The Blue Bottle Club (50 page)

Her laptop lay open on the desk, pulsing a blue light into the dimly lit room. She sat down, poised her fingers over the keypad, and began to type—a dedication for the book that was yet to be written:

To the Blue Bottle Club,
Letitia, Adora, Eleanor, and Mary Love,
whose faith, strength, and determination helped me discover my dreams.

An appropriate inscription, she thought, for the women whose lives had touched her own so deeply. They could never have imagined, on Christmas Day in 1929, that their dreams, their lives, would turn out to be a gift beyond price to a young woman who had not yet been born. But Someone Else knew—the One whose birth they celebrated that day, the One whose hand had guided the four of them through the years, even when they were not aware of the Presence.

Brendan gazed at the words on the screen. It wouldn't be easy, this new life she had chosen. No regular paychecks, no paid vacations, no insurance benefits, no expense account. But it was the opportunity of a lifetime, the chance to find out if she could really make it as a writer. And amid all the conflicting emotions—the fear, the exhilaration, the apprehension, the sense of adventure—Brendan Delaney knew that, no matter what the outcome, the dream itself was worth the risk.

It was all a gift. A frightening, uncertain, bewildering gift—but a gift, nevertheless.

"Thank you," she breathed into the darkness.

As she uttered the words, the fear began to dissipate, replaced by a warm infusion of something else. Peace. Assurance. Confidence. Not in herself, in her abilities, but in the One who had brought her to this place and time. She smiled, and then, almost instinctively, added one final line to the dedication:

And to Dwaine, whose profound insight taught me an important bit of wisdom:
"You never know what you're gonna find when you keep your eyes open."