Read Online Heartache and Hope by Mary Manners - Free Book Online

five-year-old.”
    “Yes, then there’s that, as well.” Daylin’s laughter bubbled up. “I love this training shirt you handed out, the one with the Dash for the Dream logo. I didn’t expect to receive one. How do you manage to operate cost-free and still provide all these hand-outs and T-shirts?”
    “I have a partnership with a screen-print company. I provide the shirts, they do the screen-printing, and I advertise their work in the Dash for the Dream brochures and offer them space in my store.”
    “Your store?”
    “Yes, I own The Runner’s Source on Market Square.”
    “Wow. You own that?”
    “Uh huh.” He chuckled as her face scrunched in disbelief. “You seem surprised.”
    “It’s just…so that’s where I’ve seen you lately…in the commercials. I’m not sure why I didn’t put two-and-two together.” How could she have overlooked those deep, gray eyes, the smooth-as-molasses voice? She considered the very fact a testament to how out-of-touch she’d allowed herself to become. “They usually air on the local channels during the six and eleven o’clock newscasts.”
    “That’s right. You noticed.” His smile flashed. “So my marketing plan appears to be working.”
    “I’ve passed by the store a hundred times but have never been inside.”
    “In that case, I suppose the marketing plan might require a bit of an overhaul, then.”
    “Oh, no, don’t do that. You look good in the commercials. I mean, they look good.” Daylin stumbled over the words. “Allow me to rephrase…you do a good job with them…the commercials. I’m sure plenty of people—plenty of runners —make their way inside.”
    “Well, you’re a runner again now, so I’ll expect to see you there soon.”
    I’m a runner again now.
    “Wow.” The thought shed a blazing beacon on what she’d committed to. Daylin swallowed hard and smoothed a lock of hair from her eyes. “That sounds really weird to me, after all this time. But I guess I’ll be stopping by now that I need running equipment. What do you recommend?”
    “Shoes…socks…singlets…that sort of thing.”
    “Singlets? In the winter? That was definitely not one of the words I was looking for.”
    “Why not? You know that’s what runners generally wear.”
    “Because…” Daylin couldn’t imagine herself in one of the skimpy, sleeveless shirts. Sure, she’d raced in them way back when. But that was years—and pounds—ago. Heat fanned across her cheeks as she considered that another good snow might be just the ticket to keep her in baggy sweats and hoodies. Suddenly, she felt desperate to alter the line of conversation. “I edited an article on CF a few years ago, and I thought I’d learned a lot from it. But I’m floored by the statistics you shared tonight. One in thirty-six hundred babies is born with CF? Is that right?”
    “Yes.” Patrick’s smile faded as he nodded grimly. His arms tightened around Aubree. “By the most recent accounts.”
    “And it’s a genetic thing, passed down by a child’s parents?”
    “Right again. I’m a carrier and Sandra—Aubree’s mother—well, she was.” He paused to scrub a hand over his cheek, his gaze darkening with veil of guilt as he eyed his ring finger. “We had no idea either one of us carried the gene until Aubree was diagnosed shortly after her birth. The pediatrician caught it early, so that was fortunate as far as Aubree’s prognosis is concerned. But it was tough…the not knowing there in the beginning as to what, exactly, was happening.”
    “My goodness. There are no words. I’m…so sorry.” Daylin noticed once again that he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. His words echoed through her ears.
    Sandra…well, she was…
    Was what?
    A rustling along the tile behind them signaled Frannie’s return from the restroom. Daylin shifted feet and turned toward the amiable woman. As if reading her mind, Frannie answered. “Patrick married a classmate, Sandra Brevard. She passed away