Page 24 of With All My Heart, Joy

That was all contingent on if she continued to write to him. Surely she’d received his last letter by now. Would Paisley’s condition be a deal breaker, as it had been for Paisley’s mother?

He was half asleep, in that space where everything was hazy and golden, when his phone rang. A groggy throat clear was all he managed before rasping out, “Hello?”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Isaac.” He knew that deep voice. Rubbing his eyes, he struggled into an upright position.

“Silas. How are you?”

“Great. How are things at your mom’s house?”

“Busy. Paisley’s having the time of her life.”

“Naturally. Getting a break from you and all that.”

The words hit closer to home than they should. “How about you? What’s a Halverson Thanksgiving like?”

A tinkling laugh rang out in the background, and Isaac’s thoughts cut to Joy in a flash. It was probably Lucy, but it could easily be Joy with their similar laughter. How was she doing? Had she stuck to his homework? Was she happy today? He opened his mouth to ask Silas, then realized how inappropriate that would be.

“They go all out, let me tell you. Apparently decorating the Christmas tree as a family after the meal is a tradition. I was conscripted to put the angel on top of the tree.”

“Only one tall enough?”

“So they said. I think it was coercion.”

Isaac laughed heartily at that. Silas was incapable of falling for coercion. He’d become soft, that was all. “You poor soul.”

“I know. It’s bad.”

Isaac smirked at the amusement in Silas’s tone. How much his friend’s life had changed. Thanks to Lucy. A good woman was a living miracle.

“I don’t want to keep you. Please tell the Halversons happy Thanksgiving.” Especially Joy, he wanted to add. But no. He couldn’t do that.

“Will do. See you next week.”

The call ended, and Isaac quietly dropped the phone to the mattress, but he couldn’t get his mind off of Joy. Beautiful, sweet, funny Joy. He was looking forward to seeing her next week. The thought gave him guilt. But he truly enjoyed the fifty minutes spent with her. He hoped it was proving helpful. Counselors could only equip their clients with tools. It was up to the client to use the tools. Was Joy using the ones he gave her?

Perhaps if he knew more about her, he could equip her with better tools.

His breathing shallowed, a small stone in his stomach bottoming out as if he were about to do something forbidden.

He let out an even breath. That was ridiculous. Joy Halverson was a public figure. She chose publicity with her career. There was nothing wrong with researching her to be a better counselor.

This he continued telling himself as he searched her name on Google. There were many results, but he clicked on the one that said joyliveslife.com. It was her blog website. He read a few posts and was impressed by her skillful writing.

On the “about me” page, he found what he was really looking for. Links to her YouTube channels. All four of them. Once he began watching, starting with Joy Lives Life, he didn’t have to wonder how she had gained her popularity. Her presence on camera was captivating, her speaking style engaging, her smile inviting. He knew based on their counseling that it was mostly scripted, but it had a natural feel that made viewers feel like they knew her.

Even so, a scan of the comments confirmed what she had said. There was more good than bad, but the bad was dark and ugly. And—his hackles rose—there were a lot of men making suggestive passes at her.

He moved on to her makeup channel. Maybe he would show this to Paisley. She’d love it, and Joy was more herself on this channel. He laughed out loud more than once when her dry humor appeared in her one-sided monologue as she applied some fake eyelashes and spoke about a coupon code in the description below.

Fake lashes. He’d try to forgive her. At least they weren’t so long they needed a hairbrush.

His throat felt awfully tight when he tried to swallow, his neck warm. Joy was incredibly beautiful no matter what, with or without artificial eyelashes, before and after the makeover.

Time to move on. He quickly navigated to her craft channel. More engaging content. His mom was a crafter. She would enjoy these videos.

The last link he clicked was for her devotional channel, Finding the Light with Joy. While she shared some deep, meaningful thoughts that pointed to a true experience with God, and the comments were all positive, his counseling eye immediately picked up on the slight strain around her eyes.

When she’d mentioned faking it, was there one channel draining her more than others? Maybe a discussion about her spiritual life was in order.

---