Heaven Sent Husband. Gilbert Morris
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Ket turned casually and then suddenly froze.
The sight of the tall man who had just entered the cafeteria had an almost paralyzing effect on her.
“Now, he is something!” Debbie breathed. “Did you ever see a better-looking man in your whole life?”
The man they were staring at was six foot five, with a lean, athletic-looking build. He had auburn hair, light blue eyes and strong, even features. Ket’s friends, Maggie and Debbie, watched with shock as he suddenly turned toward them and smiled.
“Do you know him?” Maggie whispered.
Ket had no time to answer for the tall man stopped before them and looked down at her. “Hello, Ket,” he said.
“Hello, Jared. It’s nice to see you again.”
Ket’s friends looked at them in stunned silence. “Who was that?” Maggie gasped as he walked away.
“When I think of Jared Pierce, all I can remember is a rather nasty boy who teased me about being so tall. He was always pulling my ponytail, and once he pushed me into a mud puddle.”
Debbie grinned. “He could push me into the Atlantic Ocean!”
GILBERT MORRIS
makes his home in Gulf Shores, Alabama, with his wife, Johnnie. He was a Baptist pastor for twenty years, a professor of English for twenty-eight years and since retiring, he has written 186 novels. He is involved in prison ministry in Alabama and Florida.
Heaven Sent Husband
Gilbert Morris
Without faith, it is impossible to please Him, for he
that cometh to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him.
—Hebrews 11:6
To Johnnie—my companion for fifty-six years.
I’ve enjoyed every second of it!
Dear Reader,
More than twenty years ago, my wife, Johnnie, and I invited a young couple to our home after a service. They were speakers during Christian Focus Week at the university where I was teaching. After we had cake and coffee, I asked them, “How did you meet and decide to get married?”
Their answer is the basis of Heaven Sent Husband. It is the only one of my 186 novels that is based on a personal testimony. The novel sounds wildly improbable, a plot that I would never dream up—but it is true.
We were stunned by the faith of the young woman who risked humiliation but obeyed God blindly. All of us should have that kind of faith—but few of us do.
The real Ketura and Jared have been serving as medical missionaries for the past twenty years.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Ketura Lindsey took a firm grip on the squirming bundle of fur she held in her right arm. The whiskered face of the Yorkie looked up at her eagerly. “Now, Bedford,” she said, “you’re going to have to behave yourself. This is a hospital and you’re going to meet a very sick, young man. So you must be very good.”
Passing through the front door of Mercy Hospital, Ket smiled at the silver-haired woman behind the desk in the center of the room. “What’s that you’ve got there?” the woman asked cheerfully.
“This is my good buddy Bedford. I’m taking him up to see Denny Ray.”
“Did you get Dr. Bjelland’s permission for that?”
“No.” Ket smiled. “I’m smuggling him in. You won’t tell on me, will you, Mrs. Williams?”
Mrs. Williams smiled and shook her head. She had a special fondness for Ket Lindsey and she studied the young woman before she answered. Ket had ash-blond hair and blue-gray eyes set in a squarish face. Her fair complexion was marked with a few, almost invisible freckles. She was very tall, just under six feet. There was a strength in her and her face was marked by this strength rather than beauty.
“No. I won’t squeal. Here, let me say hello. Hi, Bedford.” She reached out and petted the head of the frantically wiggling dog who tried to get at her face. “No—no, you can’t lick my face! All this makeup would make you sick.” She laughed. “Go on up. Denny Ray will be glad to see you.”
Moving out of the main lobby, Ket took the elevator up to the fourth floor. Passing by the nursing station, she stopped long enough to say, “Hello, Ellie. I brought a visitor to see Denny Ray.”
Ellie Peck, the hard-nosed head of the station was thirty years old. She was short and plump with flaming red hair and freckles—and a worthless husband named Mack whom she was mad about. “What’s that you’ve got?” She frowned.
“I brought Bedford to visit Denny Ray.”
“That’s against the rules.”
“Oh, come on, Ellie!” Ket pleaded. “He gets so lonesome in there. And you know there’s scientific research that shows it’s good to have patients visited by pets.”
“That’s in a nursing home!”
“Well, if it’ll work in a nursing home, it ought to work here. He’ll enjoy it so much. Come on. Be a sport.”
“Well, I suppose it won’t hurt unless you get caught, but if Dr. Bjelland catches you, I’m out of it.”
“No problem. I’ll take the rap. Thanks, Ellie.”
Ket moved down the hall thinking suddenly that she would soon be a fully fledged registered nurse. She had graduated college with a bachelor’s degree in science and come to work at Mercy Hospital as a licensed practical nurse, but soon she would be registered and certified and a genuine nurse in every sense of the word. She was eager to complete this certification, but realized that at age twenty-four she was right on track.
Turning into room 417, she glanced quickly at the boy in the bed who was lying flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. Her heart went out to him as it always did. Ten-year-old Denny Ray Kelland was a very appealing boy. He had fine blond hair, light blue eyes and did not appear to be sick. Ket knew that his heart problem was more severe than Denny Ray guessed, but as always, she greeted him with a bright smile.
“Denny Ray, I brought you a visitor!”
Denny Ray quickly raised his head. When he saw the dog Ket held out, his eyes lit up at once. “Gosh! Is that your dog, Ket?”
“Sure is. His name’s Bedford. Here, you’ll love him.” With this she tossed the Yorkie on the bed. Bedford never met a soul he didn’t love or didn’t want to lick.