by Mary Manners
“I have you to thank. You’re a taskmaster. I’ve even cleaned off my treadmill at home, put the clothes tossed over it away. My closet went into shock.”
“Nice imagery. I think you should be a writer at Home Spice instead of the Senior Editor.”
“Well, editors do dabble in some writing.”
“True. By the way, Aubree went crazy over the batch of puzzle magazines you brought her Saturday.”
“I’m glad. She liked the first magazine I gave her so much, I thought she might devour some more.”
“And devour them, she is. You’ll have to come keep her company with them. She’d like that.”
“I would, too. She’s sure a fireball of sweet…cute…smart.” Daylin gazed over the water. “I’m sure Sandra was all those things, as well. I’ll bet you miss her terribly.”
“I do—I did...” Patrick reached for her hand, his gaze softening. “I loved her, truly I did. But time has a way of weaving the memories into a quilt that looks lovely on a display stand but isn’t so functional in day-to-day life.”
“Who’s the writer now?” Daylin brushed a hand through her hair. “I don’t remember you together in high school.”
“We weren’t. That came later…after.” Back then, he’d only had eyes for Daylin. How could he tell her that now? “I had my eye on someone else those days.”
“Really? Who?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I…no, I don’t.”
“It was you, Daylin. Back then, I wanted to talk to you…to know you more. But you always seemed so…distracted, so disinterested.”
“I was scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Scared of you…scared of getting too close. Getting close never seemed to work out for me…with guys.”
“I’m not just any guy, and we’re not awkward teenagers anymore.”
“I’m still scared.”
“I am, too.” Patrick grunted softly. “Family photos on the mantel…they’re frozen in time, never changing. But I’m not frozen in time. And it’s downright frightening to feel again…to want.”
“What is it that you want?”
“I’m not sure.” He stroked the pad of his thumb down the length of her jawline. “I suppose it depends on you.”
“How so?”
“I enjoy spending time with you, Daylin. I’d like to spend more. But I need to know…do you feel the same?”
8
January eased into February and, as the days slipped by, training became second nature to Daylin. She woke early to run with Patrick day after day, and found she actually enjoyed the crisp, clean air of East Tennessee sunrises. From time-to-time, she and Patrick peppered the routine with an evening jaunt. But, mostly, any evenings together were spent playing board games with Aubree and sharing dinner.
But today Daylin had broken from what had quickly become routine to spend a Saturday afternoon shopping with Frannie. Now they were reacquainted, they’d become fast friends. Daylin was thankful to call the kind-hearted woman her confidante; Frannie was the mother Daylin had always longed for.
“What do you think of this for when I talk to the ladies’ guild at church?” Daylin spun before the tri-paneled mirror in the dressing room, watching as a floral skirt fanned around her knees. She’d coupled the skirt with a soft, peach-colored blouse. “The colors are lovely and the length is right. And, I’m thrilled to find that the size tag is a few numbers less than I’m used to. Patrick was right—running is the best sort of furnace. It’s working even for me. I don’t even think about binge eating anymore…not in self-pity or fear or any of those reasons. I’m now focused firmly on family—and even more importantly—on God. ”
“Oh, hearing those words just warms me to the gills, Daylin. And the dress is lovely, dear. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. I can’t believe the ladies want to hear my testimony…all I’ve been through and how I returned to the church.”
“Your story is inspiring, dear. You’ve been through so much, tossed around the foster care system. But I believe you’ve finally found your true home.”
“Well”—Daylin admired her reflection once more. The skirt’s smart lines were flattering, for sure—“Maybe I won’t feel so nervous talking in front of the crowd, dressed in something this pretty.”
“There’s no need to feel nervous. Just be yourself.” Frannie clucked her tongue. “And I’d hardly call a few-dozen women a crowd.”
“Even a dozen is a crowd to me.” Daylin grimaced. “But there’s no turning back now. I’m not sure what I’ll say to them.”
