God's Gift - By Dee Henderson Page 0,57

going to let fatigue rob him of his optimism; he was going to recover, he had done it before, and he would do it again. Small step, by small step. He had made it upstairs today. It was progress. He smiled wryly. Just as long as he didn’t fall down the stairs going down.

He was tired of this. Tired of being tired. Tired of being in pain.

It was the last thing he wanted Rae to see.

God, why this? Why now? I don’t understand.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, glancing at the paper, eating an iced cinnamon roll his mom had recently taken from the oven, when the doorbell rang. James looked at the cane. His body protested at the thought.

“I’ll get it,” his mom called from the living room. She had been cleaning his house again even though he had a cleaning service that came in each week. James had realized his mom was going to do what she decided to do and nothing would stop her. He had kissed her cheek and let her go to it. He was grateful for the love behind it.

He knew it was Rae. He had told her to come over no earlier than noon and it was now five minutes past the hour. He got to his feet as she entered into the room, ignoring her “Don’t get up.” She had slept in, but not enough for what her body desperately needed. She looked…wiped out.

“How are you?” she asked, stopping close to him, her eyes searching his face.

He leaned forward to gently kiss her. “Better now that you’re here.” He meant it, even if his body ached at the movement.

“Rae, would you like some coffee?” his mom asked. “I’ve got homemade cinnamon rolls, too. Fresh from the oven.”

Rae pulled out a chair beside James at the table. “Both sound wonderful. Thank you.”

James sat down carefully.

“You didn’t get much sleep,” Rae said softly.

James smiled. “Not much. But I don’t think you did, either.”

She grimaced. “No.”

He motioned to the paper. “It sounds like the markets finally had a quiet day yesterday.”

Rae nodded. “Probably the prelude to a bad Monday. There is concern the economic numbers being released Monday morning will prompt a rise in interest rates.”

He studied her face and saw in her eyes the fatigue that went too deep to cover, the exhaustion that made dealing with decisions so difficult you reached the point it didn’t matter anymore. She may have slept in, but stopping had just let the fatigue crash down on her. She ought to be back in bed, sleeping away the entire day.

He hated this disease. She needed someone taking care of her, not the other way around.

His mom brought coffee and the cinnamon rolls, then left them to talk. A few minutes later, James heard vacuuming upstairs.

Rae ate the cinnamon roll slowly, trying to get a conversation started, trying to inject some emotion into her voice, but the exhaustion was too heavy. She would lose her train of thought and go quiet for increasing amounts of time. Just sitting down had made her body long to sleep.

James pushed himself carefully to his feet, his ankles flaring with pain at the movement. He clenched his jaw and ignored the pain. “Rae, come on. The living room couch beckons.”

She moved with him to the other room. He lowered himself down on the couch, using the armrest to keep the movement slow.

Rae moved toward the chair and James stopped her. “Sit beside me Rae, please.”

She was reluctant to do so, but he didn’t release her hand and didn’t give her much choice. She sat down on the couch beside him. He wanted her to rest, put her head against his shoulder and close her eyes, but she protested she was fine, just a little tired. He looked at her skeptically.

She reached for the television remote. “Which college teams are playing today?”

Discussions of a serious nature were not going to happen today. James reluctantly let the conversation change to basketball.

His ribs hurt where her weight leaned against him. She had been farther away on the couch and he had intentionally maneuvered her closer so she leaned against him and he could put his arm around her. It took twenty minutes, but the pain won the contest of wills. He was at the point of having to ask her to shift away from him when he saw her try to unsuccessfully stifle a yawn. He pulled a couple of throw pillows over. “Rae, stretch