"There's confessing," he said, "and also intercession, when you pray on the behalf of someone else."
"I see," she murmured. "Does it matter if you don't do the formal prayers?"
"A prayer just has to come from the heart," he said. "It doesn't even have to be spoken aloud. God knows You. He loves You. He knows what you are thinking, feeling. He can read your heart."
She slowly nodded, her gaze on the coffee table rather than his face. Clearly, she was mulling all of this over.
Growing up surrounded by such strong religious influences had left Roy with a deep-seated belief in faith and an understanding that his life should be centered around worshipping God. He believed that taking care of others was one of the most important things anyone could do. He had always found solace in prayer, comfort in Scripture, and joy in singing hymns on Sundays with his family.
And he wanted to help bring Beverly to the church if he could.
"Does this help any?" he asked gently.
"I think. It's just... It almost feels like it's cheating," she blurted out.
"How so?" he asked, confused, furrowing his brow.
"To turn to Him now..."
"When you need Him most?" he asked softly.
"I... You might be right."
"And with Easter coming up... there's no better time to join the church."
He hoped he didn't sound too eager, that he wasn't pushing her too hard too quickly.
But before she could answer, the door opened. Mrs. Young had returned.
Beverly jumped up and hurried to the kitchen. She returned with plates and cans of Cola for them, and they started to split up the food Mrs. Young had bought them. The warm aroma of the egg rolls, chicken fried rice and beef chow mein filled the room as they began to eat.
Mrs. Young took over the conversation, talking to Roy about the orchard and his goals.
Beverly chimed in here and there with stories. Mrs. Young had more than a few to share herself, and they laughed and enjoyed themselves.
Roy watched Beverly with admiration as she laughed and joked along with her mom, Beverly's face aglow with happiness. He thought back to their conversation earlier and smiled inwardly—he could tell that whatever she had been seeking before was beginning to take shape. He hoped he would be able to help her find it fully one day soon, whatever it was that she needed.
Her mom finished eating first and went upstairs to retire.
"I'm still a little jet lagged yet," she claimed, although he had to wonder because of the meaningful look she gave her daughter before heading upstairs.
Now that they were alone again, Roy wondered if he could redirect the conversation back to faith.
"I suppose you're used to all of the manual labor," Beverly said.
"Oh, I'm definitely sorer than normal," he said with a laugh. "It's amazing how strong you have to be in construction."
"Definitely. I'm going to have to use more pulleys than before to help with some of the pieces, but I have a contract with a company for if we need to move any super heavy pieces that require machinery. I just... I hope to not have to because the ground is still so wet yet."
"No all of the water from the storm has soaked into the soil yet. I know. It's crazy."
"Oh, kids," Mrs. Young called down. "There's a basket in the kitchen, Beverly. Go ahead and enjoy."
"Thanks, Mom," Beverly called with a laugh. "Because kids can be in their twenties." She shook her head.
"I think to moms, her kids are always kids."
"He's right," Mrs. Young called.