“Talk about your journey…how you came to be where you are and who you are. That’s all.”
“It’s not a very flattering story. What if they don’t like me after they know…who I am…where I’ve been?”
“Daylin, honey, God gives us all a story…a journey, so to speak. What we do with it is the fabric that defines us. There’s nothing to be hesitant or ashamed about. Would you like me any less if I told you my deepest, darkest secrets?”
“Of course not.” Daylin gulped hard. “I love you, Frannie. You’ve been so good to me.”
“Now, that’s nice. I love you too, honey.”
“I can see how Patrick became so wise.” Tears filled Daylin’s eyes. “He’s had a wonderful role model.”
“Oh, his father was the role model. I’ve merely acted as the co-pilot.”
“That’s so sweet. Oh, I’m going to cry.”
“Don’t cry.” Frannie pulled Daylin into an embrace, smoothing her hair. “You’ll soil your pretty new outfit.”
“I don’t know what to do with this…your kindness…Aubree’s…Patrick’s.”
“God directs us where He wants us to go, and, depending on our state of stubbornness, we make it there sooner…or later.”
“Do you think He wants me here…with Patrick?”
“That’s for the two of you to pray about, to work through together. But, if that’s the case, it would make me very happy.”
“Really?” Daylin stepped back as a tear trickled down her cheek. She found Frannie’s eyes were misted, as well. “Truly?”
“Yes, my dear, really.” Frannie held a scarf up to her face, turned her head this way and that to check the color. “I think I’ll buy this. Now, let’s grab some lunch before we hit the shoe store.”
****
“What are you makin’, Daddy?” Aubree climbed onto the chair to peer over the stove top.
“Spaghetti.”
“Yum.” She sniffed the sauce, rubbed her belly in an exaggerated swirl. “It smells ’licious. Can I help you stir?”
“Sure. Put on this oven mitt and grab a wooden spoon.” He handed her the flame-proof cloth. “Be careful. Don’t get too close. I don’t want it to splatter on you.”
“I’ll be careful, Daddy.” She tugged the oven mitt onto her right hand and reached for the spoon. “Are we gonna eat with Daylin tonight?”
“Yes. She’s out shopping with Grams, but they should be back soon. They’re bringing dessert.”
“The chocolate cake I asked for?”
“That’s right, with vanilla bean ice cream.”
“Goodie.” Aubree’s grin revealed the gap where her two upper front teeth were missing. “I sure like Daylin, Daddy. Do you like her, too?”
“Of course I like her.”
“Are you gonna marry her?”
“I…” The question caught Patrick off guard. Sure, he and Daylin had been spending a lot of time together, and not just training. Somehow, their time together spilled over into much more than that—church, dinners, game nights with Aubree. “Why do you ask?”
“’cause she’s nice and she plays tic-tac-toe and checkers with me. And she taught me how to play crazy eights. That’s fun.”
“Yes, Daylin’s a lot of fun.”
“She tucked me in the other night when she stayed to watch a movie. She read me a story and sang to me, too. So, maybe she
can be my mommy.”
“You already have a mommy.”
“But I don’t get to see her anymore.” Aubree gave the sauce a disgruntled stir. “I want a mommy to hug me and sing me to sleep all the time.”
“Oh…wow.” Patrick rubbed a palm over his eyes. “Marrying someone is not that simple, Aubree.”
“Why not?”
“There’s a lot to consider.”
“Like what? Daylin likes ice cream and running and she sings real pretty…just like an angel.” Aubree scrunched her nose, considering. “And she smells good.”
“Those aren’t reasons to marry someone.” Although he had to admit, Daylin did smell good…very, very good.
“I don’t understand.”
“One day you will, honey. But for now, just stir the sauce.” Patrick tapped her nose. “God will take care of the rest.”
“So, if I pray about it, will God listen?”
“Of course He’ll listen. He always does.”
