With the father by Jenni Moen

With the Father JENNI MOEN

With the Father Copyright © 2014 Jenni Moen All rights reserved.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Published: Jenni Moen jennimoen@yahoo.com Editing: Autumn Hull and Tiffany Halliday Cover Design: Jenni Moen Cover Photo: iStock Photos ® ISBN: 0990851907 ISBN-13: 978-0-9908519 0-5

For anyone who’s ever second guessed a decision and wondered what if ‌

PROLOGUE PAUL Her back was turned to me and I used the opportunity to watch her shamelessly. Moments like this one, when we were completely alone, were rare and fleeting.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Though she wore it like that for convenience, it had the added benefit of showing off the gentle slope of her neck and the smooth flawlessness of her skin.

Of course, these were things I shouldn’t be noticing.

The ends of the ponytail brushed her upper back just above the letters of her ‘Karen’s Kitchen’ tshirt, which she’d tucked into a pair of fitted, though not tight, jeans. The uniform, which evidenced our common purpose and the reason why I was allowed to spend so much time with her, was mandated for all volunteers other than myself. Casual and splattered with tonight’s dinner, the outfit had the same effect as if she were wearing a ball gown. She was uncomplicatedly beautiful. A fact of which she seemed to be completely unaware.

These were also things I shouldn’t be noticing.

I would never admit it, but I was fascinated with her. I’d convinced myself that she was simply one of those exceptional people to whom others are drawn. I fooled myself into believing that my interest in her wasn’t inappropriate and that I was content just to observe her, knowing it would never be anything more. After all, she was a married woman and my life had never been my own.

But if either of those ever changed, I didn’t know.

I was a priest, not a saint.

ONE GRACE “Twenty-three boxes of spaghetti,” I said, running my hand along the top of the dusty row of boxes. I peered into the back of the cabinet to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. “I think we’re done.” I turned to face Father Paul, whose eyebrows were knitted together in concentration.

He looked up at the ceiling and his mouth moved silently as he counted. He flipped a page in his notebook and scribbled on what I guessed was a grocery list. “So we’re short potatoes, corn, red beans, and cabbage, but we should make it to the end of the month with everything else.”

We were finishing our weekly inventory of the food pantry. Food was always scarce toward the end of the month, and donations had been more scarce than usual recently. It wasn’t that our community was poor. There were a few families who had more than they needed; however, the majority of our small town worked hard for what they had. They didn’t always have extra, and what they did have, they didn’t part with easily.

Somehow, even though Karen’s Kitchen usually had to scrape by to get through the end of the month, it always seemed to work out. We’d never turned anyone away. The food just seemed to magically multiply when we needed it most. Loaves and fishes and all that.

I rolled my eyes and huffed more dramatically than necessary. “For the last time, we aren’t serving red beans and cabbage. My mother would roll over in her grave if she knew we were serving that in her kitchen.”

When he laughed, his eyes crinkled at the corners. I made a mental note of it so I could tell Arden.

My closest friend spent an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out Father Paul. I had to admit he was worth studying. He had kind and gentle eyes, exactly like you’d expect on a priest, but, every so often, something passed beneath the surface that led me to believe they’d seen more than he was willing to share.

What I found most intriguing was the scar. It was faint now, having lightened throughout the years.

However, it was unmistakable, traveling across his cheekbone from about an inch below his eye toward his ear. It looked to me like it had a story to tell though to my knowledge he’d never offered it up. Arden, however, wasn’t studying his scar and her comments weren’t limited to such.

I had to admit that he was undeniably attractive. Handsome, though not drop dead gorgeous.

Polished, yet rugged. Thin, yet fit. His unexpected good looks, along with the fact that he wasn’t a crotchety seventy-five year old man, had started tongues wagging from the moment he’d stepped into town. The old ladies of the church adored him. The younger ladies didn’t quite know what to do with him.

“I have big plans for the red beans and cabbage. You’d be surprised what you can do with some vegetable stock.” He looked thoughtful again. “Though maybe it’s an Irish thing. Unless we put some beef in it, it may not be accepted by the fine Texans in our community.”

The admission stunned me a bit and I tried not to gawk. Father Paul didn’t talk about himself much.

During the two years since he took over St. Mark’s Catholic Church, he’d shared very little personal information about himself.

All we really knew was what we’d been told by the Bishop before the transfer. He’d gone to seminary in Boston. Afterwards, he had been assigned to a large inner-city parish where he’d worked under an influential and respected priest in that diocese. After fifteen years there, he’d requested the

transfer that brought him half-way across the country to Merriville.

I wasn’t surprised that he was of Irish heritage. His name, Paul Sullivan, left little doubt of it.

However, he’d never spoken of it, or of any family for that matter.

Paul had a way of not sharing a lot without seeming like he was holding anything back. Rather than dwelling on the past, he preferred to talk about the future, speaking frequently and passionately about the importance of giving back to the community. His sermons often centered around his philosophy of giving people a hand up rather than a hand out. It was that attitude that brought him to Karen’s Kitchen where we served dinner three nights per week to anyone who showed up.

Like the rest of the volunteers, he worked the line, dishing out generous portions without reservation or judgment. After dinner was served, he frequently sat with diners, listened to their problems, and counseled them on ways they could improve their situation … whatever they may be.

He was a religious advisor, a crisis counselor, and a career coach, all rolled into one. I was pretty sure that he’d been sent straight from heaven, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Morale at the church was at an all-time high, and attendance was up as well. If you asked, it had everything to do with his delivery of the “Word” and nothing to do with the way he looked while delivering it. However, there was no denying that his most faithful parishioners were of a specific demographic: thirty-something women who were all too happy to help him with his philanthropy. I’d seen an influx of volunteers at Karen’s Kitchen since he’d become a regular last year.

Though my experience with Catholic priests was somewhat limited, the ones I’d been around didn’t look like Father Paul. And from what I knew about men in general, I didn’t think that those who looked like Father Paul often found themselves in the priesthood. Father Paul was an anomaly. A beautiful, kind, generous anomaly that I was lucky to have in my kitchen. Over the past year, he’d become more of a partner than a volunteer.

“An Irish thing, eh?” I asked, still thinking about the red beans and cabbage. “Do the Irish frequently spontaneously combust?”

He chuckled again but then suddenly turned serious. “I know what you’re planning, Grace, and you can’t subsidize us out of your pocket every month. It’s okay if we struggle a little. Someone will step up and save the day. It shouldn’t always be you. I will call some people from church and ‘wrastle’ someone up.” “‘Wrastle’ someone up?” I asked, laughing. Father Paul frequently used words that he considered to be indigenous to his new town.

“Yes. Did I sound like a real Texan that time?” His words were spoken too fast, and his Boston accent was too thick to ever fool anyone.

“Absolutely. Though maybe we should work on it a little more if you want people to think you’re a native.” Secretly, I hoped he never lost the accent. I loved listening to him talk, even if my comprehension level only hovered around seventy percent.

“Seriously, Grace. I’ll take care of it for you.”

“You’ve got enough on your plate. Besides, Jonathan and I knew that we’d have to chip in money when I took over.” I tried not to think about the reason why I’d taken over the kitchen.

“Well, everyone appreciates all that you do.” Father Paul looked down at his notes again and scratched something in the margins. “Both of you,” he added more quietly.

Arden’s head peeked around the corner. “We’re all cleaned up out here, but Mr. Wyatt’s acting up.

I think we could use your manpower, Father Paul.” She eyeballed him in an entirely inappropriate manner that had me nearly laughing out loud.

Father Paul tore the piece of paper from his notepad and handed it to me. “Looks like I’m needed

elsewhere. Why don’t you go ahead and head home? I’ll lock up.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, looking at the list. He frequently closed the kitchen for me, allowing me to get home to my kids earlier. “Will you be here tomorrow morning to load the take-away bags?” I asked though the question was unnecessary. Father Paul would be here tomorrow. He was always here. We were always here.

Working in Karen’s Kitchen allowed me to feel closer to my mother, who started the soup kitchen after she’d inherited a substantial amount of money when my grandparents died. It also allowed me to feel like I was making a tiny, miniscule difference in the world. All I really wanted was to accomplish something every day, something more meaningful than dropping off the kids at preschool and picking up the dry cleaning, not that I didn’t enjoy doing those things for my family. Because I really did.

“Of course,” he said in his thick northeastern accent. “Oh, and Grace?”

“Yes?” I answered.

“Add what you want to the list and leave it in the kitchen for me, but no grocery shopping. Let someone else save the day.”

I grinned. We both knew that I’d show up tomorrow with what we needed. I wouldn’t be able to resist. I might even surprise him and buy some red beans and cabbage.

He shook a finger at me and winked. Arden’s hand clutched my arm in response. I could almost feel her knees go weak. Of course, it didn’t take much to make my newly single friend’s knees quake.

“Are you coming?”

“Right behind you, Father Paul.” She watched his retreating back and waggled her eyebrows at me. “That is such a travesty,” she hissed when he was out of earshot.

“What is?” I asked, though I’d heard this song and dance before.

“That man, that’s what. A great injustice has been done upon the earth. He should have been Methodist or Episcopalian. Anything but Catholic. He should be filling the world with small Pauls.”

She raised a fist in the air. “This whole celibacy thing is archaic anyway.”

“You’re terrible,” I said, looking around for the bolt of lightning that was surely going to take her out. I was used to Arden and her infatuation with Father Paul. It was something that she’d become more vocal about after her husband walked out on her two years ago.

Arden and I had a long history together. We’d met on the first day of my freshman year of high school. My parents had moved to the opposite side of town, forcing me into a new school and a new set of friends. I’d been standing by a red locker that should have been green, lamenting the fact that I was no longer a Merriville Horny Toad, when Arden careened around a corner and inadvertently pushed me headfirst into my open locker. Though we were opposites, an unlikely friendship had been born. We’d finished high school together, chased each other to college, and ended up moving back to our hometown within two years of one another. Aside from my sister, she was my closest friend.

“Oh, whatever, you prude. I’m heading out. Are you almost finished in here?” she asked.

“I’m close. I need to straighten up a few things first.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to leave until everything was exactly where I wanted it. “Okay, see you tomorrow.”

I straightened the jars of peanut butter, making sure that all of the labels were facing out, grouping them by brand. Jonathan, my husband, frequently teased me about my compulsive behavior, but I’d been living with it my entire life. Only after the cans of soup and bags of rice were all standing neatly at attention did I untie the strings on my apron and toss it into the hamper near the door.

The lights were still on, but the dining room was empty when I emerged. I looked at my watch to

check the time. Inventory had taken longer than I’d thought it would, and I needed to get home.

My dad usually watched the kids while I worked at the kitchen. He enjoyed seeing me carry on my mother’s dream. Jonathan, who rarely got home before me, had dinner plans tonight with a prospective business associate and would be even later than usual. It was unlikely that he would beat me home, but I still felt the need to rush. Jonathan didn’t like the amount of time I spent away from the family while at the kitchen. It was better for everyone involved if I were the one to send my father home rather than him.

I walked through the quiet kitchen, retrieved my purse from inside the cabinet where I’d hidden it and let myself out the back door. Karen’s Kitchen wasn’t in a bad area of town. Frankly, there wasn’t any part of Merriville that I would consider bad. It was a small town where everyone knew everyone else. Even the homeless were familiar.

I dug through my purse, looking for my keys as I walked around the corner of the building and into the darkest part of the parking lot. The keys were still playing hide-and-seek as I approached my car, and I wished I’d insisted on getting a car with keyless entry. Arden’s new car unlocked when she touched the handle. She didn’t even have to use her keys any more. She considered herself quite fancy.

My hand found the keys just as I stepped up to the side of the car, and I felt guilty for my petty thoughts. There was nothing wrong with my car. It was only a few years old, and I was lucky to have so much when there were so many with so little. I was still scolding myself when a shadow shifted in my peripheral vision, causing me to jump and drop my newly found keys again. They clanged against the pavement of the parking lot – along with my heart.

The shadow moved closer and morphed into a man. He looked vaguely familiar though I couldn’t immediately place him. I shifted uneasily on my feet and clutched my purse to my chest as he moved closer. One arm extended toward me while the other remained hidden behind his back, and I shrank backwards until my backside bumped into the car.

“Can I help you?” I asked, my voice shaky and unrecognizable.

Cold lifeless eyes glared down at me, and the realization of what was happening smacked me hard in the face.

I’d seen him before. In fact, I’d served the man dinner tonight. It had been the first time I’d noticed him come through the line, but he’d stood out. Something had seemed off about him. I’d dismissed it, not wanting to judge a man who was probably just hungry. Like my mom, I tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. ‘People are inherently good. Even those that seem otherwise, are never too lost to be saved,’ she would say.

However, I was questioning the soundness of my mom’s advice as the man advanced silently upon me. My kids, my husband, my life … all passed before my eyes. I shoved my purse at him. It was replaceable. Everything was replaceable. “Take it. Take whatever you want.”

He reached for it with his left hand, but the sneer on his face made me question whether it would be enough. As I feared, he looked down at it as if it were nothing.

“The keys to my car are down there,” I said, glancing toward my feet. I was begging now, pleading with him to take it all and just leave.

He looked at my car and whistled under his breath. “It’s nice, lady. I bet a kept woman like you gets a new one every year. That rich husband of yours takes real good care of you, doesn’t he?” The sneer on his face grew more sinister, and his right hand emerged from behind his back. In the dim light, I could see the glint of a knife.

My heart thumped erratically in my chest, threatening to explode as he swung the knife back and

forth, teasing me with it. The faint street light gleamed off the metal as he brought it close enough to catch against my shirt. Another swipe and the cool metal against my torso was fleeting but threatening.

I wondered if this was going to be how I would die. I’d left my kids three nights a week to sling hash in an effort to do some good in our community, only so I could die in the parking lot. Even my mother would have agreed that it wasn’t worth it.

“Get away from her,” a thick voice bellowed, causing me to jump again. The voice and accent were familiar, though the timbre was unrecognizable.

My attacker reacted immediately. His eyes narrowed on me, as if to make one final threat, but he retreated into the shadows. His heavy body and lumbering gait would have been too cumbersome for an effective getaway under any other circumstances, but neither Father Paul nor I made any move to follow him. Instead, we stood staring at each other, the fear in the air still smothering us.

He looked at me with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” His hands gripped my upper arms as his eyes raked over me from head to foot to assess the damage.

My heart sputtered in my chest.

“Grace, are you hurt?” he asked, his voice more panicked.

I looked down at my stomach, half expecting to see blood seeping through my clothes. I exhaled in relief when there wasn’t any. I counted myself lucky. “I’m okay. Just scared.” A shudder ran through my body as I considered the what could have been.

What had I been thinking, coming out here alone at this time of night? It had been stupid. Reckless.

My kids needed their mother. My husband needed his wife. Nothing I was doing was more important than them.

Observing the quaking of my body, Father Paul wrapped his arms around me. The warmth of his body enveloped me, and I stayed there until the shivering stopped. “I’m so glad you were here,” I said, when I finally felt a little calmer.

I expected him to let me go, but his arms tightened instead. “I’ll always be here for you, Grace.”

His voice was so quiet that I wasn’t sure that he’d spoken at all. It was possible I’d imagined it. _________________________ I finally pulled into my driveway two hours later. I lowered the garage door and sat in the car, listening to the ticking of the engine as it wound down and replaying in my head the police officer’s assurances that they would do everything they could to find the man. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the fight ahead of me.

Jonathan was standing, head bowed, with his hands splayed on the kitchen counter top. My brows raised at the glass of scotch in front of him. I wasn’t afraid of having a glass of wine or two and even an entire bottle on occasion, but Jonathan rarely drank. He didn’t like feeling out of control. When he did drink, it was only because something was wrong, and he was looking for an escape. Alcohol and his family had a long history.

The door clicked shut behind me, and his head raised in response. “You’re home,” he said. The words were laced with a slight slur, and he stared at me with a perplexed look on his face that matched my own confusion.

“I’m sorry that I’m so late. Are the kids already in bed?” I asked, hoping that he was just irritated at me because it was so late and that it wasn’t something more serious. I moved around the bar so that I was standing beside him.

His eyes narrowed on me. “For several hours, Grace.” His sharp tone didn’t surprise me, though

the heavy exhale and drop of his head that followed it did. Shoulders sagging, he leaned forward as if he needed the counter to support himself before looking at me again. “I’m sorry. It’s just been one of those days,” he said. “Dinner ran long.” The fact that work had kept him out late wasn’t unusual and wouldn’t cause this kind of distress in Jonathan; late nights were expected when you owned your own business.

Unlike most of the wives in my circle of friends, I didn’t begrudge the time that Jonathan spent at work. We’d started the company in our college apartment and built it into what it was today. Though I’d helped him with bookkeeping and other behind the scenes tasks in the beginning, Jonathan was the reason for its nearly immediate success. There was no question that he was the brains and backbone of the operation.

Five years into our adventure, we’d decided it was time to start a family. Unfortunately, we hadn’t had the instant success with baby-making that we’d had with money-making. After more than a year of trying but failing to knock me up, Jonathan had all but demanded that I ‘retire’ so that I could focus all of my efforts on getting pregnant. As usual, he’d been right, and I’d gotten pregnant with Isabelle almost immediately after I’d quit.

From day one, she’d been one of those babies that was just easy. At the age of six, she was still easy. She was the kid that ate everything on her plate. She was the kid that you never heard a peep out of after the sun went down. She’d suckered us into thinking that having another would be no big deal, and her little brother arrived just seventeen months later.

However, no two children are the same even with shared DNA, and Trey was every bit as hard as his sister was easy. He refused to eat almost anything you put in front of him, and I couldn’t remember a single night when he’d slept through it. Even at four years old, our midnight traveler was rarely in his own bed when he woke up in the morning. He was our little artist. Our free thinker. Like his father, he would take the world by storm and had already made a good start by charming his way through the Mother’s Day Out program at St. Mark’s Catholic Church. There wasn’t a teacher in the program who wouldn’t give him anything he wanted.

My babies made trading work clothes and expensed lunches for yoga pants and Happy Meals an easy choice. Even so, I hadn’t forgotten about all of the goals Jonathan and I made together. Working side-by-side with him during those early years gave me a unique perspective. I understood the time and effort it took to build a business and keep it thriving.

When he looked up again, he rolled his shoulders as if to rid himself of tension. “You’re later than usual.”

The drama of events of the night hit me again. He was going to be upset. He would list all the reasons I should give up Karen’s Kitchen and shut it down. Some days I wondered if it was worth all of the time it took away from the kids, but I didn’t think I could ever give it up. It was all I had left of my mother.

“I was mugged in the parking lot as I was leaving. Dealing with the police took a while.” I said it with a wave of my hand as if it was no big deal. I used the same tone of voice that I would use if I were telling him that we’d run out of laundry detergent that day.

He closed his eyes for a moment while he absorbed what I was telling him. When they opened again, his gaze remained on his glass as he downed the last of its contents. He picked up the bottle of scotch and poured himself another drink before he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Grace, but what did you expect? You know how I feel about that place.” His words and tone were harsh, letting me know that he blamed me for what had happened.

“I know,” I said, trying to stave off the coming lecture though it was a hopeless endeavor.

“You don’t know anything about those people. They’re hungry and poor,” he continued, bringing his drink to his lips again. “Desperate people are the most unpredictable. You have no idea the lengths they’ll go.”

“I’d never seen this guy before. He wasn’t a regular, Jonathan. Besides, I’m fine.” I tried to address each of his points though I knew he wasn’t wrong. Tonight had proven that. “Plus, Father Paul came out just in time. He scared him off.”

“Did you get a good look at him? It’s important, Grace, that you gave the police a good description.

How confident are you in your description?”

“Pretty confident. It was dark, but I got a good look at him. He ate dinner with us tonight so we’re going to ask around to see if anyone knows who he is.”

He turned to me but said nothing. He seemed deep in thought.

“I can’t shut the kitchen down. It’s important to me, Jonathan.”

His expression remained hard, but he pulled me into his arms. “I know. I’m sorry. I just worry about you. I’m sure they will get the guy, especially if you gave the police an accurate description.” he said.

“Let’s hope so.”

“Even if they don’t … all that matters is that you’re okay,” he said, rubbing my back.

“The police said that it was just one of those random things. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I shuddered thinking about it. “Let’s talk about something else. How was your dinner?”

“Uneventful,” he said before grabbing my hand leading me to the living room. He walked to the fireplace and stuck a blazing log with the poker.

That had to be why he was drinking. Tonight’s dinner had been important. If he was calling it ‘uneventful,’ it hadn’t gone like he had hoped. “Wow. That’s some fire,” I said, changing the subject.

“It’s going to be going for hours.”

“I didn’t know how late you’d be so I made a big one.”

I sank into the chair closest to the fireplace. On a night like tonight, I was happy to have the comfort of it. The lights in the room were dim, but a row of candles across the top of the mantle were lit, creating a shimmering glow on the wall above it. A glass of white wine sat unclaimed on the coffee table. He picked it up and brought it to me before sitting down across from me on the couch.

“For me?” I asked, referring to the wine, the candles, and the romantic fire.

“All for you,” he said, settling into the couch.

After tonight’s events, I’d earned a glass of wine. Wishing it were red instead of white, I brought it toward my mouth, but stopped to rub a smudge off the glass with my thumb. “I’m not sure about that dishwasher. There’s lipstick on this glass.”

He nodded in agreement and sat across from me on the couch. “Maybe we need to call a repairman.”

I looked contentedly around the room, appraising what I could see of the house from my chair.

Though it had been tiny when we’d bought it just after getting married, it wasn’t tiny any more. We’d ripped it down to the studs and completely rebuilt it just two years ago. In its previous state, it was the place where dreams had been built. Now, it was my dream home. With the exception of the dishwasher.

“So tell me about the rest of your day. Any other excitement I should know about?”

Jonathan listened attentively while I recounted my day. Aside from the mugging, it was mundane stuff. I’d taken the kids to school. This was the last year that Isabelle would be at the church preschool. When she moved on to first grade next year, she’d be going to a much larger school. Trey,

who was in pre-K would have one more year there. I recounted dropping them off and working my shift in the soup kitchen as Jonathan loosened the collar of his shirt and removed his tie.

“Did you see your dad today?” he finally asked.

“I did. The kids and I took him some lunch after school.”

“Good,” he said with a smile.

I eyed the man sitting beside me. Without his tie, he didn’t look nearly as formidable. His hair, which had been artfully arranged when he’d left this morning, looked like he’d run his hands through it all day. Another sign that he’d had a rough day.

Even though I’d just settled into my favorite chair, I stood again and moved to sit beside him on the couch. His lips curled into a smile. He knew I didn’t like being so far from him.

He could have teased me. He knew the effect he had on me. It was on the tip of his tongue to do so.

But he picked up a piece of my hair, wound it around his finger, and studied it instead. “He needs to get out more. It’s been over a year,” he finally said, continuing our discussion about my dad.

In fact, it had been fourteen and a half months since my mother died. My dad had retired at the age of sixty only six months before and then was left to rattle around their huge house all by himself.

I missed my mother every single day, but I had a lot of things to keep me busy. My dad had nothing but a dog to fill his days. Consequently, he rarely got out of the house. I checked on him everyday to make sure he was eating properly, to make sure that he hadn’t given up on life. “He seemed better today.”

“I thought so, too. Are you going over there tomorrow?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure we will. I worry that he won’t eat if we don’t.”

“Take him out for lunch tomorrow. Somewhere new – like that new burger place on Caddo. She wouldn’t want him to live like this. She would want him to move on. He’s too young to stop living.”

I didn’t think that a burger was going to help my dad get over my mom. “I think they close for lunch at 2:00 and then open again later for dinner.”

He raised an eyebrow at me.

“I have to put together the take-away bags tomorrow so that they’re ready for Friday.” I squared my shoulders and prepared for part two of his usual lecture series.

He eyed me thoughtfully but said nothing.

I sat my glass of wine down and picked up his glass instead. “Thanks for the wine, but I don’t think it’s going to cut it tonight.”

A mischievous smile spread across his face. “My beautiful big-hearted wife is a lush and a thief.”

“Shut up,” I said, grinning at him at him like a fool. After two kids, my hips were too wide, and my hair was too limp. When I looked in the mirror, all I saw was a tired mom. However, when he looked at me like this, I couldn’t help but feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. “I was looking at vacation spots online today.”

“Catching up on Kate?” he asked, referring to my sister who traveled the globe like a superstar for her job writing for a travel magazine.

“No. For us. I thought we could leave the kids with my dad and get away for a few days. Maybe just a quick trip to Mexico or something?”

“It’s too dangerous there right now,” he said.

“We could go somewhere else. I also looked at Turks and St. Thomas. There are some good deals out there right now. Heck, I wouldn’t mind Vegas at this point.”

His expression was reproachful. “I can’t take off the time from work right now, Grace,” he huffed.

His voice was sharp with annoyance.

I looked away, scolded.

He sighed heavily. “Maybe in a few months, okay?” When I turned back, his expression was softer.

“How were the kids today?”

“Good. I could not get Trey out of that Spiderman suit. He wore it to the grocery store this afternoon.”

“Of course he did.”

“Everyone was oohing and ahhing all over him – he loved it - right up until he tried to climb the shelves to rescue a bird flapping around the ceiling, and all the cereal boxes hit the floor.”

‘Look, Mommy! I’m climbing the walls just like Spiderman. Spidey to the rescue!’ he’d said just before everything came crashing down around him. He’d been so proud of himself right up until he’d discovered that he couldn’t fly.

“Did you clean it up?”

“I tried, but I ended up buying six beat-up boxes of cereal. Whether he likes it or not, Trey’s going to be eating shredded wheat for the next two months.”

Jonathan slid his arm around me. “You’re a great mother. They’re lucky to have you.” He said the words as if he knew they were the most seductive in the world, and I melted around him. His mouth met mine, and I completely forgot that he’d never told me about his bad day. _________________________ The shrill of the alarm woke me. It jolted me from sleep and immediately set me on edge.

My head argued with the alarm. It couldn’t be time to get up yet. I felt like I’d hardly slept at all.

My arm was as reluctant to get up as the rest of me. I tried to reach out to slap the top of the alarm, but prickling needles rendered it useless. I rolled on my side to reach for the clock with the arm I hadn’t been laying on.

The numbers glaring at me explained why I felt like my night had been cut short.

1:38 AM was a wretched hour of the morning for the alarm to be going off.

The realization that it was not the clock causing the offensive noise hit me at the same time that the smell did, and my body finally reacted. Jumping out of bed, my feet kicked the shirt I’d been wearing the night before. In a daze, I stumbled around the bed, cut it too close, and stubbed my toe on the footboard. My yelp was drowned out by the bleating smoke detector.

“Jonathan, wake up! Wake up! The house is on fire.”

Fortunately, he was not as slow to react as I had been. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and was headed out the door even before I had my shirt over my head. His boxers were in his hand and he slipped his feet into them as he hopped down the hall.

“I’ve got the kids,” he yelled over his shoulder as he moved down the hall, his words barely audible over the chirp of the smoke detectors. As we got closer to the main part of the house, the noise began to compete with a crackling whisper that was both foreign and terrifying.

With nothing other than my children on my mind, I rounded the corner into the living room right behind Jonathan. There was no way either of them were sleeping through the wailing smoke detectors.

Isabelle would be in her bed, afraid to leave it, and there was a good chance that Trey would be with her. For the past six months, he’d been just as likely to climb in bed with Isabelle as with us.

Unprepared for the thick blanket of smoke in the room, I gasped and sucked in a lungful. I bent over in half, coughing. “Jonathan,” I gasped.

He backtracked for me and pulled me down to the floor. “Crawl, baby.”

From the floor, I had a clearer view of the fire that was eating its way across the only wall that separated the kitchen and the living room. The other side of the partial wall, the side I couldn’t see, was where the double ovens were. Jonathan constantly chastised me for forgetting to turn them off.

‘You’re going to burn down the house,’ he would say as he’d walk by and hit the off button.

For the briefest second, I wondered if I’d finally done it. Had I burned down our house?

The thought ate a hole through my stomach. However, the instant that I reached the entryway, any guilt was replaced with panic as I clawed my way toward the stairs.

The flames were working their way toward the base of the curved staircase. The heat was stifling and the sounds that accompanied it weren’t the relaxing sounds that we’d enjoyed in front of the fireplace earlier that night. The crackling and popping had turned into something closer to a roar, nearly drowning out the still bleating smoke detector. Though I could barely hear it, I could feel its pulsing timbre in my veins, and my heart beat wildly in time with it.

Jonathan, who was still ahead of me, crawled back to me. He handed me his phone and I stared at it blankly before looking back at him. Shielding his mouth with his hand, he coughed out, “Grace, I’ll get the kids. You go outside and call for help. Meet me outside Isabelle’s window.”

Despite everything, he remained calm. He looked at me with steely determination, a look with which I was very familiar. The set of his brow and clarity in his warm amber eyes convinced me with one glance that our kids would be safe and sound in his capable hands.

I didn’t doubt him. Jonathan had never given up on anything or anyone in his entire life. He would succeed. He would get us all out of the house and keep us safe, which was exactly why I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to help him and knew he would rescue us all if it came down to it.

“I think we should stay together,” I sputtered, crawling after him. We both eyed the flames that were now moving across the bottom of the stairs, effectively separating us. The smoke stung my watering eyes.

My handsome hero crouched, in his boxers and bare feet, four steps up and shook his head deliberately. “No,” he insisted. “I’ll get Trey and then Isabelle and then lower them to you from her window. You need to be there to catch them.”

I nodded wordlessly, letting his instructions sink in. Even in a panic situation, he had a plan. My head spun as I debated all the places I needed to be simultaneously.

I needed to call for help.

I needed to be with my kids.

I needed to be outside to catch them.

Jonathan nodded at me one more time and headed up the stairs. I turned to the front door and threw it open. A gust of air blew in, and smoke whooshed around me in response. Turning back to the stairs one last time, I was horrified to see the flames already dancing their way up to the second step.

They were following Jonathan. In a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, they would engulf the entire staircase. Smoke gathered on the upper landing, and I could no longer see him.

‘Call for help,’ he’d said.

The urge to follow his instructions waged a war against my more primal, maternal instinct to follow him and protect my children.

My whole life was at the top of the stairs. Everything I cared about. They were my whole world. I was a mother. I was a wife. Without them, I had nothing. I would be nothing.

I stared at the flames now spreading to the third step. Soon it would be impassable. My home was a lost cause, but my family didn’t have to be. If I went upstairs, Jonathan could jump first, and I could drop the kids to him. He was stronger and taller. He should be the one catching them.

I stared into the fire. I could still jump over it, but I had to go now.

But, ‘Go get help,’ he’d said.

Should I go upstairs or go outside? I frantically looked around for any sign that would help me decide what to do.

I weighed my options for only a few seconds more, but it was as if time stood still.

AUTOPILOT GRACE The ground was hard and dry. The brittle grass crunched beneath my shoes as I navigated my way through the stones.

It hadn’t rained during the past sixty-two days. That’s what they’d said on the news this morning.

We were officially in a drought. However, I hadn’t even noticed. As far as I was concerned, the sun hadn’t made an appearance at all during the last five months. Of course, a tsunami could have come through southern Texas and I wouldn’t have noticed that either.

I turned left at the praying Madonna and right at St. Vincent de Paul. Like most things around me, I didn’t notice these markers. I’d made the trip so many times that thinking was no longer required. I could get there on autopilot.

My entire life was on autopilot.

It wasn’t until my feet hit the familiar patch of green that I could breathe without it hurting. The heavy weight that usually pressed upon my chest lifted, and I gulped in the air. Even as tears began to sting my eyes, I felt better.

I dropped my bag and settled down beside it. The soft blades tickled the palm of my hand when I ran it across the grass. I’d never asked myself why this one spot – this one 12’ by 6’ square of grass – was maintained and manicured while every other plot remained ignored, and today was no different.

I didn’t ask because details meant nothing to me any more. Besides, it just seemed right. After all, this patch of earth should be as beautiful as the perfect family who now laid beneath it. _________________________ It was dusk before I got to my feet again. After nearly four hours of constant chatter, my voice was gravelly and my throat scratchy. It didn’t matter though because I didn’t plan on speaking again for the rest of today.

Four tiny steps put me within reach of the single headstone. Running my hands over the marble, I traced the letters of each of their names.

“Good night, Trey.”

“Isabelle.”

“Jonathan.”

Finally, I forced myself to turn away. When I reached the wrought iron gate, it was still open even though the sun was low in the sky. My car, which was parked just outside, glowed in the orange hue.

Like everything else in my new life, it was an uninteresting car. Something on the smallish side that my dad picked up for me to try and coax me out of the house. If you asked me, and I wasn’t standing in front of it, I probably couldn’t even tell you what color it was.

Everything I owned was new. Bright and shiny and new. And none of it felt like it was mine. I was living someone else’s life with someone else’s things.

“Grace.”

“Kate.” I continued to rummage through my bag for my keys and didn’t look up. Though I hadn’t expected her to come looking for me, I knew why she was here.

She’d mentioned something this morning about going out for dinner tonight. As usual, I’d brushed

her off. I didn’t want to go out for dinner. Generally, I didn’t want to go anywhere, and she knew that.

She knew me better than anyone.

The flip side was that I knew her just as well and knew exactly what she was thinking. Meeting me here was her attempt at cutting me off at the pass. She didn’t want to give me the chance to make it home where I would inevitably crawl back into bed for the next twelve to fifteen hours.

When I wasn’t here, that was where I spent most of my time. Months ago, they’d given me pills to help me sleep. In the beginning, I’d needed them. They’d tempered the nightmares and deadened my memories. But I didn’t take them any more. I was an expert sleeper now and attempted daily to sleep my life away.

That was exactly what I wanted to do right now. I wanted to go home and sleep what was left of the day away. I certainly didn’t want to go out to dinner and sit in a restaurant where I’d no doubt run into people I knew.

Our town was small. Too small. Everyone knew my story, and I couldn’t stand all of the pitying glances and curious stares. People whispered about me because I was the one who’d lived. Everyone wanted to talk about me, but no one wanted to talk to me.

I didn’t blame them. If I were in their shoes, I’d whisper about me, too. Everyone loves a tragedy and I was the biggest tragedy in town.

“Load up. We’re going out.”

“I’m not,” I said, still looking for my keys.

“Are so.”

“Are not.”

“Get in.”

“Fuck off,” I said, finally giving up on my keys and looking up. I threw a hand over my eyes to shield them from the setting sun. It was only then that I realized that Kate wasn’t alone.

“Ohhh, Father Paul. I didn’t realize.” He was leaning against his equally uninteresting car.

However, the smallish, darkish box on four wheels sharply contrasted with the sparkling silver convertible double-parked behind it. Kate’s car was as flashy as she was.

“It’s good to see you, Grace,” he said softly, nodding ever so slightly in greeting. A cautious smile played at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I said in an equally soft voice before turning back to Kate. “You blocked the wrong car.”

Kate smirked at me. “They look alike. I didn’t realize that this one wasn’t yours until Father Sullivan got out of it.”

“You’ve been talking?” I asked warily. “Is this going to turn into an intervention?”

“The thought had occurred to me.” She turned toward him as if to propose the idea. “Would you like to have dinner with us?” she asked instead.

I groaned. “I’m not going out to dinner.” I stomped my foot like a petulant child. The faint smile on Father Paul’s face grew wider, but he remained silent. He seemed content to watch the drama unfold between us.

“Get in the damn car, Grace. A burger is not going to kill you.”

“Don’t cuss in front of the priest,” I hissed, squinting and glaring at her through one blinded eye.

He chuckled. “I’ve certainly heard worse.”

“From you, apparently,” she said, bowing dramatically. “This is not up for debate, Grace. Let’s go.”

I shook my head.

“Father, are you coming?” she asked.

