God's Gift. Dee Henderson

and reached to the medicine cabinet for the aspirin bottle. Her head hurt.

      God, I’ve decided I’m not going to cry anymore. My head hurts, my eyes hurt, and crying over the fact I flipped open a book and had a Valentine’s Day card he sent me fall out has got to stop. My life is full of reminders of him. He was in my life for ten years. He’s there, in scrapbooks, in snapshots, in little knickknacks around the house. He fixed my car, and helped build my bookshelves, he even tried to teach me how to make pizza. Work is filled with reminders of him, he is there in every decision and in every stock position we hold. God, I’m not going to grieve anymore. You’ve got to take away the pain. But I’m through crying. He’s gone.

      She felt like she had been sideswiped by the same semi that had killed Leo.

      When the pizza came out, she ate one piece and put the rest into the refrigerator, not hungry, not caring that she really needed to eat more than she had been in the last few months.

      She took a hot shower and let the water fill the room with steam, cried her very last tears until she felt hollow inside, and quietly said goodbye.

      She was going on with life. She only hoped it held something worth going on for.

      “What do you think?” Kevin asked, leaning against the side of the construction trailer.

      James looked out over the eighty acres of land Kevin was turning into a new subdivision of affordable homes and felt slightly stunned. “Kevin, you have done wonders with the business in six years.”

      His friend laughed. “Believe me, it has more to do with you than you realize. The early days of the business established such a high-quality standard that almost overnight the business opportunities began to come to us faster than we could meet them.

      “It was that house we built for Ben Paulson that turned the corner. He considered the construction so top-notch, that when he began to put together this community, he approached us with the business.”

      “How’s the business mix—new construction versus additions, reconstruction?”

      “It’s tipped sixty-forty toward new construction now. You want to take a look?” Kevin asked, motioning to the current homes being built.

      “Please.”

      They walked across the site to one of the framed-in homes. “We have five basic models going up in this subdivision. Most are selling before we even pour the foundation. This is the most popular model. Three bedrooms, two baths, with an open great room.”

      “You’ve got a good architect.”

      Kevin stepped into the studded kitchen. “Not as good as you,” he replied with a grin, “but Paul has an eye for both space and cost. He’s been a good addition to the team.”

      Kevin stepped through what would someday be a patio door. “Of course, partner, when you get tired of Africa, we’ve got a lot of work to do here.”

      James laughed. “I think you’ve got things well under control.” He looked around the staked-out lots and thought about what this place would look like in five years, full of homes and families and kids, a place for dreams to be born. It felt good knowing the business here had thrived while the work in Africa had thrived as well. There were times when he could see God’s hand at work and this was one of them. Instead of building only here, they were building both here and overseas.

      The doorbell rang.

      Rae was sprawled on the couch with the book that had come in the mail that day. It was Tuesday and it had been a long day. She had decided on the drive home that it was time to pick up the final part of life she had left idle since Leo’s death, the book she had been working on. When she had found the package with the medical text waiting for her on her doorstep, it had solidified her decision.

      She glanced at her watch. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

      With some reluctance, she put down the book and went to get the door.

      “Dave.” She was both surprised and pleased to see him.

      “Dinner?” He was carrying a pizza box from the place down the street and his smile made her grin in reply.

      “You angel. Sure. It’s what? Only ten o’clock?” she teased.

      “I just got off work, and it’s time for congratulations.”

      “Oh? You won your case?”

      He rolled his eyes. “You, my little friend. When were you going to call me?”

      Her…oh, the stock that went public…Her smile widened. It had been such a long day she had actually forgotten. “It was only a little killing,” she demurred.

      “Sixty-four percent in one day. And you had an even hundred thousand on the line. I would have brought ice cream as well, but they were out of pralines and cream. You look good,” he said, seriously.

      She wasn’t in the mood for serious tonight. “Thanks a lot, friend. Go get silverware, the game’s on.”

      He moved around her town house with the ease of an old friend, finding plates and napkins, the pizza cutter he had put in her stocking last Christmas.

      The living room coffee table had served as a table for many such late-night dinners. Dave discarded his suit jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves, kicked off his shoes. He settled on the floor, using the couch as a backrest. “Who’s winning?” The Chicago Bulls game was muted on the TV.

      Rae handed him one of the sodas she had snagged from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, helped herself to a slice of the thick-crust supreme pizza. “The Bulls are up by eight in the third quarter, the Sonics are having a bad night.”

      He nudged the book on the edge of the table around so he could see the title. “Cell Microbiology?”

      “Research for my book,” Rae commented easily, sinking back against the pillows she had pulled from off the couch. “This pizza is great. Thanks.”

      “No problem.”

      “What were you doing at the office till ten o’clock?”

      “Some pro bono work. Yet another father not fulfilling his child support obligations.”

      “Will he come through?”

      Dave shrugged. “I can force it here as long as he doesn’t go underground with a cash job or change states.”

      “You’ll let me know what the family is short?”

      Dave nodded. “The fund got enough cash?”

      “Eight thousand. It will last about another ten weeks.”

      “Let me know when it runs dry. I’ll match you again.”

      “Thanks.”

      Dave nodded.

      Rae smiled quietly at her friend as he snagged the remote and turned the sound back on. They frequently supported families they knew were in financial need. He was as generous as she was, he just didn’t like people to know it.

      They watched the game and ate pizza, the silence between them that of old friends. “So, have you thought about coming with us?” Dave asked finally.

      Rae laughed. “Lace sent you, didn’t she?”

      “Rae, you did not come last year. We understood. But you need a vacation. I’m not accepting any excuses this year. If I can get a week off, you can, too.”

      “Dave, I’ve got new clients to deal with, a load of new stock issues to evaluate, and a market that’s so high it makes me cringe. I can’t afford to be gone a week.”

      “That is exactly why you have to come. There is never going to be a good time to take a break. When the markets are good, you’re worried about them dropping, and when the markets correct, you’re worried about losing other people’s money. You’re