Free Boo by Rene Gutteridge Page B

expect.”
    “No kidding. Why do you say that?”
    “Mostly because God has this funny sense of humor. But also because God wants us to find the person that complements us, so when we become one, as they say, we’re a whole person. If you marry someone just like you, then when you become one, well, there’s too much of one personality, let’s just say that.” She tried to sit up a little, as if excited about the topic. “You’ll find you have a few common interests. Enough so you can get to know each other.”
    Ainsley listened carefully. Aunt Gert had always been wise, the wisest woman she knew. Still, in her heart she was skeptical. She tried to imagine what the exact opposite of herself was, and the thought scared her to death. Gert laughed, as if reading her mind.
    “Don’t you worry about it, honey. It won’t pass you by. You’ll know.”
    Ainsley blinked and looked at her aunt. “How will I know for sure?”
    “There’ll be this little flutter to your heart. And when you look in his eyes, you’ll see a little sparkle, and it’ll tell you that he has eternity in mind.”
    Ainsley shook her head. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Aunt Gert. By flutter, do you mean a little hiccup in your heart rhythm, like when you’ve had too much caffeine? Or more of a
thump, thump
, like when you’ve had the daylights scared out of you? And I’m sorry, but seeingsomeone’s eye sparkle with thoughts of eternal love seems a little hard to read. Maybe they’re just standing near a light bulb or something.”
    Gert chuckled heartily, gasped for some breath, and then patted Ainsley’s hand. “Dear, you’ve always been such a thinker. Just like your mom.”
    “I know. I overanalyze everything, don’t I?”
    “Not a bad quality,” Gert said. “Just not very romantic.”
    “No one’s ever accused me of being overly romantic. I’ve got it in me, but I’m much more practical.”
    “You’re perfect just how you are,” Gert said reassuringly. “And whoever it is God has for you will be perfect too.”
    Ainsley sighed as she thought of the monumental task of finding the right person. “Well, I hope God doesn’t use his sense of humor on me. I hate surprises.”
    Gert closed her eyes. “Oh, dear heart. Don’t ever say that out loud.” She looked toward the ceiling and pointed upward with a shaky hand. “He’s always listening.”

CHAPTER 6
    W OLFE SAT NEAR his bay window as evening absorbed the light of the day. He loved watching the sun set, especially from his old house on top of the hill. He’d fixed himself a fresh cup of coffee and felt more relaxed than he had in years. He continued to be amazed by the unexplainable peace he felt inside his heart. Though there was nothing really tangible about his conversion, his spirit confirmed its truth and authenticity. And now, as he watched the glorious colors of the evening sky stretch themselves in every direction, he knew he watched the paintbrush of God on the canvas of earth.
    The stars twinkled early this time of year, and so he released the blinds of the window and went to sit by the fire he’d started. In the small drawer next to his favorite leather chair, he took out his private collection of poetry. It was a thick journal, full of the very depths of his soul. Many nights he would spend writing. Other nights he would spend poring over years’ worth of these kinds of writings. No one even knew he wrote poetry. It was the most private thing he did.
    Tonight he turned back several months and read a poem he’d written on a warm spring evening. It amazed him how such colorful words could explain such dark despair. It was an uncomfortable read, to say the least. He hadn’t realized how very depressed he was, how dismal his soul. Hope was not to be found in these pages. He closed the journal and smiled at the thought of how much hope he had now.
    He pulled out his favorite pen and decided to write his very first poem as a new creation. The