Free Tying the Knot by Susan May Warren Page B

Lee slapped him on the back, laughing. “Gimme that piece, boy.” He shot a grin at Mo-Jo, VL minister. “Don’t get Rock mad. He’ll fire first and never ask forgiveness!” He punched Noah on the shoulder. Noah had relished the pain that spiked down his arm.
    “So, what’s the take?” Shorty Mac huffed up, looking like a proud father.
    Noah handed over his spoils.
    Shorty Mac opened the bag, dropped it, and burst out laughing. “Boys, we have a regular felon here. A real Billy the Kid. He goes in guns ablazin’ and comes out with—” he reached into the sack—“Doritos!”
    Noah gasped, his stomach twisting at the memory. The lives he’d endangered for a bag of chips. Tears coursed down his face as he sat on the dock. He gazed heavenward and traced the first hint of stars in the bruised sky. His throat tightened, but he forced his words out. “Lord, I know I’m the worst candidate to be leading kids to You. You’ve seen my life and sometimes Your grace is simply overwhelming. But, God, these kids need Your salvation. Only You can wrench them out of death, drugs, and despair.” He swallowed, and regret lodged in his throat. “I handled it badly with Anne, Lord. She deserved better. Please forgive me.”
    The memory of her slight smile when he’d offered to show her around camp hinted that maybe—just maybe—if he went crawling on his knees, she’d hear him out. Allow him to draw her a picture of the despair etched on the kids’ grimy faces and let him plead his case. She’d nearly ripped him to shreds with her cutting words, but the shred of pride that remained wouldn’t keep him from approaching her with his hat in his hands. He needed her. The kids needed her. And for their sake, she needed to know why. Then he’d cut her free and let her take the reins.
    He smiled. Lord, You choose. If You want this camp to be a go, please change Anne’s heart. Please convince her to stay.

5
    Noah gunned his motorcycle along Highway 61, one eye on his speedometer, looking for the gravel drive Edith Draper had described on the telephone.
    If Anne Lundstrom hoped to hide from society, she’d picked the perfect place. Noah had hunted down Dr. Simpson at Pierre’s Pizza to find Anne’s address, and he’d spent several more minutes watching Sally Williams’s toddler drive toys around her sandbox while the Grace Church secretary dug up Edith Draper’s new telephone number.
    He’d caught the elderly woman just as she was leaving for a dinner out at the Granite River Resort. “She’s staying on our property, Mr. Bear, but she doesn’t have a telephone.”
    “Can I come by and wait on her porch?”
    For some reason he pictured Edith pulling her chin as she thought that over. “I suppose so, but I don’t keep her schedule. She might be long.”
    Had he scared her all the way back to wherever she hailed from?
    The wind plowed through his hair. The air smelled of storm. Black clouds obscured the moon in a gloomy nighttime canopy. Noah felt as if he’d gone about three rounds with his former homeboys as he fought the urge to grab Anne’s ankles and beg for her help, instead of simply, calmly, without pleading in his voice, explain the situation and let God tug at her heart.
    He couldn’t force her to work at Wilderness Challenge. Regardless of how she greeted him, he’d apologize. Knowing he’d ignited fear in her eyes more than once had helped him muscle the courage to hop on his bike and track down her address in Deep Haven.
    The Draper driveway jagged off from the road to the left. He noticed a crooked sign tacked to an oak tree. Draper was written on the plywood scrap, probably posted for the plumber or UPS. Noah slowed as his wheels kicked up stones and dirt. The road wound toward the lake, between balsam and birch, the foliage providing a natural sound barrier to the highway. The forest closed over him briefly before he emerged into a cleared parking area. He parked the bike next to an