I knew what she was trying to do. If she could get Father Paul to agree to come, then I’d have a harder time telling her no.

“I haven’t had dinner yet. Just let me lock up, and I’ll follow you,” he said.

Oh, good Lord. They were ganging up on me. “I’ll follow you, too,” I huffed and turned again toward my car.

“No way,” she said. “I don’t trust you. We’ll get halfway there, and you’ll turn off and go home and crawl into bed.”

No one knew me better. “Fine,” I said. “Are we just going to leave my car here?”

“It’ll be okay here,” Father Paul said, returning from locking the gate. “No one will mess with it.”

I shrugged. I didn’t care if they did.

I trudged through the gravel to the passenger side of Kate’s car and slid into the plush leather seat that fit her personality to a ‘T’. Even though she didn’t plan on staying in Merriville, she’d spared no expense on her car.

My sister lived a totally different lifestyle than I did. I’d gotten married young and had kids. She’d spent the last ten years traveling the world with nothing tethering her. She’d done well as a travel writer, and now she had her pick of assignments. She could go pretty much wherever she wanted.

Presently that meant moving back to our hometown and hovering over me.

“Well, isn’t this nice?” she asked, sliding behind the wheel. “I can’t believe his Holy Hotness is coming with us. Does he eat meat?”

“Geez, Kate, he’s Catholic. Not a vegetarian.”

“Well, yeah, but I wondered about the whole animal cruelty thing. Saint Sexy looks like he likes animals.”

“Again. Affiliated with the Catholic Church. Not PETA. You’re a moron.”

“Do you see what’s happening here?” she asked as she stopped at a light.

“What?” I asked, looking out the passenger window so I didn’t have to look at her.

“We’re having a normal conversation.”

I remained silent. Nothing really felt normal. No matter what I was doing, no matter who I was doing it with, it was all varying degrees of abnormal. Going for a burger like I was anyone else felt highly abnormal.

“We’re here.” She pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car. “Are you going to be okay?”

I stared blankly at her.

“Seriously. I know I’m yanking you out of your comfort zone, but I just …” She grabbed the hand that was resting in my lap. “I just don’t want you to forget.”

“Forget what? Trust me. I haven’t forgotten anything.” I looked away again because I didn’t want to cry before I had a burger with my crazy ass sister and the town priest.

“Forget how to live,” she said, squeezing my hand again. “I know you’re not ready, but every now and then, I feel like I need to remind you how to live. Jonathan wouldn’t want you to be sad forever.”

I thought about what he’d said about my dad the night he’d died. She wouldn’t want him to live like this. She would want him to move on. He’s too young to stop living.

I knew he wouldn’t want me to stop living just because he couldn’t be a part of my life any more, but that didn’t make it any easier. I let go of her hand and sighed an audible, exasperated sigh. I got out of the car and walked toward the front door of the restaurant without looking back at her.

I didn’t have to tell her. She already knew. I didn’t want to live.

_________________________ Minutes later, we were seated at a booth in the corner. I was pretty sure that she’d specifically asked the hostess to put us as far away from other people as possible. She might be trying to remind me how to live, but she was doing so with baby steps. I was still angry at her for having forced me into this but at least she was trying to make my reintroduction into the world as bearable as possible.

Father Paul was right behind us and slipped into the other side of the booth looking a little less priestly than he had a few minutes ago. He’d taken both the black shirt and the collar off, and he was wearing a tan V-neck t-shirt with his usual black pants. He didn’t look at all like the Father Paul I knew, and I wondered if it was even allowed.

“So Father Paul,” Kate began, “Grace here says you can eat meat. Is that right?”

He smiled at her, but eyed her warily as if he thought she might be setting him up somehow. “Yes, I eat meat.”

Kate continued on, oblivious to anything other than her curiosity regarding his carnivorous nature.

“Good because I wasn’t sure. It’s been a long time since I went to church. And, I’m not sure what the Church’s stance is on meat these days.”

Father Paul chuckled softly. “As of yet, the Vatican hasn’t taken a position on meat. Outside of Lent, of course. But, personally, I have no beef with it.” There was a glint of mischief in his eyes that I’d seen only rarely. Kate had that effect on people.

“Father Paul, are you making a joke?” Kate asked.

He peered down at his menu as a full-on grin took over his face. “There’s no prohibition on jokes either.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, glancing back at her own menu. “I have to be honest. I wasn’t sure what dinner with a man such as yourself would be like.”

“A man such as myself?” he questioned, his laugh slightly more boisterous this time.

“Yes, you know,” she said, waving her hand ceremoniously in his direction. “A man of the cloth.”

I rolled my eyes. “Have you two actually formally met?” Kate and I grew up in Merriville, but Father Paul had only lived here for a couple of years. She’d left town long before he arrived.

They looked at one another guiltily and then looked at me. “We’ve met,” he finally said. That one glance told me everything I needed to know. Neither would want to say it aloud, but I knew. They’d met at the funeral.

“Oh,” I said, nodding dismissively. I didn’t want to hear the words any more than they wanted to say them.

“Are you still staying at home?” The question was directed at Kate so I went back to my menu.

Nothing sounded good to me.

“Yes,” Kate answered. “Dad and Grace are all I have. We are family.” She sang the last sentence to the tune of Sister Sledge. Father Paul looked at her curiously but swallowed any question he may have had as the waitress walked up to take our order.

While we waited for our food, I sat quietly, trying to disappear into the tall-backed seat. I studied my silverware. I counted the cars in the darkening parking lot. I did whatever I could think of to keep myself from looking around the restaurant. I didn’t want to know who was there and if they were staring.

“So what inspired you to become a priest,” Kate asked after our food arrived. I poked at my burger while waiting for his answer and flicked some sesame seeds off onto my plate.

For a moment, I wished that Arden was here with me. She would have loved to hear his answer.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t seen much of her during the past few months. Maintaining a relationship with her had become too difficult. I knew I could call her if I needed her, but the connection we’d once had was missing. Me, with my inability to talk to anyone on any kind of real level, and her, with her very alive family, it was just too hard. Out of necessity, I’d distanced myself from her.

I finally looked up because an awkward amount of time had passed since Kate asked the question. I was also interested in his answer. Similar to me, Father Paul was staring at his plate like he expected something to move on it. Finally, he looked up and said, “Life. Life happened. Sometimes unexpected obstacles are thrown at us, and we have no other choice but to embrace them. Sometimes our path in life is not of our own choosing.”

It was a trademark Father Paul-ism. The formerly talkative Kate stared at him and blinked.

“I just meant that we don’t always have a choice in things,” he added. “You have to cope the best way you can. Grace knows what I am talking about.” He threw an encouraging and sympathetic smile in my direction.

If he was expecting me to talk about the unchosen path that I was on or the obstacles I was currently hurdling, he had another thing coming. I knew all about life choosing you instead of you choosing it.

However, I wasn’t going to talk about it. If the two of them had thrown together an impromptu grief counseling session, they were going to be supremely disappointed. I had nothing to say on the subject of coping. I was fairly certain I was failing miserably at it anyway.

I nibbled on the end of a cold French fry before tossing it back on my plate and looked up to find Father Paul still watching me. He smiled his most reassuring smile. It was a lifeline that he usually reserved for the most hopeless souls coming through the soup kitchen. “You’ll get there. Takes time.”

“Well, I have plenty of that.” That was the honest to God truth. All I had was time. I pushed the burger around on my plate, hoping that if I continued to move it, no one would notice that I was no longer eating.

I wasn’t hungry. In fact, I was never hungry. The days of looking in the mirror and worrying that my stomach was too big, that my ass was too round, and that my thighs were too flabby were a thing of the past. I didn’t need to worry about those things any more. I was wasting away, but I didn’t care.

With any luck, one day I’d just completely disappear.

“The fries are really good,” he said as if he’d read my mind and thought he could persuade me not to give up.

“Father Paul,” Kate interrupted. “So, where’d you grow up?”

“How about we ditch the ‘Father’?” he asked, looking at me while answering Kate.

“Isn’t he always with us?” she asked, teasing him.

He redirected his gaze to her and laughed loudly. “Indeed. Kate, are you making a joke?”

She giggled like a schoolgirl. “It’s a specialty of mine. If you need pointers, I’d be happy to help.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So do your friends just call you ‘Paul’?”

“Typically, yes.” His expression indicated that he thought the question was a ridiculous one.

“Though nobody around here does, I guess.” He grew quiet, as if considering the implications of that.

Kate smiled warmly. “Well, fantastic. Grace and I will be your first uncongregational friends in Merriville. We would be happy to call you Paul.”

“Every now and then,” he started, his eyes darting to me before he finished, “it’s nice just to have dinner with a couple of friends.” He emphasized the last word as if he was trying it out.

I stared at him. Unmoving and unbending. I’d spent a lot of time with him while working at Karen’s Kitchen, but he was always ‘Father Paul.’ I didn’t feel comfortable calling him anything else.

“Can I ask you a question, Friend Paul?” she asked. “Even if it’s vocationally related and you’re technically off the clock and we are decidedly uncongregational?”

He pushed away from the table and leaned back in his chair intrigued. “Sure. Go for it.”

“Okay, confession time,” she said, her voice a hushed conspiratorial whisper.

“You have one?” he asked, taking a sip of his water.

“No. That would take us all night. I want to know what’s the juiciest, most exciting thing you’ve heard during confession. No names, of course.”

“No names, of course,” he said, clearly entertained. “Well, you know I can’t answer that. Even without names.”

She pouted for a few seconds while her eyes darted between my untouched bacon cheeseburger and her grilled chicken salad. “Okay, tell me this then. Coveting. How bad is it, really? I mean, let’s say that I covet my neighbor’s … rose garden.” She reached for my burger. “I might, theoretically, wander over there and take a look around. Maybe I even pick a flower every now and then, but I leave the bush behind.” I smacked her hand just before she picked it up. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it? Any chance at redemption?” she finished.

Father Paul was amused. “Well,” he began, laughing and rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah … so I’d say you’re in a bit of hot water here … theoretically, of course. Even if you’re only picking a flower every now and then and leaving the bush where it is, it’s still your neighbor’s bush.”

“So you’re saying, ‘don’t touch the bush’?”

“That’s what I’m saying. Don’t touch the bush. You’re going to get burned.”

“Some bushes do that,” she said, nodding seriously.

He laughed. “Maybe you should conduct mass for me on Wednesday,” he said, pointing at Kate.

“Only if you want the place to burn down.”

“Okay, your turn. Tell me about your job. I believe I heard that you’re a travel writer. Tell me about somewhere exciting that you’ve been.”

That was all Kate needed. As she recounted her adventures in exotic places like Madrid, Cambodia, and Machu Picchu, I don’t think she even realized that he’d avoided her question and never really answered why he’d become a priest.

I stayed quiet while they talked throughout the rest of dinner. Kate could on carry a conversation all by herself, but Father Paul somehow managed to interject questions and comments here and there. He seemed genuinely interested in and amused by what she had to say.

At times, it felt like I was watching a first date, except without the awkwardness that comes with not knowing what’s going to happen. She flirted with him, flipping her dark hair, cocking her head, and batting her smoky shadowed eyes at him. Only Kate would flirt so unabashedly with a priest.

However, he didn’t seem to mind and actually seemed almost oblivious to it. Or maybe he was as captivated by her as everyone else always seemed to be. “ – but I’m taking some time off right now,” she finally finished. “I’m trying out something different.”

“A new job?” he asked.

“No. Just a temporary thing. I’m helping out over at Grace’s company.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“They need you, Grace. I’m just filling in and helping Maddox out until you’re ready.” Her voice was low and smooth, her words chosen carefully.

Maddox Grayson had been Jonathan’s right hand man after I’d left the company. We hadn’t talked about it, but I knew that he took over everything after Jonathan’s death. I couldn’t imagine what my

travel-writing sister was doing for him. I also couldn’t believe she’d been withholding this information from me. I looked at her through narrowed eyes. “What are you doing there? You’re just a writer.”

Her eyes widened and her chin dropped as if I had slapped her. “The hell.” Her gaze shot back to Father Paul, her shocked expression replaced with a guilty one. “Excuse me, Father.”

“Paul.”

“Yes, excuse me, Father Paul.”

“Or just Paul.”

“Right. Well, in that case, since we’re dropping formalities, you should expect more of such language from me,” she said, nodding in his direction before returning her attention to the me. “I have a degree in economics, Grace. True, I’ve never used it. I’ve never wanted or needed to until now. But its not like I’m a complete imbecile.”

“What are you doing then?” The mood had shifted. The light banter that Father Paul and Kate had been volleying back and forth had been replaced with accusations, justifications, and excuses.

“Well, I’m not really doing anything related to the business,” she conceded. “Maddox and the others do all that. I’m just going through some office things, cleaning some things out, and doing whatever I can to help him keep the place afloat until you’re ready to take over.”

Take over? I had no plans to take anything over.

I shook my head. My thoughts were a jumbled mess. I was torn. I had an insatiable need to hear everything. Yet, a part of me wanted to stay in the dark forever. “I guess it’s confession time after all.

Do you go in every day?”

“At first, it was just a couple of days here and there. But I’ve been going in more lately.”

“What are you cleaning up?” I asked. My heart pounded in my chest while I waited for her to answer.

She lowered her gaze and shifted on the bench beside me. I could feel her reluctance. “Maddox wanted someone you trust to go through it. He didn’t think you’d be able to handle it. Not any time soon anyway. There’s stuff in there that he needs, and he doesn’t have time to sift through it all.

Honestly, Jonathan wasn’t very organized.”

The utterance of my late husband’s name in an unfavorable light caused everyone at the table to become unnaturally still and quiet. A child cried somewhere in the diner, echoing my thoughts exactly.

“Can we go?” I asked. “I need to get some air.”

Father Paul took out his wallet and slipped some money on the table. He was immediately on his feet and gestured for us to follow him. “Let me take her to her car,” he said to Kate. “I need to grab something at the church anyway.”

She turned her lost-puppy eyes on me. “I guess so, if that’s what Grace wants.”

I nodded resolutely without meeting her gaze. I needed to put some distance between us. I certainly didn’t want to be trapped in a car with her all the way across town.

The two of them talked quietly as we walked through the parking lot. When we got to the cars, they said their goodbyes while I got into Father Paul’s car.

We traveled several blocks before he pulled over against the curb and finally spoke. “Are you, okay?”

I wasn’t. “I’m fine.”

He turned in his seat and cocked an eyebrow at me. The way he was looking at me, like he could see straight into my marred soul, like he knew the depths of my grief, only made me angrier. It also had the bizarre effect of making me want to talk, even if it was just to lash out.

“Sometimes I feel like I can’t control what’s going to come out of my mouth. I’m just so angry.”

“What makes you angrier?” he asked. “The fact that she didn’t tell you until now or the fact that she’s going through Jonathan’s things?”

I was now in the exact situation I’d been trying to avoid. Our dinner had turned into a Father Paul counseling session. I didn’t want counseling. I didn’t want grief groups, psychiatrists, or priests, poking around in my brain, stirring up emotions that were better left unexpressed. If I let them rise to the surface, I might not survive it. So I said nothing.

“Talk to me, Grace. Please.”

I balled my fists and pressed them into my legs. “I don’t know,” I spat. “Both I guess.”

“Of course, I don’t know Kate very well, but I think her intentions are good. She put her life on hold to be here for you. She wants to help but probably feels pretty useless.”

Was he serious? She feels useless?

“I didn’t ask her to do it.”

“But she probably had no choice but to do it anyway. She obviously loves you, and she’s your family.”

I stared out the window and at the dark storefronts of the closed businesses outside. “I don’t have a family any more.”

“You do. You have Kate, and you have your father. You have everyone at the soup kitchen. You have me.”

I couldn’t be anything to those people any more. I had nothing to offer them, and I didn’t want to be a taker that never gives anything back. “Please don’t,” I said.

“We miss you. The people at Karen’s Kitchen miss you.”

“I can’t go back there. I’m sorry. My heart’s just not in it any more.”

His lips pressed together while he considered that. He reached a hand out as if to touch mine, but then he pulled it back and dropped it in his lap. “The coat drive is coming up. That always meant so much to your mother, and you know you can do it in your sleep.”

Bringing my mother into this was a low blow. Of course, I wanted my mom’s legacy to live on, but there were other people that could take care of it. My dad could pay someone to run it. “I’m not coming in.”

“You don’t have to. I can bring everything to you. Whatever you can’t do at home, I’ll take care of for you.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. I didn’t think I even cared if there were no coats for the kids of Karen’s Kitchen this year.

I groaned. That wasn’t true. I did care. My heart wrenched in my chest as I pictured my own kids. I wanted to scream.

“I know you want to hide. I know you wake up every day asking why. But there is no why, Grace.

You just have to have faith that there’s something else in store for you.”

“Stop,” I said because I didn’t believe in God any more. I didn’t have any faith left. There was nothing else in store for me.

I was losing control. Any second, the dam would break, and there would be enough tears to fill the entire car. I would drown us both with my misery.

“I don’t want there to be a plan,” I said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his shoulder. The top of my head nestled into his neck and the comforting smell of his laundry detergent washed over me.

“I chose wrong,” I whispered. “I want to go back. I want a redo.”

DENIAL GRACE “Are you going to get up today?” Kate stood in the doorway to my room. Half-in and half-out of the room, she appeared unsure about whether she should come any closer.

“I haven’t decided,” I said, sliding the object in my hands under my comforter.

“Dinner with the Pretty Prophet was fun, huh?”

“It was okay.” I sat up on the edge of the bed too quickly, and the blood rushed to my head.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Head rush. I just moved too quickly.” She was still blurry through the bright streaks of light and stars screwing up my vision.

“No. What you just hid from me. What was that?” She gave me her best disapproving mother hen look. It didn’t fit Kate. She rarely disapproved of anything.

I sighed loudly for effect and patted around until I found it. Both indignant and embarrassed, I showed her the shiny black cell phone.

“That’s not yours.”

“No.” “Is it – ?”

“Jonathan’s.”

“You’ve had it all of this time?” She eyed the phone like she wanted to rip it out of my hands.

“Yes. He gave it to me before …” My voice trailed off.

“It still works?”

“Yeah. Dad’s been paying the bill.” Humiliation threatened to burn me up on the spot.

“Why?” Her voice was low and cautious.

“His voice. If I turn it off, I won’t be able to hear him anymore.” It was pathetic. I knew it was, but I didn’t really care. It was all I had left of him.

Nothing in the house had been salvageable. The phone and Trey’s stuffed donkey, which had been left at my dad’s earlier that day, were the only physical proof I had of my former life.

Kate’s expression went soft. “Hey, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s totally understandable. You should keep it for as long as you need it.”

I didn’t see how I would ever not need it. “I just don’t want to forget. Their faces are already getting fuzzy. It hasn’t even been that long, and they’re already slipping away. But I can still hear his voice.”

She walked into the room, grabbed a picture frame from the top of the dresser and sat down on the bed beside me. “We won’t let that happen,” she said, handing it to me.

It was from last Halloween. Isabelle was dressed up as a princess. Trey had been in an Ironman phase at the time. I stared longingly at their faces, unable to speak.

After I moved in, my dad offered to hide all of the pictures in the house, but I’d begged him not to.

Pretending like they hadn’t existed wasn’t going to help me.

Kate picked up the phone in my lap and pushed a button to wake it up. The screen was suddenly illuminated with a picture of Trey. His grinning face beamed proudly at the small turtle in his little hands.

She swiped her thumb across the phone’s black glass face and was met with the passcode screen.

She stared at it dumbly. I knew the feeling. I had spent hours staring at it myself.

“I can’t figure it out,” I said, my voice a quiet wail. “And I know there’s a message in there from the kids. They called him the day before to sing him a song. But I can’t figure out his code.” I glared at the device as if it were to blame.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “It’s probably something obvious.”

I had already tried every possible code I could think of. Our wedding date. The kids’ birthdays. My birthday. Jonathan’s birthday. I’d also tried every obvious numerical pattern. Up. Down. Across.

Diagonal. Nothing worked.

Embarrassingly, I spent hours, day after day, entering different combinations of numbers and letters. After six attempts, the phone would lock up and not let me try again for a very long minute.

Kate put the infuriating device down on the bed between us. “Listen. We need to talk about last night.”

I laid back on the bed, clutching the picture frame to my chest.

“I’m really sorry,” she began. “I should have told you I was working with Maddox, but I didn’t want to upset you.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m not upset any more.” Father Paul helped me understand that she was only trying to help. I hadn’t given her a lot of opportunities to do that.

“I just needed something to do everyday, and Maddox asked me to come help go through Jonathan’s office. He didn’t want a secretary to do it and I didn’t want you to have to do it.”

“I know,” I said. “It’s okay.”

“And I can’t just sit around this house all day. It’s too depressing.”

“Tell me about it.”

She leaned over and looked me in the eye. “So let’s get you out more. Last night wasn’t so bad.”

“It was pretty bad. I’m not fit for public consumption.” My attention waned when other people talked about things that I now considered mundane, and it never went anywhere good. All of these things created a social rift that was as difficult for the people around me as it was for me.

“You are, too. Maybe we can try having dinner with Arden next week.” She looked hopeful.

“Do we have to go to dinner?”

“Would you rather do something else? I think there’s a new Ryan Reynolds movie at the theater.”

A movie would be better than dinner. Less talking. Less awkward steering of the conversation away from touchy subjects like Arden’s son, Jackson, who had been in Trey’s class, or her daughter, Autumn, who was one year older than Isabelle. Less of me trying to act like I was normal. “It’s just awkward.”

“I know.” Kate laid back on the bed. “So what else can we find for you to do? You could come to Karen’s Kitchen with me. Father Paul asked me to help out tonight.” She was turning into a real Mother Theresa. Everyone seemed to need her help these days.

“I think I’ll pass.” I watched the fan blades go around. I tried to pick one and follow it until I got dizzy again. “But I am going to help Father Paul with the coat drive that’s coming up,” I added, surprising myself.

She popped up on an elbow. “You are?”

“I am. And I’m going to take Aurora to the park today.” Upon hearing her name, the dog raised her head from her spot at the end of my bed and snorted in my sister’s face.

“That’s great,” she said, patting Aurora’s head to appease her. “I really like him, and he seems to really care about people.”

“He likes to help people in need, and now he thinks I’m one of them.”

“Probably. But he’s funny and pretty easy on the eyes. I certainly wouldn’t toss him out of bed for eating crackers.”

I turned to face her. “He’s a priest, Kate. A priest.”

“Well, yeah. But he’s not dead and neither am I.” Her eyes darkened as she immediately realized what she’d said. “I’m sorry, Grace. I just meant that hot. I’m not impervious to hotness – even on a priest.”

Kate legitimately tried to watch what she said around me, but walking on eggshells didn’t suit her.

I didn’t want to make her or anyone else feel like that. Casual references to death were a part of life.

It was something I would have to get used to.

“I kind of felt like a third wheel on a first date last night,” I said, trying to lighten the mood while playing into her joke. “Except he’s a priest, and you’re a heathen.”

“Well, that’s not fair. I haven’t had a boyfriend in years.” She poked me in the chest and grinned at me.

“Exactly.”

“Besides, it would have been a terrible first date anyway,” she said. “It’s never good when your date can’t take his eyes off the third wheel.”

“What are you talking about? I was the third wheel.”

“And he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.”

“He’s concerned about me. He’s figured out that I’m a lost lamb. It’s his job to help me find my way.”

“Maybe, but he was staring at you the whole night. I couldn’t get a read on him. He does seem like he’d be a good listener though. Maybe you should, you know, talk to him. Maybe he’ll throw some poignant bible verses at you to help you figure things out.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. The thought of talking to anyone tied my stomach up in knots. Plus, the garbage that she was spouting right now didn’t sound like Kate at all.

“He’s going to come here and help me work on the coat drive thing … you know, so I don’t have to go to Karen’s Kitchen.”

“Well, whatever. This is good. All good things. If you need any help with this coat thing, let me know. And, if you change your mind, I’m going to swing by the kitchen tonight and see if I can help out.”

“What’s gotten into you?” This new do-gooder attitude of Kate’s was throwing me for a loop. “Is an exorcism in order?”

“Do you think Father Poke can help with that?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“Terrible. You are terrible.”

“What?” she asked. “I really want to help. I loved Mom, too. Besides, being cold and hungry is a real bitch.” There was the Kate I knew and loved. She hadn’t gone far.

We laid there silently for a few minutes until she finally broached the subject that brought her in here into my room in the first place. “So … yeah … I said that I needed to talk to you about something.”

“I thought you wanted to talk about the office.”

“I did, but there’s also an insurance guy that’s been calling. Dad has been putting him off because he thinks you aren’t ready to talk with him, and it’s not like you need the money or anything, but he’s getting more insistent. It’s been five months. They want to pay out on the house and wrap things up, but they can’t do that until they talk to you first.”

My stomach flipped and bile burned my throat. Whoever had thought up the concept of life

insurance hadn’t lost someone they loved. There was no amount of money that could compensate me for my loss, and accepting any kind of payment felt like I’d be putting a dollar figure on my husband, my kids, and our life together.

“I don’t want the money.”

“So give it away. Give it to the Fuckable Father. He’ll spread it around and change the world.”

There was something in her eyes that led me to think that she believed what she was saying. I’d thought that Father Paul was enamored with her, but it was possible that it was the other way around.

Something about that bothered me. “Your mouth is disgusting.”

“You love me anyway.” She poked at me. “Come on. I know you do.”

I stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore the fact that she was watching me. Finally, I felt her push off the bed.

She turned around at the door. “Just think about it, okay? The number’s in the kitchen by the phone.

I’m going to the office. Are you sure that you don’t want to come?”

I shook my head. There was no way. The look on her face told me she knew that. “Aurora.

Remember? I need to take her before it gets too hot.”

“Well, you two have fun then,” Kate said, nodding at the beast of an animal laying next to me.

Aurora sat up and stretched as if she’d been listening the whole time and was ready for me to make good on my promise.

“Oh, all right,” I said, pulling myself off the bed. “Let’s go.”

Aurora jumped down in a move that I was sure going to break her short legs. While she shook off her rough landing, I crossed to the dresser and carefully replaced the picture frame back on top. Then I opened a drawer and placed Jonathan’s phone inside. _________________________ “We came all this way. You better do something to make it worth our while. There’s a good looking border collie over there,” I said, nodding toward the water station. “Go make a friend.”

Aurora looked up at me and blinked and then plopped down on her round fat backside.

“Well, aren’t we two of the most unsocial beings around?” I asked. I looked around for a park bench and found one near the gate. I backtracked across the mostly vacant dog park.

This had been a monumental waste of time. Apparently, Tuesday mornings weren’t peak dog socialization hours. Aurora’s only hopes of companionship this morning was the border collie and a little white puffball that looked like she’d make a better lunch than friend.

I sat down on the bench and found Aurora already sitting at my feet. Apparently, there was a hidden turbo booster in her somewhere. I rummaged through the plastic sack I’d brought and tossed a treat into the air above her head. She opened her wide jaws and snagged out of the air perfectly.

“That’s quite a trick.”

I recognized the voice and scanned past jean clad legs and a Boston Red Sox t-shirt to find myself looking into the eyes of Father Paul.

He looked abnormally normal again. His t-shirt was faded and untucked, his jeans worn and loose.

A ball cap pulled low over his emerald eyes hid his hair and topped off his average Joe look. I might not have even recognized him had it not been for the thick accent.

“She’s a real beast,” I said.

“She’s awesome,” he said, bending to scratch Aurora’s head. After only a second, she flopped onto her back, exposing her belly for him. “What’s her name?”

“Aurora.”

“Like the Greek Goddess or the lights?” he asked.

“Neither. Her full name is Princess Aurora,” I mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t ask how she’d gotten such an ill-fitting name.

He nodded and continued to scratch her stomach, and she snorted in appreciation. “She sleeps a lot, huh?”

I almost laughed at his joke. Aurora did sleep a lot. She was my napping buddy.

An equally out of shape basset hound wandered over, and Father Paul smacked him roughly on the back. “Chubs, meet Princess Aurora. Aurora, Chubs.” Without a shred of decency, Aurora remained on her back happy to let Chubs sniff her girly bits. “Sorry. Obviously, she hasn’t been raised properly.

Though, I’m going to blame my dad for that.”

He laughed and nudged Chubs with his foot. “Chubs, cool it.” He gestured to Aurora. “She’s an English bulldog, right?”

“Yes,” I answered. “So I guess you two probably have a lot to talk about.” He looked at me curiously and sat down on the bench beside me, leaving space between us. “You with your Irish roots and her with her English lineage.”

He chuckled and the lines at the corner of his eyes became more defined.

I gestured to the two dogs at our feet. Chubs was laying down and already snoring. Aurora was still lying on her back, hoping someone would give her belly some more attention. “Aurora and I were just trying to figure out why we are here.”

“Interaction with our peers is vital to survival.” He smiled and then added, “Isn’t that right, Aurora?”

In total disagreement, Aurora grunted, and Chubs let out a long drawn out snore that was so loud his own eyes opened in response. I couldn’t help but laugh. I looked at Father Paul and felt a lightness that I hadn’t felt in months. Maybe Kate was right. Maybe I could talk to him.

This revelation was immediately followed by a crippling sense of guilt. I shouldn’t be feeling light. I didn’t need to talk my way through this. I brought my attention back to the dogs. “She’s my dad’s dog. I bought her for him after my mom died. He rarely got out of the house, and I didn’t know how to help him. I spent hours trolling grief websites and message boards, looking for answers.

Several sites suggested that a pet would help him.”

He nodded. “Pets are good for the soul.”

“One day I was leaving the mall, and passed an SUV with the back door up,” I continued. “A lady was sitting on the tailgate with a puppy in her lap. I knew she was perfect so I bought her on the spot.”

What I didn’t tell him was that I wouldn’t have even noticed the lady if Isabelle hadn’t squealed drove past and begged me to stop.

“Did it work?”

“I always had a hard time telling her no.” Father Paul looked confused, and I realized he was asking about my dad while I was still thinking about Isabelle. “Yeah, I think it worked. When she was a puppy, she was pretty demanding. He took her for walks. It got him out of the house when he probably wouldn’t have otherwise. And kept her from destroying everything.”

“And now?”

“My dad’s definitely doing better now. He gets out a lot more than she does.”

“I was talking about you. Is Aurora helping you in the same way?”

I looked away and focused my attention on the older gentleman throwing a Frisbee to the Collie.

“I’m here,” I said quietly. He didn’t need to know that this was the first time I’d actually taken Aurora

further than the backyard.

“She’s earning her keep then.”

“Chubs is huge,” I said, moving the conversation away from me.

“He’s eighty pounds of pure muscle. Engineered for speed and agility.”

I laughed. “I can see that.”

“Maybe we should take them for a walk,” he said. “I’m afraid if we sit here, they may atrophy.”

Laughing, I stood. I took the leash in my hand and clipped it onto Aurora’s collar. She slowly pulled up onto all fours. Chubs, who stretched out his back legs, also seemed game for the new plan.

As we let ourselves out of the gate, I glanced around to see if anyone was watching, cognizant of the fact that we lived in a very small town. Tongues would wag if anyone saw us walking together.

Bored people love to stir controversy.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging it off.

As if he’d read my mind, he pointed in the direction that led away from downtown. “Let’s go this way.” We walked along the sidewalk with the dogs leading the way. “I don’t know how far we can go,” I said, looking up toward the sky. “It’s pretty hot already. Aurora’s stamina is limited. I mean, look at her.” The dog wheezed and panted as if to prove my point.

“We’ll stick to the shady side. They’ll be all right.” We crossed to the other side of the street where a canopy of trees hung overhead, creating Pollock-like shadows on the sidewalk in front of us.

We walked in amiable silence. The dogs pulled us along, sniffing at things along the way. It was nice to be with someone who didn’t feel the need to fill every second with conversation. I was glad to have Kate around, but she talked constantly. About everything and nothing. Trying to keep up with her was exhausting. Being with Father Paul, however, was easy.

Birds and cicadas chattered in the trees overhead. In a few hours, the west Texas sun would create a sweltering heat that would silence all of them. Every so often one of the dogs would stop to check something out, and the other would come over as if called. They would put their heads together and sniff and snort until they decided it was time to move on. Then they would resume their walk side-byside at the same slow, meandering gait.

It occurred to me that the dog park wasn’t Aurora’s scene. It was kind of the doggy equivalent of a speed-dating mixer, with dogs running around, sniffing each other’s butts until they made a connection. Like me, Aurora didn’t care for forced interaction.

After a couple of blocks, we turned around and headed back to the dog park at the same lazy pace.

When we reached the parking lot, Father Paul turned to me. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked. “I can bring the coat drive stuff with me, and you can take it home with you.” He looked so hopeful. I didn’t want to make any promises. I might not feel up to an outing tomorrow.

I looked down at the dogs. They were sitting next to each other both peering up at me with the same watchful and hopeful gaze as Father Paul. I was tired of being the Debbie Downer in every group.

“Yeah, okay,” I said. “It looks like Princess Aurora found her soul mate. Who am I to stand in between them?”

“Do you believe that?” he asked, his voice solemn.

“What?”

“In soul mates.” He cocked his head to the side and looked genuinely interested in my answer.

Of course, I believed in ‘the one.’ I also believed that I’d already lost him. “I believe that there’s one special person who is the perfect fit and that it’s no coincidence when we find them. You?” “Certainly, some are better suited for each other than others,” he said, nodding to the dogs sitting

side-by-side at our feet. “But I don’t believe in ‘the one.’” He leaned against the trunk of my car and eyed me as if he thought I was made of glass, and his words would shatter me. He was right to wonder.

Jonathan had been my soul mate. We’d been very young when we’d met – just nineteen. Yet, I’d known immediately that he was it for me, that he was the one. In fact, I’d called my mother the next day and told her that I’d met the guy I was going to marry. There had never been anyone else, and he’d felt the same way. If that wasn’t the definition of soul mates, I didn’t know what was.

Father Paul seemed to sense my feelings on the subject but barged ahead anyway. “Have you ever wondered where it comes from … the idea of there being just ‘one’ perfect counterpart for every person?”

“Walt Disney?” I asked, pointing at Princess Aurora.

He shook his head. “Actually, it originated from the Greek philosophy of Plato who believed that man and woman are made of one body and separated by the gods, forced to spend their lives searching for each other so that they can be complete.” He was silent for a moment before continuing, “Obviously that goes against what I believe.”

“Each of us is a complete person all on our own. You are complete person on your own, Grace.

That was true five months ago, and it’s still true today. You may not feel like it, but even without him, you are complete.”

I scuffed the toe of my shoe in the dirt while I considered his words, noticing that he’d purposefully framed his argument without mentioning God. Father Paul was walking a fine line with me, and he knew it. He was being very careful not to say something that he knew would push me away; yet, he’d still managed to get his message across.

He flipped his ball cap around so that it sat backwards on his head. The act had the dual effect of revealing his face – and the utter sincerity etched across it – and returning the Greek mythologyspewing priest beside me to a mere mortal man again.

I crumbled just a bit.

His mouth turned down as he squinted into the sun. “Of course, I’ve never been in love like you have.” He yanked on Chubs’ leash. “Let’s go, Chubs, we’ve got lots to do today. We’ll see you ladies again tomorrow.”

The dog resisted momentarily and pulled against the leash. Chubs turned to Aurora and slapped his wide tongue across the side of her face. She snorted in response and then sat on her haunches and watched her new suitor follow after Father Paul.

Maybe they weren’t soul mates, but there was something special there.

INDISCRETION KATE I sat at Jonathan’s desk and considered the stacks of papers in front of me. I’d spent the past few days, organizing it into something manageable and come to one conclusion: Jonathan’s organizational skills had been severely lacking.

