I was pretty certain I was falling for Weylyn Grey, but the moment I realized it for sure was not when he saved me from drowning or when he lay in that hospital bed after being struck by lightning. It was in a little roadside diner in South Dakota. After a goopy plate of biscuits and gravy, Weylyn and I ordered two pieces of blackberry pie. “Someone worked really hard to make this,” he said, pointing to his slice with his fork. That’s what sealed it for me, that simple appreciation for something that most of us take for granted.
