Promises


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This entry is part 5 of 5 in the series The Square Root of Happiness: a collection of drabbles

 

The cottage was even cozier inside than out: white wainscot, stone fireplace with broad hearth and mantle, built-in bookcases, low-hanging eaves. Sunlight dappled the wooden floors through the sheltering oak and maple branches at the windows.

This was a far cry from the warzone Mark Trindale had been living in for the past four years. He studied his bride’s delighted expression and remembered his promise from a loving God, “I will bring you into the place I have prepared for you.” He held her just a little tighter. God kept His promises.

“It’s small,” he said.

Annette smiled. “It’s beautiful.”


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