When I’d taken on the job, there’d been documents scattered across the desk. I’d found more thrown haphazardly on the top of the horizontal filing cabinet behind the desk. There’d been even more stuffed inside it. Jonathan had probably known where everything was. However, to an outsider, it looked like a natural disaster recovery sight.

After scratching my head for a bit, I had decided to pull everything out and try to put like things with like things. For a while, it looked like I was only making things worse, but I was finally starting to see some improvement. I had piles for personal finances, personal correspondence, and business correspondence.

Of course, the business pile was the largest and the one that I had no immediate interest in. But the papers that I’d earmarked personal stood tall, too. It was apparent to me that his beautiful home office had been just for show. I doubted now whether he’d kept anything there at all.

“Hey,” Maddox said from the doorway. “You know, it’s okay to take a few days to yourself. I didn’t intend for you to work yourself this hard. Take some time to grieve, Kate.”

“I just want to get it over with, you know? I need to do something to help.”

Sympathy washed over his face and seemed to highlight the dark circles under his eyes. The situation had taken a toll on him, too. We were all in this strange terrible place together.

I’d met Maddox almost four years ago when I’d come back for Trey’s baptism. Jonathan and Grace had rented out the back room of a restaurant to celebrate afterwards. I’d been poking sliced cantaloupe into my niece, who was barely old enough to walk. We’d been deep in discussion about the pros and cons of siblings when the man, who I’d known for all of an hour, sat down beside us.

Without further introduction, Maddox had boldly declared that, as Trey’s godparents, we owed it to the kid to test out the chemistry between us. ‘Just in case,’ he’d said. The come-on had teetered on the line between annoying and cute, falling harder on the annoying side. Now it twisted my heart into a mangled mess.

Maddox walked into the room and sat down in the chair across from me. He rubbed his hand down his face, seeming to grapple with something internally. While I waited, I studied the man who’d somehow, despite the terrible pick-up line, managed to lure me into his bed. His nose was a touch too large, but it was flanked by the most beautiful set of blue eyes I’d ever seen. They reminded me of the azure waters of the Maldives, which still ranked as my favorite destination yet.

Though hard to get to, the Malidives had been worth the effort, and I planned to go back someday on my own dime, when I could lay on the beach for days and soak up the Arabian sun. It wasn’t going to happen any time soon though. I had too many responsibilities now so I’d have to make do with Maddox’s eyes.

“You’re doing a lot of good, Kate,” he finally said. “At home and here.”

The adoration in his eyes was too much for me to bear. I knew he wanted to finish what we’d started all those years ago. I’d come back to town, and it was looking like I would be staying. But I’d never intended on settling down in Merriville, and doing so with Maddox was just too prophesy

fulfilling. He was handsome, established, and predictable. He was what everyone wanted for me.

What everyone expected for me. However, I had no interest in the predictable. No matter how good he was in bed.

I stifled the urge to get up and run from this room, this town, and all the misery that was holding me here. It was a stupid, irrelevant thought anyway. I’d never be able to leave now. She was depending on me. “We went out for burgers with Paul Sullivan yesterday,” I said changing the subject to something more neutral.

“Who?” he asked.

“The priest from the Catholic Church.”

“Oh, that Paul Sullivan. That sounds like a barrel of laughs.” A bit of sarcasm snuck out. Even though his subject didn’t deserve it, I was glad to see a sliver of the old Maddox resurface. He’d been different since the fire, and this new Maddox was missing the spark that I’d loved to hate for the past four years.

I laughed. “Is there more than one? You know, you wouldn’t forget who he was if you went to church occasionally. He’s actually pretty funny … and very interesting.”

His eyes narrowed and fixed determinedly upon me. “Have dinner with me,” he said, abruptly changing the subject.

“I can’t. I told Paul that I’d work at the kitchen tonight.”

“So now you two are getting all cozy?” he asked.

The showing of jealousy caused me to laugh. “He’s a priest, Maddox. You don’t get cozy with the father.”

He smiled at me, with a wicked gleam in his eye. “True. And everyone knows that Catholic priests only like little boys, anyway.”

“Gross. You can go now.” I pointed toward the door, only half kidding.

“I was just joking,” he said, pushing out of the chair. “But, I’ll leave if you agree that you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow.”

I considered it. He was mostly harmless, and this tired, sad Maddox was wearing me down. He had just as much on his plate as I did. Running the company by himself wasn’t something he expected to be doing, but here he was doing just that. Strangely, we were in similar situations. “Okay, fine,” I said, relenting. “Just friends though. I can’t do more than that right now.”

He fist pumped the air. “Score!”

“No. Not score. I said ‘just friends.’”

He covered his ears with his hands and sang, “La la la la la. I can’t hear you.”

“You’re impossible,” I said to his back. “Oh, hey, would it be okay if I use Jonathan’s computer to check my email?”

“Of course. It’s all yours.” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Even with his back to me, I could see his enthusiasm. I could feel it reverberating around the room.

Still shaking my head, I pivoted in the chair and pushed the power button on Jonathan’s laptop. The screen immediately lit up. I scanned the desktop for the Internet icon and clicked on it. While I waited for it to pull up, I noticed a chat icon in the lower corner of the screen. Did people still chat? In this day of text messaging and social media, it seemed almost archaic. If you sat at a desk and stared at a computer all day, however, maybe it made sense.

I spent the next twenty minutes checking my email. My roommate in New York City, who was also a freelance writer, had checked in to let me know that all was well and that I was missed. It was a courtesy email. We weren’t close. Our jobs caused us both to travel a lot. We shared an apartment for

the simple reason that we were rarely there at the same time. Our interactions were limited to emails and scrawled messages on a chalk board.

After firing off a response to her, I read two emails from assignment editors at the magazine from where I received most of my assignments. Both were inquiring as to my availability for upcoming assignments. I sighed and clicked the ‘x’ in the corner to close the window without responding. I would do it later. I would probably never work for them again, but I wasn’t quite ready to burn those bridges yet.

After closing the internet window, the chat box caught my attention again. My curiosity got the better of me, and even though I knew it was wrong, I clicked on it. The box took over the lower right corner of the screen and the last message – a message Jonathan had never received – glared at me.

I can’t believe you’re gone. I don’t even know what to do with myself. How ever am I going to live without you, Jon? I sucked in a breath. To my knowledge, no one had ever called him ‘Jon.’ Our family – Grace included – had always called him Jonathan.

My eyes flipped to the top of the window. The conversation was with someone named Hope. I wracked my brain but came up with nothing. I didn’t know a Hope. I reread the message that had been delivered the day after he’d died, and then I began reading their entire conversation in reverse.

More than a year’s worth of messages, and I read every word of them, no longer feeling like I was the dishonest one. Whatever wrong I was committing by prying into Jonathan’s personal life was overshadowed by what he’d been doing behind my sister’s back. Though there was only a year of his infidelity represented, the conversation began in the middle, indicating that it started long before that.

When I finally finished, I leaned back in the chair, expelled every last bit of the breath I’d been holding, and questioned everything I’d ever known to be true about Jonathan Northcutt. _________________________ Paul ladled a spoonful of some mysterious and slightly nauseating soup into a bowl, and I tried not to visibly shudder when he handed it to me.

“I take it you’re not planning on eating tonight?” My disdain was obvious.

“Uh, no. What is it?” I whispered, placing a piece of cornbread on the plate before handing it across the serving line to who I presumed was our next victim. Undeterred by the mystery dish, the woman smiled, turned, and walked away.

“See you later, Mrs. Green,” Paul said to her stooped back. “It’s an Irish stew. It will fill you up and keep you warm. You’ll love it.”

“I don’t know,” I said, eyeing the mixture with trepidation. “It looks like it’ll keep you warm and everyone else around you, too,” Paul smiled sadly and scooped up another bowlful. “Your sister wasn’t sure about it either.”

“She’s always been the smarter of the two of us. So if she had her doubts, I’m inclined to follow her lead.”

“My grandmother used to make it with Guinness and lamb but, obviously, we can’t do that here, so I’ve made some modifications. There’s beef, cabbage, white beans, carrots, potatoes, and a bunch of spices in it. You’ll like it. I promise.”

He looked so forlorn that I reconsidered. “I’ll try some if there are any leftovers. It seems to be a very popular dish.” The large canning pot was nearly empty. The murky dish hadn’t turned away the diners.

“No pressure,” he said. “I didn’t mean to guilt you into it. It’s just that Grace made a similar joke.”

“You miss having her here, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He admitted it openly and without any reservation. “It’s not the same without her. And they miss her, too,” he said, gesturing to the half full dining room. “For some of these people, Karen’s Kitchen is the only constant in their lives. They adored your mother. They’re still reeling over losing her, and now Grace is gone too. Honestly, I wonder how long we’ll last.”

His words made me want to be a better person. They made me want to emulate the woman who’d always been like a mother to me and the daughter who’d always been the better protégé. “I can help.”

“If you can get away, we can sure use your help.” He looked so appreciative that I didn’t even regret that I’d just promised away three nights per week for the foreseeable future. I didn’t mind the idea of spending more time with Paul though. “By the way, how is our girl today?”

“I think every day gets a little easier, but she’s still lost. I’m trying to do whatever I can to reach her, but being the caretaker is a new role for me. I’m learning as I go. It doesn’t come naturally to me.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you’re doing a much better job than you think. It takes a special person to step up and completely rearrange their life like you’ve done.”

I looked away so that I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes and accept the accolade. As far as I could tell, my efforts so far had produced meager results. I tried, but I was a poor substitute for who she really needed.

“You know what? I don’t usually eat here,” he said as he filled another bowl though there was no one left in the serving line. “When we have leftovers, I like to send them home with the Thompsons because they really need it, but I can’t resist tonight. I’m going to have a small bowl. Come sit with me?” he asked, holding it out for me to take it from him.

I took the bowl and tried not to scowl. As apprehensive as I was about the meal itself, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to sit down and have dinner with Paul again. For one thing, I really wanted to talk to someone about Jonathan. I didn’t know if Paul was the right person, but at least I knew that whatever I told him was in confidence. He was a vestal vault.

If I were honest, I also wanted to spend a little more time with him. I’d thoroughly enjoyed our banter the night before. He was smart and funny in a quiet, unobvious way. There was something about the man that made me want to get to know him better.

I followed him to the nearest open table and watched him spoon a couple of bites of stew into his mouth, noticing something that I’d missed the day before. He ate deliberately, studying each bite as if he wasn’t sure that it would still be there when he got it to his mouth.

I’d seen the look before. Though his mannerisms lacked the desperateness that I’d seen during my travels to impoverished areas, he ate like a man who knew what it was like not to know when or where you’d get your next meal.

Strangely, it made me want to cook for him. “How long have you been volunteering at Karen’s Kitchen?” I asked.

“A little more than a year.”

“Did you know my mom?”

“I knew her from the church. And I volunteered here a few times during my first months in town, but regretfully I didn’t start helping out regularly until after she died. I wish I’d known her better.”

Everyone had loved my mother. She’d had a heart of gold that she freely gave to anyone who’d accept it. A lot like Grace.

I nodded as another piece of the puzzle slipped into place. “So, you didn’t become a regular until

after Grace took over?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. But there was something about the way he watched me that made me wonder if the delay of his answer was more for my benefit than his. “Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

“So where did you grow up?”

He laughed. “You’re full of questions tonight.”

“Those that have no answers ask questions.”

A genuine smile spread across his face. “I doubt you’re lacking in questions or answers.” His eyes sparkled in the dim fluorescent lighting of the dining room. “I grew up in Boston, but I suspect you have already figured that out.”

“Your accent kind of gives it away.”

“I thought moving to Texas would soften it up a bit, but I guess some things are so ingrained that they can’t be unlearned.”

“Don’t try to unlearn it,” I begged. I loved listening to him talk. His cadence, so much quicker than everyone else around here, reminded me of New York, which I missed dearly.

“Tell you what. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll stay a Yankee if you will.”

“You’re on.” Since we were bonding, I thought it was as good a time as any to bring up the subject of Jonathan.

“Okay, so tell me something,” I said, trying to sound as light and carefree as I had the night before.

“Let’s talk about a different sin tonight.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Adultery.”

“Oh, whoa,” he said, grinning. “This isn’t related to your neighbor’s rose garden, is it?” He eyed me curiously.

“No!” I said, realizing that he thought I was talking about myself again.

“Oh, good. Is she having trouble keeping the other varmints out?” He smiled and the lines around his eyes crinkled. The dimple in his left cheek popped out to say hello.

“Varmints?” I asked, trying to ignore the impure thoughts running through my head. I couldn’t help myself. He was too good looking. When he smiled, it was shocking. The accent, the eyes, the dimple – they were too much. As inappropriate as it was, I wanted to take him home – and not to pick his brain about the moral ramifications of adultery. I made a mental note to put lust on the list for a future discussion.

“Yes. Varmints. Spoken like a true Texan, right?” he asked lightly.

I laughed. “Sort of, but your Boston-ese is kind of killing the Texas vibe.”

He chuckled again. “I’ll work on my Texan-ese.” His face turned faux solemn. “Okay, so let’s talk about adultery then.”

I took a deep breath and framed my question. “Let’s say you learned something about someone.

Something that would hurt people you love. Do you tell them?”

“I guess that depends on the circumstances. Do you want Father Paul or Friend Paul’s opinion?”

“Are they different?”

He arched an eyebrow as he thought about that. “No. I just wondered who you wanted to talk to."

“Friend Paul,” I said. “Definitely Friend Paul.”

“Okay. And this isn’t about your neighbor’s garden?”

I shook my head. “No … well … let’s say that it is – hypothetically, of course.”

“Of course,” he said.

In a burst of honesty, I continued, “Let’s say that it is my best friend’s garden, and let’s say that I know that someone had been sneaking in and picking all the best flowers. Do I say anything?”

“Wow. That is the million dollar Maury Povich question, isn’t it?”

“It is?”

“Sure. Do you tell your friend? Or do you keep it to yourself? Maury would answer the first one with an unequivocal ‘yes’ and the second with a resounding ‘no.’”

“And here I thought his specialty was ‘Who’s my baby’s daddy?’” I said, forcing a smile.

“Those two seem to go together, now, don’t they?” he asked.

I was having a hard time grasping the fact that my local Catholic priest was a Maury Povich watcher.

“I think you need to ask yourself what you hope to gain from telling her,” he continued.

“I don’t know. It’s over now, and my friend can’t be hurt any more. For me, it’s not even about her now. Well, it is a little bit, but it’s more about the fact that everyone thinks that he was this upstanding guy. The pedestal he sat on was pretty high. It will be a long fall, but I can’t stand to see him idolized any more.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed and burned a hole through me. “Was?” My stomach twisted, making me want to spill my guts to this man. “How well did you know Jonathan?” I blurted.

His expression turned impassive. Completely unreadable. “I can’t really say that I knew him very well at all. Why?” “He was with the flower thief.”

He looked down at his bowl and sat his spoon down on the table beside it. When he looked up, the smile, the dimple, and the laugh lines that had graced his stunning face earlier were gone. “Jonathan cheated on Grace? Are you sure?”

I nodded, broken-hearted for my sister. “I’m sure. Shouldn’t you already know this? Isn’t it your job to know the dirt on everyone?”

“Grace never said anything.”

“I wouldn’t expect that she would. There’s no way that she knew that it was happening. She would’ve told me immediately. So he never said anything to you? In confession or something?”

He lowered his head and exhaled heavily.

“Right. You can’t tell me that.” I shook my head, exasperated.

“People don’t come to confession like they should. The people who need it most are the ones I never see.”

My head snapped up. “But you’ve been here for almost two and a half years.”

“I have.”

“And he never came? Not even once?”

“Had it been going on that long?”

I raised my eyebrows in answer. “For at least a year that I know of.”

He shook his head sadly. “It’s hard, but it’s not our place to judge. Even now.”

I knew he was right, that I had no business sticking my nose in this mess, but I didn’t care. Besides, though he was saying one thing, his guarded and murky eyes told me he was thinking something entirely different. “I didn’t view their marriage through her rose-colored glasses, but I’m still incredibly disappointed. And angry.”

Paul steepled his fingers over his bowl. “Marriages are rarely what they seem, Kate. They all have their ups and downs, and what goes on behind closed doors is usually pretty surprising.”

“If something had been wrong, she would have told me. They were happy. She was happy.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. A few seconds too long. “I thought so, too.”

“I’ve known Jonathan for more than ten years. A third of my life. And I didn’t always like him, but I never thought he’d do something like this.” Paul remained silent. “And now I can’t help but wonder what other secrets he was keeping. I’m doubting everything he ever did.”

“You think there was more going on than an affair?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t really put my finger on it, but I’ve been going through the stuff in his office and things don’t smell right. Something makes me think that this is just the beginning.”

He unsteepled his fingers and leaned back in his seat. Staring at his lap, he said nothing. I would’ve thought that seeing someone else take the news as hard as I had would make me feel better, as if I weren’t alone in all of this. However, when Paul looked up, the misery and anguish on his face shocked me. It compounded everything I was feeling. It was almost as bad as if I’d just told Grace the news about her husband.

Paul wasn’t taking the news as hard as I had. He was taking it harder. It was more than the reaction of a priest who was worried for a member of his congregation. It was more than the reaction of a concerned friend. This was the reaction of a man who had a vested interest in at least one of the parties involved.

He pushed away from the table and stood to leave. “I’m sorry, Kate, but I need to go.” His words were broken and labored. His green eyes, no longer sparkling.

He turned away and took several steps before I found the courage to say it. “When did you realize that you were in love with her?”

He paused but didn’t turn back to deny it, effectively confessing his own sin. Father Paul was in love with my sister.

It was just one more secret in a town full of them.

REVELATIONS GRACE I pushed the eggs around the pan, waiting for them to harden. For me, they were perfect, but my dad didn’t like runny eggs. I checked the foam carton to see if there were two more to make for myself.

“What’s on your agenda today?” my dad asked from the table.

I laughed because, after the past five months, the thought of me having any kind of agenda was exactly that – laughable.

“Could you put some flowers on your mom’s grave while you’re at the cemetery?”

I froze where I stood at the stove as it dawned on me that I hadn’t gone to the cemetery yesterday.

For the first time in months, I hadn’t gone. What’s more, I hadn’t even thought to go. Guilt washed over me. How could I have forgotten? I scooped the eggs onto a plate and mentally ran through what I’d done the day before.

Flowers.

Coming back from the dog park, I’d stopped mid-step in the backyard. My mother’s flower beds were overgrown after an entire spring and summer without any attention. I’d gone into the house, put on some work clothes and then spent the afternoon eradicating weeds. When I stepped back to admire my handiwork, I realized that I’d pulled out every living thing, creating an expanse of dreary nothingness. Something my mother would have hated. She would have preferred the weeds to nothing.

Determined to do something about it, I grabbed my keys and my wallet and drove to the nearest nursery where I bought ten pallets of flowers. I’d spent the rest of the day planting. Afterwards, I was tired and dirty, but I fell into bed feeling like I’d actually accomplished something. I’d been so busy all day that I never even thought about what I hadn’t accomplished.

I would go today. “Sure Dad. No problem.” I slid a flowered plate of dry eggs in front of him.

“Are you going to eat with me?” he asked, concern etched in the deep wrinkles across his forehead.

“Yes. I’m making mine next.”

As he brought the first bite to his mouth, he looked like he was questioning whether I was telling the truth. “You don’t eat enough,” he said after swallowing. “You’re wasting away.”

I was actually quite hungry. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Oh, but I do. All I do is worry. About you. About your sister.”

“What’s for breakfast?” Kate asked, whirling through the kitchen as if on cue. She was dressed in a pencil skirt and a fitted button-down. She looked as if she had a real job to go to and not an office to clean out.

I looked down at my t-shirt and nylon running shorts. Maybe I would put on real clothes today. “I take it that you are going in today,” I said, turning back to the stove.

“Yes. Just for a couple of hours. I’m having dinner with Maddox tonight. Just friends,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” I said.

My dad huffed and stood from the table. “Thanks for breakfast, Grace. It was delicious, but I’m getting out of here before this conversation turns south.” He walked to the sink and placed his plate inside, having already inhaled his breakfast.

“What do you have planned for today?” I asked. I was never really sure what he did during the day, but I’d noticed that he was around less and less. I hadn’t pressed him about it. I was just glad that he

wasn’t hanging around the house in his bathrobe until noon. I was happy to take over that job.

“I’m headed to the coffee shop to meet the old guys.” He grabbed his keys from the counter, and the backdoor slammed behind him a few seconds later.

“What do you think they talk about?” Kate asked, sliding into his vacant chair with a full cup of coffee.

“The old guys? Who knows. The weather. The price of gas. Their ailing body parts.”

“That’s the truth,” she said, taking a sip. “How was the park yesterday?”

“Fine. Why?” “Paul said he saw you there.”

“Father Paul?” I asked.

“Yes, I worked at the kitchen last night, remember?”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, he was there with Chubs.”

“Chubs?” she said, laughing “He has the biggest basset hound I’ve ever seen.”

“And that’s his name? Chubs?” she asked, laughing. “That’s funny. He continues to surprise me.”

“What? That he has a sense of humor?” I asked, though I hadn’t found him to be all that funny yesterday. Of course, it was hard to make a conversation about lost soul mates funny.

“I’m meeting him again today. Aurora and I are going to head over there in a few minutes. Do you want to go?”

She shook her head and looked out the window into the backyard. “The flowers look good. Dad said you did that.”

I followed her gaze to the beds full of pink and purple impatiens. Larger hydrangeas of the same colors stood in the shadier corners of the beds. My eyes traveled to the pool. The bright morning sun glinted off of its glassy water. “It was depressing. I didn’t want to go out there.” I took a breath before I made the commitment. “I’m thinking about swimming again.”

Her eyes were wide and questioning. “Tanning or training?”

“Training.” Not that I couldn’t use a tan, but I needed to fix the inside before I fixed the outside. “I think I might try to get in shape for a fall triathlon. There’s a big one in Austin. I was thinking that I might sign up.”

Kate’s eyes lit up. She probably saw this as progress. “You need to start running again, too, then.

I’m going to go later this afternoon. Come with me.” She leaned in closer to the table, wiggling and squirming in her seat.

Her energy was infectious and impossible to resist, and I wondered if maybe there was hope for me yet. This was definitely an improvement over feeling like I was dead weight and that I was dragging Kate down. She deserved a real life. One that didn’t involve hanging out in a house of fading memories with a sixty year old widower and a thirty-two year old widow.

“The triathlon isn’t until October, but I think Jonathan would be proud of me if I did it. He always said that he missed being able to go away, just the two of us, on race weekends.”

“I’ll bet he did.” The sparkle in her eyes was replaced with a glower. Her hands gripped her coffee mug so tightly I thought she might break it.

The change in her demeanor was unmistakable. “What’s that about?” I asked sweeping my hand in front of her.

“Everything is always about Jonathan. Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan. I can’t remember the last time you did something for yourself.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you kidding? Of course, everything is about Jonathan. He was my life,

and now he’s gone.” She sighed heavily and looked away unable to argue with me. “Can we please stop fighting over him now?”

She leaned closer, pressing her hands flat on the table. “Fighting over him? What are you talking about?”

“You were always jealous.” Apparently, fighting over him was exactly what I wanted to do. I wasn’t sure where the anger was coming from, but my blood was boiling. Heat flushed through my body.

She squared her shoulders and stared at me. “Is that what you think? You think I was jealous of you and Jonathan?”

“You wanted him but he picked me. For once in our lives, someone picked me.” The hurtful words spewed out of me as if I had no control over them.

Jonathan had picked me. He could have had either one of us, and he’d picked me.

We were floating the Guadalupe river with some of my sorority sisters when we met him during the summer before my sophomore year. Kate was a year behind me, and I’d brought her along so she could get to know my friends. I shouldn’t have worried about her. She’d always had more friends than she knew what to do with. She was the funny, pretty one. Everyone was always spellbound by her.

However, Jonathan hadn’t been spellbound. When we’d stopped in Horseshoe Loop, we tied up to a group of guys that one of the girls recognized from school. Kate had immediately set her sights on the best looking guy there. He was funny and just as captivating as she was. They would have made a perfect couple. But, surprisingly, he wasn’t interested in her. He maneuvered his tube over to mine instead. ‘I think you were in my history class,’ he’d said. And just like that, history was made.

We moved in together a year later. Three years after that, we were married. Twelve years later, I was alone again.

“That’s ridiculous, Grace. I wasn’t jealous of you,” she said, whipping me back from my memories. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were wide. “I was worried about you. You settled down with the first guy that came along. I thought you could do better then. Now I know you could have.”

I was incredulous. “Jonathan was perfect. We were perfect together.”

“Nobody’s perfect. You put him on a pedestal. He could do no wrong in your eyes, but he was far from perfect.” She stood and stomped across the kitchen. Digging through her purse on the counter, she pulled out a stack of paper. She slapped it down on the table in front of me.

She looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. Her shoulders sagged, and she slumped into the chair across from me again. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft. The anger from before was gone, replaced with sad resignation.

I scanned the first page. The words swam before my eyes. It was a conversation beginning more than a year ago. The very first message was from Jonathan. When can I see you again?

Not soon enough, she’d answered.

“What is this?” I asked, my voice laced with disdain. Disdain for Kate. Disdain for what she was forcing on me.

“Something I found on his computer.”

I focused on the name at the top of the page and then silently scanned it from top to bottom. My already broken heart crumpled in my chest.

I looked at her, blinking back the tears. “Who’s Hope? Are you Hope, Kate?”

“I can’t believe you’d think that I’d do that to you,” she said, indignant and hurt.

“Why are you doing this to me now? He’s gone. Can’t you just leave him be? Leave me be.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she whispered. “I just want you back, not the Stepford Wife that Jonathan turned you into. If you want to race again, do it for you. Do it because you want to feel alive again. If you can’t do it for you, then do it for Dad. Do it because he loves watching you cross the finish line. But don’t do it for Jonathan.” She spat his name out angrily though she didn’t look mad any more. Instead, she looked defeated and broken.

I, on the other hand, was angrier than I’d ever been in my life. I got in one last jab. “They’re not even your parents.”

She breathed a heavy sigh and looked away. “That’s not fair, Grace.”

“Life’s not fair, Kate.”

She shook her head and stood. After grabbing her purse from the counter, she walked to the door.

She paused with her hand on the knob. “Don’t I know it?” she said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you, but I’ll be here for you when you want to talk.”

As the door closed behind her, I gathered up the stack of papers and walked upstairs to my room.

My eyes fell on Kate’s door, and I felt the first stab of regret. I’d been unfair. She was my sister in every sense that mattered. The sibling rivalry that had torn us apart this morning was real even if our DNA was different.

I tossed the papers under my bed and opened the drawer in the table beside it. I pulled out Jonathan’s phone and pushed the button to wake it. The screen flashed and I stared at a five-year-old version of Jonathan’s face.

There was no way he’d had an affair. His parents had been divorced. He’d sworn that he would never do that to his kids. There was no way that he would let us down like that. I rolled onto my side and sobbed into my pillow. The bed shifted slightly when Aurora placed her front feet on it. She barked once to get my attention.

“Go away, Aurora,” I wailed, swatting at her.

I laid there for what seemed like hours, heaving into my pillow. My chest ached for the man I’d lost and all of the memories that Kate had just destroyed. I wrapped my arms around myself and sobbed until my body gave out.

When I woke, the morning sun was no longer streaming in through the window. I blinked the grit from my eyes and focused on the large magnolia tree outside. The summer heat was taking a toll on the white blooms. Soon the edges would be brown and the thick petals loose.

As kids, Kate and I climbed the big old tree every summer. The limbs were close enough together that even the shortest little legs could climb them. You could go as high as you were brave. Kate had always been the more courageous one, encouraging me to follow her to the top where we’d sit for hours.

She’d been drawn to the immature blooms and would peel the petals off the closed white buds like an onion. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ she would ask when she’d get to the pod in the center with it’s curling yellow fingers and hard, red stalk. ‘Just as pretty on the inside as the outside.’

I, on the other hand, ignored the flowers in favor of the tree’s more mature fruit. I picked the red seeds one at a time and dropped them to the ground with a ‘he loves me’ or a ‘he loves me not’ for each one. Even as children, we’d been so different, her looking inward for happiness and me trying to find it in someone else.

I reached under the bed, bumping into Aurora who was spread out on the floor. She snorted but didn’t wake. I felt around until I found what I was looking for. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I began with the first page again and read until I couldn’t stand to read any more. I didn’t make it far.

Before I left the house, I put it on Kate’s bed and hoped it would disappear while I was gone.

FATIGUE KATE The house was quiet when I got home. Based on the empty driveway and the dark windows, I knew that the homebodies were out.

I ran up the stairs to change my clothes and skidded to a halt when I got to my room. The proof of Jonathan’s indiscretion was laying on my bed. I grabbed it and tossed into a drawer of my dresser, not wanting to look at it any more.

I had just enough time to sneak in a run and a shower before I had to get ready for dinner with Maddox. With one hand, I dug through the bottom of my closet for my running shoes while yanking a tshirt off a hanger with the other. Minutes later, my shoes were tied, my hair was pulled back, and my headphones were stuck in my ears. I stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the house.

I’d gotten all of a mile when the summer heat started bearing down on me. Even though I’d grown up here, I wasn’t used to it any more. It was a wet heat that permeated your lungs and saturated you from the inside out. As I ran, I ignored the stinging in my side and pushed myself harder, begging the pounding of my feet to drown out the thoughts that had been spinning around my head all day.

The playlist that I’d put together for a thirty-minute run was on the last song when my stomach cramped up, forcing me to stop and walk. With my arms over my head, I tried to catch my breath. I looked longingly at the gas station as I approached and wished I had brought some money for water.

While staring at would-be oasis, my eyes fell on a certain exquisite ecclesiast. He was putting gas in his car and whatever breath I’d just found left me again.

He looked unpriestly again in a blue t-shirt and jeans. I forced myself to look away. All things considered, the feelings he stirred in me were not right. The most obvious being that, despite what he was wearing, he was still a priest. The less obvious being that he’d all but admitted to being in love with my sister. The combination should have been enough to stop me from looking at him like I was, but it wasn’t.

I forced my gaze on the road ahead of me and walked faster.

“Kate!” he called from the other side of the street. I waved but mandated my feet to keep walking. I needed to get home. I needed to shower. I needed to stop looking at my friendly neighborhood priest like he was a piece of meat, and I was a rabid dog.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him jog across the street, and I cursed under my breath. I was a sweaty mess.

I stopped walking only after he injected himself into my path. “I can’t believe you’re running in this kind of heat.” He shook his head disapprovingly but looked truly concerned. “Do you have any water?” If I said I wasn’t enjoying his apparent concern, I’d be lying.

“I’m fine. I’m headed home now.” I tried to nonchalantly wipe the sweat off my forehead. My stomach clenched, and my heart raced. I told myself that it was because of the run and not because of the man in front of me.

“You should run early in the mornings. You’re going to kill yourself out here at this time of day.”

He looked me up and down as if he was checking to make sure I truly was okay. An eyebrow arched and the corner of his mouth turned up in a hidden smile as his eyes fell on my t-shirt.

I looked down, unsure of what I’d find. I hadn’t been paying any attention when I’d thrown on clothes for my run. ‘My Dad Still Thinks I’m a Virgin,’ was emblazoned across my chest. “Sorry,” I

said, stumbling over my words. “I wasn’t really paying attention when I dressed.”

He grinned and shrugged. “It’s funny.”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t wear it around here. My dad won’t like being played for a fool.” I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. I didn’t want Paul to think I was some sleazy whore that slept around a lot. I mean, I had slept around a little here and there, but I was a long way from reaching sleazy whore status.

He chuckled, and the green in his eyes came to life. After last night, I was glad to see it.

Now that I knew that he was in love with her – and I was positive that I hadn’t misread that – he was even more intriguing to me than he’d been before. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to be in love with someone and not be able to do anything about it. I also couldn’t imagine how Grace had missed it.

“Yeah, so I’ve got to head home,” I said.

“I’ve got to get going, too.” He gestured over his shoulder toward the gas station but didn’t move in that direction.

I nodded and started to move around him. As I started to pass, he reached out and touched my arm.

“Is our girl better today?”

“This hasn’t been one of her better days.”

“I can imagine.”

“It’s hard, you know?” I asked. “There’s nothing I can say to make any of it better for her. I’m a distraction at times, but I know I’m a poor substitute for whom she really needs.”

We continued to talk for several more minutes. As usual, Paul offered to do anything he could to help. “Well, I think my gas is probably finished pumping,” he said, nodding toward his car across the street.

“Yep, and I think my legs are seizing up. I better get moving.”

“You know,” he said, backing away slowly. “I usually run early in the mornings. If you want a partner.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “I don’t know. How early are we talking?” It would be nice to have a running partner, but he probably wasn’t the best choice. That thought led to another. I wondered if he knew Grace had been an early morning runner, too – that they had that in common. Once again, I was going to be a poor substitute for the real thing.

“Six. You can do it,” he said, flashing me his most persuasive smile, clearly oblivious to my inner dialogue.

I should have said no. Meeting him was a bad idea. One of two things were bound to happen: I’d either make a complete ass of myself when he left me in his dust, or I’d make a complete ass of myself when I threw myself on the ground in front of him in hopes that he’d try to resuscitate me.

Either way, it wasn’t going to end well. “I don’t know. That’s really early.”

My tone lacked conviction, and he jumped on it. “Tell you what, I’ll be in front of your house tomorrow morning at six. If you come out, great. If you don’t, well … I’ll chalk it up to you being a bigger Yankee than me.”

He coughed when he said Yankee and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m a lot of things but a Yankee isn’t one of them,” I said.

“Whatever. We’ll see who’s tougher.”

“Tougher?” I asked, laughing even harder. “Who’s out here running when it’s 100 degrees?”

“A dumb ass,” he said, smirking.

I fake scoffed at him. “Watch your mouth, Father Paul.”

“What happened to Friend Paul?” he asked.

‘He’s in love with my angel of a sister,’ I wanted to say, but he was already running back across the street.

REEVALUATIONS GRACE I placed the two magnolia blooms on top of the headstone, saving the third for my mom and backed away slowly.

There’d be no singing to my family today. I could hardly even think of any words to say to them, let alone sing. I wanted to be near my children. I needed to be here, but I also felt compelled to sit as far away from Jonathan as possible.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and looked around for some shade. A concrete bench I’d never noticed before sat under a large oak tree about 10 yards away. I couldn’t believe I’d never noticed it.

Walking over to it, the lush green grass that surrounded my family faded into a gradual brown. The thirsty grass crunched under my feet as I walked to the bench. I pulled out a book and opened it though I knew I wouldn’t actually read it. I’d read enough for one day.

Before reading Jonathan and Hope’s conversation, I’d told myself that it hadn’t meant anything, that it had been a one-time thing. A slip up. A mistake. By the third page, it had become clear that was not the case. When I couldn’t take any more, I placed it on Kate’s bed and left the house. I didn’t want to see it ever again. My perception – or misperception – of the life I’d had was obliterated. I’d been married to a man for 11 years, but I hadn’t known him at all.

From the little parts that I had read, I knew that she’d meant something to him. They had met at hotels. They’d met at her house. At least once, he’d even had her over to our house, cooking dinner for her when I’d taken the kids to see Kate in New York.

He’d been too busy to go with us. That had been his excuse.

I could tell from her messages that she’d known intimate details of our lives. She had know when I’d be busy with Karen’s Kitchen. She’d known where our kids went to school. He’d shared these things with her. I felt like she knew me well. Yet, I didn’t know her at all.

“Mind if I sit?”

The sound of Father Paul’s voice brought me back to the present and stilled the restless urge to scream that was brewing inside of me. “Go ahead,” I said, without looking at him but moving over to make room for him all the same.

“I missed you today,” he said.

The dog park. I’d never made it. I nodded unable to speak.

