Heartache and Hope by Mary Manners

spot.” But he wasn’t so sure about Daylin’s selection.
    Vera glanced back over one stooped shoulder to flash a toothy grin as she made her way down the aisle. “I’ll say it will settle just fine. Have fun working out those details now, you two. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”
    “Are you sure that’s all the dinner you want?” Patrick asked as he unrolled silverware from the restaurant-grade paper napkin. “It looks like barely enough to feed a baby rabbit.”
    “It’s plenty.” Daylin eyed the mix of chopped lettuce sparsely covered with cherry tomatoes, a few slices of cucumber, and a spattering of shredded cheese. “Especially this late in the evening.”
    “Do you mind if we pray before we dig in, then?” Patrick reached for Daylin’s hand. “My stomach is roaring. It’s about to become embarrassing.”
    “That would be…just fine.” Daylin draped her napkin over her lap. “I thought I heard a growl. Better make the prayer a quick one.”
    He reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers. She surprised him by reciprocating with a gentle brush of her thumb.
    “Would you like to do the honors?” He asked.
    “I’d rather not.” Daylin lowered her gaze. “That is, would you mind? It’s been a long time since I’ve prayed.”
    “Sure.” Patrick wondered at her hesitation, but didn’t question. Instead, he bowed his head and allowed his eyes to slip closed. Daylin’s breathing shuddered and her fingers stiffened in his. As he blessed the food with heartfelt words, he sensed a wave of anxiety course through her that caused his heart to ache. What had made her so nervous to talk to God in simple prayer?
    When Patrick lifted his head, his gaze connected with Daylin’s once again. In those wide-set honey eyes, he found a plethora of questions. He had one of his own.
    “Is there anything else you’d like to pray about?”
    “No.” Daylin shifted in her seat and reached for her fork. “I mean, what’s the point?”
    “The Bible says, ‘…call upon Me in the day of trouble—’”
    “Do you?”
    “Yes. I call on Him all the time. He’s my Counselor, my Guide. Life is virtually impossible without an ongoing dialogue with Him, at least for me."
    “Does it help?”
    “Of course.”
    “Then you must be one of the lucky ones, because He doesn’t listen to me.”
    “How do you know?”
    Daylin splayed her hands and blew a wisp of hair from her eyes. “History…my track record. My life hasn’t exactly been a cakewalk, so I just know .”
    “Sometimes His silence is the best answer.” Patrick picked up a fry and dunked it in ketchup. “He’s sure given me my fair share of no’s. That doesn’t mean I’ve quit asking.”
    “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.” The tines of her fork clattered against the salad plate. “Boy, am I doing a good job of making a mess of things.”
    “We all have our hidden talents.”
    “Or, in my case, not so hidden.”
    “That’s one of the things I like about you, Daylin. You are what you are. You don’t put on airs. It’s…refreshing.” Patrick’s lips curved into a slight grin, and he suddenly wondered how another man could so carelessly discard such a treasure. “Do you own a pair of running shoes?”
    “I do. I used them this morning.”
    “You ran?”
    “Just a little—and walked—on my treadmill. My thighs are protesting as we speak.”
    “You’ll get used to it.”
    “I know. But the shoes, they’re not in the best of shape. I guess I’ll need to buy some if I’m going to run regularly enough to attempt this race.”
    “You’re not just going to attempt the race, you’re going to finish this race—I’m confident that you will.”
    “Why are you so confident?”
    “I’ve seen you train, and I’ve watched you run.” He remembered the thrill as if it was just yesterday. Would they share that again? Could they?
    “And…”
    “I remember. I know .”
    “Well, I’m glad you do because