“Then I gotta get busy, Daddy.” Aubree handed Patrick the spoon and scrambled from the chair. She tossed the oven mitt onto the table as she moved toward the hallway. Her tennis shoes slapped over polished wood as she made her way to her bedroom. A clatter signaled the exact moment her knees hit the floor. Then, like a whisper upon the air, Patrick heard her tiny voice as she spoke to God.
Oh, boy…what now?
An engine drew his attention. The motor hummed as a car pulled up the drive. A glance through the window told him Daylin’s Honda slipped into park. Laughter erupted as the driver’s door opened and Daylin emerged holding a small shopping bag. No doubt, it was a gift for Aubree. The child had Daylin wrapped firmly around her finger and vice versa.
That wasn’t the worst of it. Patrick had wrapped Daylin around his heart, too.
The question remained…where did they go from here?
9
“How’s Aubree doing?” Daylin asked as she peeked over Patrick’s shoulder while he gave her maimed car the once-over. “You mentioned she’s been feeling poorly.”
“Yes…I was hoping we’d make it through the remainder of winter without another incident, but a few nights ago she started to run a fever. No cough, though...just a bit of an upset stomach so that’s good. The doctor said not to worry…she’s on the mend, but you know how that goes. I hope it doesn’t take a detour and blow up into more.”
“I’m sorry I called you. Perhaps I should have phoned the auto shop.” The car had finally given out, which really was no surprise at all. The poor hunk of metal was on its last leg. She should have been preemptive in searching the newspaper ads for something new, but with work and training for the race…and dinners with Patrick, time had slipped from her.
“It’s no problem at all. It looks like the alternator,” Patrick said as he wiped his hands on a shop towel and then stuffed it into his pocket. “I can fix that but I’ll have to get some parts, first.”
“Well, at least I know I can run to work if I have to.” Daylin’s lips curved into a rueful grin as she forced back doubts about troubling Patrick with a call for assistance. Guilt niggled, though, when she considered that with Aubree feeling unwell, the child needed him, too. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
“You have yourself to thank. You’ve put in the time, done the work.” Patrick opened the passenger door, took a piece of paper and a pen from the console. He jotted a list of the parts he’d need before shoving the paper into his pocket along with the towel and closing the hood. “But you won’t be running anywhere in those shoes.”
Daylin glanced down at the black leather pumps with heels that might be considered anything but sensible. “Oh, right.”
“No worries. I’m glad to take you to work and pick you up for the next few days. We’ll be finishing our training anyway, so carpooling might actually save some time.”
The race was just weeks away, and their training was coming to an end. Daylin felt the strongest, surest, that she had since high school. It was invigorating and exhilarating all rolled into one. But, what would happen when the race was dome? Would she continue to run, or would she fall back into her old habits. She couldn’t imagine crawling back into the dismal hole. Even more, she couldn’t imagine days without Patrick…Aubree, too. But would he still care to spend time with her?
Daylin cleared the sudden lump from her throat. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course I’m sure. Why do you think I wouldn’t be?”
“You just seem…I don’t know, out of sorts.” Daylin tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. March had roared in like a lion and the cool breeze teased them as they stood outside Daylin’s apartment where the car had refused to start, despite her pleas, followed by threats, and then tears. “Have I done something to upset you? Maybe I should have called a tow truck instead, had this piece of junk carted to the mechanic’s shop for an overhaul…that or the junkyard.”
“No, I’m glad you called.” Patrick rounded the car to her side, his gaze trained on her, the emotion nestled there difficult to read. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”
“Such as…?” Panic gripped Daylin. It always seemed to go like this…just as she began to feel hopeful, everything went south. She could almost hear the explosion of a crash and burn. “Talk to me, Patrick. Please.”
“It’s nothing.” Patrick took her hand, drew her close. His aftershave curled around her like a kiss. “I’ve missed you. It’s been a little bumpy with Aubree sick. As I said before, I was hoping we’d make it through the winter without another cold.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” Daylin gulped. Somehow, Patrick’s touch felt a bit stilted, stiff. What was truly on his mind? “Is Aubree feeling better?”