There’s a moment when you know you’re on the brink of a breakdown and the mere presence of someone else causes the dam to break. That was where I was at that moment. I’d barely been holding it together before he’d sat down with me. Now that I wasn’t alone, I could no longer hold it in.

Though I couldn’t understand how it was possible that there were any left, the tears fell.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. He didn’t shush me or tell me it would be okay. He didn’t do anything to help me feel better at all. He merely sat with me while I released it all.

When I was done, I gathered what was left of my dignity while I looked through bleary eyes at his jean clad legs. “Are you not working?” I asked, glancing in the direction of the church.

It was a Wednesday afternoon. He should be preparing for evening mass not hanging out in the cemetery, wearing jeans and holding up a desperate woman in the middle of a meltdown.

He dropped the arm that had been draped around my shoulders and moved to put a little more

space between us. “No, I took the day off.”

“A vacation?” I asked. I hadn’t been to church in months and yet the thought of him not being there side-swiped me in the most surprising way.

“Something like that,” he said, his New England accent heavy with an undercurrent he was trying to hide.

I’d been so caught up in my own problems for so long that I sometimes forgot that other people had problems, too. As hard as it was for me to imagine, there was suffering in the world that wasn’t related to mine. “How long will you be gone?” I asked, wiping the last of the tears from my face.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he answered.

“But you’re on vacation?”

He shifted uneasily next to me. “No, I’m just taking a few days off to reevaluate some things.”

“What are you reevaluating?” I asked.

“Everything and nothing. ” I nodded at his non-answer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“This isn’t really the right time.”

“Please, can we talk about you?” I begged. “I want to think about someone else’s problems.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. How about I tell you a story?”

“Yes,” I said in a hushed voice. Yes, make me forget.

“There was this boy, a loud boisterous boy that was full of life. He was born into a family that didn’t appreciate loud boisterous boys, and I’ll admit that he was a bit of a troublemaker.” He smiled as if that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “He was another mouth to feed when they already had too many. So the family who had largely ignored him most of his life tossed him out to fend for himself.”

“At the age of twelve, this boy ran the streets of Roxbury, stealing to eat, and sleeping behind boxes in alleys. He learned to fight because he had to. He protected himself when he needed to. He did things that he didn’t even know he was capable of doing. Things he’d regret later though he thought there had been no other way at the time. He relied only on himself. No one came to his rescue and he didn’t need any one to save him. Or so he thought.”

“After about five years of living this way, the kid was tougher, but tired. He’d seen more than most people see during their entire lives. He was tired of fighting, tired of trying to find a way to stay ahead of the trouble that always seemed to find him.”

“One day he found himself in a small church on Blue Hill Avenue, hiding in a confessional of all places when a throat cleared on the other side of the lattice. It was ironic because a confessional was exactly where he should have been even if he was there for the wrong reasons. Not believing that there was an act of contrition powerful enough to cleanse his soul, the kid ran. And do you know what happened?”

I shook my head.

“The priest followed.”

“Did you catch him?” I asked.

“No. Father Russell did and talked some sense into the kid. For the first time in years, someone actually cared what the boy had been through. And because Father Russell listened, the boy also listened. Without judgment, Father Russell offered him an alternative. He gave him a home, and for the first time in his entire life, he had a safe place to live. Then he followed him to the church, and for the first time, he had a safe place to think. He followed him to somewhere much better than anywhere he’d been before.”

He stopped talking, and a few seconds passed before I realized that the story was over. “Is the kid

okay today?” My voice hurt from a day’s worth of crying and came out as a croak.

“Very much so. He’s in a very good place actually,” he said, standing up. “Come on. It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to your car.”

As we walked past St. Vincent de Paul and the Madonna, I didn’t look back at the plots where I’d buried a piece of my heart. For the first time, I felt like there was a chance that it could grow back.

Someday. Somehow.

Outside the gate, I saw Paul’s car parked behind mine. “Paul?”

“Yes.” “If you’re not working, how did you know I was here?”

“Kate,” he said. “I was getting ready to drive over to San Antonio to pick up a friend from the airport, and I ran into her.”

“What did she tell you?” I asked.

“Enough,” he admitted, running his hand over the top of his short hair. “She’s not the enemy, Grace.”

“I know.” I was still furious with her, but I’d never been any good at staying angry with her. “So then I guess we know everything there is to know about each other.”

“Not quite,” he answered. “But soon. Will I see you at the dog park tomorrow?”

“I’ll try,” I said.

I still couldn’t make any promises, but something about the way he looked at me made me want to try.

ACQUIESCENCE KATE “Let’s get it all out of the way right now. Take care of all the business so that we can have a good time and not think about any of it.” Maddox gave me a serious look before taking a long pull off his bottle of beer.

I looked at him sideways. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Kate. You ran out of the office yesterday like your hair was on fire. You hid all day today. Something’s wrong. Let’s hear it.”

I sipped my margarita, attempting to stall. I would feel better after I talked to him, regardless of what he told me. Still, I was nervous. This was Jonathan’s best friend that I was talking to.

“Did you know that Jonathan was having an affair?” Straight and to the point. Though his reaction was slight, he stiffened in his chair. “You did.”

He leaned back and rubbed his hand down his face. “I suspected.” I’d suspected him suspecting so I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. Or disappointed.

Maddox had been Jonathan’s friend since college. But that also meant that he’d known Grace almost as long. I couldn’t understand how he could sit back and watch it happen, knowing that she would be devastated if she ever found out. “And you never said anything?”

“To Grace?” he asked. “Come on, Kate. Cut me some slack. He was my best friend.”

“And she wasn’t a friend? How long was it going on?”

“Look, he never actually admitted it, and I never asked. I didn’t want to know.”

I rolled my eyes at him, trying to resist the urge to punch him in the face.

“Look. It wasn’t my place to tell her,” he said almost apologetically. “I tried to talk to him about it once, but he told me to fuck off. I have a general policy of not interjecting myself into other people’s problems, especially when it involves their marriage.”

I couldn’t really blame him there, but I wasn’t so inclined at this point. “Do you know Hope?”

He shook his head. “No. Who’s that?”

“I found a chat string between him and some woman named Hope. I searched online for a Hope in Merriville but came up with nothing.”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head, “but Kate, if you want my advice, and you probably don’t, let it go. It’s just going to eat you up. What’s the point now? What good are you going to accomplish by dredging up the past?”

He was right. What went on behind closed doors wasn’t really any one’s business. So why was I now making it mine? I’d done enough damage already. I smiled and made a vow to myself to stop obsessing over Jonathan’s sleaziness.

I looked around the noisy Mexican restaurant and noticed for the first time a grandfather and granddaughter eating in the far corner. Her head was down as she colored on the paper-covered table.

The grandfather also had a crayon in his hand, and they were both intent upon their art work. When the girl looked up, her eyes met mine. She smiled and pointed to her drawing with a proud grin across her face. For a moment, that smile erased all of my anxiety.

“You’re right,” I said. “No more talk about Jonathan tonight.”

He nodded happily. “Good. I finally got you to agree to a date, and so far it’s not looking like you’ll agree to another one any time soon.”

“Just friends, remember? That was the deal.” I reached out my hand to shake on it.

He groaned and shook his head. “You’re really going to try and hold me to it, too, aren’t you? I can’t shake on that.”

I dropped my hand on the table in defeat. “But we agreed.”

“I don’t remember any such deal,” he said just as our fajitas arrived. As the waiter placed our plates in front of us, I stared at the constellation of tiny freckles on Maddox’s neck. It was something I’d never noticed.

He cocked his head to the side and looked at me inquisitively. “What are you looking at?”

“You have a happy face on your neck. Right here,” I said gesturing to the same spot on my own neck. “I think he’s sticking his tongue out at me.”

He barked out a laugh. “Are you turning my moles into an ink blot exercise? If you want a closer look, I bet we can work something out.”

I rolled my eyes and huffed out an exaggerated sigh. “You have a one-track mind, you know.”

“It’s hard not to when you show up looking like that,” he said, waving his fork in my direction.

“Whatever,” I said, dismissing the compliment. “I could have shown up in a muumuu, and you’d act the exact same way.”

“Muumuus are hot. Besides that’s just more fabric for me to imagine peeling off of you.”

“Maaaaddox.”

He laid his fork down. His eyes softened and held mine in a silent plea. “Give me a chance, Kate.

I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. I promise, it won’t be boring.” While he waited for me to speak, he nodded the yes that he was hoping to hear from me.

I had no good reason for denying him. He was funny and good looking. Charming when he wanted to be. If I could have asked the boyfriend fairy to find the perfect man for me, she would have delivered Maddox on a silver platter.

There was also no denying that I was attracted to him. Once upon a time, he’d charmed the pants right off of me. However, even then, I’d known it wasn’t sustainable. My life had been halfway across the country, sometimes halfway around the world, and he hadn’t seemed like the kind of guy who could commit anyway. I’d had no problem walking away. To me, that said it all.

I drank in the sincere look on his face and tried to feel it again. I wanted to want him. I really did. I wanted nothing more than to want him like he wanted me. But something was holding me back.

Someone was holding me back. Even with the perfect guy sitting across from me, someone else was on my mind.

It was stupid and crazy and ridiculous, and I needed to put an end to the madness. I needed to get Paul out of my head. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

His blue eyes blazed victoriously, and he picked up his fork and starting eating again. “I’ll have you screaming ‘yes’ before you know it.”

“I said I would think about it.”

It was an act. I was playing hard to get even though I’d already made up my mind.

I was not going to run with Paul tomorrow, and I was going to go on another date with Maddox.

I looked out of the restaurant window and watched a group of kids break an egg onto the sidewalk across the street. They gathered around it to see if it would fry.

I reconsidered. I would run with Paul tomorrow. But only because it was supposed to be 102 degrees by mid-afternoon.

But when Maddox asked again, I was going to go out with him again. I was going to get Paul out of

my head once and for all.

BLINDSIDED GRACE I walked through the gate and carefully closed it behind me. Aurora’s stub of a tail wiggled in anticipation of the face licking ahead. Chubs lapped from the water faucet in the middle of the park, his owner by his side.

Aurora pulled against me until I let go of the leash and then she headed toward him as if she knew exactly why we were there. He barked a gruff hello and then, as expected, greedily licked her drooping jowls.

“You’re here,” Paul said, smiling broadly. “I was about to give up on you.” His ball cap pulled low on his head again, obscuring his eyes in the shadow of the brim.

“I made it,” I said while still assessing him. The first couple of times I’d seen him dressed like this, in a t-shirt and jeans with flip flops on his feet, it had felt like a disguise, as if he was hiding behind this look of normalcy. The outfit was so different from what I’d come to expect of him over the years. However, I was beginning to realize that I was now seeing another version of the man I already knew. It felt as if he was bestowing a privilege on me that few in town had been given. “I’m still getting used to seeing you like this.”

He laughed. “Do you feel you’re meeting a stranger?”

“No,” I said, being completely honest. “ I think I’m more comfortable with you like this.”

“I thought you might,” he said, indicating that his new look was for my benefit.

“Aren’t you breaking the rules?”

He looked uncomfortable, and I regretted asking. “You want to walk?” he said, instead of answering.

“That would be great.” I glanced up at the sky. At half past eight in the morning, the sun was already blazing.

He pulled an empty, somewhat squashed water bottle out of his back pocket and unscrewed the cap. He leaned down and held it under the faucet. “Let’s go then,” he said, stuffing it back in his pocket after it was halfway full. “Same direction or different?”

I looked in the direction we’d walked last time and then turned in the opposite direction. It led to the main street of our small downtown. “I’d like to go the other way. Do you mind?” I had an uncontrollable urge to do everything different. Today, I wanted everything in my life to be different.

“We can go whichever way you like.”

“Aren’t you worried that someone will see us?”

“See us walking?” he asked. “There’s nothing wrong with two people walking their dogs together.”

“People will talk,” I said. “It’s hard to outrun a rumor in this town.”

“I’m not worried.” He said it definitively, as if he wasn’t the least bit concerned.

“I guess people will probably just think you’re helping me anyway. Everyone thinks I’m in need of saving as is.”

“Are you?”

“I think I may be beyond saving. I feel like a living casualty most of the time.” The statement was so overly dramatic that I almost laughed at my own instability.

“I don’t believe that. You just need time. You’ve been through a lot. It’s a lot to digest.”

We fell into quiet step with each other while I considered his words. “I’m glad you came,” he said, after a few minutes. “I worry about you a lot, Grace.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” “I’m okay.”

I didn’t really believe that. Jonathan’s affair filled me full of a new kind of rage. It wasn’t the quiet rage that I felt over losing my family. It was a loud, clanging rage that beat against the walls of my chest, begging to burst through. I’d been lied to, cheated on, betrayed, and disregarded. I wanted to lash out at the man who’d let me down, but I would never get the chance. I would never be able to yell at him or ask him why he’d done it. I would never get to hear his petty excuses. I would never be able to ask him why I hadn’t been enough.

Knowing all of this only made me angrier. However, even the briefest moment with those thoughts was immediately followed by an even more crippling sense of guilt.

Guilt had become my middle name, an element so completely a part of my being that I couldn’t remember any more what it felt like not to have the burden of it resting on my shoulders.

“It’s kind of hard to be angry at the man who died trying to save my children, isn’t it?” Especially when I’d done nothing to save them myself. My voice didn’t waver, but I kept my eyes trained on the sidewalk in front of us. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t meet them. If I looked up, he’d see me.

The real me. The angry, wounded woman with a borrowed future she didn’t want.

“Is it? The two acts seem entirely separable in my mind. You are entitled to feel whatever you’re feeling. Go ahead. Be angry. Feel it so you can move on.” My head was right there with him.

Unfortunately, my heart was having trouble keeping up.

I was deeply regretting the turn this conversation had taken. I didn’t want to talk about Jonathan or his affair. Being around Paul the other day had been so easy. It wasn’t that it was hard now. It wasn’t.

Paul always made conversation easy, but today felt different. He was different.

When we’d gone to dinner with Kate, he’d been relaxed and funny, and he’d only just met her, leading me to believe that the quiet, serious Paul that frequented Karen’s Kitchen was more for my benefit than because it was actually his nature to be so. I wanted to see the other Paul. The one who’d had dinner with us at the burger restaurant. The one who’d almost made me laugh. The one who had made Kate laugh.

I tried to think of something lighthearted to change the mood, something that didn’t involve any aspect of my life, but I came up with nothing so I walked on in frustrated silence. As I stepped off the curb, a horn blared, and I was yanked back just as a car whizzed by, nearly clipping my left foot.

“Whoa,” Paul said. He continued pulling on my arm until we were standing hip to hip in the safety zone of the sidewalk. “The light’s red, Grace.” There was a catch in his voice.

I watched breathlessly as traffic continued by as if nothing had happened. The car had been so close that I’d felt the air stir around me. My carelessness could have cost me my life. It could have all been over. If Paul hadn’t pulled me back, it might have been. Just as suddenly as the realization dawned on me, I was blindsided again. Something stirred inside of me, something I’d thought I would never feel again. With Paul’s hand still gripping my arm tightly and my heart still thumping wildly in my chest, I came to a decision.

I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live.

Paul thoroughly inspected me while repeatedly asking if I was okay. I assured him that I was fine.

When we stepped off the curb again, however, I realized that I was better than fine. I felt it. An energy. I wanted to walk a little bit faster. I wanted to go wherever it was that we were going, and I

wanted to be there just a little bit sooner.

This time, as we walked, I was able to successfully turn the conversation to easier topics. We didn’t talk about Jonathan. Instead, I pumped him for information, learning little things that I’d never thought to ask before today. Simple things, like music and books. And I learned that his tastes were similar to mine.

Six blocks later, we found ourselves turning onto the main street. “Would you like to stop?” he asked, pointing to the coffee shop up ahead.

The small, locally owned coffee shop with its French style bistro tables had always been one of my favorite places in town. “If you wouldn’t mind.” Stopping for coffee seemed like something incredibly normal that normal people would do.

“Not at all. I love this place,” he said, already clipping a leash to Chubs and tying him to a chair at the first table we’d come to. He took the crumpled water bottle out of his back pocket and unscrewed the lid and poured some onto the dog’s muzzle. He did the same for Aurora who was already sprawled out on the concrete in the shade of the table. Finally, he turned to me. “Stay here, and I’ll get us some drinks. What would you like?”

“An iced latte, please,” I said, securing Aurora next to Chubs.

A few minutes later he returned with my drink and a bottle of water for himself. “No coffee?” I asked.

He pulled the crumpled water bottle out of his back pocket and sat down. “Nope. I can’t stand the stuff.”

I laughed. “But you said you love this place, and I know I’ve seen you here before.”

He smiled and ducked his head. “It’s not about the coffee. I come here to watch people.”

I looked around. Nearly every table was full of people laughing, reading, talking, eating, just being. “If you sit here for long enough, the entire town will pass by.”

“No doubt. See those ladies there,” he said, pointing to two older women who were having coffee and playing cards. “They were here the last time I was. I’m sure of it.”

“Do you like it here?” I asked. “You’ve been here for what … two years?”

“It’s different. There are some things I love about it and some things that I could do with out, but honestly there’s no place I’d rather be right now.” He looked at me with such intensity that I wondered if he was talking about the town or the smaller piece of real estate that we were currently occupying.

“Like what?”

“Well, the small town drama is different from what I’m used to. I’m not used to everyone knowing everyone’s business and thinking that they need to be a part of it. Some of the things that go on between the moms at the preschool seem crazy to me.” His face fell as he realized what he’d said.

“I’m sorry, Grace. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

“It’s okay.” I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “Really. I’m not a ticking time bomb that could explode at any minute. At least, not at this moment. I actually feel pretty good right now.”

Paul looked pleased. “So why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. I feel different. I think that the near death experience I had a few blocks back did something to Gloomy Grace.” I wasn’t going to tell him, but I was pretty sure that he had as much to do with it as the car that had nearly run over me.

“Gloomy Grace is okay in my book, but Giddy, Gregarious, Goofy Grace is good, too.”

I laughed but looked at him skeptically.

“Well, if Giddy, Gregarious, Goofy Grace is going to rejoin civilization, she needs to try to act like an active participant, don’t you think? I don’t want anyone, especially you, feeling like they need to tiptoe around me. Besides, you’re right about the moms. They are silly, and it takes some getting used to.”

As if our conversation had willed her to be there, Arden breezed up to our table. From where she’d come, I wasn’t sure. I’d been so lost in my conversation with Paul that I hadn’t seen her walk up.

“Hi, y’all,” she said. Her Texas twang exaggerated for what I suspected was Paul’s sake. Arden thought her Texas accent was cute and cued it up whenever it suited her. “Look at you, Father Paul. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in street clothes.”

“It happens occasionally.”

“Of course it does. In fact, Felicia said she saw you at the gym a few weeks ago, wearing shorts and running on a treadmill.”

Paul looked at her strangely, as if he couldn’t understand why two moms from the school would be discussing what he’d been wearing. I chuckled thinking about all the times that I’d listened to Arden talk about Paul’s clothes, shoes, hair, eyes, and so on. “I can’t exactly run in the collar,” he said.

“Yes. It would be a little uncomfortable and hot, I’d imagine,” she said, nodding. “Kind of like today, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Arden’s eyes awkwardly remained on Paul for a moment before finally shifting to me. “How are you, Grace? I’m sorry I haven’t called.”

I nodded. She’d called twice in five months. She’d been one of my closest friends, but when my life fell apart, so did our friendship.

“How are you holding up?” she continued.

“I’m doing okay,” I said, meeting her gaze and hanging on to it. “Every day is a new day. Right?”

She arched her eyebrows at me. “Well, today looks like a pretty good day.”

“It’s not been too bad.” As soon as I said the words, I wished I could suck them back. Her eyes got wide, and she nodded. By noon today, everyone from the preschool would know that Paul and I’d had coffee together this morning. School was out for the summer, but efforts would be coordinated to get the rumor mill up and running.

“Well, I’ll be going then,” Arden said. “But we should get together soon. I saw Kate the other day, and we talked about getting together for dinner or a movie or something. Have her call me, and we’ll set it up.”

“Yes. I’ll have my people call your people,” I said, trying to hide my reluctance at the idea. She laughed and turned toward the coffee shop door.

I really couldn’t blame her for not calling me during the last five months when I didn’t want her to call either. As sad as it was, we didn’t have anything in common any more. The ties that once bound us together had been severed, and she was now just a reminder of everything I’d lost. Realizing that I was probably now what she was talking about rather than who she was talking to didn’t make me feel any better.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sure she’s already on her phone, telling someone she saw us here.”

“I’m not worried about it.” He shrugged as if it was the last thing on his mind. “Hey, Kate says that you’re a runner,” he said, changing the subject.

I nodded. “It’s been years since I ran competitively, but I’ve been thinking about doing a triathlon in the fall.”

“That’s what she said. We ran together this morning. You should join us tomorrow.”

My stomach twisted. “When did you do that?” It was only a little after nine o’clock now.

“Six.” I snorted involuntarily. “Kate got up at 6:00? She must have really wanted to run with you.”

“I take it that’s unusual?”

“We don’t usually see the whites of her eyes before McDonalds stops serving from the breakfast menu.”

It suddenly occurred to me that that might not be a fair assessment of her any more. She’d been dressed and ready to leave yesterday when I was still making breakfast. Maybe she was changing her ways. Or maybe she was just finally growing up.

He chuckled. “Come to think of it, she didn’t talk for the first mile or so. But once she warmed up, she was fine. She was easy to run with, though. I get bored out there on my own sometimes. And your sister is very funny. I’ve never met anyone who speaks her mind quite like she does.”

My stomach churned again. It wasn’t right, and it made no sense whatsoever but the thought of Kate spending time with him irked me. “Maybe I will join you tomorrow,” I said, surprising myself once again.

We firmed up our plans for the next day’s run and talked about the triathlon as I finished my coffee.

While I threw our trash away, Paul gave each of the dogs another drink. Chubs immediately perked up and lapped up the water greedily while Aurora looked uninterested, still sprawled out on the concrete.

I urged her up, and we started back the way we’d come, taking our time this time. Aurora hung back, shuffling her paws at a snail’s pace.

Not in any hurry, I continued our conversation from our walk over. “Okay, so favorite movie?” I asked. We’d covered TV shows and books earlier.

“Too broad,” he answered. “What genre?”

“Drama or Action,” I fired off.

“The Usual Suspects,” he shot back immediately. “Counts as both, I think.”

I busted out in laughter.

“What’s so funny?” he asked. “It’s drama not comedy.”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t what I was expecting, I guess.” I’d assumed that his response would be The Passion of the Christ or something similar. I’d been so wrong about him.

He smirked as if he could read my mind. “Next.”

“You brought it up, so comedy.”

“Wedding Crashers.”

“Really?” I asked, laughing again.

He shrugged. “I like weddings and Owen Wilson.”

“Romantic comedy?” I asked, expecting to stump him this time.

“Keeping the Faith. Favorite movie of all time.”

“Interesting,” I said.

“You have no idea.”

“I’ll have to check it out.”

We approached my car, and I threw my stuff in it and turned on the ignition to get the air conditioner running. It was only a little after ten but it had to be over ninety degrees already.

“Ummm, Grace. There’s something wrong with Aurora,” Paul said. He was kneeling beside the dog who had laid down on the hot pavement of the parking lot. Her breathing was rapid, and every

pant was accompanied by a strange noise I’d never heard before. It was something between a raspy cough and a click, and I became more and more panicked with each one.

“I think she’s too hot.” He rubbed the wrinkles of skin between her wide set eyes. She didn’t acknowledge him and instead looked straight ahead. “I think we better get her to a vet.”

I must have looked horrified because he stood and put his hands on my shoulders. “Chubs and I will go with you. Get in, and I’ll drive.”

He scooped Aurora up in his arms and carefully placed her on the backseat. I ran around the car and slid in beside her while Paul helped Chubs climb into the front passenger seat. While I waved cool air toward her face, he ran around to the other side and slid behind the wheel.

The air conditioning didn’t seem to have any effect on her. By the time we pulled up at the vet’s office, a white froth hung from her lips, and she’d begun to shake. The car was in park, and Aurora was back in Paul’s arms in a matter of minutes, but it looked as if it might be too late.

The nurse working the front desk took one look at Aurora and shouted for help from the back.

Doctor Gage appeared and took the dog from Paul. He told his nurse to put us in a room, and then he disappeared with Aurora. It all happened so fast.

“This is not happening,” I muttered over and over as I paced the room with Chubs on my heels.

Somewhere between my third and fiftieth lap around the small room, Paul stopped me. “It’s going to be okay. He will take good care of her, Grace.”

I stood before him and wrung my hands. “How much can one person take? I mean, really. I can’t go home without her. I just can’t.” Tears welled in my eyes. “If we lose her, it will break his heart.”

“And yours,” he said.

“It’s stupid to feel this way about a dog.” With that, a torrential downpour of tears began their descent down my cheeks. I was so tired of crying. I was especially tired of crying in front of this man.

For the third time in as many days, he pulled me into a hug.

“No, it’s not. You love her.”

“She’s all I have now,” I said, shuddering.

“No, she’s not, Grace. There are a lot of people that love you.”

“She’s easy. I can handle her,” I said into his chest. “She doesn’t ask me to talk about my feelings.

She’s not scared to be around me. She doesn’t have to work to be my friend. She doesn’t press me to figure out if I’m having a good day or a bad day when she comes into the room. I don’t feel quite so alone when she’s around. And she doesn’t require anything from me either,” I continued on my teary rant.

“Do you feel alone now?” he asked, with his arms still wrapped around me. “Because you’re not.”

I pulled away and blinked up at him. “No,” I breathed. Using his thumbs, he wiped the tears from my cheeks.

I would never know what got into me at that moment. Would never be able to figure out whether it was the months of grief or the panic stemming from the situation with Aurora or just sheer lunacy.

However, in a moment of madness, I forgot everything. I wasn’t a woman who’d lost everything. I wasn’t a woman who’d been hanging on by a thread these past five months. I was just a woman, locked in a room with a pacing basset hound and a gorgeous man who was saying all the right things.

With damp cheeks, puffy eyes, and a runny nose, I placed my hands on his chest and pressed up on my tiptoes. When I should have pushed him away, I kissed him instead. With his hands still cupping my cheeks and my hands now clutching his thin t-shirt, I kissed him with everything I had.

I put so much of myself into that kiss that I didn’t notice right away that he wasn’t kissing me back.

But, eventually, it hit me. I released my grip on his shirt and pushed away, embarrassed and confused.

He stood rigid in front of me, not moving a single muscle, his arms now hanging limply by his side.

His eyes were wide and round. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know why I did that.”

I shuffled backwards, trying to get away from him and bumped into the examination table. I was horrified for more reasons than I could count. I wanted to look away. I wanted to duck and hide under the table. I wanted to run from the room, but I could do none of those things. I was paralyzed by my own fear and embarrassment.

While I silently stared, his expression morphed from shock into something completely unexpected.

He took one long step toward me until we were dangerously close again. With one finger, he tipped up my chin so that I had to look him in the eyes, and a palpable energy hummed between us. I had an almost uncontrollable desire to touch him. I gripped the edge of the table instead.

“I do,” he said in a low voice. The words were barely out of his mouth before his mouth was on mine again. There was no hesitation this time. His lips moved in perfect harmony against mine, and one kiss turned into a shower of unbearably sweet kisses. They were innocent but full of promise.

With a new intensity, a hand wove through my hair, and he nipped at my bottom lip. My lips parted in response, urging him to do the same, begging him for more. He didn’t answer me. Instead, he pulled back, brushing a thumb across my lips as a parting gift.

He looked down at me, the want in his beautiful green eyes not masked in the slightest. My head spun. My heart raced.

I’d just kissed my priest.

No. I’d just kissed Paul.

And he’d kissed me back.

“What just happened?” I asked.

A contented and reassuring smile appeared. “Life,” he said. “Life just happened.” ]

INVITATION GRACE “You kissed him? Just like that?” Kate sat down on the edge of my bed, and I tossed the book I’d been pretending to read. I hadn’t been able to focus on the words anyway and was reading the same paragraph over and over just for something to do.

She had come by my room under the guise of checking on Aurora, who was still recovering from her bout with heat exhaustion on my bed. The doctor had prescribed lots of rest and water for the next couple of days and limited outdoor activities. No more trips to the dog park for a while. Though Kate was concerned about the dog, I knew her more covert mission was to check on me. So, while she was still hovering over the snoring dog, I’d ambushed her by declaring that I’d kissed Father Paul. “Yes, just like that. I really don’t know what came over me.”

“I think I know what came over you,” she said under her breath. She eyed me cautiously. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

‘Freaking out’ was putting it mildly.

I’d come home and put myself to bed, thinking that I was surely coming down with some sort of virus – a virus that robs you of your common sense and morality. But, of course, I couldn’t sleep. I kept replaying the kiss over and over in my head. And then I would berate myself for it. I couldn’t believe that I’d done it. I was shocked. And ashamed. But mostly, I was guilt-ridden. The guilt was eating me alive and threatened to swallow me whole. In a perfect world, I could crawl under my bed and hide for the next ten years.

Actually, in a perfect world, none of this would be happening. In a perfect world, I’d be cooking dinner for the kids right now. Jonathan would stroll through the door in about thirty minutes, and it would be him that I’d kiss.

But the world wasn’t perfect. If I went downstairs and cooked dinner tonight, only my dad and sister would be there to eat with me. And to make matters worse, I couldn’t stop thinking about Paul. I unconsciously brushed my fingers over my mouth.

“Oh, my God, you’re thinking about it now!” she said. “You liked it!”

I threw my arm over my eyes. I desperately wanted to talk to Kate about it, but I was fearful of what she would say. Not because she would disapprove. Quite the opposite. My fear was that she would approve. That she would encourage me. Kate lived by a different set of standards than the rest of the world. Still, I needed to talk to someone, and there was no one really other than her. Arden would have loved to hear the sordid details of my kiss with Paul. However, her reaction at the coffee shop still bothered me.

“I’m not sure how I feel about it,” I said cautiously. “After all, I did just attack our priest. I guess I’m conflicted.”

“Our friendly neighborhood celibate priest,” she added.

I shifted onto my back, stared at the ceiling over my bed, and let out an exasperated sigh. “Thanks, Kate. Like I needed to be reminded of that.” Sarcasm oozed out of my every pore. “Besides aren’t they all?”

“The Vatican would say so. Though I’m starting to question everything I’ve ever known about everyone,” she said, crawling across me to lay down on the other side of the bed. “So details. I want all of them.”

She remained silent while I described how I’d jumped him in the vet’s office, trying not to leave anything out. “So I was acting like a sobbing maniac. He was giving me a friendly hug, trying to comfort me, and I basically attacked him,” I finished. “Just like that. He didn’t see it coming.”

“Wow.” Her voice was distant as if she was deep in thought.

“Yeah, so how hot is the room in hell for a woman who attempts to seduce a priest?”

“It doesn’t sound to me like you had to do much seducing. Sounds to me like he was a willing participant.”

“He wasn’t,” I said, wanting to protect him.

“So, he didn’t kiss you back?” she asked incredulously. “I don’t believe that.”

“Why?” “Because I have a theory about Father Paul.”

“What’s that?”

“I think he likes you. In fact, I know he likes you. Whether he’ll do anything about it is a whole other matter. But I know for a fact that he likes you.”

“How do you know that?” I didn’t know why I was even asking. It was ludicrous. We weren’t two high school kids, and this wasn’t my first crush. We were grown adults. He was a priest. I was a widow. A new widow at that.

“Just tell me the truth. Did he kiss you back?”

“No … well not at first, at least. I think I shocked the pants right off him.”

“You wish,” she said, laughing at her own joke.

“Kate, stop!”

“Sorry,” she said, trying to gain her composure. “He’s just so flippin’ good-looking. It’s hard not think about him like that.”

“Well, I for one, never had that problem … until recently.”

“So you admit that he’s hot.”

“He’s attractive,” I conceded with reluctance.

“Uh, huh. And so after the shock wore off, what did he do?”

“He kissed me back,” I whispered. “But you can’t tell anyone, Kate. They’ll kick him out of the church. They will, right?”

“Beats me. I’m sure they have programs to try to reform him before they kick him out. Jeez they probably wouldn’t do anything to him with all the problems the Catholic Church is having with their priests I seriously doubt the Pope is going to get his panties in a bunch over one kiss with one woman. They’ve got bigger fish to fry than that.”

“This is serious, Kate.”

She flopped onto her back beside me. “I know. I’m not trying to make light of it. But it’s only a problem if you want to kiss him again.”

“I’m not going to kiss him again.” I wasn’t. I had no intention to do so, but even as I said it I knew that I didn’t want it to be true. And then the guilt crashed over me again. “It was just a one time thing.”

“You just said ‘I’m not going to.’ You didn’t say that you don’t want to.”

I groaned. “You know what I meant.”

“Sure I do. And, what I’m saying is that it doesn’t have to be a one time thing if you don’t want it to be,” she said in true Kate fashion.

Kate would never allow an edict from the Vatican to get in the way of her happiness. She went where her heart led her with no thought to the consequences. It wasn’t even that she was a rule breaker because the rules never applied to her in the first place. I’d always admired that about her.

However, admiring the trait in someone else doesn’t mean that it’s a trait you’d want to adopt for yourself even if you could. I doubted that I could ever live my life the way she did.

“The priest thing is sort of a huge obstacle.”

“It’s a doozy,” she agreed. “But it’s funny that you are facing this particular dilemma today because I was just researching the whole Catholic celibacy thing yesterday.” She waved her hand in the air as if ‘the whole Catholic celibacy thing’ was a fly buzzing around us, annoying but of no real consequence.

“Why?” I asked, my voice dripping with suspicion.

“I was curious,” she said, shrugging innocently. “We’ve been hanging out with Paul a lot this week.

I bet when he was younger, he could have had any woman he wanted. Shit, he practically still can. But he’s chosen this path for his life instead. The Mystifying Minister baffles me.” The amount of thought that she’d put into this baffled me. However, she wasn’t the only one who’d recently become mystified by Paul.

I knew better than to plant ideas in Kate’s head. Hers was already full of enough bad ideas to last the both of us a lifetime. She didn’t need to know that I’d thought of nothing but him all afternoon.

That even though I knew it was an impossibility, I’d wondered if he would kiss me again when I dropped him off at his car, and I’d been disappointed when he hadn’t. She didn’t need to know that the kiss had been nagging at me all afternoon.

I could do the same research myself, but I didn’t want to wait for her to leave. Besides, she’d already done it. There was no reason to duplicate efforts. “Okay, I wouldn’t say that I’m facing a dilemma, but what did your research teach you?” I asked, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“Well,” she started, “surprisingly, the whole celibacy thing isn’t even rooted in religious doctrine like you’d think. It wasn’t even put into place until 900 years after Jesus. One theory is that priests were required to be celibate so they wouldn’t produce heirs that would get in the way of the church getting their estates when they died. It was as much about money as it was about discipline.”

“That is interesting,” I said. “But it’s immaterial, Kate. The fact is he’s a priest and priests aren’t allowed to kiss their parishioners. End of story. The history of the church is irrelevant.”

“Okay, but –,” Kate pressed on.

“But nothing.” I was starting to get annoyed. We could kick this dead horse around all night, and nothing would change.

“No, wait. Let’s just say … hypothetically … that he wasn’t a priest. Just pretend for a second. Do you like him like that?”

“No.” I paused, and she arched her eyebrows at me, repeating the question I had just answered.

“Okay, I don’t know. But we don’t even need to go there because that’s not the only obstacle in our way.”

“What’s the problem?” she asked.

I wanted to thump her on the head. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a freaking mess, Kate. There’s no getting around that. Until this week, I’ve spent every day either in bed or at the cemetery. I cry myself to sleep every night, and that hasn’t changed. And on top of everything else, I just found out that my dead husband was in love with someone else. I’m in no condition to be kissing anybody.”

