How Love Got to Happy

By AuthorHouse

When Kizzie had returned to Smithville and said yes to Zaks marriage proposal, the journey to the altar and their happily ever after was supposed to have been short and easy. They had both thought that finding each other again after so many years, finding room in their hearts to forgive past mistakes and letting go of old transgressions would be the hard part.
But things get out of control when Kizzie secretly hatches a plan to return alone to her former home to confront an ex-boyfriend who refuses to accept the end of their relationship. One bad decision turns both their lives upside down, putting their love on fragile ground. But more than that, it puts Kizzies life at risk.
In this, the sequel to Let Love Have Its Way, Zak and Kizzie learn that once love has its way, happiness does not automatically follow. That getting to happy is not always a straight line. The greatest test of love for them yet is finding that love is not the end of the story, its only the beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546250784

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© 2018 Bre Smith. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/25/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5079-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5077-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5078-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018908183

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgement

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter wo

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Content Nine

Content Ten

Content Eleven

Content Twelve

Content Thirteen

Content Fourteen

Content Fifteen

Content Sixteen

Content Seventeen

Content Eighteen

Content Nineteen

Content Twenty

The Invitation

The Wedding Vow

The Wedding Dress

About the Author

Acknowledgement

There is only one to whom I owe all my thanks. That is my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who did not hold it against me for all the years I failed to shine a light on His glory by not using the talent with which I was so richly blessed. This work is possible only through His loving grace. I will forever love, thank and praise Him for making me me.

John 15:9

As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you; continue ye in my love.

Prologue

So where were we…

Now Miss Mazie, you know you ought to be checking yourself…what would you know about ‘doing the do’? At your age?

Not quite sure how the conversation had turned to talk about lovemaking, it had taken Kizzie a minute to recover her wits enough to respond to Miss Mazie’s last comment. Moments before, Miss Mazie, like everyone else in town, had been quizzing Kizzie about why she had taken so long to set a date for the wedding. And expounding to Kizzie all the benefits, and this one in particular, of such a union sooner rather than later. She, also like everyone else, seemed more anxious to see the deed done than Kizzie herself. At least that’s what Miss Mazie was acting like. Then somehow in the next breath she was being educated on, according to Miss Mazie, the greatest gift God ever bestowed on a man and a woman. The conversation was more awkward than uncomfortable for Kizzie since she was used to Miss Mazie’s motherly wisdom. But never would she have thought she would be getting this kind of advice a couple of years before hitting forty years old!

Whatcha mean, what do I know about it? I’m alive, ain’t I? I’m a woman, ain’t I? I got a husband, ain’t I? Last I heard, them was the only requirements; lessen you know something I don’t. ‘Sides, just ’cause a body gets old, don’t mean you got to stop enjoying life’s pleasures. ’Specially one from God Himself. You got to read your Bible more, child. There’s plenty in there ’bout sex. Un huh, plenty. And my Freddie and me, we believe in practicing what the Good Book says. Now we may not be able to steam up the sheets like we used to in our younger days, but we ain’t gonna miss them chances the good Lord still blesses us with. No sir, sure ain’t!

Once again, Kizzie was speechless. Did Miss Mazie just use the word ‘sex’? She had indeed! But even as casual as Miss Mazie had brought it into the conversation, Kizzie was not quite sure how to react. She didn’t know if she was embarrassed or tickled at the scene being conjured up in her mind’s eye at this moment! Miss Mazie had been her mother’s best friend. Quite often Kizzie and Coco, when they had been young girls with too much curiosity, had unintentionally come upon the two of them having, what to Kizzie and Coco, were very grown up conversations. Though not exactly eavesdropping, according to them, they would listen in for as long as they dared, fearing getting caught, but they had never heard anything their young minds would relate to sex! Kizzie couldn’t help but wonder now at what her mother would have to say about it.

As if she had heard Kizzie’s thoughts, Miss Mazie continued. Now, ain’t no need to be shamed or embarrassed child. Your Mama, if she was here, would tell you, same as me, that there ain’t nothing more natural ’tween a man and a woman. But it ain’t just ’bout the pleasures from doing the do". You need to remember that. There’s a pleasure in laying down with a man beside you at night and knowing he will be there when you wake up in the morning. And a man like you got, like your Zak, you know he’s gon’ be there, every night and every morning too. He worships the ground you walk on. He adores you. He’ll keep you safe. He’s a good man, child. He’s the best sheriff this town’s ever had and there ain’t nobody who’s gonna say different. A saint is what he is. But he loves you; ain’t no two ways about it; always has. And ain’t no finer pleasure a woman can ask for in life than that."

