God's Gift - By Dee Henderson Page 0,14
“Bring me two.”
She came back with two bath towels, draped one around his shoulders. He took the other and rubbed under his sweatshirt.
“You know I owe you one now.”
She laughed. “Got to catch me first.”
She dropped into the chair opposite Lace. “Lace, he’s got six days to retaliate. I think I should have waited a few days.”
Dave came in carrying a soda and Rae ducked when he stopped behind her chair, half-afraid she was going to get a bath with it.
James chuckled.
It was going to be quite a week around these three friends.
Chapter Four
“Tranquil morning.”
It was the crack of dawn. Rae, seated on the porch steps, turned, surprised. She knew neither Dave nor Lace were likely to be moving at this time of the morning.
James.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, concerned. He was in pain, she could see it in his movements and his face.
“Overdid it yesterday. I pay for mistakes like that,” he replied, sinking down onto the porch steps beside her. “Thanks for making the coffee.”
She smiled. “Not a problem. I don’t wake up without it.”
“These days, neither do I,” he replied. “Why aren’t you sleeping in?”
How was she suppose to answer that? The truth or something that made sense? Rae shrugged a shoulder, then changed her mind and decided to tell him the truth. “Ever have one of these experiences in life that just stops you in your tracks until you figure it out?”
She liked his smile and the frank way he turned and met her gaze. “Like God just grabbed your jacket collar, tugged, and said ‘No, think about this’?” he asked softly.
Rae nodded. She drew her knees up and folded her arms around them. “I woke up about 2:00 a.m. with Psalm 37 running through my mind. I don’t know why. Feels important.”
He leaned back on his hands, his expression thoughtful. “It’s an interesting Psalm. Trusting God with your dreams, the security He provides, the promise of refuge in times of trouble. What were you thinking about when you went to bed—if you don’t mind me asking?”
Rae smiled at the room he was trying to give her. She didn’t know if it was the conversation topic or the fact it was her that had him slightly uncomfortable. “Nothing earth-shattering. The book I’ve been writing.”
He looked surprised. “I didn’t know you were a writer.”
“Have been for years. I’m not published, just enjoy doing it.” She tipped her coffee cup to see if there was any left.
“Sounds like fun.”
She smiled. “It’s a different kind of work.”
A blue jay dropped down past the porch steps to land on the flagstones and check out what looked like a dropped dime. He took back to flight with a raucous cry.
“Most of the time when a scripture comes to mind like you described, it’s because it is an answer to a question you were asking.”
The only things I’ve been asking lately is where do I go now that Leo is dead….
“Could be,” she replied, knowing he was right. She nodded toward his coffee mug. “Want some more? I need a refill.” She didn’t want to think about Leo and the past. Not on this vacation.
He knew. It was there in his eyes. He knew she was avoiding something God wanted her to deal with. He handed her the mug. “Sure,” he said.
He’d probably never been afraid to face anything in his life. Rae wished she had that kind of courage. She didn’t. Not when it came to saying goodbye to what she might have had. “Black?”
“Please.”
When she came back out with the coffee, he had moved, stretched his legs out fully, was slowly working his right knee. He was doing his best not to grimace with the movement.
Rae felt an intense sense of empathy for him. He was like Kevin, a man accustomed to days of physical work. The pain had to be hard to cope with. She sat back down beside him, leaving a foot of space between them, turning slightly so she could lean against a porch post. “Patricia said the bug was damaging your joints,” she remarked, handing him the refilled mug.
“It’s doing damage like lupus, fibromyalgia, or the aggressive forms of arthritis. The joints lose the ability to move freely.”
“Is it getting better?”
He grimaced. “At a snail’s pace. They don’t know what bug I picked up, and they don’t know how long the symptoms are going to last.”
“Is it the pain that messes up your sleep?” she asked, curious.
“Yes and no. The sleep study showed there is a lot