“So get yourself straightened out.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Well, I think you’re making progress,” she said. “Besides, you can’t schedule love. It happens when it happens.”

“I’m certainly not in love with him,” I scoffed.

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

I rolled my eyes at her. Paul and I barely knew each other. In fact, until this week, we’d never even talked to each other outside of church or Karen’s Kitchen.

As if she could read my mind, she asked, “Tell me this. When you were still going, how often was he at Karen’s Kitchen?”

“Almost every night,” I conceded. “But that’s just because he cares about the people we were helping. He’s a giver. ” “He is a giver. I wonder though,” she said, tapping her chin with her finger, “exactly how much he’s willing to give up.”

“I need to feed Aurora,” I said, rolling off the bed to end a pointless conversation. _________________________ I tossed and turned all night and was awake before the alarm went off. I was anxious about seeing him again. I worried he wouldn’t show up to run with us. I worried he would.

I opened the door to my room and glanced down the hallway toward Kate’s cracked door. I tiptoed across the wood floor, careful not to make any noise that would wake my dad downstairs. Before I got to her room, the bathroom door opened at the end of the hall. She shuffled toward me in a tank top and sleep shorts. “You better get dressed. It’s almost six,” I whispered.

“You’re going to have to go without me today. I’m not feeling well.” She gripped her stomach and moaned dramatically.

I eyed her suspiciously. I was counting on her being with me this morning. It was the only reason I hadn’t completely lost my mind already. I needed her to be a buffer between Paul and I. “I can’t go alone,” I hissed.

“Sure you can.” She slipped past me, heading back into her room. “You’ll be fine.” She winked at me as she shut the door and left me alone in the hall on the brink of an anxiety attack. I looked at my watch. I didn’t have time for an anxiety attack. He was probably already outside waiting. Or not outside because he wasn’t coming.

I slipped my phone into the interior pocket of my running shorts and opened the front door. My heart fell when he wasn’t waiting on the porch. I scanned the yard and found him stretching near the big magnolia tree. My heart beat furiously in my chest, and I slipped headfirst into the panic attack that I’d talked myself out of upstairs. I turned and considered running back into the house. I wasn’t ready to face him.

“Morning,” he said, joining me on the sidewalk. His smile was warm and his voice inviting, and just like that, I was at ease again. All nervousness melted away. “Did you stretch?”

“Yes, I stretched inside. But I think stretching is going to be the least of my problems. I haven’t run in months. I won’t be able to keep up with you.”

He laughed. “I’m in no hurry, Grace. We can take it as slow as you need.”

My tangled mind wondered if he was just talking about running or if he meant something more. I had just told Kate the night before that I wasn’t going to allow this to go any further. But, now that he was standing in front of me, a part of me wanted to interpret everything coming out of his mouth as an invitation. “I guess we’re going to find out what I’m capable of.” My answer was also laced with double meaning.

The smile he returned was genuine and easy, and a piece of my broken heart sealed back into place.

Whether I was ready or not, being around him was good for me. His presence was a healing one, like

a balm on my still open wounds.

“Let’s go then,” he said. “You lead and I’ll follow. No pressure here.”

As we jogged, we fell into an easy rapport. I was amazed that yesterday’s black widow attack hadn’t changed that.

He asked about Aurora, and I assured him that she was a lot better today. He talked about his plans for the day. His friend was still in town, and they were going to Fredericksburg to prowl around and then they had plans to visit a few local wineries. I must have looked at him funny because he responded, ‘What? You think the only wine I have is the sacrament?’ He laughed then as if I should know better, and I realized that there were still so many things about Paul that I didn’t know.

Hoping to learn more about him, I plodded along silently as he described the places he was taking his friend. Noting that he hadn’t mentioned whether his friend was a he or a she, a pang of jealousy blasted through me until I reminded myself that jealousy was a ridiculous and inappropriate emotion for me to be having.

When he asked if I would be interested in tagging along, a part of me wanted to go with them – to prove to myself that what had happened yesterday had been no big deal. Another part of me worried that that was exactly what I would find. The fact that he’d occupied every bit of my headspace for the last twelve hours was a problem. I wasn’t naïve to that.

As usual, the cautious portion of my psyche won out, and I declined the invitation as we turned back onto my dad’s street. “Thanks for the invitation, but I actually have some things that I need to take care of today.” It wasn’t a lie. I really did have a list of things I was going to accomplish today, even if I had to make myself do them.

“I get it,” he said. “It’s kind of last minute anyway. I was going to ask Kate, too. Do you think she’d like to check out the wineries with us?”

“She can probably give you the tour,” I said sourly. He looked at me in surprise, and I recanted.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure she would enjoy it.” I was silent as we approached my dad’s yard. I was deep in thought, wondering why his mention of my sister caused such a visceral reaction in me.

When we stopped in front of the house, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. It felt good to be moving again, to feel my heart pounding from exertion rather than anger or fear. However, now that we were finished, I doubted that I could go another step. “I’m exhausted,” I said, plopping myself down on the sidewalk. I took my phone out of my pocket, tossed it on the grass beside me, and began stretching. My underutilized body would be sore tomorrow.

Paul reached over and grabbed my phone. He typed something into and then returned it to the ground beside me. “I saved my number in your phone just in case you change your mind. We aren’t leaving until noon.” My eyes and my mind wandered to the phone that now contained Paul’s number.

“Listen,” he said, continuing. “Even if you can’t make it today, I have to take my friend to the airport on Monday. We are going to go into San Antonio because he’s never seen the Alamo or the Riverwalk. He really wants to meet you before he leaves. Will you think about it?”

I nodded, hung up on the ‘he.’

“All right. I need to get going,” he said, pointing down the street. I nodded again, and with a weak smile, he set off on what I assumed would be a longer and faster run. I let myself back into the house and leaned against the closed door, allowing myself a moment to think.

Neither of us had mentioned the kiss. I should be relieved. If he’d brought it up, I didn’t know what I would say. Apologize profusely, I supposed. Though I probably owed him that, I was still dreading that awkward conversation.

But, I wasn’t as relieved as I was incredibly disappointed. Our kiss had been nothing more than a

blip on the radar. The fact that it hadn’t been consequential enough for him to bring it up saddened me, but at least I could say it hadn’t wrecked our friendship.

I contemplated San Antonio on Monday and then scolded myself for even considering it.

COMPENSATION GRACE By the time I showered and ventured back downstairs, the house was quiet and seemingly empty.

The coffee in the pot was lukewarm so I knew my dad had already gone to meet the old guys. I threw a skillet on the stove and pulled the carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. After my run, I was starving. Training for the triathlon, if I decided to do it, could be the cure for my lack of appetite.

I’d just sat down at the kitchen table with a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast when the house phone rang. I stared at it. It wasn’t my house and it wasn’t my phone. Even though I’d grown up here and was living here again, it was my dad’s house.

However, thanks to my early morning run, I still felt like I could take on the world today. “Battles residence.”

“May I speak with Grace Northcutt?” a hopeful voice asked.

“This is she.”

“Hello, Ms. Northcutt, I’m so glad to finally reach you. I’ve been trying for months.”

I knew immediately who it was and resisted the urge to hang up. It was instinctual, a protection mechanism that I’d carefully honed over these past few months. I’d become very adept at avoidance.

But today was a new day, and I’d told Paul that I had things to take care of today, and this was one of them. Though I would have preferred to do it on my own schedule so I could psych myself up for it, maybe this was better. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Of course, ma’am. My name is Blake Barnaby, and I’m with All Nation Insurance. On behalf of myself and the company, I’d like to express our sympathy for your loss. I just need to ask you a few questions. I’ll make this as quick as possible.” I agreed, and he ran through what I assumed were his standard questions about the house and the fire that had consumed it.

The value of the house and the cause of the fire were not at issue. The fire inspector’s report had issued a few weeks after the fire. I’d never read it. My dad had tucked our copy away somewhere and delivered the news, preferring I hear it from him rather than a piece of paper.

The chicken nuggets hadn’t caused the fire. The roaring fire in the fireplace also wasn’t the culprit.

Rather, the investigation had determined that, in all likelihood, one of the candles near the edge of the mantle ignited the drapes hanging nearby. Investigators suspected that the fire traveled in two directions simultaneously: up the curtain to the living room ceiling and down the curtain to the floor below.

The candles that I’d thought were so romantic that night had caused the decimation of my life.

Shortly after we’d received the report, every candle in my dad’s house disappeared.

The contents of the house were the only thing the insurance rep wanted to discuss with me today. “I understand there were two cars on the property. The cars were also insured through us so I have everything I need on those, but I need you to prepare a proof of loss for the contents of the house. An itemized list of everything you can think of that was destroyed will do. And go ahead and list a suggested value for each one if you can.”

I could give him an itemized list of the most valuable things in the house that night in three words.

Isabelle.

Trey.

Jonathan.

But that wasn’t the list he had in mind. I leaned on the kitchen counter for support. He hadn’t even broached the subject of Jonathan’s life insurance policy, but I imagined that was probably the next thing on his list to check off.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said hoarsely. “I don’t want compensation for the contents of the house.”

“Your policy provides replacement coverage for both the structure and the contents,” he said matter-of-factly, not getting the point.

“The contents of my house, Mr. Barnaby, were precious and irreplaceable, and there is no way that you or I can put a value on them,” I lashed out. “There is no amount of money that will ever make it better. The rest are just things – things I neither need nor want to replace. Just give me the value for the structure and the cars, and let’s be done with it.”

Blake Barnaby was silent on the other end of a line for a few long seconds. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Northcutt, I know this is hard, and I understand what you are saying, and All Nation is very sorry for your loss. However, your house was a total loss. You should really submit a proof of loss claim. You may want to rebuild someday, and this money will go a long way toward that.”

“I don’t want it.” My statement was definitive. “Are we done then?” I asked.

He hesitated. “We need to discuss your life insurance policies.” I could hear the reluctance in his voice. He probably wanted to end this call as much as I did. “I have two here, and it’s really just a matter of verifying that this is where I should send the settlement check since the amount is set by the policies. I’m sorry it’s not more. I know your husband was the only wage earner in your family, but maybe this will help a little.”

I leaned over the counter laying my forehead on the cool granite, thankful that I hadn’t had the chance to eat my breakfast yet. My stomach was now as twisted as my heart. “Two policies?”

“That’s right, ma’am. Can you verify your address for me?”

“But why are there two? There should just be one. My husband’s.”

He was silent and I could hear him shuffling papers on his end. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Northcutt. We don’t have a policy for your husband. I have two policies. One for Isabelle Grace Northcutt and one for Jonathan Grant Northcutt, III.” That couldn’t be right. “There’s been some mistake.” My voice was as breathless as my body. “We didn’t have policies on Isabelle and Trey. We had two policies, one for Jonathan and one for me.”

“Maybe I should come see you so we can discuss this in person.”

“That won’t be necessary.” I had no desire to see or talk to this man in person.

“Well, what I have in my file – and it’s reflective of what’s in our computer system – is three active policies. There are two for ten thousand dollars. One for each of your children. Then there’s a third for five hundred thousand for you. It looks like the policy for Jonathan Grant Northcutt, Jr. lapsed about – ” The line went silent for a second while he either counted the months in his head or looked it up somewhere. “ – nine months ago. The premium wasn’t paid.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, sliding down the cabinet until I was sitting on the floor. The phone was still pressed to my ear. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Northcutt. There’s nothing in my notes about that, and I don’t have any recollection of handling that transaction. He may have done it through a different agent. I can try to track it down if you’d like.” He paused, and I could hear papers shuffling again. “You know what? Let me do that. Let me see what I can find out, and I’ll call you back. Would that be okay?”

“Yes,” I breathed out. “Call me back.” The phone clattered to the floor beside me.

Jonathan had cancelled his policy but left mine in place. It didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d do that. The insurance policies had been his idea in the first place.

Isabelle had been two and Trey had been one when we’d snuck away on our first parents getaway.

Before the trip, Jonathan had insisted that we make sure all of our affairs were in order in case something happened to us while we were gone.

We’d gone to war with each other over the guardianship papers he brought home. Without discussing it first, he had the papers drawn up so that my parents would get custody of the kids if, God forbid, something happened to us. I argued vehemently that they were approaching retirement age and shouldn’t be expected to raise young children again. I wanted my sister to get them instead. She was young, successful, and full of life. He countered that she was irresponsible, unreliable, and too full of life. On this one thing, I had dug my heels in and, in an unprecedented victory, won. Begrudgingly, he had the papers changed, replacing my parents’ names with Kate’s. I’d been happy, knowing I could count on her to take care of them if it ever came to that.

Unlike the guardianship papers, Jonathan and I had agreed on the issue of insurance. Though I couldn’t imagine putting a dollar figure on either of our lives, I hadn’t argued with the amounts he’d selected. He’d explained his reasoning to me. One million would be sufficient to take care of the kids if something happened to both of us. Half of that would be sufficient if they still had a living parent. It had seemed reasonable, and I’d agreed with him. I couldn’t believe he would change anything without discussing it with me first.

But the policies on the kids? We’d never discussed that. I wondered how it was even possible for one parent to take out a policy unilaterally without the other parent’s knowledge. Was it even legal?

We always made these types of decisions together. I had believed that we were a team, an unstoppable force, an impenetrable union. Clearly, I’d been wrong. He’d been making decisions – decisions that affected our family – behind my back. We weren’t an unstoppable force, and we certainly weren’t an impenetrable union. His affair had proven that.

All I had left were my memories. Everything else was gone. I gathered up those of my children and tucked them into a corner of my battered heart. I wouldn’t let anything or anyone touch those, but I couldn’t say the same for the ones of my husband. With every day that passed, they were becoming more tarnished, twisting into something unrecognizable and tainted. Jonathan had been my best friend, my lover, and my only confidant. Apparently, however, he’d confided little in me, and I was learning that he’d had a lot of secrets.

I picked up the phone and dialed. “Kate,” I said when she answered. “Are you still at the office?”

When she confirmed that she was, I made my request. Then I hung up the phone for the second time and went up to my room. My bed beckoned me. Sensing my intention or my need or both, Aurora sauntered over and barked for a boost. I curled up next to the dog and thought of the little girl who’d named her.

“These babies are a real handful, mom,” Isabella said, spreading her five dolls onto the kitchen floor near where I was working. I stopped cleaning the countertops for long enough to laugh at her. Isabelle had a real flair for the dramatic. She was a lot like her Aunt Kate in that way.

“I’ll bet they are, love. That’s a lot of babies to take care of. I don’t know if I could do it.”

“And my husband is no help either,” she said, placing one hand on her hip and waggling a finger at me. “He’s a dentist. Work, work, work. That’s all he does. And he must not be a very good dentist because he hasn’t even taught these babies how to brush their teeth.” She sat down Indianstyle in front of the line of dolls as if she were about teach them a lesson on teeth brushing herself.

“Sometimes daddies have to work a lot,” I said, knowing that Jonathan’s recent schedule was probably to blame for the conversation we were having. “It doesn’t mean that they don’t love their

babies. Some daddies work a lot because they love their babies and want to give them the whole world. That’s your daddy. Now, run upstairs and change your clothes, Isabelle. We are going out to dinner with Arden and the kids.”

Isabelle’s face lit up.

“Is Daddy coming?” she asked.

“No, baby. He has to work late.”

Her face fell again. “Well, my husband finally just got home so he’s going to stay here with the babies,” she said, standing up. “He’s also a terrible eater. Always eats with his hands.” She shook her head and tsk’d her naughty husband.

“Tell your brother to get ready, too,” I said, as the phone rang. I made a shooing motion with my hands as I reached for it. But she stood rooted in place, looking at the phone expectantly.

“Well, looky here, Izzy. It’s Daddy,” I said, as I picked it up.

“Hey,” I answered. “Perfect timing. I have someone here who’d sure like to talk to you.”

“Well, by all means, put her on,” he said, guessing correctly that it was Isabelle that needed him.

I squatted and held the phone to her ear. “How’s my favorite princess?” I heard him ask.

The memory, which was so vivid that I felt like I could reach out and touch it, faded, and I wiped away the tears streaming down my face. No matter what Jonathan had done to me, he’d been a good father to our children. If he’d cancelled his insurance policy, he’d had a good reason. If he’d purchased policies for the kids, he had a good reason for that, too.

No matter what he’d done wrong to me, I’d never questioned his devotion to Isabelle and Trey. As I laid on the bed obsessing over the insurance policies, I vowed that no matter what I found out about him, I would never forget that.

IMAGINATION KATE I hung up the phone and sifted through the file marked ‘INSURANCE’. Unbelievably, it was possibly the only file in the bastard’s office that was actually organized.

I picked it up and carried it with me to the other end of the long hall and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Maddox answered.

I stepped into the office and looked around at the space that couldn’t have been more different from Jonathan’s. Sleek and modern, Maddox had clearly chosen the furniture himself. Having been to his apartment on the one occasion, I knew that his tastes ran to the contemporary.

In contrast to Jonathan’s office, nothing was out of place. There were no piles of paper strewn haphazardly around the office. Every surface gleamed. The papers directly in front of him were the only evidence that work was done in the office at all. It was also cold and sterile, and I involuntarily shivered.

“Cold?” he asked. “I can turn down the air. I tend to keep my office like an ice box.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Hey do you have a minute?”

“Of course,” he said with a smile much warmer than the room.

Honestly, after dinner last night, I didn’t expect Maddox to enlighten me about Jonathan’s strange behavior. Their relationship had a longer shelf life than any feelings he had for me. But, just like the night before, I felt like I needed to try. I wasn’t getting very far on my own.

I sat down across from him with the file in my lap. “I’m finishing up in there. Almost everything is boxed up, but I had some questions about this file. Did Jonathan ever talk to you about insurance?”

“For the company? Briefly. But that really wasn’t the type of thing that I handled.” He looked down, and I knew he wanted to add ‘before now’ to the end of the sentence. We were all handling things that we hadn’t handled before.

I looked down at the file and smoothed my hand across the top of it. “No. Personal.”

Maddox seriously considered the question. “No, I don’t think so. Why?” “Well, I found copies of some insurance policies, and some of it is strange.”

“Like what?” he asked.

I spent several minutes explaining everything I’d learned that morning. “A few months before he died, he cancelled his policy,” I finished.

“But kept hers?”

“Yeah.” I shook my head. “Doesn’t that seem weird?”

“A little,” he finally said. “Jonathan was always very savvy financially, though. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to work with him. His mind just worked that way and everything he touched seemed to turn to gold, even in college. While I was out getting drunk and laid, he was starting this company.”

“I know. That’s exactly why this feels so odd to me.”

Maddox shrugged as if it was no big deal. “He juggled things around when he thought it made sense. Maybe he was switching to a different company and just never got around to it.”

I pressed him some more. “Maybe, but you’d think he’d move everyone if that was his plan.”

His forehead wrinkled. “I’m sure he had a good reason,” he said, dismissing the conversation for a second time. “How much more do you have to do in there?”

“I’m almost done, actually. I think I’ll have it all boxed, filed, or trashed in a day or two. I need to

stay home for a while anyway. They need me more there than you need me here. I have to admit that it’s been nice to get away though.” I was going to miss coming in to the office. Sometimes I needed to escape.

He looked disappointed. “It’s kind of hard for me to argue with that, but can I try?” I shrugged. I wasn’t sure what kind of argument he could present for keeping me around. “Well, I was thinking that you could set up an office here. It’s not like we don’t have the space.”

I laughed at the absurdity of his plan. “For what?”

“To write.”

“I’m not that kind of writer, Maddox.” He leveled serious eyes on me, and the crystal blueness reminded me of my former life – the one that had inspired my ‘stories.’ “I’m a travel writer. Guess what’s necessary to do that? Traveling. That’s out of the question right now.”

“No,” he said, his voice earnest. “You’re a writer. Just because you’ve spent your career writing about exotic places like Malta, Thailand, and Little Corn Island doesn’t mean you can’t write about something else.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. They were all places I’d actually gone, making me wonder if Maddox had been checking up on me.

“What? I did my research,” he said, confirming my suspicions.

I thought about what he was suggesting. I’d been doing my job for so long that I didn’t know if I had any other writing voice. “What would I write about? Life in Small Town, U.S.A.? Maybe get a job with the Merriville Monitor?” The local newspaper was a joke. The high school English teachers used it for lessons in how not to write rather than for lessons on how to do so.

“No. I was thinking,” he paused and shifted in his chair as if he was nervous to say it, “that you’re sitting on a great story right now.”

“What story is that?”

“Your sister’s, of course.”

“No.” I wasn’t going to write about that.

“Think about it, Kate. It’s got everything. Lies, mystery, tragedy. Why not put your own spin on it and turn it into a bestseller?”

“Because I’m not a fictional writer, Maddox. I don’t know the first thing about writing a novel.”

While that was true, I also wasn’t sure that I could ever exploit my sister that way.

“You’ve never written fiction? Never written a short story? Are you honestly telling me that you don’t have a pile of stories hidden somewhere because you’re too afraid to try and get them published? I don’t believe that.” He eyed me speculatively.

I could feel my face heating up. I did, in fact, have a pile of stories hidden. I had a few piles, actually. There was one under my bed in my New York apartment. There was another in my closet.

There was also a pile in a storage box somewhere in my dad’s house.

“I knew it,” he said, pointing at my hot cheeks. A sly grin appeared on his face, and his eyes gleamed in triumph.

“There’s a reason that all of those stories are hidden in boxes where no one can read them.”

“Bullshit. I’ve read your articles. Your writing is funny and gripping and compelling. I can’t tell you how many vacations I’ve almost booked after reading one.”

He had been reading my articles. The thought flabbergasted me. He would have had to search them out. It wasn’t like you could pick up a copy of International Traveler at the mini-mart on the edge of Merriville. Most of the people in our town had never even made it past the mini-mart.

Undeterred by my silence, he continued, “I’m just saying that you’re a good writer. You’ve pigeon-

holed yourself into believing that you can only write about one thing, but I know better and your sister has a story is worth telling.”

“I don’t even have her story figured out yet.”

“But you will, and if you don’t, so what? Make up the rest. It doesn’t have to be a biography. Give her the ending you want for her, instead of the one she got.”

“I’ll think about it.” I was still skeptical, but I was already thinking about it. It was possible that Maddox had given me a new purpose.

“While you’re thinking,” Maddox started, “it’s Friday? Do you have plans? I thought maybe we could get dinner and catch a movie.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just made plans.”

His eyes narrowed. “With whom?”

“I’m going to Fredericksburg with Paul Sullivan.”

“Hanging with the priest again, huh?”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“Seems weird to me. Him wanting to hang with you.”

“Geez, Maddox. Thanks.” I said, standing to leave.

He hopped to his feet. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, Kate.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you’re saying that I’m not good enough to spend time with a priest.”

Maddox sighed and rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I was saying at all. I just spent the last five minutes telling you how wonderful you are. I just meant, why would he want to spend time with a woman he can’t have.”

“Not everything is about sex, Maddox. Why do you want to spend time with a woman you can’t have?” I asked hotly, turning toward the door again. I made it almost there when he caught me.

With one hand he slid the door shut in front of me, shutting us in his office. His other arm curled around my waist, pulling me in close. My heart beat erratically in my chest, maybe because it was Maddox or maybe because he’d surprised me.

He shook his head slowly and peered at me through hooded eyes. His breath was warm on my cheek. “That’s where you’re wrong, Kate. I can have you.”

He towered over me, taller by a head or more. My pulse raced. I wanted to argue with him, but I wasn’t sure I could. “I will have you.” It was a declaration with no room for negotiation.

My resolve crumbled. I wanted to feel something. For him. I wanted him to help me forget the man who’d been lingering uninvited in my thoughts. Because, in my heart, I knew that Maddox was right.

Paul shouldn’t be hanging out with me. He wasn’t the one for me, and he never would be. He loved Grace first, and she was a tough act to follow. I needed to get my head out of the clouds.

In an effort to ground myself, I looked into Maddox’ Caribbean blue eyes and wished to be swept away. Away from my silly crush on Paul. Away from the grief that had been pulling me down. Away from the responsibilities that had been thrown on me. I wanted him to make me forget the carefree life I’d left behind because, though I loved taking care of her, parts of me still wanted to be able to do something rash and reckless.

His lips hit mine without any of the hesitance I was feeling and momentarily stole my breath. The comfort I’d been expecting was absent. Instead, pure desire, unanticipated and welcome, bloomed and spiraled through me.

I stepped toward him, pushing him against the closed door, and his deep laugh reverberated around us. I heard the click of the lock, and then I was lifted off the ground. He strode across the room with

me in his arms as if I weighed no more than a feather and tossed me playfully on the cool surface of the sleek black leather couch. Goosebumps sprang up along my bare arms and legs again, but the chill was short-lived. Lust-filled eyes looked down at me, and I watched him work off his tie. The heat between us warmed me from the inside out.

He sat down next to me with more reservation than I was expecting after his previous demands and continued working over my mouth. He nipped at my upper lip, and our kiss deepened. I opened for him so our tongues could do their familiar dance. It didn’t feel like five years had passed. His mouth was as delicious as I remembered. For a moment, I couldn’t recall why I’d refused to try a longdistance relationship with him all those years ago.

“You think you don’t want this, Kate. You’re afraid to settle down in this town. You’re afraid that being with me will kill the adventurer in you. But you’re wrong. I am an adventure.”

Wanting to believe it, I began unbuttoning his shirt, starting near the top where he’d left off after tossing his tie. My intentions were understood and reflected in his eyes. I pushed the shirt off his shoulders to expose his broad, lightly defined chest with its light dusting of hair. I ran my hands over it, remembering the reasons why I still had a soft spot for Texas boys who didn’t feel the need to trim and buff themselves into some sort of man-sized version of a woman.

There was nothing feminine about Maddox. I could practically taste the testosterone rolling off of him. Without pause, he continued his assault on my mouth, while his hand pulled the edge of my skirt over my hips. He pushed my panties to the side and a finger expertly worked me over. The pad of his thumb rubbed mercilessly against me, causing my hips to buck and my fingers to dig into his back. “I want inside of you, Kate. I have to be inside you,” he mumbled as his lips trailed down my neck toward the scooped neckline of my shirt.

In complete and utter agreement, I reached for his belt buckle. Pulling away, he stood next to the couch and piece-by-piece removed his clothing, never taking his gaze off of me. I pulled my shirt over my head and started to kick off my heels.

“Leave them on,” he growled, stopping me. I’d forgotten how demanding Maddox was. He strode to his desk and opened a drawer. In seconds, he was back at my side, locked and loaded, wrapped and ready. He crawled over me, nestling against my opening. He didn’t push inside. Instead, he teased me, smiling devilishly as he did.

I pulled a leg up and wrapped a stiletto-heeled foot over his shoulder. “Good God, woman. How do you even bend like that?”

“Yoga,” I muttered into his chest.

He threw his head back and groaned. “I’ve wanted to do this since you came back. In my mind, I’ve had you spread across that desk over there. I’ve had you bent over the table in the break room. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m going to have you in every corner of this office, in every corner of my house.”

His words caused a shift within me, but I bucked my hips to push myself against him in spite of it. I ignored the nagging voice in my head, telling me this was wrong. “Then do it, Maddox. Claim me.”

With another growl, he pushed into me until he could go no further, and I was filled to the hilt with Maddox Grayson.

Rocking together in unison, we were a perfect fit. As he worked his way toward a climax, I chased mine as well, capturing it just in time. He collapsed on top of me and then rolled to the side so as not to crush me. We laid panting next to each other, with his arm draped across the skirt now bunched around my waist and my arms thrown over my head in surrender.

To what or whom I was surrendering I didn’t know. I’d asked him to claim me, and he’d tried. Lord

knew he’d put in his best effort to do so. The man knew exactly how to touch me, but even now I couldn’t surrender to him.

Because the entire time I’d had my eyes closed and at the moment when I’d caught the high I’d been looking for, I’d been imagining he was someone else.

DEPRIVATION GRACE “Come with us.”

“I can’t.” I pointed at the file in her arms. It was tucked against her stomach with both arms crossed over it, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to hand it over. “Is that the insurance stuff?”

She nodded. “There’s nothing in here that you don’t already know. I promise. So come with us.”

She was holding the file hostage in an effort to get me to go to Fredericksburg with her and Paul.

“I really can’t, Kate. I need to figure all of this out.” I hoped that I was convincing. While it was true that I was going to read every single word from the first page to the last, I didn’t really think I’d find any answers there. The file wasn’t the real reason, or at least not the main reason, that I’d decided that I wasn’t going with them today. And it wasn’t the reason that I wouldn’t be going to San Antonio on Monday either.

Sleep had cleared my mind and made me see yesterday for what it was. I woke up imagining Paul describing our kiss to whomever it was that he had to confess, and I had never been more ashamed of myself. What I’d done in that vet’s office – the position I’d put him in – was inexcusable. The fact that he kept our plans and met me for a run despite my completely inappropriate behavior didn’t mean that I should continue to put him in compromising positions.

Sure, he’d kissed me back, but I didn’t really believe that it meant something. Priest or not, he was still a man, and I’d practically thrown myself at him. Of course he kissed me back.

“Give me the file, Kate,” I demanded, reaching for it.

She twisted her body away, guarding it from me. “It will still be here when we get back. Have a little fun.”

Her flippant do-whatever-I-want attitude was starting to piss me off. “I’m not coming, Kate. I’m taking a step back from Father Paul.”

“Oh, so we’re back to Father Paul now.”

“Yes. He has always been and will always be Father Paul.”

“Yesterday you called him Paul. Just Paul. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Yesterday, I also came down with a common sense destroying virus that turned me into a priestdevouring whore.”

Kate threw her head back and laughed, and I took the opportunity to snatch the file out of her arms.

“You are not a priest-devouring whore. Besides he liked it.”

“I’m not doing this. It’s wrong, and I loved Jonathan. I’m not ready to move on.”

The amused expression she wore a few seconds ago was long gone, replaced with a much more serious one. “You don’t owe Jonathan anything.”

“Whether or not he loved me is besides the point. I loved him, and I’m not ready to put that part of my life behind me.”

Kate grabbed my arm. Intense eyes pierced me. “Don’t slide backward when you just started moving forward.”

“Look, when I’m finally ready – if I’m ever ready – there are more appropriate people for me to move on with than Father Paul.”

“So that’s it? You’re just done? No more Father Bulge?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I’m done.”

“You’re one hundred percent sure?”

“Yes.” She shifted on her feet a few times. “Well, I’m going.” She looked at me expectantly and chewed her bottom lip. It was a nervous tic of hers, one that gave her away every time. She probably thought that despite everything I just said, I would still be crazy jealous of her spending time with Paul.

It wasn’t logical. I shouldn’t care. I’d just said that I was done with him. Still, a little part of me did care. A lot.

“It will probably be late when we get back,” she continued. “He said we’re going to Fredericksburg first and then he has reservations at three wineries so I guess I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“I don’t need to be checked on.” My voice was laced with the irritation I felt.

“You know what I mean,” she said, walking toward the kitchen. I followed her and watched her grab her keys from the countertop. I looked at her with a question on my lips.

She didn’t wait for it, reading my mind instead. “We’re taking my car,” she said with a shrug.

“More fun.” Right. Everything was always more fun with Kate around. I nodded and began the mundane task of unloading the dishwasher.

Kate spoke from the doorway. “Speaking of steps forward. Arden called about dinner. I agreed that we could do it next Thursday.”

“I thought we decided on a movie.” There was no way that Arden could make it through a whole dinner without gushing on and on about her beautiful, perfect kids. I didn’t think I could endure it.

Kate shrugged. “She said she wants to catch up.” The pan in my hand crashed against the tile floor when it slipped from my hands. “Careful. You’ll lose a toe.”

“Amputation by skillet would be about right,” I muttered.

“Chin up. I’ll see you later.”

I finished putting the clean dishes away and then looked for any other task that I could do to put off the inevitable for just a bit longer. When the kitchen sparkled and there was nothing left to do, I picked up the file and headed down the hall toward my dad’s office. I knocked on the cracked door and waited for him to invite me in.

“Hi there, Graceful,” he said, greeting me by the nickname that had plagued me throughout my childhood.

“Hey, Dad. Do you have a minute?” My grey-haired father looked up from his desk. His hair stuck out in a thousand directions from his head as if he’d been running his hands through it and possibly trying to pull it out. “I have all the minutes in the world for you,” he said, gesturing for me to sit down in the chair in front of the window. I sat down with a foot tucked under me and the file on my lap and gazed out the window at the magnolia. I had the urge to go outside, climb to the top, throw the papers in my lap up into the air, and watch them scatter in the wind.

“What are you working on, Dad?” “Just paying some bills,” he said, pushing it away from him to prove that I had all of his attention.

“That’s actually why I’m here. You’ve been getting my mail and paying my bills, right, Dad?” It was embarrassing to have to ask the question. This was the first time I’d even thought to ask. I’d just assumed that he would take care of everything while I wallowed in self-pity and remorse and wished for a different outcome for my life.

“I have. Are you ready to take it over? There’s not much. Just your cell phone bill and some bank statements and a few other odds and ends. I don’t mind doing it.”

“Dad,” I said, still gazing out the window and mentally mapping my path up the long draping

branches of the tree. “What if after Mom died, you started finding things out about her, lies that she told, things that she kept from you. What would you do?”

“She did lie to me. I had no idea until a few months ago that aspirin has a shelf life. Did you know that they expire?” He was trying to cheer me up. He was always trying to cheer me up.

I managed a weak smile. “Do you need me to check all the expiration dates in your medicine cabinet?”

“No. I’m all over it now.” His smile smoothed out into a thin, tense line. “So tell me. Is this about Jonathan?”

“I keep coming across things. Big huge things and I don’t know what to do. I want to ask him about it. I want to confront him but …”

His mouth turned down solemnly. “Kate told me about the affair.”

I cringed. That made four people that knew about it. Five if you counted the woman who’d wrecked my marriage. Six if Kate had talked to Maddox, which I suspected she had. Before long the entire town would know about it. Of course, maybe then I would find out who Hope was and where she’d come from.

But then what? Would I confront her? Would I approach her in a public place or seek her out at her home? If she had a family of her own, would I knowingly tear it apart like she had mine? Or would I be the bigger person and let it go?

All of my life, I’d avoided confrontation. I’d been a doormat, letting anyone and everyone take advantage of me. But there was no point in confronting Hope now. The family that she’d had so little regard for was gone. The man she’d tried to steal was no longer up for grabs.

“Yes, the affair is one of the things I’ve learned about him,” I said.

“So there are others?”

I nodded. “I spoke with the insurance agent from All Nation today.”

“Oh, good. He’s been calling every day. I wish I could take care of that for you, but he’s been very insistent that he talk to you and only you.”

“I talked to him.”

My dad looked at me expectantly so I took a deep breath and filled him in. When I was finished, his earlier concern had morphed into something new, something venturing on rage. “So the only insurance money you will get is the value of the house and twenty thousand for …” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t say it either. It was impossible to think about accepting money in exchange for the lives of my children.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want it.”

“I don’t think you have a choice,” he said. “Besides, you can do better things with the money than the insurance company can. Give it to an organization that means something to you.”

It was actually a pretty good idea. If I had to accept the money, I could do something wonderful with it in the name of Isabelle and Trey. I could give some to the animal shelter in Isabelle’s name.

“But Grace?” he continued. “Since you’re ready, there’s a few things you need to know about how Jonathan left your finances.” I stiffened my back and prepared to go to battle once again with my dead husband’s memory. “You don’t have any money, dear. Your savings account, checking account, and Jonathan’s retirement account are all practically empty. I didn’t want to bother you with it because it’s not like you’ve been in need of money, but in light of all of this other stuff, I think you need to know.

There’s practically nothing in those accounts.”

“What?” I asked incredulously. “That’s impossible.”