When Miss Mazie finally paused, presumably to catch a second wind, Kizzie’s thoughts began to drift. Never in a million years would it have occurred to her that when she arrived this morning, she would be subjected to a lecture, never mind the topic being what it was. This woman, who was well into her sixties, and ‘a good Christian woman who still thought it was indecent the way ‘these young girls strut around town in them hot pants, practically naked, talking about the birds and the bees, was a little more than Kizzie thought she was ready for.

She visited with Miss Mazie while Coco managed her day care center, Little Fingers, and Seal was at work down at the Carpenter Mill, when she felt like a break from dealing with wedding plans by herself. She had also washed heads at the shampoo bowl for Miss Suzie and waited tables for the twins when they were short-handed during busy lunch times. She had told Miss Mazie that she simply wanted to help her gather the last of the summer vegetables but the visits, though she had not admitted it to Miss Mazie, were selfishly more for her own sake than anything else. Listening to her tell stories while doling out bits of gossip and musing about life in a small town helped to momentarily dispel an uneasiness in Kizzie’s spirit…the cause of which was exactly why she could not answer Miss Mazie or anyone’s questions.

There was one last matter that had been left unsettled when she had packed her jeep, closed down her apartment and drove away from her life in Vista. One that, if left unsettled, could not only spoil any plans for her wedding or life with Zak but could cause a lot of harm to many of the people she had come to care so much about. The unsettled matter had a name. Marcus Mercer, the other half of a relationship that had become so sour and toxic that she had simply walked away from it. But knowing Marcus and the despicable man he had become, there was no doubt in her mind that he did not consider it over. She did not trust, even though she had not heard a peep from him since she had thrown him out of her townhouse, that he wouldn’t show up in Smithville to create as much unpleasantness as he could. Not that he cared anything about her but just to make her as miserable as he was. She had taken steps to make sure that didn’t happen. There was just one problem with it. Except for Coco and Seal, no one, not even Zak, had known about it. She prayed now that it had been enough.

Kizzie had loved being back in Smithville with her friends. This was her home and they were the closest thing she had that she could call her family. Prior to coming home for the celebration to officially dedicate the new Carpenter Mill, named in honor of her parents, it had been five years since she had been home. All the while, she had intentionally only maintained minimal contact with the people there…with most of her communication via phone calls or letters from Coco.

Her most intentional silence had been on the subject of Zak. Each time Coco had tried to tell her anything about him, Kizzie would shut her down. She hadn’t wanted to know if he was in Smithville or the other side of the world. She hadn’t wanted to know anything about what he was doing. Over the years she had constructed a wall, brick by brick, around her heart to block any intrusion from Zak Bishop and she hadn’t really cared one way or the other. Or so she thought.

But from the moment, literally, that she had arrived, those bricks had been shattered; not one by one the way they had been built, but crumbled in one swoop. Kizzie had realized that simply not acknowledging Zak’s existence had been a pretense, a myth she had created to artificially bind the open wound in her heart. He’d only had to look at her… she could feel the first stitch thread through her heart and knew the mending had already begun. He’d only had to touch her…she felt the slow burn of smoldering embers become a roaring fire inching through every nerve, just as they had when she was a vulnerable teenager. Time and distance faded as Kizzie found she could no longer deny that what was seeping through her was the power of a love that refused to be denied.

Almost as sobering had been the townspeople’s generous outpouring of support, a giant mixture of warmth, kindness and understanding. They had called her a Shero and had shown deep appreciation for how she had stepped in to rescue their livelihood and save the town from becoming a ghost. But she knew that was not why they loved her. These unsophisticated, big-hearted, funny, loveable people loved her because she was one of their own, a member of the family and a part of their small community. Their love was unconditional. That realization had humbled her to her knees and made her ashamed that she had deliberately separated herself from them for so long. She was deeply grateful and had promised herself the day of the celebration that she would no longer take them for granted. Every day she would somehow return to them the love they had given her.