“Yes, it was just a minor bug. This weather has everyone mixed up. But she’s going to be fine. Actually, the doctor said all things considered, she looks better than ever. The treatments are going well. She’s strong, Daylin, and relatively healthy, considering. All the research is making a difference. It matters.”
“That’s great news. I’m so happy, Patrick.” Daylin sniffled as tears filled her eyes. How wonderful…truly wonderful.
“It’s OK.” Patrick brushed a tear from her cheek. “Mom’s going to let her spend the night tonight. They’ve been planning a sleep-over for a while and had to put it off because Aubree got sick. But, now that she’s better, it’s game-on. She’s been asking to see you.”
“I’d like to see her, too. If I didn’t have to work today…”
“I have to go into the store unless Julie can come in.” Patrick ran a knuckle over Daylin’s jaw in a manner that had become so familiar…and cherished. “Maybe I could call and check. It would be a nice break, let us catch up a little. And Aubree would be thrilled to see you. She’s been chattering non-stop about how you read her stories and sing her to sleep when you’re over. She’s also been asking questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Let’s see if we can both get the day off, iron out the details.” His tone said this wasn’t the time to push for more, so Daylin let it rest. “We need to talk, Daylin.”
This couldn’t be good. He was going to let her down gently, at least. She struggled to hold the tears back. “This time of the month is slow at the magazine. I don’t think I’d be missed too much. Maybe I could play hooky for the day.”
“Sounds like a plan. Twist my arm.”
“I think I will.” Daylin lifted her gaze to connect with Patrick’s. Something in those wolf-gray eyes wasn’t adding up. The rumbling of undercurrents was evident. An unsettling feeling rippled through, had her nerves humming on high alert. “I haven’t played hooky since my freshman year of college.”
“Then I’d say you’re long overdue. Make your call, I’ll make mine, and we’ll head to my place to give Aubree the surprise of her life. Then, later, when she heads to Mom’s and the dust settles, we’ll talk.”
****
“Whew, we survived.
” Patrick began to gather blocks and toss them into a bin. “I think we’ve been through the demolition derby.”
The living room was strewn with toys…from fashion dolls to puzzles they’d managed to squeeze a bit of everything in before Aubree hit the road with Frannie for a night at Gram’s. The aftermath was proof.
“Let me give you a hand,” Daylin offered.
“Teamwork, right?” Patrick grinned at her. “Then we’ll pour some coffee and relax.”
They made quick work of it, and then collapsed on the couch. Patrick stoked a fire in the hearth and brought Daylin a mug of coffee. Flames flickered, dancing along the walls as he settled on the couch beside her. He wondered if she’d noticed he’d put several of the photos away…tucked them into a storage box that he slipped into a closet in his office.
“Aubree was thrilled to see you. I don’t think she’s ever been so excited.”
“You’d have thought it was a month since the last time I stopped over, instead of a couple of days.”
“It felt like a month.” Patrick drew a sip of coffee before placing his mug on the coffee table. He set Daylin’s there, as well. “Like I said…I’ve missed you.”
“But we need to talk, right?”
“Yes. That’s right.” She looked so uncertain that he yearned to ease her fears. But he couldn’t—not yet.
“Go ahead,” she prompted. “You go first, because I have no idea what we need to talk about. I just know—”
“I love you Daylin.”
“That I have to—” She paused, backpedaled. “What did you say?”
“I love you.”
“Oh…my…Patrick.” She pressed a palm to her lips. “I…wow.”
He leaned in, drew her close as his lips claimed hers. She returned the kiss so tenderly that he thought they might meld into one.
“I take it that you’re good with that?”
“I love you, too, Patrick. Truly I do.” She stroked his jaw with a single finger. “Is that what you wanted to talk about? But I thought—”