“I don’t have access to your accounts so I can’t go back and trace where your money went. All I

have are the bank statements that have come in during the past five months. I’d like to go further back, but you’ll need to go down to the bank and add me to the account.”

Everything was wrong and I was no longer sure of when it had happened. I thought I knew the exact time and place that everything imploded on me, but clearly my life had been collapsing long before the fire.

I had been living in an artificial bubble of happiness. If I’d paid more attention to what Jonathan was doing - I might have been miserable – but at least I wouldn’t be learning now that my entire life had been a lie.

“Thanks Dad. But I’m going to take care of it myself. It’s time to pull my head out of the sand.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. I wish I could help more, but aside from your trust, Jonathan and I didn’t discuss money at all. According to your account statements, there’s only a couple of thousand dollars in each of your savings and checking accounts.” He turned in his chair and picked up a small box that was pushed up against the wall. He sat it on the desk and then pushed it toward me.

A couple of thousand? What the hell had happened to all of our money? Jonathan always kept no less than ten thousand in our checking account. ‘Because you never know when you’ll get in a bind and need it,’ he said. And our savings account always looked like a savings account should, like we were saving for something … big.

This was madness. Sheer madness.

I picked up the box and turned to leave the room.

“Grace?”

“Yeah Dad.” “You’re not destitute. You know that, right? He didn’t touch your money,” he said, referring to the trust that had been in place since my mother’s parents had died fifteen years ago.

“You mean, he couldn’t touch my money.”

“Right. He was only the successor trustee.”

INTOXICATION KATE I glanced at Paul in the rear-view mirror. He’d chosen to take the backseat so his friend could sit in the front. Actually, his wrinkly, decrepit friend probably couldn’t get into my tiny backseat if he wanted to, and if he did, we might never get him out.

Paul’s ‘friend’ looked like a deflated Santa Claus, complete with white beard and rosy red cheeks.

The obvious weight discrepancy was the only reason I wasn’t currently making out my Christmas list.

That and the fact that the man obviously lacked a Mrs. Claus since he was also a priest. Unlike Paul, who I was becoming accustomed to seeing in jeans and a t-shirt, Father Russell Schmidt was decked out in the whole uniform today: black shirt, black pants, conspicuous white collar, and tight-lipped look of consternation.

Paul looked up and caught me watching him in the mirror. “So when are you going to consider us good enough friends to tell me the story behind that scar?” I asked.

“He hasn’t told you about the scar?” Father Russell asked. “From the way he talks about you, I thought you probably knew all of his stories.”

“Is that right?” My heart thumped erratically in my chest. The thought of Paul talking about me to Father Russell made me giddy. I waggled my eyebrows at the Paul in the mirror. He held my gaze, the slightest smirk playing on his lips, neither admitting nor denying the allegation. “Fess up then. I want to hear about the scar.”

Without so much as a blink, Paul deadpanned. “Knife fight.”

I chuckled and glanced to Father Schmidt whose solemn expression seconded Paul’s answer and wiped the smile off of my face. “Paul had a very exciting childhood,” he said.

“I guess so.” I said, continuing to alternate looking at him and the road ahead.

He looked out the window for a few seconds. When he spoke again, he was looking at Father Russell rather than me. “I was seventeen and living on the streets of Roxbury. I was a very low man on a very tall totem pole, and a deal went bad. Somebody had to take responsibility for it, and that person was me. But shortly after that, I met Russell and he saved my life.”

He didn’t offer any more. However, this tiny little glimpse into his life only spurred my curiosity. I didn’t know how it could even be possible, but I was even more fascinated with him than before.

I was becoming borderline obsessed with the man – something that hadn’t happened to me since my freshman year of college when I’d briefly dated a guy three years my senior who’d taught me some hard lessons about the difference between love and lust and a relationship and a booty call. The brief affair had left me with a bruised heart and a battered ego, and I had a feeling that this one wasn’t going to end any better for me. After all, relationships never work out when the infatuation flows in only one direction, and the man I was now fascinated with had all but admitted to being in love with my sister.

Oh, and there was that tiny little fact that he was a priest. That, too, didn’t weigh in my favor. The fact that he wasn’t dressed the part today didn’t make it any less real. And the reality was that he was off limits.

“Life’s funny like that,” I said. “Sometimes it seems that after you’ve been dealt its hardest blow, something or someone will come along that changes your perspective on everything. And you have no choice but to take a step backwards and realize everything you’ve been doing up until now is

inconsequential and that this is the moment - the moment when you start to do it right.”

Father Russell clapped his hands together and grinned his Kris Kringle grin. “Exactly. There’s purpose in all things. We must move forward even if it means changing our view of how things are supposed to be.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see that he’d turned in his seat and was talking to Paul rather than me. _________________________ We were at our third winery. We’d taken the tour offered at each one and had been amply warned to sip rather than gulp. I’d joked that I had super human strength and had never once experienced a hangover. When Father Russell commended me on my avoidance of gluttony, I’d assured him that I was immune only to hangovers, not gluttony.

We were now planted at a small bistro table under a pagoda covered in grape vines. Paul had stepped away to use the bathroom and return a call, and Father Russell took the opportunity to jump on me. “I wish you’d brought her. He’s quite smitten with her, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure that she couldn’t have hung with us today. Plus, she and my dad had some things to take care of this afternoon.”

“It’s great that she has such a supportive family.”

“My dad is a very special man.”

“Paul says that you look a lot like Grace. He finds it a little unnerving, actually.” I’d been hearing that my entire life. Because we were so close in age – only eleven months apart – we’d been asked constantly if we were twins.

“The funny thing is we’re not even sisters.” After too many ‘tastes’ of wine, my lips were looser than normal. The fact that Karen and Frank weren’t my real parents was something I rarely talked about. Not because it was something that I had trouble accepting, but because they were all I’d known. Talking about the fact that I was adopted felt like stabbing the only parents I could remember in the back.

“Is that right?” Paul asked, sliding back into his chair.

“Yes. My mom and dad are actually my aunt and uncle. We’re a modern American family,” I said, shrugging to show my acceptance of it.

“Families have to be amorphous these days,” Father Russell chimed in. “Paul knows something about that.”

Paul clasped Father Schmidt on the shoulder and looked at him with utter appreciation.

“Absolutely, old man. Ab-so-lutely.” He turned to me. “Can I ask?”

“About my real parents?” I asked. “Sure. They were killed in a car accident when I was five.”

Paul looked sorry that he’d asked.

“I was young when it happened. I don’t even really remember them. The few memories that I have … I’m not even sure they’re real. Sometimes I wonder if my memories are nothing more than my imagination bringing to life something someone told me.”

“I’m so sorry, Kate.” He shook his head sadly. “I would have never guessed. You really do look like her,” he said, echoing Father Russell from a few minutes before and confirming what I feared most. When he looked at me, all he saw was my sister.

During my childhood, I’d hated looking like Grace. I hadn’t wanted to be a carbon copy of my dogooding, almost sister. However, as I’d alluded to earlier, recent events had changed my perspective on just about everything. I’d come to realize that sharing any characteristic with Grace was a good

thing. Beautiful inside and out, she put everyone else before herself. If I were blessed with just a piece of her beauty even if it was only the superficial, less important part, I wouldn’t complain. “Our mothers were identical twins and apparently our fathers had very diluted DNA.” Father Russell, who’d also had too many tastes of wine, let out a belly laugh that I was sure caused the far too small tire around his waist to jiggle like a bowl full of jelly.

“And what about you, Paul. Tell me about your – what did you call it, Father Russell – amorphous family.”

“My entire family is sitting at this table,” he answered. For a mere second, I wondered if he was including me in that statement. However, that thought was a crazy one. I’d known Paul for all of two weeks. We’d had dinner once, run together once, and spent one day hunting for treasures and tastetesting wine. Though I felt like I’d known him for much longer than that, the truth was that we barely knew each other. Maybe it would be more appropriate to hope that some day he’d consider me to be a part of his family.

Paul was that kind of guy. The kind that you want to infiltrate your life and turn it upside down because you know going in that you are going to be a better person for it.

“Remember, Russell rescued me from a life of crime,” Paul continued, pointing again to the scar on his cheek. “He took a dangerous, angry teenager into his home with no expectations. His only requirement was that I be honest with him. He saved me from myself.”

“You would’ve found your way, kid.” There was a gleam in his eye. I could tell that Father Russell was proud of the man that Paul had become though he had referred to him as a ‘kid’ all day. It was a term of endearment that I now suspected was rooted in the fact that Paul was, by choice, Father Russell’s son.

“How old were you?” I’d taken my turn at show and tell earlier, and I figured that if he could dish out the questions, he could also answer them.

“I was seventeen. Russell found me hiding in one of his confession booths. I was eating a grinder and hiding out in an effort to protect all the digits on my hands. I’d skimmed some money off the wrong pot, and some of my former business associates were looking for me. When Russell discovered me, I ran, of course, but he ran after me. He was younger then,” he said with a wink, “and could keep up. I think it shocked the both of us.”

“And so you just went home with him.” I nodded like that was the end of the story because I could totally see where someone would want to go home with Father Russell.

“Well, it wasn’t that easy.”

“It was pretty easy,” Father Russell interjected. “In a moment of well-timed clarity, Paul realized that his options weren’t looking all that good.”

“True,” Paul said, laughing. “I really didn’t want to lose any fingers.” He wiggled them at us.

“So you moved in with him and that’s how you ended up as a priest,” I said, thinking that I was probably still missing a few details of the story.

“Something like that,” Paul said, looking intently at Father Russell. I watched as they had an entire conversation without speaking – a conversation to which I wasn’t privy.

“We better head back,” Paul said, pushing his chair away from the iron table. “It’s getting late and Russell’s conducting mass for me tomorrow. He needs to make a good impression on the good people of Merriville. Just in case he ever needs to come back.”

“True,” Father Russell said.

I stood, and the last two glasses of wine hit me, causing me to list slightly on my high-heeled feet.

Paul placed a hand on each of my arms. “Whoa,” he said. I looked down at his hands and then up into

his eyes and could’ve sworn that the heavens parted and a ray of light shown down upon us. If, in that moment, a chorus of angels had began a melodic rendition of hallelujahs I wouldn’t have been surprised.

The air around us was charged as he ran his hands up to my shoulders. He gave my shoulders a light squeeze, and I halfway expected his fingers to leave burn marks. “Looks like I’d better drive us home,” he said. His green eyes glistened in the moonlight and caused my knees to go weak again.

I nodded, conceding that he should drive. “Sorry, I guess I should have listened to their warnings.”

“It’s been a long day. Maybe three wineries was one too many. Even superheroes have an Achilles heel. Maybe yours is cheap moscato.” I smiled weakly at his joke. I already knew what my Achilles heel was, and it wasn’t cheap moscato.

I was filled with shame. I didn’t know if I was more ashamed that I’d spent the morning in the arms of a man I didn’t want or that I’d spent the evening wanting a man I shouldn’t.

ACCEPTANCE GRACE “Did you find anything?”

I looked up at Kate and shoved it all back into the box. “I can’t focus. I can’t figure out what was going on his head. Nothing makes sense. It just looks like random withdrawals here and there.”

“Like what?” she asked, settling onto the couch. She watched me eye the glass of wine in her hand.

“Do you want one? Apparently, I bought ten bottles yesterday.”

“How is it possible that you weren’t hung-over this morning?”

She shrugged. “It’s my super power. Don’t try to understand it.”

I stood with the box in my hands. “What I don’t understand is why Jonathan would make a payment to the school two days after I did. He gave me the check to give to the school secretary so it’s not like he didn’t know that I’d already paid them for the month. But then two days later, he paid them again, and what’s really strange is that the second payment wasn’t for the full amount.” I slid the box under the coffee table to get it out of my sight and then collapsed again in the chair across from her.

“Yeah, that’s weird. Maybe he just forgot.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself, but why not all of it? It makes absolutely no sense.”

“Maybe it was a donation. What else?” she said.

“Well, he wrote several checks for fifty-five dollars but left the ‘to line’ blank.”

“Who cashed them?”

“I can’t tell. I can’t read the signature.”

“And they didn’t write it in on the front?”

“Nope.”

“Can you even do that? Cash a check without filling it out?” she asked.

“Apparently.”

She looked deep in thought for a moment. “Do you think the checks were for Hope?”

“The thought has occurred to me. But if fifty-five dollars was all she was getting, she wasn’t much of a kept woman.” I was amazed at the level of detachment with which I delivered the words. The fact that I could talk about this so easily – that I had now accepted the affair – when just four days ago I’d been a basket case over it – felt like a real accomplishment. Anyone who’d seen me grieve for the past five months wouldn’t have believed the transformation. However, my transformation was the direct result of another transformation.

Over the past week, the love I’d felt for my husband had morphed into something that I no longer recognized. The face that I’d been so afraid of slipping away, the face that I’d always looked upon with nothing but adoration – because I had adored my husband – was once again first and forefront in my mind. Only, as I remembered it, the raging ball of fury that was now nestled into my gut roared to life, permanently decimating any remaining love I had for him. I wasn’t worried about not remembering him any more. At this point, I barely wanted to remember him at all.

How did someone go from being completely and totally in love with someone – so in love that she didn’t believe she could go on without him – to hating him in a manner of days? Easy. Learning that your entire life had been a lie will do that to you.

She sipped her wine, deep in thought, and then shook her head. “I’ll ask Maddox again.”

I groaned and threw my head against the back of the chair. “You talked to Maddox about it?” I

asked.

“Of course, I did. He was Jonathan’s best friend. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be Maddox, right?”

“I know,” I said. “What if her name isn’t Hope? What if she was his hope?” The thought made me ill.

“I thought of that, too. But it’s just too cheesy for Jonathan. Don’t you think?”

I groaned. “I’ve been such a fool. He had a girlfriend, Kate. He probably paraded all over town with her.”

“No you weren’t. Jonathan covered his tracks well. How could you have known?”

“I don’t know,” I said in defeat. “But I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t you want to know who she was? How can you stand not knowing?”

“Because I just want to move on.”

“Well, I’m all for that,” she said, sitting her glass of wine down on the coffee table and leaning forward as if she meant business, “but I don’t know if I believe you. I know you, and I know how much you adored your family.”

I shrugged. “It’s pretty clear that I was the only one.”

“But I also know that Jonathan wasn’t present in it for a long time before he died, and I think you’re realizing that now, too.”

As usual, Kate was right. She had the ability to crawl into my head like no one else could. No one, not even Jonathan, knew me as well as my sister. “Okay, ask Maddox, but don’t make a big deal of it.

I really don’t want this getting out around town.”

“I’ll try. I feel like Maddox is holding out on me. But Grace,” she said, pausing for a moment.

“This is Merriville. You know when the word of this hits the street, there’ll be no stopping it. You need to prepare yourself for that. But my thought is that someone out there – possibly everyone – already knows. Better for you to be on the front end of it than the back end of it.”

I nodded in silent acquiescence.

She gestured to the box that I’d stowed under the coffee table. “The bank stuff … do you want me to go through it with you again? Maybe I’ll catch something you didn’t.”

“No. I’ve done nothing but stare at it for two days now. Will you look through it tomorrow though?”

“Sure.” She was quiet for a few minutes, playing with the fringe on the throw pillow in her lap.

“So what do you want to do tonight then?” she finally asked, looking up.

“I thought you had a date with Maddox.”

“I did, but I’m not feeling well.” She took a sip of her wine, which was nearly empty.

“Could have fooled me,” I said, laughing.

“Well, I would have had to get up, get dressed, and try to make myself pretty … blah, blah, blah.

I’m just not feeling it. I rain-checked him again.”

“You know it hasn’t rained in months.”

“Yes, smart ass. I’m well aware. It’s the fucking seventh layer of hell out there. I don’t know why anyone would choose to live here.”

I ignored her jab at our hometown. There was no mistaking Kate’s disgust for the town where we’d grown up. I didn’t share her sentiment or her repulsion of it, but I certainly understood it. She’d been owed a different life and had been given this one as a consolation prize. She’d never resented my parents for what had happened to her own; instead she’d taken it out on the town.

“I don’t know why you’re hesitating with him, Kate. Stop fighting it. He’s good-looking, he has a

decent job, and you guys have total chemistry. You can’t deny that.”

“Nope. Can’t deny it. I had sex with him yesterday,” she said, ducking her head. “In his office.

During business hours. With his secretary right outside.” Remorse didn’t look good on Kate, and it was something I’d seen only a handful of times.

“So?” Though the guilt was out of place for her, I wasn’t in the least bit surprised that she’d had sex with Maddox. Kate had probably done things that would curl every last hair on my head if I knew about them.

Of course, I’d kissed a priest in a veterinarian’s office two days ago so maybe she didn’t have anything on me this week.

Kate’s shoulders raised in a non-committal shrug. “It was so-so.”

“Sounds to me like you’re out of practice. Try, try again, as Mom would say.”

“I’m not sure Mom would approve in this particular situation.” She took another sip of wine and looked down at the floor thoughtfully. “He makes perfect sense. I should want him, right?”

“But you don’t?”

“I don’t know.” She returned her attention to the pillow in her lap, picking apart the fringe. Finally, she looked up, her eyes clear and determined. “You know what I want?”

“What?”

A wicked smile accompanied her answer, “More wine.”

I stood up to get her a refill. After the day I’d had, I wanted a glass, too. “Give me your glass.”

I reached out to take it from her, but she curled the nearly empty glass into her chest as if to protect the last drops from me. “Just bring the whole bottle. We’re going to annihilate it anyway.” She made the sound of a bomb exploding, and I laughed my way to the kitchen.

“I love hearing you laugh. You should do it more,” she said when I returned.

I snapped my fingers. “That reminds me. I have a movie for us to watch.” I walked to the table by the front door and retrieved the yellow bubble envelope that had arrived earlier that day.

“Is it porn?” she asked. “Please tell me that it’s porn.”

I rolled my eyes and threw it at her. “No, it’s not porn. Besides, I would never watch porn with you.”

“You would never never watch porn with anyone,” she muttered under her breath while digging through the envelope. When she pulled out the plastic DVD case, she looked at it like it might be contaminated with leprosy. “Seriously, Grace? Keeping the Faith?”

“Have you seen it?”

“No. And, I’m pretty sure there’s a reason. I think it’s on the C-list of movies. Maybe D.” She scanned the back cover. “Let me guess. A rabbi and a priest enter a bar …”

I giggled. “Ummmm, that’s why I bought it. Father Paul said it’s one of his favorite movies. I was curious.”

“Wait. Let me get this straight,” she said, her eyes narrowing on me. “You’re still calling him ‘Father Paul’ but you’re ordering movies online because it’s one of his favorites?”

I let out an exasperated huff. “Just stick it in.”

“That’s what the rabbi said,” she said, walking to the cabinet that held the television and DVD player. “Do you know why? Because the priest couldn’t.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, despite all of the inappropriate thoughts I’d been having about Paul. “I can’t believe that I was worried about my room in hell. You’ll already be there to keep me company.”

“Whatever,” she said, waving me off. “Your do-gooding ass won’t get anywhere near hell.”

“That’s comforting to hear,” I said, laughing.

“You’re doing it again,” she sang, returning to her couch and nestling back into it.

“What?”

“Laughing.”

“I’ll try to stop.”

“Please don’t,” she said just as the movie opened with a drunken priest stumbling into a bar. “See I told you. A rabbi and a priest walk into a bar …”

“Shut up,” I said, already engrossed.

We spent the next two hours watching the rabbi and the priest unknowingly fight against each other for the love of the beautiful blonde that they’d known since childhood. In the end, the priest risked it all and still came up empty-handed.

“Why would that be a priest’s favorite movie?” Kate asked. She seemed angry about what had felt like an inevitable outcome to me.

That was the difference between Kate and me. She was the dreamer, and I was the realist.

There was no conceivable way that the priest could’ve ended up with the girl in the end. The story wouldn’t work that way. The fact that the girl fell in love with the rabbi rather than the priest was the safer, more convenient ending. She could change for him and become a Jew without having to rearrange her entire life. However, if the movie had played out differently, if Father Brian had won Anna’s heart, he would have had to give up everything and … well … all hell would’ve broken loose. Literally, perhaps.

“It ended the way it should,” I said, even though I wasn’t completely satisfied with the ending either.

“Horseshit and if you’re thinking that has to be your ending, double horseshit. Let’s get real for a second, because that was a fucking movie, and this is real life. Real. Life. Grace.”

“The Resplendent Rector is hot as hell. And if you ask me, he’s teetering on the edge. If you’re not going to try to push him over, I might give it a try myself.”

Something in her tone of voice made me think it was more than a dare. It was a threat. Even if it was an empty one, it put me on edge. I’d been jealous because she’d gone to Fredericksburg with Paul when I’d refused. Now, I wondered if I had good reason to be. It may not be right for me to want him, but I certainly didn’t want my sister to have him either.

“I need to think about it,” I said, staking a temporary claim to him. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“But it doesn’t feel wrong either, does it?”

“I don’t know, Kate!” I was completely frustrated now. “I said I need to think.”

“Don’t think. Feel. You’ve spent your entire life thinking. Just go with it. See where it takes you. I think great things are in still in store for you, Graceful Ann.” “We’ll see. I’m going to bed.” The look on her face was triumphant, and I hid the smile on my face as I went up the stairs to my room.

I wasn’t going to let her know that she’d gotten to me. That the movie had gotten to me.

That Paul had gotten to me. _________________________ I woke up early on Sunday morning, and though it felt like I hadn’t slept at all, I had an uncontrollable urge to get up and run. I crawled out of bed, dressed, and was on the street shortly after 5:30 AM. I hadn’t made the conscious decision to run to the cemetery. I hadn’t even realized that’s where my feet were taking me until I rounded the corner on Gulliver Lane and the black iron gates loomed

ahead. I hadn’t come yesterday, which was the second day this week I hadn’t visited.

The first had been an accident. I’d simply forgotten. Yesterday, though, I just hadn’t wanted to.

Still angry and confused over the trail of lies that Jonathan had left me to sift through, I hadn’t wanted to face him. However, it was now as if a magnetic force pulled my steeling heart toward the partially open gates.

The sun was rising over the treetops as I made my way through the familiar stones. The dry grass crunched under my feet, and I wondered if it would ever rain again. The last time it had rained in Merriville was the afternoon of the funeral.

When the procession of mourners walked from the church to the cemetery, the sun had been shiny and bright without a cloud in the sky. However, at some point during the second half of a ceremony I couldn’t remember a single word of, the skies suddenly began to pour, dousing the crowd who gathered to bid farewell to my family. Unprepared, the crowd ran for the cover of the trees, leaving only a few of us to hear Paul’s last words. I’d remained, of course. With my dad, Kate, Arden, and a handful of others that I couldn’t name now.

Like anyone would, I had very tritely convinced myself that it had been the angels, or possibly even God himself, crying for the three people we were laying to rest that day. I’d found some comfort in it. However, having been left to cry by myself every day since, I’d long since decided that our tears had been nothing more than a coincidence.

As I neared the graves, I realized that I wasn’t alone today. A truck, the kind that carried a tank of water on its flat bed, was parked on the nearby maintenance path. A hose ran across the ground spanning between it and the graves where a man stood, watering the grass.

I stopped in my tracks, still a quarter of a football field away, as I observed the scene in front of me. I turned, looking around me. The grass everywhere was brown and dead. Summer had taken its toll, and the only green I could find was the plastic artificial leaves of the discount store flowers stuffed into the urns around me.

There was no green grass.

There was no sign of life, whatsoever. The only exception was the one patch of grass covering my family.

My feet began to move involuntarily toward the figure. The morning sun shone at an angle perfectly orchestrated to obscure him from my vision. As I got closer though, I could see that the man was wearing athletic shorts. They hung low on his hips, and the t-shirt that he’d been wearing was now slung over one shoulder. With the efficiency of an automatic sprinkler, he sprayed water at the patch of grass with which I was so familiar.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He spun on his heels, his expression that of a child who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, full of remorse and guilt – emotions of which I had intimate knowledge. He dropped the hose and quickly threw the shirt over his head, pulling it down to cover himself. However, he hadn’t been quick enough. I’d already seen all I needed to see.

His body wasn’t that of a man who spent time in the gym for the purpose of seeking the attention and approval of others. There was nothing bulky or overstated about it. He was tight and trim, strong and sleek. His physique defied his age, which I now knew to be nearing forty.

As soon as his shirt was in place, he retrieved the hose that he’d dropped and turned his back to me again to finish the job he’d started. He still hadn’t spoken, but there was nothing I could do to keep my mouth shut. “Do you do this every day?”

A few long seconds passed before he answered. His voice was quiet and smooth in direct

contradiction to his flustered appearance. “Not every day. I try to get here a few days each week though.”

“Do you always come this early?” I’d never been here at this time of the day. Even during the worst part of the summer, I didn’t usually come until mid afternoon.

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“But you don’t do any of the others?” I asked, both breathless and accusatory. I could look around and see the answer for myself – I already had – but I wanted to hear it from his lips.

“No. Unfortunately, we can’t really afford to water the whole property.” He continued to look straight ahead, purposefully refusing to look at me though I was still staring at him with my mouth agape.

“But they can afford to water here?”

“No.” Without further explanation, he walked to the truck.

I had no option but to follow him. “Do you do this on your own then?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he began reeling up the hose.

“Paul.”

He abruptly stopped, turned, looked at me, and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Grace.”

“I just want to know why.”

He scratched his chin for a second and then sighed. “I didn’t want you to sit in the dirt.”

I blinked at him, trying to stave off the tears. It was pointless.

His voice was quiet but sure. His eyes echoing their sentiment. “You were here every day. I watched you sit there. I watched you lay your face against the ground because you wanted to be as close to them as you could get. But I hated seeing you like that. I couldn’t bear it. So I did what I could to make it as comfortable as I could.”

It was my turn to be silent.

“The grass would have died without water. I couldn’t stand to watch you lose anything else. Every time I watch your heart break, I feel it, too.”

Nothing else needed to be said. I understood now what Kate had been trying to tell me. Paul’s feelings for me were deeper than anything I’d been able to comprehend before this moment. Maybe I hadn’t seen it before because I’d been so lost in my own misery. Maybe I hadn’t seen it because I was incapable of returning them. But standing next to the man who’d been quietly taking care of me for months, looking after me with no expectation that he would ever receive anything in return, I knew what I wanted.

And I realized that I had the power to change everything. The power to make my life into something different, something better than my current miserable existence.

Whether I crashed into him or fell into him was irrelevant, but a fraction of a second later I was in his arms, kissing him with an intensity I’d never felt before. Not with Jonathan. Not with the few boyfriends I’d had before him. It was as raw and emotional as Paul was pure and irresistible. His hand found its way into my hair, clutching it as if he was afraid that I would suddenly slip away. To prove otherwise, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling myself against him as hard as I possibly could.

I didn’t know what any of it meant. I couldn’t qualify what I was feeling or so much as put a name to it. I didn’t know if it was real or another singular moment of madness. But I knew what I wanted in this instance, and it was him. I wanted him.

I wanted Paul.

Feeling more daring, I ran my tongue along his bottom lip. The hand in my hair relaxed as he

focused all of his efforts on my mouth, matching my every move. I poured everything I was, everything I was feeling, everything I wished I could say but couldn’t, into that kiss. He matched my fervor, and we reveled together in mutual desire with the taste of my tears mingling between us.

I realized then that for the first time in what seemed like forever that I wasn’t crying because I was sad. I wasn’t crying because life had punched me in the gut. I was crying because it was Paul, rather than life, that left me breathless. I was crying because I was overcome with relief that I was finally allowing myself to admit what I’d been trying to deny.

I wanted Paul.

And I wanted him to want me, too, no matter the cost. More than that. Though it was completely and utterly selfish, I wanted him to love me. I didn’t know whether I’d ever be able to return the feelings. I didn’t know if my mangled heart was even capable of doing so after everything it had been through, but I still wanted him to love me. I wanted him to love me because he was good and pure and perfect. I wanted him to love me because I wasn’t sure anymore whether my husband ever had.

He covered my face with feather-light kisses that were both reverent and shameless. After kissing away my tears, he finally pulled his mouth away from mine. I immediately felt the loss of him, but his arms tightened around me as if to dispel any doubts the act might have created. I tucked my head into the crook of his neck, not ready to let go quite yet.

He kissed the top of my head and drew in a long breath. We stood here silently until the morning church bell finally tolled. It’s melancholy tone reminded me that we would not be alone for much longer. My eyes traveled across the ground until they found the grey stone structure of St. Mark’s.

They followed the line of the bell tower to the top where the sun was shining over it’s peak now.

Soon people would be getting out of their cars and walking inside for mass. Yet, here I stood with the town priest wrapped around me. “What now?”

“Spend the day with me tomorrow,” he said into my hair. “There’s someone you need to meet.”

HEROIC GRACE I opened the door to find Paul, grinning like a fool. He looked exactly like I felt, and my heart fluttered in my chest.

I’d spent the last twenty-four hours, wondering what to expect today, not about the trip itself, but from Paul. After our first kiss, nothing had changed between us. When we’d seen each other the next day, neither of us had said a word about it. But this time felt different. At least, it felt different to me.

I’d come home with my head in the clouds. I hadn’t shared my confusion, elation, worry, shame, utter happiness with Kate. Unlike the kiss that Kate and I now frequently referred to as the ‘black widow attack’, I didn’t feel the need to spill my guts to her this time.

I ignored her curious glances as I floated around the house, content even in a now seemingly perpetual state of bewilderment. She did nothing more than roll her eyes when I put the movie in and watched it a second time. But, like a silly teenager in love, I just wanted to immerse myself in all things Paul.

I took a day off from thinking about the mess Jonathan had left behind, and it was a relief not to feel like I should be sifting through bank documents or agonizing over the insurance policies again. It was a relief not to want to hole up in my room so that I could re-inventory my losses. Instead, I lounged in the living room with Aurora’s head in my lap, still swoony from the day before.

I wasn’t delusional enough to think that this thing with Paul could last. The things he’d done for me without expecting anything in return left no doubt in my mind that he had feelings for me. However that didn’t change our circumstances. At the end of the best day I’d had in months, I’d still gone to bed a widow, and on the other side of town, he’d still gone to bed a priest.

I worried though my concerns weren’t about me. I no longer cared what anyone would think about me moving on after having just buried my husband. I had Jonathan to thank for that. He’d unwittingly given me a get out of jail free card. The guilt I felt for being alive when he wasn’t was slowly subsiding though I knew it would never fully dissipate. I’d do anything to trade places with my kids.

The loss of them negated any possibility of ever being whole again. However, Paul made me feel like survival might be possible even without my heart intact.

I worried for Paul and what would happen to him if anyone found out. I imagined the archbishop sending him away. I imagined him losing his parish. I imagined him being excommunicated.

Regardless of how he felt about me, regardless of what happened between us, I knew he didn’t want that. He’d devoted his life to the church, and there was no going back from that.

And then there was our small-minded town. If word got out, he would be hung by public opinion.

So even though I trusted Kate with my life, I didn’t tell her about Paul or the water truck or his admission of how my grief had affected him. I tucked the memory away so that it was all mine … to keep it unsullied by everyone who would try to destroy it like all of my others.

Yet despite my concerns, I felt alive. Not only that, but I felt glad to be alive, and I knew I had Paul to thank for it. His words and his touch gave me courage, and I could now admit, even if only to myself, that I also had feelings for him. So even though I didn’t know what to expect from him on this trip, seeing him standing on the porch in the t-shirt and jeans to which I’d now become accustomed with a foolish smile on his face that was so contrary to the reserved man I’d thought I’d known, the few expectations I had about the trip were already exceeded.

As I pulled the door shut behind me, his arm slipped around my waist, and he pulled me into his side. His breath on my neck caused my own to hitch, and my already pounding heart to race. “If I could kiss you, I would. But since I can’t, I’m going to settle for this.” His voice was low and husky, and his nose brushed lightly against my neck.

Standing on my parents’ porch with goosebumps racing up my back, my heart battered haphazardly around my chest, ignoring the warnings that I’d issued to it during the last twenty-four hours. Don’t expect anything, I’d told it. Don’t wish for an impossibility, I’d cautioned. Despite my begging, my heart had no intention of listening to the utterings of my more practical side.

Keeping his hand on my back, he guided me down the porch steps and didn’t remove it until we were next to his car. He held the car door open for me and, as if he could hear it beating in my chest, told me not to be nervous.

The directive fell on deaf ears as I crawled into the small backseat of Paul’s car to find a portly grey-haired man in the front seat. He had turned in his seat to face me. His eyes were warm and welcoming, but I was instantly anxious. Unlike Paul, the man wore his priest clerics proudly, and it was a stark reminder of the impossible obstacle between Paul and I. “It is so good to finally meet you,” he said, extending his hand between the two front seats. The gesture dispelled a small portion of the unease that had me already wanting to bolt from the car. His eyes twinkled warmly at me as he introduced himself, “Father Russell Schmidt. You can call me Father Russell or just Russell. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

The man’s Bostonian accent was even thicker than Paul’s, and the words tumbled out of his mouth at a rate that caused me to strain to understand him.

“Father Russell,” I said, nodding. “Grace Northcutt.” He took my hand, but instead of shaking it, he squeezed it.

“I have heard so much about you. I met your sister the other day, but I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to have the pleasure of meeting you before I left town.”

Butterflies beat their wings mercilessly on the walls of my stomach. “You’ve heard a lot about me?”

“Of course.” His knowing tone made me squirm on my seat and wonder what exactly Paul had told him. I looked at Paul, who’d taken his place in the driver’s seat, but he remained silent.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about you.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry dear. By the time we get to where we are going, I promise you’ll know more about me than you need or want to. I have a tendency to overshare, I’m afraid.”

“Remember, you wanted to get to know her, old man.” Paul grinned at Father Russell, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes appeared. The sight of his smile made me swoon again. The effect he had on me continued to take me by surprise.

The two men bantered back and forth for a few minutes. From the easy familiar way they had with each other, I could tell that they had a long history together. As Paul pulled out onto the highway that would take us to the city, it hit me that Father Russell was the priest from the story – the one who’d found him eating a grinder in the confessional. I had a sudden urge to reach forward and hug the man who’d saved him from whatever awfulness he’d been trying to escape.

Being in the car with someone who knew Paul so well put a million questions in my head, but Father Russell had other ideas of how we should spend the forty-five minute drive to San Antonio. He used the time to very sneakily pull as much information as possible from me. Though his questions were nearly non-stop, he sprinkled in little tidbits about himself and gave me glimpses of Paul’s life before he’d come to Merriville. He never asked about my family, leading me to believe that Paul had

already told him my story.

It made me wonder if he also knew that I was the cause of Paul’s recent disobedience to the church. That unasked question was answered when I asked another instead. “So what brings you to Texas, Father Russell?”

“You, of course.” He said it definitively. Though there was no apparent disapproval in his answer, the abruptness of it silenced me. Even if it hadn’t, Paul’s response would have.

He shot Father Russell a sharp look. “Later.” The reprimand made me anxious, but more than anything it made me curious. What had Paul told Father Russell about me, and why was I the reason he’d come to visit? Had my disruption to Paul’s life caused him to seek the counsel of his older and wiser friend?

“Speaking of later,” Father Russell said, seemingly un-phased by Paul’s disapproving glare. “I checked my flight before we got on the road, and it’s been cancelled. However, there’s an earlier flight that leaves at 4:30. I called, and it looks like there’s a good chance that I can get on that one. So I’m afraid all I have time for is the Alamo. You two are going to have to do the Riverwalk without me.”

“I wish you’d told me,” Paul said. “We could have left earlier.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” Father Russell answered. “I can see it next time. However, I am excited to see the church before I go. It dates back to the late 1700s, and it’s a piece of U.S. history.”

“Russell is a history buff,” he explained as he parked the car.