The sudden, strong, sweet scent of honeysuckle that grew in thick, crowed bunches along the back fence, and a sharper tone in Miss Mazie’s voice, stirred Kizzie from her reverie. Kizzie! Kizzie! Child, you ain’t been listening to a thing I been trying to tell you. But that’s alright ’cause matter of fact here comes your saint right now! Maybe he can explain it to you better than I can…if you stop being so stubborn and let him. Kizzie decided not to ask what that was supposed to mean!

Looking up she saw Zak sauntering up the long, gravel walkway, headed to the porch where they sat, finishing up the last of the green beans that needed to be snapped and prepared for canning. Seeing him, her heart did just what she knew it would and always did. It skipped several beats. Unbeknownst to Kizzie, Zak’s heart was doing the same dance.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the unsettled matter had already taken the first step on a plan of his own.

Chapter One

The river was almost still this morning, soft ripples being pushed along by a cool whisper of wind. Zak sat on the bench gazing at the river, fingers linked behind his head, long legs stretched out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles. His eyes were on the river but his mind did not register the scene unfolding just beyond the shore.

The hour was still early. The sun had just begun to show itself above the tree line of the opposite shore. Just enough so that its glare and the light breeze caused a million tiny sparks to dance like fireflies on the glassy looking surface of the slow moving water. There was no sound except the whistle of an unknown bird far off in the distance whose job seemed to be to wake up the other animals in the forest. These were the last days of summer. But the leaves of the tall oaks had already begun to display their majestic colors. The burnt oranges, warm browns and deep reds were sure signs of an early fall arrival. Already the air was crisp and fresh, just cool enough to let Zak know that it would be smart of him to stop by his house to change the short sleeve summer uniform to the warmer long sleeve one more suited for fall weather.

Zak continued gazing, still without really seeing the beauty of the dance or the splendor of the sunrise. Except for anywhere he happened to be with Kizzie, this was his favorite place in all of Smithville, in spite of the sadness that sometimes caught him off guard and poked at his heart before he could tamper it down. He supposed it would always be there, at some level, but he was grateful; each time the stabs of pain were dulled a little more and the times in between were farther apart. Just around the bend of the river was where Miss Lizzie and Mr. Dallas had drowned and for years he had blamed himself for it. But right here on this bench was the very spot where his darling Kizzie had said yes to his marriage proposal, making him the happiest man in the universe. That alone was enough to make this his favorite place to be but the wonder of the river and its shoreline, no matter the season, was beautiful enough that it could only be painted by God Himself.

He loved coming out very early in the morning, before the quiet was interrupted by human activities on the river, kids swinging from trees making a splash so wide it would cover anyone within feet, or the twins heckling each other as they fished from their boat for the catch of the day – some unsuspecting perch or catfish that would become the featured entrée on the dinner menu at the Fish Camp, their restaurant, later that evening.

Being here these days usually gave him a sense of peace, a hard fought peace that had been years in the making and won only after an internal struggle between heart and mind had somehow meshed in a compromise. His heart- lonely; struggling year after year to hold on to the slimmest hope that his Kizzie would find her way back to him. His mind- reminding him constantly that he was a fool; that Kizzie had left long ago to build a new life, one without him; that the love they had shared as children had only taken root in his heart, long forgotten by her. His heart – still aching at the loss of Miss Lizzie and Mr. Dallas. His mind- would not let him accept that their deaths had not been his fault. Now Kizzie was home again and the struggle was less like a war and more just a small battle. And while not a complete peace, it was a solace Zak was grateful to have. Victory, albeit small, was a win and he would take it.

Zak’s gaze stayed on the river. The usual sense of peace was not to be found today. His thoughts, as always, were about Kizzie. She had come home. Their love had found its way back to each of their hearts and seemed stronger than ever. Sitting on this very bench he had asked her to be his wife and she had said yes. Yet it had been several weeks and try as he might he could not get her to set a wedding date. In every other way, she was his same Kizzie. The girl he had loved since he first saw her when he was only eight years old and knew from that first moment that she would have his heart forever. Since her return they had spent every possible moment together. They had replayed and shared playful, wonderful memories of their childhood, had filled each other in on what their lives had been in between and relished every moment of the present. But when Zak tried to steer the conversation to talking about their future, Kizzie found a way to dodge it. She made valiant efforts to pretend all was normal but Zak