Free Loving Care by Gail Gaymer Martin Page A

the oven or a steak on the grill. Now they lived on frozen dinners, carry-out and an occasional meal he actually cooked. He rose and took a step toward the kitchen.
    “No problem,” Joe said. “Tammy made a hamburger casserole.” He swung his hand in the direction of the kitchen. “We left some in the refrigerator.”
    Patrick wandered toward the fridge and yanked open the door. A baking dish sat on the middle shelf,its edges crispy brown. He popped the conglomeration into the microwave and grabbed a plate from the cabinet. When the buzzer sounded, he opened the door and a pleasant scent enveloped him.
    He’d only eaten a couple of forkfuls when his father appeared at the doorway and made his way to a wooden chair. The legs scraped on the linoleum as he dragged it away from the table and sat across from Patrick. “Not bad, eh?”
    “Not bad at all.” Patrick lifted another forkful of the meaty macaroni mixture.
    “I’ve been thinking,” Joe said.
    Patrick lifted his eyes, feeling a frown settle on his forehead. “About what?”
    “Christie.”
    “Christie?” His curiosity grew. “I ran into her today at the hardware store.”
    “You did?” He fiddled with the earpiece of his glasses. “She come to see you?”
    “Buying Peg-Board. Anyway, what do you mean you’ve been thinking about her?”
    “I don’t know.” His gaze wandered a moment while he thought. “She doesn’t talk to me anymore, and I’d like to fix that.”
    “Fix it? How?”
    “Make amends. I don’t know. You’re back, and it seems like we should be talking, too. You’re the one she divorced. Not me.”
    Though Patrick felt a grin flash across his face, his dad was right. Christie did seem to avoid hisfather, and with his health. But what could he do? Christie was as stubborn as he was. That’s one thing that hadn’t changed. “I suppose I could mention you’d like to see her, Dad.”
    “That’d be nice.” He motioned toward the casserole dish. “Any of that left?”
    Patrick’s spirit lifted. “Sure.” He sprang to his feet and piled some of the food onto a plate. “You need to eat more, Dad. You don’t eat enough.”
    “Enough for what?”
    Enough for what? Patrick set the plate in front of his dad. “Just enough.”
    His father’s question rang in his head. Enough for what? What was enough for Patrick? Not food, but life? He’d let so much slide. So much had faded in his life since he’d become an adult. Yes, he’d found his faith. That had been a revelation. Sean had filled his time and kept him going. But was that enough? Life seemed so long and terribly lonely without someone to share it with.

Chapter Seven
    C hristie stepped into the cooler shadows of the lovely old church and stood in the archway, searching for her mother’s salt-and-pepper hair and the cute little bald spot on her father’s head.
    She spotted them and scurried down the aisle before the service began. When she slid into the pew, her mother’s face made it all worthwhile. Her father leaned across to give her a nod before the organ hit the resounding chord for the first hymn.
    The congregation rose, and Christie followed, lifting the thick songbook in her hands, flipping with her finger until she found the page. “Majesty.” The words soared to the vaulted ceiling and reverberated against the thick wooden beams.
    She loved the old building. Though modern churches with auditorium seating were popular, herfidelity clung to the tried and true—the church in the wildwood as the old hymn rendered.
    As the praise song surrounded her, she thought about the past weeks. She knew she was headed for trouble with Patrick back in her life. More hurt. More sadness. And when Sean came to mind, envy knifed through her, and the whole horrible situation settled over her again. Would it ever go away?
    When the song ended, Christie sat and slid the book into the rack as she watched the pastor rise for the welcome and announcements. Her mind drifted to the