Free Her Wedding Wish by Jillian Hart Page A

Medium well. With the salad and the loaded baked potato.”
    “That sure does look good.” He closed the menu. “Why don’t I like prawns?”
    “Your birthday. A fishing trip to the Oregon Coast. Prawns for lunch and then a boat excursion in choppy seas. How’s that for a clue?”
    He chuckled, and for an instant he was like the old Jonas, the hint of the man she knew so well. “I used to think it was a blessing you could remember for both of us. Now I’m not so sure. You know all my secrets.”
    “That was the kind of marriage we had.”
    “The kind we have.” He reached across the table for her hand.
    His gesture was so sincere that her heart broke all over again. He didn’t know what they’d had. She prayed they could get there again. She missed him, with all the depth of her soul. She missed talking with him, leaning on him, sharing with him, and, most of all, she missed loving him. The weight of his hand on hers, so warm, brought back memories of all the times he had touched her in comfort, in sweetness, in love.
    The waitress chose that moment to stop at their table. Jonas, bless him, did not let go.
    “Danielle. Jonas.” It was Marni, from their church. “How wonderful to see you, Jonas. I don’t suppose you remember me.”
    “No, miss, I’m sorry, I don’t.”
    Danielle watched the puzzlement creep back onto Jonas’s face.
    “About two years ago, I was coming home from closing up here, I hit a patch of ice and got myself hurt pretty bad. You were on patrol that night and stayed with me until the ambulance came. You even drove my aunt to the hospital to see me and then back home. You took care of the tow call, and when I came home from the hospital, my car was repaired and in my carport. I don’t suppose you remember.”
    “Nope. I’m glad you’re better now.”
    That was her Jonas. Danielle ached with love for him. Such a caring man. Always a man she—and everyone else—had counted on.
    Please, remember me, Jonas. It was a wish from her soul. Danielle closed her menu. “Marni brought by a casserole for the family every Saturday afternoon.”
    “Did she now?” Jonas looked bewildered.
    He had no idea all the outpouring of care and prayer that had come his way. What goes around comes around, and the old adage had proved true in his case. So many people had done so much for him and their family.
    “It was the least I could do.” Marni gave a shrug. “I felt bad for all of you. I prayed so hard for you and Dani.”
    Danielle’s throat tightened. “Marni, it made such a difference. Thank you.”
    The waitress swiped her eyes. “Goodness, it does my heart good to see you both here tonight. Now, what can I start you off with? Our appetizer platters are on special tonight.”
    There it was, that incredible healing sense of fellowship and community. Never had she been so aware of it than after Jonas was shot. “Jonas loves the mozzarella sticks. Thank you, Marni, for everything.”
    “Not a problem.” She took their drink and food orders with a smile and sauntered away, leaving a silence behind.
    She took solace when he didn’t move his hand from hers. They sat in silence, and yet the distance between them felt vast. She hadn’t noticed it before, at least not like this. She sat face-to-face with him finally—without the medical staff at the rehab clinic, or the kids to interrupt them, or errands pulling her in one direction and worries tugging her in another.
    What did she say now? Conversation had always flowed between them. From their first date, they had just clicked. It had not been like this, uncomfortable, fighting for common ground. What she wanted to talk about, he could not remember. He looked so serious that she didn’t want to remind him of what was lost.
    Her hand remained in his, and that did feel the same, as it once had. His warmth was so alive; he felt so solid and capable. His one touch could open her heart the way nothing in this world could. Why did it feel as if