Since I’d grown up 50 miles away, I’d been to the Alamo more times than I could count. I’d always thought of it as more of a battlefield than anything else, but looking up at the stone structure with its ancient yet impressive entrance, its history was undeniable.

My unease grew. I hadn’t been in a church since the funeral. Sightseeing with two priests didn’t change the fact that I had no desire to set foot in one, even one with a past but no future. As we joined the line to get into the complex, I was already planning my escape.

Father Russell refused any kind of tour, preferring to meander through the Barrack Museum at his own pace. By the time we reached the last part of the museum, the walls were caving in on me.

Even though it was a Monday morning and the temperature outside was about a million degrees, the crowd was dense. It was summer, and vacationing families were out in abundance. Mothers chased their children through the throng of people. Fathers carried toddlers on their shoulders. The parents laughed at their kids. They scolded them for their minor infractions. It was all so very normal.

For them.

A little boy who could have been no more than five popped out from behind a display case containing a musket. Shockingly blonde hair stuck out from his behind his mask, and crystal blue eyes shone bright through the small holes. He bore no resemblance at all to Trey, who’d had light mousey brown hair and rich, saddle brown eyes. It was the costume that ripped me to the core.

“I’m Batman,” he said. He stuck his arm out and flung his cape dramatically. His laughter stilled my heart.

His mother smiled meekly at me. “I’m so sorry. He got away from me.” She turned toward her son and took him by the arm. “Come on, Caped Crusader. Leave this nice lady alone.”

She whisked him away, and I was left standing frozen in the museum. I could feel myself spiraling.

“Are you okay?” Paul asked. “You don’t look well.” Though I could hear his voice, my vision was grainy, and I could barely make out his form though he was standing right next to me.

“I have to get out of here,” I said, dashing in what I hoped was the direction of an exit. I didn’t stop running until I was standing in front of the parking lot across the street. Faced with nowhere to go and

no way to leave, I walked toward the line of trees that surrounded the perimeter of the parking lot and collapsed beneath the first one I came to. I slid to the ground and leaned back against the tree. Closing my eyes, I focused on taking deep breaths.

“Grace?” I opened my eyes to find Paul squatting in front of me. Father Russell was nowhere in sight. “Was it too much?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

He nodded. “Lots of families, yeah?” His head cocked to the side, and his brow wrinkled.

“It was Batman.”

“Ahhhh,” Paul said, sitting down on the grass beside me. “And he reminded you of your favorite little Spiderman, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t look anything like him, but yeah …”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about all of the families that would be here. I should’ve realized it would be hard for you.”

My breathing had slowed, and I was feeling more myself again. I looked back across the street toward the crowded grounds. This was my life now. I couldn’t have a panic attack every time I saw a child that was close in age to mine. I’d never be able to go out in public. “It’s not your fault. I don’t expect you to give me special treatment.”

“But I’d like to.” My head snapped up to find him watching me with a cautious and sincere look on his face. “I can’t help it, Grace. I have this crazy, unexplainable desire to take care of you. I want you to run to me, not away from me. I don’t expect you to be okay all of the time. We’ll find ways for you to move sideways if you’re not ready to move forward.”

Right or wrong, I wanted that as well. I wanted him to take care of me. I wanted more than watering trucks and platonic coffee dates. I wanted his arms around me. In moments like this one, I wanted to lean my head against his chest and wait for the panic to subside. “But how is that going to work?” I asked aloud.

“When we’re ready, we’ll talk about that. But you’re not ready yet. I don’t want to be another thing you have to go through.”

Was it too soon? Probably. I didn’t want to be the crazy woman who pushed too hard because she only thought she knew what she wanted. However, I didn’t believe for one second that Paul would ever be something I would have to go through. “I want to talk about it now.”

The smile that followed lit up his entire face. “Soon. I was kind of hoping that we could stay in town for a while and have dinner after we drop Russell at the airport,” he continued. “If you’re not feeling up to the Riverwalk, we can go somewhere else. Maybe somewhere quieter?”

“Have you ever been?” Once again I was feeling like a heavy weight, pulling everyone around me down.

“To the Riverwalk? No, but that’s okay. We can go some other time.”

He’d said ‘we.’ I might be confused about a lot of things, but I wanted there to be more we’s. “I’m okay. Let’s go tonight. We will have fun, and I haven’t been in years.”

Wrestling with something, he scratched his chin. “It’s not going to bring up memories, is it?”

I shook my head. “No. No bad memories there.”

“I didn’t say ‘bad’ memories. Just because they make you sad now doesn’t mean they are bad memories. Some day you’ll be glad for those memories. Especially Spiderman.”

“Especially Spiderman,” I repeated, smiling, not because I was thinking of Spiderman, but because Paul always made me feel like my feelings were paramount to anything else. “I want to go. Really. I haven’t been since I was a kid. Jonathan thought it was only for tourists.” I immediately felt awkward

and awful. Here I was thinking about how considerate Paul was, and yet I’d brought up the one man who hadn’t been. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” His accent was more pronounced when he was confused. “For mentioning your husband’s name? Don’t be.” Reaching for my hand, he continued, “You’ve been talking about Jonathan for as long as I’ve known you. I don’t expect that to change now.”

I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “If only the reverse had been true,” I muttered.

“Remember when you said he was your soul mate?”

“I believe you told me I shouldn’t believe in soul mates.”

He reached over and took my hand in his. Flipping it over, he traced the lines on my palm with his index finger. “No, I said that I don’t believe in soul mates. I’ll never tell you what you should think or believe. I want to know what you think, not change it.” I was struck speechless, but luckily he wasn’t expecting an answer. “My point is simply that learning that he wasn’t perfect doesn’t lessen the loss.

It probably only makes it worse.”

There was a lot of truth in that. I’d grieved for my perfect husband and wondered how I could live without him. Now I grieved for the memories that had become tarnished and dull during the past few weeks. “Can we not talk about him any more?”

“Sure. What would you like to talk about?”

Us, I wanted to say. “How about dinner? Let’s talk about where we should eat.”

“What are you hungry for?”

You, I wanted to say. “How does Mexican sound?”

“I want what you want.”

I hoped that was really the case. _________________________ We didn’t talk about Jonathan again. Paul made it so that he was the last thing on my mind.

At the airport, he double-parked in front of the terminal, we all crawled out of the car to say our good-byes. Loaded down with his suitcase and a plastic bag from the Alamo gift shop, the little round man looked like he might have trouble making it to the gate. Like a third-wheel, I stood awkwardly to the side, giving the two some space. After a few hushed words that weren’t meant for my ears, Father Russell clasped Paul on the back and pulled him in for a hug.

Finally, Father Russell turned to me. “Come here, Grace.” I’d stepped in front of him. I didn’t know the man – had just met him that day - but the way he looked at me made me feel like we were old friends. When he’d finally joined us in the parking lot after my embarrassing breakdown, I’d been humiliated and apologized. However, Father Russell just waved it off. ‘When I am weak, then I am strong,’ he’d said.

Giving me a hug, he whispered in my ear. “Take good care of my boy. He’s new to this, but his heart was built to love. You’ll see.” He released me, leaving me standing there wondering if he’d just given me his approval. Was he sanctioning what was happening between us? How could he when it went against the vow Paul had taken to the church?

He stepped toward the automatic sliding door, and it opened with a whoosh. “Oh, wait!” he said turning back. “I almost forgot.” He dug through his plastic tourist bag and pulled out a wad of tissue paper. Handing it to me, he said, “Food for thought.”

Then he was gone.

Paul looked at me curiously as we got back into the car. I shrugged and unwrapped the tissue paper

to find a coffee mug that he’d purchased in the Alamo gift shop. ‘Never surrender or retreat,’ was written in big bold letters.

Paul shrugged as he pulled out into traffic. “Crazy old man,” he muttered under his breath. But he said it with an affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The closer we got to our destination, the more excited I became. We were going have dinner by a slowly flowing cesspool of water that probably carried typhoid and a host of unmentionables beneath its surface, but my body was humming in anticipation. It was something new. Something different. And I wanted to share it with Paul. I had new memories to make.

Paul felt it, too. I could tell. His eyes sparkled and a wide grin spread across his face as he maneuvered into a tiny parking spot that was only a couple of blocks away from where we could walk down to the river.

“You know,” he said, holding the car door open for me to get out. “No one knows us here. We don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us together. Do you think I can hold your hand?”

I stepped out onto the curb and threw my purse over my shoulder. “I’d be upset if you didn’t try.”

“Well, I can’t have you being upset. That just won’t work for me.” He wrapped his hand around my smaller one, pulled it to his mouth, and brushed his lips lightly across the top of it. I had a desire to close my eyes and revel in the feel of his mouth against my skin.

“Let’s go,” he said, bringing me back to reality. However, reality wasn’t so bad. He didn’t let go of my hand. Not even on the steps that took us to the below street level. Not as we walked along the river. Not as we’d stood in line outside of the cheesy, touristy Mexican restaurant with the bar that was far too loud for an early Monday night.

It was only as we approached our table that he finally let go. “I want to sit across from you so I can look at you. Having dinner with a beautiful woman is still a little surreal,” he said with a wink.

Our waitress greeted us and gave us the rundown on the evening specials. To her, we were just another couple. Another table. Another tip. We were normal, and as far as I was concerned, normal felt good.

“For someone with no practice, you do this date thing well,” I said after she’d taken our orders and left. I felt my cheeks flush, and I grimaced in embarrassment, not sure why I’d just tried to put a label on something that couldn’t and shouldn’t be labeled.

He chuckled. “Do I? It doesn’t seem that hard, but maybe that’s because I’m with you. I honestly can’t imagine doing this with anyone else, but with you I want to do it all.”

Heat spread across my face, and I blushed even brighter.

He chuckled again. “Well, that’s not what I meant. It’s not untrue, but that’s definitely not what I meant.”

I wiggled in my seat, having now completely embarrassed myself. However, he didn’t look flushed at all. “Oh, my gosh. New conversation,” I stuttered.

He smirked mischievously. “I like this conversation just fine. If this is our first date, don’t you think you should ask about all of my old girlfriends? Isn’t that what you talk about on first dates?”

My mouth fell open. Old girlfriends?

Naturally, I’d assumed that Paul had never had a girlfriend, but that seemed foolish now. After all, he hadn’t found Father Russell until he was seventeen. On the street or not, seventeen year old boys were far from pure. Without parental supervision, I could only imagine the kind of trouble a seventeen year old boy would find.

“I see I’ve got you thinking now.” He took a sip of his drink and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Well, yeah,” I said dumbly. “Do you have a lot of old girlfriends?”

“Not during the last twenty years, obviously. I have spent the last two decades decidedly girlfriendless.” I giggled at his ability to make a joke in spite of the situation he was now in.

“And before that?”

He thought for a second before he spoke, and during that second his emerald eyes were as murky as the river water outside. “I guess you could say I dated, though this is a first.”

“What’s a first?”

“Taking a girl to dinner before I try to kiss her.”

Again, my chin dropped. He continued to surprise me. I liked that he wasn’t shy. I loved that he didn’t hide his emotions or cover up what he was thinking. After being lied to for so long, Paul’s honesty was a relief. “You didn’t have to take me to dinner. I would have kissed you again without it.”

“I wanted to take you to dinner. Just like I wanted to hold your hand. And when we’re done here, I’d like to take one of those cheesy riverboat rides. And if you just happen to sit really close to me, I’d be okay with that. And I can guarantee that at some point tonight, I’m going to try to kiss you again.”

“You know, we should probably be careful. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that we’ll bump into someone we know here. We’re not very far from home.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve lived dangerously. I say we go for it.”

And that was exactly what we did. After dinner we resumed our stroll along the river, and then we took the boat ride he requested. I sat so close to him that I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.

With every touch, electricity zipped through and all around me, igniting a fire that I thought had been permanently extinguished. And when he’d leaned in and kissed me as we went through one of the many tunnels, between each hyperactive and erratic beat of my less wounded heart, I recognized something I’d been lacking.

A small, but definitely detectable glimmer of hope.

DISTRACTION KATE I threw the last file into the box I would be taking home and put the lid on top. “My job here is done,” I said to the empty office. I leaned back in the chair and rocked a few times.

I had worked hard for the last two days, doing pretty much nothing else. I wanted to put this job behind me. However, even though I wouldn’t be back, I knew that my work was far from finished.

I still wasn’t any closer to figuring out why Jonathan had done the things he’d done or to finding Hope. I wasn’t giving up though. I would find her. They say you shouldn’t blame the other woman because it’s the husband who committed the wrong. There is some validity to that theory, and I’d once had the same philosophy. I’d slept with my share of men with girlfriends – even one who’d I’d found out later had been married. But I’d never knowingly had an affair with a married man.

Hope had known about my brother-in-law’s family. The messages they’d exchanged made that clear. Though she’d never been given the opportunity to destroy it completely, I had no doubt that she would have eventually. She’d been a bomb, just waiting to detonate and tear their family apart.

I felt the need to find her, shove their pictures in her face and introduce her to the family that she’d so easily disregarded. Since she claimed that she didn’t know how she was going to go on without him, I planned on giving her the option of joining him.

I shoved the chair away from the desk in frustration. Turning to the window, I stared down at the small, picturesque downtown. The sun slipped behind the buildings on the other side of the street and shadows danced across the store fronts. It was later than I’d intended to stay up here, but I had no reason to rush home. Everyone had plans tonight, and I had no interest in returning to a dark and empty house.

I suddenly wished that I hadn’t cut all my ties with the people in this town when I’d so gleefully run away more than ten years ago. It would be nice in times like this to have a friend that I could call. I knew many of Grace’s friends, but they’d always been hers, not mine. I’d never had much in common with any of them.

I ran through my short list of possibilities for the evening and realized how limited my options were. There was really only one. I knew he was still here because I’d heard him banging around in the break room down the hall a few minutes before and cussing out the coffee maker.

Being with him made sense. Nothing else floating around in my head made any sense so why couldn’t I give into the one thing that did?

I stood up and tiptoed down the hall, looking in the other offices to make sure that we were really alone. I had never been here this late, but I knew Maddox would be here for several more hours unless I gave him a reason to leave.

I made up my mind. I was going to give him a reason to leave early. The man worked too hard anyway. He deserved to be rewarded. And honestly, I wanted to try one more time to flush Paul from my system. Maybe this time, Maddox and I would get it right.

I poked my head into his office and cleared my throat. He looked up, and the irritated expression on his face melted. I smiled, hoping that he wasn’t going to hold a grudge for my feigning sickness when I’d cancelled our dinner plans a few days ago.

The flash of his perfectly straightened and whitened teeth told me he was over it. “Are you calling it a day?” he asked.

“I am, and I was kind of hoping that you were ready to do the same.”

He tossed the pen in his hand down on the desk and turned his chair so that he was facing me. He cocked an eyebrow at me and shot me a sly smile. “I could be persuaded. What do you have in mind?”

“Your place? I thought maybe I could cook you dinner.”

“Really?” He looked genuinely surprised. Whether he was surprised because I was offering or surprised because I knew how to cook was unclear.

“Really.”

“Offer accepted.” He was already out of his chair. “Though we might have to stop at the store on the way home. I have to confess that I don’t eat there that often, and when I do, it’s mostly Captain Crunch and Oreos.”

“Okay, since you clearly never get a home cooked meal, do you have any requests?”

“Do you have any specialties?” he asked, retrieving his suit jacket from behind the door. I watched the muscles as he felt in the pockets to make sure he had his keys and wondered if he was lying about the Captain Crunch and Oreos. He didn’t look like he lived on them.

“I have several.” I paused just long enough for him to catch the innuendo. “But my culinary specialty is veal piccata.”

“I’m game for whatever you’re offering.” He placed his hand on my back and practically pushed me down the hall. “Do you need to grab anything before we go?”

“Yes actually. I’ve got the last of Jonathan’s personal documents boxed up. I need to grab it and close down his computer.”

His face fell, disappointment written all over it. “So you’re done here then?”

“I guess so,” I said. “There isn’t much left for me to do. I gave your secretary all of the workrelated stuff. I’m taking his personal stuff home with me.”

“I have to admit I’m going to miss seeing you up here everyday. I’ve gotten used to having your pretty face around.”

I was also a little apprehensive about it being my last day. Not because I would miss hanging out in Jonathan’s depressing office but because I would miss having somewhere to go when I needed to escape. I would also miss having a purpose. I didn’t think I’d be satisfied just hanging out around the house. “Me, too. I’ll miss seeing your face, too.”

He picked up the box and waited by the door for me to gather up my things. I took one last look around and turned out the light behind us.

Maddox was quiet as we took the back stairs down to the parking lot. “I can go to the store and then meet you at your house,” I offered as he placed the box on my passenger seat.

“How about I follow you instead?” he asked. “I’ll pick out some wine and grab something for dessert while you get whatever you need.”

“Sounds great.” I pushed the button to start my car. While the engine came to life, I watched Maddox’s retreating backside as he jogged back to his car with his suit coat thrown over his arm.

It really was a nice backside.

Twenty minutes later, we were laden with grocery bags as we walked through the maze of his complex. Voices drifted down the open stairway that led to Maddox’s second floor apartment. I stopped before rounding the corner in an effort to avoid the head-on collision that seemed imminent only to be hit from the backside by Maddox. A grocery sack that had been hanging precariously from my wrist spilled onto the landing. Right in front of a pair of very familiar flip flops.

I leapt forward to gather it all. “Here let me help you with that,” Paul said, squatting in front of me.

I reached out to grab whatever I could, as fast as I could, barely paying attention to what I was picking up. A box of pasta. Chicken breasts because, apparently, the tiny grocery store in Merriville had never heard of veal scallops. Paul picked up a jar of capers and looked it over to see if it was cracked. Two sets of eyes landed on the box between his feet at the same time. Mine and his.

“Oh, man,” I muttered, reaching for the box of condoms at the same time as he did. He beat me to it, but our hands brushed before he dropped the box into the sack. It had to be this sack that spilled.

Inside, I was dying a long torturous death though in reality it lasted only seconds – the two long seconds it took for him to raise his eyes to mine. His gaze was intense. Disappointed? Disheartened?

I cringed.

“I was just getting ready to call you girls, but it looks like you have dinner plans.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a weak smile that didn’t match his eyes.

Paul wasn’t judgmental. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being judged. Or maybe I just thought I deserved to be judged.

A chuckle behind me reminded me that we weren’t alone on the stairs. “Yeah, any chance that you blessed my dinner as you touched it, Father Paul?” Maddox coughed as he said it, as if to let Paul in on a joke.

My head spun around as I realized that the dinner Maddox was referring to was me. I glared at him and swiped his hand off my back to let him know that I was not happy with him.

Paul, who was also standing upright again, ignored Maddox but shifted from one foot to the other. I hated Maddox for making him uncomfortable. I hated myself for putting us in this situation. I was here to try to distract myself. Nothing more. It wasn’t what I really wanted.

“I better get going,” Paul said, completely ignoring Maddox’ question.

The woman standing just behind Paul spoke for the first time. “Yes, I need to get back to the office.

I have to show another unit.” She wore high heels, a pencil skirt, and a cardigan sweater despite the fact that it was hotter than the surface of the sun outside. Or maybe it was just my cheeks that were that hot.

“Goodnight, Paul.” With sad eyes, I watched the man I desperately wanted but could never have move past me and continue down the stairs.

Maddox watched me closely and then pressed his hand into the small of my back again, urging me to continue up the stairs. “Stop touching me, Maddox,” I said, swatting his hand away again.

“I’m hungry, and it’s been far too long since I had you in my apartment.” Thankfully, his voice was quieter and didn’t travel as far as mine had.

I had news for Maddox. He wasn’t going to have me in his apartment. Not the way he wanted. He’d embarrassed and enlightened me. I no longer had any desire to have dinner or do anything else with him. Using Maddox to try to forget Paul had been a terrible mistake – one that I wasn’t going to make again.

I would have to get over my silly infatuation with Paul on my own.

CONSOLATION GRACE “You snuck in late last night.” Kate’s hair was still in a towel from the shower.

She leaned into the mirror over her dresser and applied a layer of some fancy mascara that probably cost more than all of the contents of my make-up bag combined. Her hip jutted out in defiance, and reflective Kate gave me a sly smile in the mirror. “I don’t sneak. I swagger.”

It was annoying and true.

Kate had never felt the need to hide her comings and goings. Even as a teenager, when she’d tested all of our parents’ rules and pushed every boundary, she had been an open book. So while I, at the age of thirty-two, probably would have pulled my shoes off and crept up the stairs like a thief, Kate clomped up her way up the stairs as if our dad wasn’t sleeping downstairs. Who was I kidding, though? Even if she had been a thief, she probably would have operated in exactly the same way.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in days. What have you been doing?” I said while silently chanting to myself, Please say Maddox! Please say Maddox!

The fact that I was rooting for Maddox was a definite sign that times had changed. It was no secret that I’d never truly liked him. He’d been Jonathan’s best friend since grade school and that had made him a permanent fixture in my life, but we’d never seen eye to eye on anything.

He’d come back to our hometown after partying his way through an Ivy League education with nothing to show for it but a mediocre transcript and a healthy chunk missing from his trust fund, and I’d been less than impressed. When Jonathan had offered him my former job, I’d been irritated but had kept my cool. However, when he’d begun talking of making him a partner last year, I’d about lost my mind. Afterwards, he’d given me the silent treatment for a few days, but he’d never mentioned it again.

My opinion of Maddox had changed, however, after Jonathan’s death. Without even being asked, he’d stepped right into Jonathan’s role. The hours he’d put in during the last few months were more than I could’ve or would’ve ever asked of him. Despite his still unvested interest in the company, he seemed as determined as ever to see it continue to succeed. I was ready to concede that I might have misjudged him, or at the very least, sold him short in the past. In fact, I was even considering selling him the business altogether. It wasn’t like I could or would ever go back there.

However, even during his smarmier days, I’d never doubted his feelings for, or rather his fascination with, my sister. After their little fling a few years ago, he’d pestered me for months, cornering me every chance he got to pump me for information about where she was and who she was with. Despite my general annoyance with him, I couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t a perfect fit for her. They were both a little wild, a little crazy, and a whole lot of fun when it was on their terms. The truth of it was, though, my restless sister was a flight risk, and I desperately wanted him to tame her.

She hadn’t said anything about leaving town again, but she’d been here for more than five months.

My dad and I wouldn’t be enough to hold her here for too much longer. Every morning, I half expected to wake up and find her already gone. If something, or someone, didn’t tie her down soon, she’d be gone again. I honestly didn’t know if I could handle losing her again. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.

She turned around and batted her freshly-caked eyelashes at me. “I spent the last two days at the office and then had dinner with Maddox last night. Afterwards, I went out and had some drinks. I

needed to think.”

Instead of the reprimand she was expecting, I clapped my hands together and flopped down on her bed. “Yay! Come sit and tell me.”

She flinched and staggered backwards into the dresser. Wide eyes openly stared at me. “Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?”

I picked up a high-heeled shoe, lying on the bed, and chucked it at her. “You’re so funny.”

“Seriously. Where did Dad take you for dinner last night because I think that maybe your meal was laced with crack? Haven’t you heard, Grace?”

“What?”

“Crack is whack,” she said before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“You would probably know.” I ducked my head, knowing that she was going to be mad at me for lying about where I’d been. “I didn’t exactly have dinner with Dad last night. He had plans. You know, he hasn’t been around here much lately. Do you think he’s dating somebody?”

“He is dating somebody. He didn’t want you to know.” She waved her hand in the air as to dismiss his concern.

“Did he think I’d be mad? Because of Mom?” It had been less than two years since we’d lost her.

In fact, I probably would have been upset if I’d found out a few weeks ago. But I couldn’t really cast any stones now – my situation being what it was.

“That. And because you are such a hater of love now?”

“Hater of love? I’m not a hater of love. Who’s been smoking the crack pipe now?”

She raised her eyebrows at me and nodded, clearly impressed that I knew that crack required a pipe.

“I’m not a hater of love. That’s ridiculous.”

“Sure you are. You turn off any sappy love song that comes on. Other than that one terrible movie that you made me sit through the other night, any movie with romance in it is strictly forbidden. I’m actually surprised that you haven’t organized a bonfire to burn all of Mom’s old bodice-ripper novels.

It’s completely understandable, though. Why wouldn’t you be a hater of love?”

“I’m not a hater of love, and I don’t want to burn Mom’s books,” I admitted in a squeaky voice.

“I’ve actually been reading them.” Her laughter echoed through the room.

“Well, if you wanted some tips, all you had to do was ask,” she said in between snorts.

“Kate! I was married for ten years. I don’t think I really need tips from you or Mom’s regency books.”

She continued to laugh at me, and I took a second to just enjoy this moment with her. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d laughed like this. Even before our lives were laced with tragedy, moments like this one had become rare. I wanted to wrap it up and guard it close to my heart. “I actually do want to talk to you about something though,” I said, more serious now.

“Okay, well, let’s see … we were sitting at his kitchen table, and then he slung me over his shoulder and threw me on his hard, black leather couch. Seriously, that apartment is so cold and sterile. There’s no way I could ever live there. I swear I felt a northerly blow through about the time he ripped my underwear off – ” “God, Kate! Stop. I don’t want to hear that shit.”

Her head swiveled on her neck, and she stared at me with bulging eyes. “Did you just say ‘shit’?”

“Yeah, I did. I do not want to hear about your panties being ripped off.”

Confusion took over as Kate caught up. “Well, I was kidding anyway. None of that really happened.

So what did you want to hear about last night?”

“I don’t want to hear about your date. I want to tell you about mine.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”

“I went to San Antonio with Paul on Monday.” I was back to wanting to spill my guts. Like after the kiss at the vet’s office, I wanted to tell her all about it. However, this time it wasn’t because I’d shocked and humiliated myself. This time I wanted to share – needed to share – how completely, supremely blissfully happy the night before had made me. More than that, I needed someone to tell me that it was okay to be happy when I still felt like I owed it to the people I loved to be sad.

Her mouth made a perfect ‘O’. “For real?”

She looked happy. There was a big toothy smile on her face, but there was something off about her reaction. I’d expected her to jump up and down and squeal like I had when she’d told me about having dinner with Maddox. Instead, she was subtly wringing her hands in her lap, and she’d stopped bouncing. “So what did you think of Father Russell? He was nice, right?”

“Absolutely.” I was still trying to gauge Kate’s temperature and wondering why she was asking about Father Russell instead of Paul. “You wanted me to take a chance, right?”

“Of course. Did you have fun?” Again, what little enthusiasm she showed didn’t reach her eyes.

I forged ahead anyway. “Kate, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I like him. Like … like him, like him. And, I can’t figure out how I can feel so great about him and so bad about being around him. I’m giving myself whiplash.” I was gushing but I couldn’t help myself.

“You’re sort of giving me whiplash, too.” The air left my lungs and the room at the same time.

I wasn’t imagining it. Kate was irritated. Was she irritated with me? “I could say the same thing.

What’s gotten into you? Two days ago, you were all, ‘Don’t think, Grace.’ ‘Just feel, Grace.’ ‘Paul is so hot, Grace.’”

She sighed loudly. “I meant it. He is hot.”

It couldn’t have hit me any harder if I’d actually run into a wall with the writing graffiti’d across it.

“Oh. My. God. You like him, too.”

“Please. He’s way too nice for me.”

I wasn’t buying it. Her eyes were darting here and there, and she was squirming on the bed. “Are you kidding me? Seriously, Kate. During my life – my entire life – I’ve only really liked two men.

Two men. And you’ve liked both of them.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Grace. For the one hundred thousandth time, I was not interested in Jonathan.

Except for that one day when I was eighteen and your friends plied me with beer and got me drunk for the very first time in my life. Yeah, that one day I thought he was cute. But give me a break. He was yours that day and every day afterward. I had no interest in stealing him from you.”

“What about Paul? Do you think he’s cute, too?” I really didn’t care how she felt about my husband any more. All I cared about were the weird vibes she was putting off about Paul. “Oh, wait, I believe you said that he’s hot as hell.”

“He is hot as hell. And funny. And smart. And thoughtful. And quiet. And a bit mysterious, too.” she said, listing off all of the things that drew me to him, too. , I narrowed my eyes at her and sat up, my back straighter. All of the playfulness of a few minutes before had been squeezed from the room by the ugly truth now looming over our heads. The reason that Kate was hesitating with Maddox was because she was interested in someone else. But not just anyone else. She was interested in Paul.

“But what does it matter, Grace?” she continued. “He’s in love with you.”

“No, he’s not. We barely know each other.”

She snorted. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’ve watched him hang onto your every word.

Maybe you’re just getting to know him. But he’s in love with you. Maybe he doesn’t even realize it yet. But I swear to you. If you want that man, all you have to do is claim him.”

Could she be right? I mean, yes, we had spent last night pretending that there could be something more, but a part of me still thought that’s all it was. Pretend. I let her words roll around in my head for a minute. “He waters the grass,” I finally said.

Her forehead scrunched in confusion, and she shrugged in exasperation. “He does what?”

“He waters the grass. At the cemetery. He waters the grass in the early morning, before anyone gets there. He rents a truck from Deluge Power-Washing.”

“So what? He also locks the cemetery at night, too. It’s part of his job.”

“No,” I whispered. “It’s not, Kate. He’s a priest, not a maintenance man. He only waters my family’s plots.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He said he couldn’t stand to see me watch something else die.”

She threw her hands up in exasperation. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. He’s in love with you. In. Love. Do you really not see it? I’m sure he was in love with you before … ” My head snapped up, and I met her eyes. “Do you think so?”

She rolled her eyes and stood. She walked to the closet and began rummaging through her clothes.

The sound of hangers scraping across the metal bar was the only sound in the room. That and my explosive heart.

Could she be right? Was it possible that Paul had loved me even before everything had happened?

Or was she just trying to distract me? “But you’re in love with him?”

“Heavens no. I barely know him,” she said with her back to me.

“But you’d like to get to know him?”

She turned to face me. Her face twisted in irritation. “You know, what? Yes, if he looked at me like I was worth giving up the only life he’s ever known … if he thought I was worth the wrath that he’s going to receive from this town, the bishop, and maybe God himself … then, yes, I would definitely want to get to know him better.” Her face softened before she continued, “But he wants you, Grace. I know it.”

She pulled the towel off her head and began patting her hair dry. Her expression was hidden by a mound of dark curls, but her usually straight shoulders sagged. Remorse didn’t look good on Kate, and it was something I’d seen only a handful of times. She acted without apology, and regret was not a word in her vocabulary. “And I want him for you. You deserve to be happy. Not just content, but truly happy.”

I wanted that, too. There had to be a reason that I’d been left behind, and it couldn’t possibly be to be miserable for the rest of my life. “So I should go for it?”

“You should go for it.”

“I think Maddox is good for you,” I said, hoping it sounded encouraging rather than like I was offering a consolation prize.

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about Maddox right now.” She returned to the bed dressed now. “I want to hear more about your trip.”

Our conversation had stripped away some of my excitement, but I still needed to talk to someone.

However, Kate no longer felt like the right person. “We just went to dinner on the river. It was no big deal.”

“With Father Russell?”

“No, he had to take an early flight. It was just the two of us.”

“And?” “It was nice,” I vaguely conceded.

With a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, she said, “Don’t be like that Grace. I want to hear about it. I’m excited for you. Did you kiss him again?”

“Yeah, a few times.” I was being cryptic, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t really believe that my sister would do anything to hurt me, but her feelings for Paul were still too fresh in mind. There were too many live wires laying between us. If I said too much, one of us was going to trip over one and get burned. “Speaking of kissing,” I said, changing the subject away from either of us. “Who is Dad kissing these days?”

“Frankie Gatz.”

“Nooooo,” I said on a groan. “No, no, no.”

A playful smirk tugged at the corner of Kate’s mouth. “See. He was right not to tell you about it.”

“It’s not that. It’s just … well …Frank and Frankie … It’s too awful for words.” Once again, laughter filled the room.

“So you don’t hate her, and you don’t hate love. You just hate their names together.”

“You have to admit that it’s pretty terrible.”

Shaking her head but with a huge grin on her face, Kate turned back to her closet. “It really is.” _________________________ “Dad?” I stepped off of the back porch with Aurora on my heels.

She was always on my heels. If I was home, she was right there alongside me. It was as if she mistakenly thought that I’d saved her life after her episode last week on our walk. She had no idea that she would never have come that close to dying if I hadn’t dragged her all over town when it was almost a hundred degrees outside.

My dad set his glass of water down on the iron patio table. “Hey, Graceful. Have a seat.” He leaned down and coaxed Aurora over with the wave of his hand. She momentarily abandoned me to sit at his feet, putting one paw up on his leg to beg for attention.

We sat in silence for several minutes with Aurora belly-side up, my dad happy to appease her, and me content to gaze at the still surface of the pool. A perfectly pink sun lowered on the horizon, casting a hypnotizing glow upon the water.

“Why do you call me that?” I finally asked, though it wasn’t one of the questions currently weighing on me.

“Graceful?” he asked, looking up from the belly-scratching he was giving.

“Yeah. Did I fall down a lot as a kid?”

“You did. Remember when your mom put you in dance? You were a terrible ballerina.” His smile caused his eyes to twinkle and the corners to crease. My dad was showing his age.

“Dad! I wasn’t that bad.”

“You really were. But your mom … she loved to watch you up there on that stage. Such a tiny little disaster in your leotard and tutu.” He shook his head. “She couldn’t have been more proud. What a woman she was.” The dreamy smile on his face made me happy.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I said, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. I rubbed my hands together before weaving my fingers together. The act reminded me of Paul and the

way he’d had refused to let go of my hand last night. “How did you know it was okay to move on?”

He leaned back in his chair, abandoning Aurora, and gave me a knowing smile. “You’ve been talking to Kate.”

“Well, yeah. But it’s pretty obvious that something’s up with you. I may not be very graceful but you’re not very sneaky.”

“Do you need me to be around more?” Concern was etched across his face. As if he could ever be anything less than what I needed.

“No, Dad. I’m fine.” He sighed in relief and reached for his glass again. He drummed his fingers on his glass to an imaginary beat that I wished I could hear. “I’m actually worried that I’m too fine.”

“Not possible.”

“I’m serious. Can I be frank?”

“No, that’s me,” he said grinning.

“Seriously, Dad.” “Sorry. Yes, let’s be serious.”

“Okay,” I paused to get my bearings and to find my courage. “I know it’s really soon, but I’m sort of interested in somebody.”

He raised an eyebrow at me but didn’t say anything.

“Let’s put aside the fact that it’s completely inappropriate for me to be interested in anyone right now, because it’s who it is that is the biggest shocker.”

“First, who’s to say it’s inappropriate?”

“Come on, Dad. Jonathan’s only been gone five months.”

“Grace.” His chin lowered, and he looked at me over the top of his glasses.

“What?” I said, waving the dog over to my side. I needed something to do with my nervous energy.

I scratched her head while I waited for him to answer.

“There’s no prescription for grief. Just like no one can tell you that you’ve grieved too long, no one can tell you that you haven’t grieved long enough. You have to go at your own speed and to hell with everyone else. You’ll know when you’re ready to move on.”

“How did you know?”

“Well, men are different. After being married and knowing what it’s like to have a woman take care of us, we’re terrible at being alone. So just when I thought I couldn’t take the quiet any more, Frankie approached me at church. She asked me if I could help her with her gutters.”

“Ms. Frankie and those gutters,” I said in disbelief.

“I think it’s her standard pick-up line now.”

Ms. Frankie had become a widow more than ten years prior when her very prominent, older husband had collapsed during a game of racquetball. She’d still been young at the time. Though no one knew her true age, rumor put her around forty when he’d died at the age of seventy-six. It wasn’t their age difference or the fact that she’d inherited Main Street bank that had made her a legend.

