. Where would Ry be tonight? Of course he would be with a great-looking woman. That was a given, but Meg prayed that woman would love him enough to make up for the love he’d missed, growing up.
Leave it to her to think of that. When she made her living, helping couples find each other on Dream Date, she naturally thought that everyone was longing for love. Ry might not be ready to settle down. On the other hand, she was so ready, it hurt.
It was a year ago tonight that she’d asked God to help her find her guy. Believing He would, she’d begun every day, fully expecting to meet Mr. Right. A year was a long time to wait. Had her prayer gone amiss, or had she missed her guy?
She checked her watch. There were still a few hours to shop. It wasn’t likely that the man of her dreams would be among the Brennans’ guests, but the Word said to pray and to believe. If she were going to meet Mr. Right tonight, she ought to be wearing something better than an old bridesmaid dress.
Ry eyed the lighted seat belt sign and wondered how many times the plane would circle LAX before the pilot received permission to land. His initial enthusiasm for the trip had worn off someplace over Wichita. What had seemed a great idea earlier in the day lost its appeal by the minute.
He’d done many impulsive things in his life, but the urge to make this trip could be his worst. What would he really accomplish by going home tonight?
Home. Most people seemed to think of that place with such reverence. They wouldn’t if they’d been told, “You don’t belong here.” If there was one phrase that ought to be stricken from the English language, that was it. Deadly, powerful, hurtful to the bone, it could break a person’s spirit if he stayed around.
But he’d been a kid back then, and just possibly, he’d been as wrong in his insights as his young patient this morning. The kid had been more scared of what his dad would say about the car being totaled than he was of his own injuries, and the kid had been very wrong. Ry had seen the boy’s father, bent over with grief at the loss of his son.
How had the two of them got it so tangled up? Was it that way with him and his family? Had he seen things from a kid’s point of view and misunderstood?
Unlike the kid, Ry had the chance to find out. For once, he would love to admit he was wrong. Make that twice. He’d been wrong to exclude God from his life. The sooner he made things right with his family, the better.
His gut instinct said he was hoping for the impossible, that he was crazy to fly straight back into trouble. For years, words like, “Why can’t you be like your brother?” “As long as you live under my roof,” and “You don’t belong” had bounced off the walls of his mind like echoes in a deep, dark well. It had to end, and that began with forgiveness.
Tonight, as the new year began, was the perfect time to show Christ’s love and prove that he wasn’t the rebel his family remembered.
Ry shifted in his seat, uncomfortable at being sandwiched in the center seat for so long. When he’d started the trip, he’d had an aisle seat, but a couple came aboard wearing Bride and Groom T-shirts and discovered they were both in center seats—one beside him. A couple ought to start their honeymoon together. Before selfishness could set it, Ry was on his feet, offering his seat to the groom.
His new seatmate on the aisle was a heavyset lady who was clearly exhausted and had napped most of the way, though she wouldn’t be rested, not with the apneas she’d had. He’d kept an uneasy vigil, ready to wake the poor woman if she didn’t start breathing again on her own.
She stirred now and sleepily said, “Are we there?”
“Just about.”
“I hope I didn’t snore. My husband says I do.”
Her husband was right, but why embarrass the lady? “Who would notice with the engine noise so loud?” he said.