Follow a Wild Heart: A Christian Contemporary Western Romance Series by Natalie Bright (top reads .TXT) 📗

“Stop talking for a minute. Take a breath, Carli.” Belinda walked up beside her and placed a mug on the table before placing a hand on her shoulder. “The universe is not ganging up on you. I promise. In nine months, they’ll know the truth.”

“Nine months!” With trembling hands, Carli wrapped both around the hot mug and took a long sip. The aroma was enough to calm her nerves, but then another shot of panic seared through her mind. “Tomorrow is lunch at the Olsen’s and Nathan invited me. I hope he doesn’t hear this from his mother before I can talk to him! What’ll I do?”

Carli dropped her face to the table and covered her head with her arms.

“You may think it's so, but this is not the end of the world.” Belinda stood and walked around the table. “Listen to me. Welcome to life in a small town. You’re not the only one having troubles, and the problem is we know everything about everyone’s troubles around here. Or at least we think we know it all. You're not the only one who is misunderstood. We’re all slammed with illness and tragedy, facing life as it comes.”

“But this is so bad.” She’d tell Nathan and they’d have a good laugh, but deep down he wasn’t Carli’s main worry. The only face she saw in her mind was Lank's. Chances are he’d already heard the rumor and chances were even greater he’d never speak to her again. Ever.

“Sometimes life can be overwhelming, but it’s all in how you face it.” Belinda placed an arm around Carli’s shoulder.

“I can’t handle this. It’s just too much. I have a lot going on right now.”

“Carli. Look at me.”

Carli lifted her chin and looked into Belinda’s face.

“Take a breath. Give your worries to God. Clear your mind. Now, what is the first thing you need to do?”

Carli breathed in, exhaled, lifted her mug, took a few more sips to fortify her strength, and set it back on the table with a deliberate gesture as she thought.

“I need to warn Nathan his mother may think she’s going to be a grandma. And I probably need to talk to Lola and Buck,” she finally said, her voice soft.

“That’s my girl. This will all work out. Choose joy. Let God handle the rest. It works every time.”

With a newfound spurt of energy and purpose, Carli slid out of the chair, grabbed her purse, and turned towards the door. She could fix this. She would fix it. Suddenly spinning on her heels, she turned to Belinda and gave her a hug. “What a day.”

“Love you, my friend.” Belinda didn’t stifle the giggle that escaped from her lips as Carli swung open the door and hurried to her pickup truck.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Carli drove through the one traffic light at the corner of Main Street and Main Avenue in the little town of Dixon thinking hard about her friend’s advice. Push the worries away. Let God carry them. He's strong enough to handle whatever's bothering you. It wasn’t until after she had gone through the intersection that she wondered if the light was red or green. No matter now. There was something she had to do.

One of the things she excelled at was worrying. And if there wasn’t anything to worry over, she could probably invent something. Owning a stable and riding business in Georgia had certainly provided her with a lot of stress—how to pay the bills, how to make a profit, how to juggle the equine business and horse showing with her job at the realtor's office. And she fretted over her students too—not only about their performances but also what kind of people they were growing up to be. But Belinda was right, as she thought about her life. Everything usually worked out, no matter how many sleepless nights she spent or how much effort she put into trying to manipulate a situation. It was never as bad as she imagined in her mind. And all that lost sleep! Trusting in her faith was a new concept for Carli, but one she was determined to work at and learn more about.

The address came to mind as she pulled into a parking lot, so she punched it into the map app on her phone. An address that had been burning in her brain for some time, ever since she’d found the stack of old phone books in her grandparents' cabinet—606 Maple Street in Dixon.

She followed the GPS instructions and pulled up in front of a low-roofed house. Numbers on a rusty, crooked mailbox confirmed she was at the right place. A dead tree stood sentry in the front yard, weeds made up the lawn, and even grew in the cracks of the driveway. At the end of the drive towards the back of the lot, a long-neglected garage door hung crooked. The once white clapboard was now partially chipped away and glowed a dull gray in the evening twilight. She was surprised at the unkempt, ramshackle condition. The lot was a good size with ample room on either side of the house, and from what she could tell, a spacious backyard. There didn’t seem to be any activity on the quiet street.

Carli sat in her vehicle for a moment, staring at the house, and glancing in the rearview mirror at the neighborhood behind her. There were no cars driving past, or anyone about. She slowly stepped out and walked up the broken cement drive. Lawn furniture and a wooden table with peeling paint stood on the front porch, seemingly undisturbed. For how many years?

She dared to step on the boarded steps and walk across the front porch, pausing to glance through the picture window. She used her phone to shine a light inside. Good gosh! It was as though time had stood still. The room was tastefully furnished, two overstuffed easy chairs, and a burgundy sofa appointed with