God's Gift - By Dee Henderson Page 0,17
with memories of Leo. She had missed Leo’s tap on the door, waking her up at 5:00 a.m. to go fishing, missed having him fix breakfast for them. She had enjoyed the afternoon with James. He didn’t seem to mind the silence or the space she preferred. It was almost better, knowing he was going back to Africa—easier at least. The last thing she wanted to even consider was risking getting hurt again. “Yeah, I’m okay.” She would be. When God helped her fix the hole in her heart. “Remember those canoe races Leo and Dave used to have?”
“Holding that rope across the water for a finish line was not one of our more well thought out actions,” Lace replied.
Rae laughed softly. They had both been pulled into the water when the guys reached up and grabbed the rope. “They had to have been planning that one for weeks ahead of time.”
“You got Dave good last night, by the way.”
“Thanks. Watch my back for me, okay? I have no idea how he’s going to retaliate.”
“I’ll do my best,” Lace promised. “’Night, Rae.”
“’Night, Lace.”
Rae wished she had brought her jacket. It was late afternoon. The breeze coming up from the lake made it cool in the shade. She had hiked to the highest point near the cabin, a hill that let her look out over the water. They had been at the cabin for three days, and the slow, easy pace had taken away a sense of strain that she had not been aware she was carrying.
God, You know what Psalm 37 says. Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart. I feel like that promise got broken.
The prayer was a soft one. Rae settled back against the trunk of a tree and watched the water.
…the desires of your heart… That’s what she felt had been taken from her with Leo’s death. She’d had a relationship with him, a deep one, a relationship that had been heading somewhere. Leo knew her, inside, where she rarely let many people in.
God, why did You rip away what was the desire of my heart?
She tilted her head back and watched puffy clouds drift across the blue sky. For the first time in over a year, she felt a sense of peace settle inside.
“What’s wrong? You’re frowning.”
A cold soda appeared at her elbow. Rae looked up from her laptop. James had begun to join her most afternoons on the patio, and while she would not admit it to Lace, she had begun to look forward to his company.
“I think I need to rewrite chapter eighteen.”
“Rae, the story is fine.” He’d been up until 2:00 a.m. reading the manuscript. It was more than fine, it was wonderful. She just needed the courage to finish it.
“I think it’s slow.”
He pulled over a chair. “Give me the printout. Let me see.”
She shifted the book holding down the manuscript pages and gave him the last four chapters. She gratefully drank the soda as she watched him read.
It was odd, how far their relationship had come in five days. She’d never expected to be so comfortable around him. She’d relaxed, and he’d turned into a very good friend.
“Read it again without page 314, I bet that’s what you’re sensing is wrong.”
She paged back and forth in the on-line text. “That’s it. It’s too technical.”
He picked up his own drink. “I want an autographed copy when it’s published.”
“James, it may never get finished, let alone find a publisher.”
He smiled. “You’ll finish it. You’ve got, what, another five hundred pages to go?”
She laughed. “Trust me to choose a big story to tell.”
“I like the fact you think big.”
She blinked. Smiled. “The kids catching any fish?”
“Emily’s got six and Dave’s only caught two. Emily’s decided it is time to start giving him pointers, he’s letting the team down.”
Rae laughed. “How are Lace and Tom doing?”
“Scheming. They disappeared about an hour ago for what Tom called a ‘super-duper’ spot.”
“That sounds like Tom. Got the time? Patricia asked to be woken up at four.”
He glanced at his watch. “She’s got another half hour.”
“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
James grinned. “I sure think so. She was eating pickles for breakfast this morning.”
He leaned back in his chair to pick up the book on the lounge chair that Rae had been reading that morning. Richard Foster’s book on prayer. He liked her reading selection. “Is this one good?”
“Very.”
“Bookstores and hot fudge sundaes were the two things I missed most about the States.”
“I