She was most famous for calling 911 several years after his death to put in a request for gutter cleaning service from the Merriville fire department. When the dispatcher had refused to forward her call, she had hung up and called the fire chief directly. Because it had been a slow week, he responded by sending half the crew to work at her house. A few weeks later, her gutters were clean, there was a fresh coat of paint on her garage, and her flowerbeds had never looked better. When word got out that Frankie Gatz had the fire department working at her house for free, there’d been an uproar in town. The woman could have bought the fire department if she’d wanted to, but she refused to hire a maintenance man.

“You fell for the gutter rouse?”

“Nah, I knew she was just trying to sink her teeth into me. I’m getting older, after all. But I didn’t really have anything else to do so I went over to check them out for her. Turns out, it wasn’t me that was doing the checking out though.” He winked at me, and laughter erupted from his chest.

“Ewwww, Dad.” I shuddered. “This conversation is not going the way I expected.”

“Exactly my point, Grace. Things rarely go the way we expect. But that’s what makes life interesting. I loved your mother. I’ll never love anyone the way I loved her, but Frankie doesn’t expect me to. Neither one of us are looking to replace your mother. But I can’t just sit around this house and wait to die either. Living is a gift, and I owe it to Karen to live for the both of us. Besides, she wouldn’t want me sitting around here, pining for her.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Well, okay, she might want me to pine a little, but I promise that I’m thinking about her more than I’m not.” He was quiet for a few long seconds before asking the question I was dreading most, “So who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not sure he’s all that lucky. I’m mean, I’m sort of a mess, and he definitely should not be getting involved with me.”

“I’ve seen a change in you the past few weeks, Grace. I chalked it up to all the garbage that Jonathan left behind for you to dig through, but maybe the change isn’t because of Jonathan. Maybe it’s because of this new person in your life. I don’t know who he is, but I’d say he’s pretty damn lucky to have you.”

I steeled my spine and braced myself for the pending fallout. “It’s Paul.”

“Who?” my dad asked, scratching the white scruff on his chin in obvious confusion.

“Paul.”

“The guy at the bank? He doesn’t really seem like your type.” Paul at the bank had a collection of Star Wars bobbleheads on his desk and still wore Birkenstocks.

“No. Paul Sullivan.” I winced as I said it and reached down to scratch Aurora again, hoping to keep her exactly where she was – a buffer between my dad and me.

“As in, Father Sullivan?”

“The one and only.”

He chuckled quietly. Not the reaction I was expecting. “Well, he is a good looking fella. I don’t think you’re alone, Grace. I’ve never seen so many women at church as I have since Father Paul came to town. But do you think maybe you’re interested in him because he’s unattainable?”

“What if he’s not?”

“He likes you, too?”

“I think so. We’ve been feeling things out a little bit, trying to figure out what’s going on without really trying to define it.”

“If you had to define it, how would you?”

“I’m not sure. I like him. A lot. He makes me smile. And laugh. And forget the weight on my chest.”

“Well, I certainly like to hear that. And how would he define it?”

“I don’t’ know, but Kate thinks he’s in love with me and has been since before … you know … the fire.” I wondered when I’d be able to talk about it without stumbling over the words. Surely, someone who couldn’t even talk about what had happened, wasn’t ready to move on from it.

My dad was silent for a long time. He picked up his cocktail and resumed his observation of the pool. After a few long sips, he finally spoke. “You know, Kate is a really good judge of character.

She’s always had a second sense about people. If she thinks he’s in love with you, he probably is. But Lord Almighty does that man have a rough road ahead of him.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “You want my advice?” he asked.

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Figure out as best you can how you’d define it, before you ask him to. I know it’s hard. You’ve been through so much, but you need to figure out how you feel before he does something he can’t take back.”

I hung my head. Up to this point, my main concern had been with my own wounded heart and what everyone would think if they found out that it wasn’t as wounded as they thought it should be.

However, Paul was the one risking everything.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said, standing up. “Are you cleaning gutters this evening?”

His deep baritone laugh traveled through the yard and startled Aurora who jumped to all fours faster than I thought possible. “Yep. Are you going out?”

“Undetermined,” I said, heading up the porch steps.

I was almost to the door when his voice caused me to turn back. He was staring at the water again and spoke as if he was in a daze. “Do you remember cleaning those filters as a kid? Every morning and evening you came out here to rescue whatever critter was trapped in them. Frogs. Turtles. Even one extremely lucky mouse that you managed to catch in time. We didn’t call you graceful because you lacked grace. We called you graceful because you were full of it. I certainly can’t fault Paul for seeing that too.”

I watched my dad for a few seconds before opening the back door and practically skipping my way through the kitchen. I grabbed my phone from the counter and typed in a text to Paul, who asked earlier if I had plans. Movie night? Everyone’s going out.

I tried to busy myself around the house while I waited for his response. I started a load of laundry and wiped down the kitchen counters. I opened the pantry to put away a box of crackers that had been left out and realized that we were living in complete disarray, and I hadn’t even noticed or cared. I shuffled the cans of vegetables around until they were in alphabetical order and then moved on to the dry goods.

Grace was back.

I felt the last little piece of my former self, or possibly a better version of it, fall into place as I moved the saltines to the right of a bag of rice. As I stepped back to survey my work, I realized that what was missing in my life was probably the same reason that Paul hadn’t responded to my text.

I glanced at the wall clock as I grabbed my purse from the counter. I still had time.

RETURN GRACE When I walked into the kitchen, three sets of wide eyes stared at me.

“Hey, look who’s here!” Arden was working the dishwasher and waved a gloved hand at me. It was getting late now, and the crowd in the dining area had dwindled to just a few.

“You are such a sight for sore eyes,” Theresa Lions said, dropping the towel she was using to dry pots and pans. Theresa had been my mom’s closest friend and had been volunteering in the kitchen for longer than I had. Why she wasn’t running the place was beyond me.

She wrapped her familiar arms around me, and I hugged her back in full force. Stepping back, she looked me over. “You look good. We’ve missed you around here. Any chance you’re coming back?”

I looked through the window over the food line at the families making their way to the door, and the familiarity of the entire scene comforted me. I’d missed this place more than I realized. “I think so.”

“Good,” she said, pulling me in for another hug. Theresa was a hugger. “We need you. If it weren’t for Paul, the whole place probably would have come crashing down on our heads.”

“Is he here?” I asked, looking around for him.

“Has anyone seen Paul?” she asked the room.

“I believe he’s walking Abby Thompson to her car,” Judith Cryer, another of our other usual volunteers, answered.

Theresa leaned in and whispered, “Ever since your incident, he walks all of the ladies to their cars if they’re alone.”

“Have we had more problems?” Paul hadn’t said anything to me but he really hadn’t talked about the kitchen much at all. I now felt horrible about that. I’d walked away from it all without a thought, leaving my friends to deal with everything without me. But the kitchen had been my mother’s baby. As soon as I’d walked inside the building, I’d known I was home. Now I couldn’t believe I’d stayed away for as long as I had.

“No. It’s been quiet around here, but you know Paul. He’s not much of a risk taker.”

If she only knew.

“Grace,” the aforementioned risk taker said from the back door.

I turned to face him. “Hi.” “Did you need me?” he asked.

It was a loaded question. I’d come because I wanted to see how things were at the kitchen.

However, staring into those gold-flecked emerald eyes, I knew that I also had come because I needed to see him. “I just came to say hi. To see if I could come back,” I said, telling a half-truth.

“Of course, you can come back.” He spread his arms wide. “This place is yours.”

“Well, I, for one, need to get going,” Arden interjected. “I need to be home before the kids go to bed.” Her words stung. I knew she hadn’t meant anything by it. That was her life, and this was mine.

She hadn’t intended to point out that I no longer had anyone to tuck in at night. This was exactly the thing that I had to learn to get past. I couldn’t expect people to weigh every thing they said on a ‘how much will it upset Grace scale’ before speaking. Still, it hurt.

“Shoo, you!” Theresa said slapping Arden on the arm. Her slap a little too hard to be considered playful. “Get on then.”

Arden’s lips drew into a thin line. She pulled me in for a hug, but it had none of the warmth of

Theresa’s. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow night.” She spoke in a hushed whisper next to my ear.

She meant for only me to hear. “There are some nasty rumors going around that we should probably talk about.” She waggled her eyebrows playfully at me, but there was nothing playful in the hard glint in her eyes.

My stomach twisted into knots as I realized that she was talking about Paul. Parading around San Antonio as if we didn’t have a care in the world had been a mistake. It would only take one person from Merriville to start an avalanche of trouble for Paul. I would spend the next twenty-four hours worrying about it and trying to think of a way to diffuse the situation.

She pulled away from me. “I’m so glad you’re back, Grace.” Her voice was sugary-sweet now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night. Miguel’s, right?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“We’re all so glad you’re back,” Theresa jumped in, energetically.

“I’m just sorry I didn’t get here before you guys were done tonight. I was organizing my dad’s pantry and had something of an epiphany.”

“Were you alphabetizing?” Arden asked snidely, moving toward the door even as she spoke. She’d never acted this catty to me before. However, she’d always had a bit of a crush on Paul. If she’d heard rumors about us, I could see her being jealous.

“Yeah, I was,” I admitted. “I was moving cans of vegetables around when I realized that it was one of the most normal things I’d done in months. I decided then that I was ready to come back.”

“Alphabetizing your pantry is not normal,” she said, snorting.

I tore my eyes away from Arden, “For me, it is. My cans have been alphabetically challenged for the past five months, and I didn’t even notice it. Today, I noticed and decided it was time to put my cans in order.” And my life.

“There’s nothing wrong with organization, love,” Theresa said, following Arden toward the door.

Judith was right behind her. “We’ll see you next week then?”

“Definitely,” I said.

“I’m going to walk them out.” Paul said, raising his eyebrows in question. “And then we can lock up together.”

Alone in the kitchen, I moved around the room. Everything was already in place. All of the pots and pans were clean and gleaming in the drying rack. The leftover food had either been stored or handed out to the families. I ran my hand across the stainless steel counter, thankful that my mom had left this for me. I could find peace here. I could make a difference here. There would still be times when I wouldn’t know what to do with my own life, but it was time that I get back to the business of helping others improve theirs.

“Everything okay?”

I turned to find Paul, leaning against the doorframe. His arms were crossed over his chest. A faint smile on his lips. He was so handsome, but that wasn’t even what drew to me him. He was a force, a living breathing force. I couldn’t resist him. I didn’t want to any more.

As soon as those thoughts danced through my head, I felt guilty for them. Arden knew. Tomorrow she would confront me with her suspicions, and I would either have to admit everything or lie. It went against how I felt. It went against how I lived my life. But, for Paul, I would lie.

I knew I should tell him. After all, it was his reputation – and life – on the line, but I couldn’t bear to do it yet. If there was a chance – however slim – that I was blowing things out of proportion, if it was possible that Arden knew nothing concrete, I didn’t want to worry him.

I made a promise to myself. If Arden confronted me tomorrow night, I would go immediately to

Paul and tell him. Then we would figure out some way to do damage control.

However, I’d come to find him tonight because I’d wanted to see him. And now, I wanted one more night with him. One more night before everything possibly blew up in our faces.

“Everything’s fine. I was just thinking about my mom.”

“She was a wonderful lady.” He moved across the room until he was standing in front of me. He placed his hand under my chin and tipped it up so that I had no choice but to look into his eyes. “But you are, too. Come back. You’ll find yourself again.”

His head tipped to the side, and his gaze traveled to my lips. He was thinking about kissing me, and I wanted him, too. “Not here,” I said in spite of myself. The chance that one of the ladies might make a reappearance was too great.

“Then where?” His voice was low and thick and different than I’d ever heard it. We were wandering into new territory now. The desire between us was becoming more intense every time I saw him. I knew I should go home and send him home too, but that wasn’t what I’d come here to do. If we only had one night left, I wasn’t going to waste it.

“Nobody’s at my house. I was thinking you could sneak over, and we could watch a movie.”

“A movie?” There was a wicked gleam in his eye that I wasn’t used to seeing there.

“Yes, a movie. I have the perfect one in mind.”

“Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

If only. _________________________ At my insistence, Paul parked around the corner. He hadn’t shared my concerns and had wanted simply pull to into the driveway. However, when I insisted he not call any more attention to us, he hadn’t put up a fight. Keeping him further in the dark, I didn’t tell him what the movie was, wanting to surprise him instead.

We began the movie with a big bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and the great expanse of the couch between us.

Other than the night before, I’d been the one to make every move. I’d perpetrated the attack in the vet’s office. I’d fallen into his arms in the cemetery. I’d been the one to kiss him after discovering the water truck. The only time that Paul had been the one to initiate anything between us had been when we were safely – or so we thought – miles away from Merriville.

I wanted to curl up next to him on the couch. I wanted to nestle under his arm and feel the heat of his body next to me. But, with Arden’s words still ringing in my ear, I wanted Paul to be the one to bridge the gap between us.

I wanted him to want me, too – not just when we were far away from the prying eyes of our small town – but here in the thick of it.

As the movie began, Paul chuckled at the selection. “Did you do this for me?” I nodded. “That’s amazing, Grace,” he said, scooting down beside me.

I wrung my hands in my lap, suddenly feeling foolish for hunting down and purchasing a movie that he’d mentioned during casual conversation. However, when he slid his arm around me and pulled me against him just like I’d wanted him to, I pushed my insecurities aside and melted into him.

“That’s you,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “My Amazing Grace.”

During the movie, I was acutely aware of his presence next to me. His thumb brushed a rhythm on my shoulder matching the staccato of my heart. When his knee bumped mine, my breathing hitched –

two layers of jeans not enough to dilute the power of his touch. Every contact caused the spark of electricity between us to grow.

“Well, that didn’t end the way I hoped it would,” he said as the credits began to roll.

“I know - ” I pulled away from him and turned on the couch to face him. I blinked at him with wide, surprised eyes. “Wait - the way you hoped? You’ve never seen the ending?”

He chuckled. “Nope. I’d never seen the beginning either.”

“But you said it was one of your favorite movies.”

I must have looked stricken. “I’m sorry, Grace,” he said sincerely. He wrapped both arms around me and pulled me close to him again. “I thought you knew I was joking. I was trying to be funny. I guess I need to work on my funny factor.”

I shook my head. “I should’ve known. It really wasn’t very good.”

“Oh, it was okay. It was funny. I probably have an appreciation for it that most men wouldn’t, but it’s definitely not going to make it onto my favorites list.” He pulled back a little and rested his hands on my shoulders. His green eyes sparkled mischievously. “I mean, how could it? The priest didn’t get the girl. He lost her to the unappreciative rabbi.”

“I took issue with that as well,” I said, watching his mouth. Wanting it on mine.

“I’m probably biased, but I wanted the priest to get the girl,” he said, equally mesmerized with mine.

“I don’t think that’s how it works in real life.” Not wanting either one of us to think about real life at the moment, my voice was muted.

“Hmmmm,” he said, not giving me any insight at all into what was going on in that brain of his. He looked at me for a few long seconds, his eyes searching mine. “Come here, Amazing Grace.”

He tipped up my chin until his lips hovered just over mine. When they finally came together, squelching the ache that had been growing inside of me, there was no question as to what I was thinking.

I wanted the priest to get the girl.

I didn’t see how it could possibly work out, but I wanted this priest to get this girl.

TRUTH GRACE “Don’t forget that we have dinner with Arden tonight,” I said, busting unannounced into Kate’s room.

I was anxious. Arden was all I could think about.

Kate was sitting on her bed, leafing through a familiar stack of papers. The mere sight of them caused even my toes to seize up. I began backing my way out of the room, not wanting to get sucked back into the dismal abyss of Jonathan’s affair. Not today. I had enough on my mind.

Why Kate was reading over it again was a mystery to me. I had to give it to her though. She was relentless. She was determined to figure out who Hope was, hunt her down and, I feared, put an end to her. I, on the other hand, had spent the past few days with my head stuck safely back in the sand, wanting just to enjoy my time with Paul.

She pushed her glasses up on her nose and glanced up at me. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“I’m kind of surprised that she picked tonight. It was her choice, wasn’t it?” I asked from the doorway.

“Yeah, it was her suggestion. Why?” “Today’s her birthday. I’m surprised that she’d rather spend it with us than her kids.” I didn’t mention that it was possible that Arden had a hidden agenda.

“Maybe she wanted a girl’s night out for her birthday,” Kate said without looking up. “We can give her a couple of bottles of that terrible wine I bought.”

She returned to her reading, and I reached for the doorknob to pull it shut behind me. “Sure. And I’ll go get her a bunch of yellow tulips. Those are her favorites.” Maybe I could ply her with wine and flowers and buy her silence.

As I pulled the door closed behind me, there was a shuffling of papers and then muttering. “Sweet baby Jesus,” Kate said, louder now. “No, no, no.”

I threw the door wide open again to find a wide-eyed and panic-stricken Kate frantically skimming the page in her hand. With an index finger, she traced a line midway down the page and then began pounding on the sheet so hard I thought her finger might poke clean through it. “Holy fucking shit, Grace. I can’t believe we missed this. What a fucking bitch.”

“Hope? Well, yeah.” Of course, she was a bitch. What kind of woman knowingly wrecks a marriage?

“No, not Hope … well, yes, Hope … she was right here. Right under our noses the whole time, and we missed it,” Kate stammered. She was so excited that she could barely speak, her level of anxiety unmistakable. It was infectious, and I could feel my blood pressure rising. An audible whoosh filled my head.

“You figured out who Hope is.” My voice was a hoarse whisper. I’d thought I wanted to know, but now that I was sure that I was about to find out, it didn’t seem like such a good idea. What was I going to do with the knowledge? Jonathan was gone. What would be the point in confronting the woman?

Kate was still staring at the paper in front of her. She shook her head in disbelief. “Did you read all of this, Grace? Every page?”

“No. I could only take so much.”

“Yeah? Well, guess who else has a birthday today.”

“Who?” “Guess who else has a weak spot for yellow tulips?” She leveled her eyes on me. When I didn’t immediately answer, she went on, her words wild and unhinged. “What did you do with Arden last year for her birthday?”

“I don’t think we did anything,” I answered cautiously. “I think she was out of town or something. I think her sister had just had a baby or something.” I shook my head trying to remember.

“Did she take the kids?”

“I don’t know. I doubt it.”

“And where was Jonathan?”

“I don’t know. Why?” “Because according to this, he was with her.”

My stubborn resolve not to refuse to face the facts that had been right in front of my face dissolved.

“Hope is Arden.” The words hung in my throat, choking me. All this time, I’d thought that Hope was a nickname that he’d given his lover because that was what she represented to him. But, Hope was his lover’s middle name. “Arden Hope Fitzgerald.”

Kate looked like she’d just sucked on a lemon, as if the horrible taste in her mouth was more than she could bear. I knew the feeling. I could taste it, too. “Exactly,” she said.

She sprung off the bed and blew past me, leaving me standing in the hall. When I realized where she was going, I followed, tripping over my feet and the dog who’d again been shadowing me around the house all morning. She yanked the drawer of the table beside my bed with such force that the entire thing came free and clattered to the floor. I glared at the phone that had tormented me for so many months, now resting among the bodice ripper novels spread at our feet.

Kate lacked my hesitation and slid to the floor. With the phone in her hand, she pounded on the screen. The keyboard popped up on the display, and she entered a-r-d-e-n. I held my breath while I waited for the screen to change, fully expecting the jackass to have made his girlfriend and my whore of a best friend’s name his security code.

I was almost relieved when the phone denied us entry. Almost.

I expected her to try something different but she paused. “Are you sure that you even want in this thing now? No telling what you’ll find.”

“Yes,” I practically screamed at her. “My kids’ voices are in there. I don’t even care about Jonathan and his shit any more. I just want to hear Trey and Isabelle again.”

It wasn’t entirely true. I did care. Now that I knew who Hope was and how fiercely I’d been betrayed by both my husband and my best friend, I had a perverse desire to know every sordid detail.

There’d be no more of this head in the sand bullshit. I was done being a doormat.

But first, I wanted to hear my kids’ voices.

She tried it again.

Nothing again.

Letting out a huff of air, she shook the phone in frustration, and then she tried it again, using a capital letters for the first letter. When that didn’t work, she tried Arden’s name in all caps.

Again, we were refused. “I think you only have one more chance before it locks up.”

“Gah! I know.”

“Try today’s date,” I said, resisting the urge to rip it from her hands. I’d tried every other date I could think of. Why not try this one? His girlfriend’s birthday was as good of a guess as any.

She punched in the four numbers for the month and day, and the phone came to life. “What a douche.” Anger emanated off her. “Even after everything, I can’t even believe that that man made his

passcode the birthday of the woman he was having an affair with. Who does that?” She was preaching to the choir. I could hardly believe it myself.

She handed me the phone. Her shoulders slumped. All her previous energy drained. “Do you want to be alone?”

I nodded. “Maybe for a little bit.”

She unfolded her legs and stood to leave. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” She pulled the door shut behind her, and I collapsed on the bed.

First things first. I ignored the screen full of notifications indicating all the things he’d missed during the last few months and opened up his voicemail. I skimmed past the three most recent messages, ignoring the dates and names, until I found what I was looking for. Home.

A small voice began to speak, and I closed my eyes. Instantly, I was sitting at our kitchen table, having an afternoon snack with my two favorite beings.

“Hi, Daddy. It’s Isabelle. Mommy says you have to work late tonight so Trey and I wanted to call and sing you a song.” A series of clatters and thumps indicated that the phone had been dropped and then swooped up again. “Okay. Got it.”

“One, two, three, go,” Trey said.

“No. I get to say when.”

“Why you?” he whined.

“Because I’m the oldest, and being the oldest is best.”

Trey grumbled in the background, bringing a smile to my face. “One day, I’m going to be the biggest, and I’ll be best.”

“Okay, one, two, three, go,” she said, ignoring his threat.

It had been an ordinary day. A day that had seemed no different or more important than any other.

Yet now it seemed spectacular. One of the hundreds of days that would be remembered as the most important day of my life.

I’d cried a lot during the past two weeks. But each time, Jonathan had been the reason. I hadn’t cried for him. I’d cried because of him. Lonely tears had turned into bitter tears. I’d felt wounded and cheated, and the tears that fell were no longer because I missed him but because he’d tainted every memory I had.

Not all tears are alike. Not all despair is equal. The bitter tears that stripped me to nothing more than skin and bone were strangely easier to bear than these. I’d eventually numbed to them. However, the tears I cried now stemmed from love rather than anger and were even harder to swallow. I would never become numb to them. Even if I moved forward – or sideways as Paul had suggested – I would never stop feeling the loss of Isabelle and Trey.

So rather than thumb my way through Jonathan’s phone, which surely hid many more secrets, I allowed myself to wallow in the loss of my two little angels. And I cried.

I cried because a thirty-three second recording of my two favorite voices would have to be enough to last me the rest of my life. I cried until I was too exhausted to cry any more. I cried until my head and heart couldn’t take any more.

When I woke up several hours later, I wasn’t alone. Kate was curled up next to me with her arm thrown over the top of me as if she’d been trying to hug me in my sleep. Dark hair partially covered her face and fanned across the pillow. Lips fuller than mine twitched as if she giving someone an earful. I didn’t have to imagine who.

I carefully slid her arm off me and slowly rolled to the edge of the bed so as not to wake her.

Jonathan’s phone was now resting on the bedside table. The screen was dark, but that would no longer a source of frustration for me. It was time for me to face the music.

I tiptoed across the room and opened the door. I continued creeping down the hall until I was in Kate’s room. Papers were still strewn all over her bed, but I could see that while I’d been sleeping, she’d been hard at work. She gone through the chat string yet again, highlighting anything that she had found interesting. At some point she must have snuck into my room for the box of bank statements because those had also been thrown about on the bed.

I nestled myself into the middle of it all and started with the phone. I typed in today’s date again.

This time, when it opened up, I looked at each icon on the screen, noting all of the missed notifications. In addition to the three voicemails that I’d skimmed past earlier, Jonathan had missed 28 text messages, 144 Facebook messages, and 1256 emails.

I was well aware of what each of the Facebook messages would say. After his death, I’d watched his wall, taking consolation in each message. Every single one of the 144 messages were from people expressing their disbelief that he was gone, their horror at the tragedy to which he’d succumbed, their praise for the hero he’d attempted to be, and their assurance that he would never be forgotten.

I wondered now how many of those 144 people had even known who Jonathan really was. I suspected the answer was one. That one person, who’d possibly known him better than anyone else, had also left a message though I couldn’t remember now what it had said. I was sure that Arden’s message had been as generic and flavorless as the rest, with no hint as to the true depth of her grief.

I skipped those messages. I also skipped the emails. It would take me all day to get through 1256 emails, even if most of them were advertisements and spam. Instead, I dove straight into his text messages.

Naturally, the last received message was from Arden. Unsurprisingly, her name was listed as Hope in his phone. Similar to the message she’d sent to his computer the day after his death, the despair in her text was unmistakable. Very different from any message she would have left on Facebook for the whole world to see.

Without reading them, I began skimming backwards, hitting the ‘Load Earlier Messages’ button when I came to it. I’d skimmed through more than four years of messages. I stopped, not because I’d reached the end, but because they seemed to go indefinitely. The man had been cheating on me for more than four years. Had the man seriously not known that he could delete the entire string every so often to get rid of the years worth of evidence against him?

I began skimming in reverse then, taking more time as I went and reading a few texts along the way.

The messages weren’t overtly sexual like I’d expect from Arden. At least, the majority of them weren’t. Most were the normal, every day conversation you’d expect between two friends. However, she wasn’t supposed to be his friend. She’d been my friend.

I laughed bitterly. Though he’d always been ‘too busy’ to respond to my messages, he seemed to have no problem responding to every one of hers. In fact, most of his responses were immediate. It appeared that my ranking in our threesome had been lower than hers.

I skipped forward looking for messages around this date last year and confirmed Kate’s suspicions.

The day before this day last year, she’d texted, I’m looking forward to getting away, but I’ll have to sneak away to see my sister for an hour or so.

He’d responded, You’ll be lucky if I let you out of the room.

Here’s a preview of what you’ll be missing. The picture that followed brought bile to my throat that threatened to choke me. I skipped past the naked photo, not wanting to see any more of Arden than

I already had.

The phone came to rest on another photo, and I tapped my finger on it to make it as large as possible. The photo had been taken on the school playground during the Thanksgiving celebration at school. With a construction paper pilgrim head perched precariously on his head, Trey was being chased by Jackson who wore a multi-colored Indian headdress. I was also in the picture, captured by accident while talking to a group of moms in the background.

I flipped back to the messages and read the message below the picture. As usual, Jackson is chasing after Trey.

And then the next. Trey just fell, and she wasn’t even watching.

I remembered that day. It had been nothing more than a skinned knee, and I had been right there though Arden had gotten to him first. I’d thought she was helping both of us. I hadn’t realized she was using it to build a case against me.

Though Arden’s message was straight-forward, and I had no trouble deciphering her intent, Jonathan’s response was more cryptic. I’m sure Trey is fine. Jackson won’t have to chase after him for much longer. Soon love.

Soon love?

I skimmed further ahead to try to figure out what he’d meant. However, the message from the next day was unrelated and uninteresting.

I skimmed to December, and there were messages about Christmas presents and parties. My best friend whined to my husband about how hard it would be for her to go to the Dalton’s Christmas party when he would there with me. Jonathan had responded by telling her that he had no choice. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. You know I’d rather be with you.

I tried to remember the Dalton’s Christmas party. Arden and I had spent the morning together at my house, decorating Christmas cookies with the kids. She’d complained that she didn’t want to go because she had nothing to wear, and I’d sympathized because Jonathan had asked me not to buy a new dress that year ‘since money was tight.’ I’d been a wee bit jealous when she’d shown up wearing a body-hugging dress that I’d never seen before. “Just something I found in the back of the closet,” she’d told me over spiked eggnog and Lauren Dalton’s famous spiced macadamia nut bread.

“I hope I don’t fall out,” she’d leaned over and whispered during the white elephant present exchange. I’d watched her try to harness her boobs into the dress’ plunging neckline and laughed.

Because I was worried about her self-esteem after her husband had left her, I assured her that there were plenty of men in the room who were hoping that they would escape again. I hadn’t realized that my husband was one of them.

My only consolation was that he hadn’t come through on his promise to make it up to her the next day. He’d texted her that afternoon to cancel whatever they’d had planned. Something’s come up, and I can’t make it tonight. His excuse was vague initially. When she pressed him, he’d admitted that I’d made plans for us that he didn’t know about. You know I’d rather be with you, he’d said again.

Those were words that I’d heard often. Every time he’d called to tell me that he would be coming home late from the office. Every time he’d missed one of the kids performances because he had to be out of town. Every time he’d had to work through mass on Sunday morning. “You know I’d rather be with you,” was his patented response. Now, I knew that when he’d rather been with her, it was probable that he’d been with her. When he’d rather been with me, he was probably with her.

I kept going to find yet another picture of Jackson. In this one, he sat on Santa’s lap. I blew the picture up and stared at it. His dark hair had been cut into a short buzz. Shocking, light blue eyes looked happily at the camera, and a full-on grin brought out the single dimple in his left cheek that I’d

always thought was so cute.

I exited out of the text app on his phone and opened his photos. There were a few here and there of random things, like a racing bike he’d had his eye on at a bike shop in Austin. However, the majority of the pictures were of the children. Trey and Isabelle, riding their bikes in the driveway. Singing in the school Christmas program. Jackson opening a Christmas present. I zoomed in on that one to make it bigger. The toy, whatever it was, was still in the box, but his face was lit up, causing the dimple to make another appearance. I flipped to the next picture and held my breath.

Jonathan sat in a chair. His head was thrown back as he laughed at the little guy on his lap. There was no mistaking where they were. I’d spent almost as much time in Arden’s living room as she’d spent in mine. He and the boy were looking at each other with identical artic blue eyes. A matching dimple graced each of their cheeks.

I couldn’t believe I’d never noticed it. But, why would I? I’d been at the hospital the day Jackson had been born. I’d congratulated Coleman on the new baby boy who everyone agreed looked just like him. Like any baby, his smashed little face looked like nobody and everybody at the same time. I could see now that Jackson had grown into his looks over the last four years, and there was no mistaking which parent he favored now.

I wondered when the picture had actually been taken. Had Jonathan left our family and snuck away on Christmas morning? It was unbelievably brazen and so completely Jonathan.

Had he considered Jackson and Arden to be his family, too?

I returned to his text string and sped through the rest of the messages. The closer I got to what I knew would be the end, the more agitated and demanding Arden’s messages became. She complained that it had gone on long enough. Leave her, she begged as if I weren’t her best friend. I’ve done my part. It’s time for you to do yours, she’d demanded. My finger flew across the screen, scrolling up again to more than two years before, wanting to confirm what I suspected.

Coleman had walked out on Arden during the fall of the previous year, just a few weeks after Jackson had turned two. She’d played the woe-is-me card, crying on my shoulder for months. We’d cursed his name over numerous bottles of wine. I bought a pin-the-tail on the donkey game from the dollar store, and we’d laughed maniacally as we pinned tails on the jackass in the family picture that hung in her living room. However, it had all been a lie.

Coleman hadn’t been to blame for the implosion of their marriage.

He knows, her text read. I wondered if she’d been panicked. Had she wondered if Coleman would come running to me?

About everything? Jonathan had asked.

No. Just about us.

Jonathan’s next response had been calm, cool, and collected. He won’t tell her. He hadn’t been worried at all. When she’d become hysterical, he’d assured her that he was on his way.

Jonathan to save the day. That had been my husband. Always in control of every situation. To my knowledge, no one had ever gotten the better of him. Had I been in his shoes, I would have been worried. Petrified. But Jonathan wouldn’t be. He’d probably confronted Coleman Fitzgerald himself.

My anger reignited. I’d known Coleman and Arden for most of my adult life. Before we’d had kids, we’d gone out for dinner almost every weekend as couples. When the business took off, we celebrated with them. When we got finally pregnant with Isabelle, Arden had thrown my baby shower. After one kid turned to two and two turned to four between us, we settled on take-out every Friday night. But we rarely missed a weekend.

We’d been a foursome. No one invited Arden and Coleman to do anything without inviting us as

well. The reverse was equally true. When he had left Arden, I’d felt as betrayed as she had.

But I had blamed the wrong person.

“What did you find?”

My head snapped up to find Kate standing in the doorway. Her eyes were soft. Sympathetic.

Knowing.

“Hang on,” I said, holding up a finger. “I feel like I’m on to something.

She walked to the side of the bed. “Scooch over.”

I made room for her to sit beside me while still reading text message after text message. Most were benign. The usual stuff that you’d expect between two liars who shared a secret love child. If that were usual.

I skipped forward in time again, returning to the months just before Jonathan’s death. Kate rested her head on my shoulder, reading along with me.

There were more cancelled dates. More ‘You know I’d rather be with you’ messages, and I took some comfort in the fact that, in the end, he’d treated us like equals. The things he told her weren’t that different from what he had told me. He had to work late. He was distracted because of things going on at the office.

Arden’s dissatisfaction grew. She was vocal about her frustration and unhappiness, clearly expecting more from Jonathan’s empty promises than he delivered. Yet, Jonathan’s responses remained steadfast and placating.

You’re never going to leave her.

I’m working on it. Things are in motion.

When?

Soon.

Kate lifted her head from my shoulder momentarily. “He was leaving you.”

“So it would seem.” The news of this wasn’t devastating to me any more. At this point, I was expecting it. I plowed ahead, hoping to find some clue as to his plan. As I moved through each message, reading every one now, I found no hints.

Until the evening of his death.

Put a stop to it, he’d said.

It’s too late.

I can’t do it.

I can’t call it off. He’s already in place.

PUT A STOP TO IT. I’m not going through with it.

She’s at the kitchen now. I’m coming over. Erase everything.

There were no more messages from that day. The last messages on the string were from the days that followed. Messages sent by Arden. Messages that she knew would never be answered. Messages that she’d sent out into the abyss, hoping that somehow he would hear her despair and know that she’d loved him the most.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Kate asked.

“That they were planning to kill me?” I let out a huff of air.

“The fire?” Her expression was perplexed.

I leaned my head back on the pillow and squeezed my eyes shut, remembering a day that I’d tried so hard to forget. “No. It was investigated. The fire started because of the candle on the mantel.

Jonathan was a dog, but he never would have risked Trey’s and Isabelle’s lives.”

She winced. “What about the insurance?” It was something I was questioning too.

“I don’t know why he bought policies for them. But I’ll never believe that he would have hurt them.

He could fake it with me, but he loved those kids.”

She nodded in agreement. “I know. You’re right.”

“There had to be another reason.”

“It does explain why he didn’t cancel your insurance policy when he cancelled his.”

“Right. If he planned on killing me and running away with Arden, he didn’t need an insurance policy with me listed as the beneficiary.”

She gasped. “Do you think there’s another policy out there with her listed as the beneficiary? Is she sitting on half a million dollars right now?”

I leveled my gaze on her. “I don’t know. Surely he wouldn’t have been that stupid.”

“He was stupid enough not to erase his phone.”

“True,” I said, rubbing my temples. I could feel a headache brewing. I was on information overload, and my head threatened to explode. “You know what? I don’t even care. If she profited off his death, she can have it. Besides, she has his son to raise now. I’d be willing to bet there is a policy with Jackson’s name on it too.”

“What?” Kate’s wide eyes reminded me that I hadn’t told her about Jackson. They say a picture is worth a thousand words so I showed it to her. I didn’t have to say anything else. She looked at me in shock. “You have to be fucking kidding.”

I tossed the phone on the bed. “My thoughts exactly.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why are you so calm? I’d be losing my mind right now if I were you. I am losing my mind right now for you.”

“I think I’m just numb to it all. Or maybe I don’t care any more. I wanted answers, but now that I have them, I’m not sure that I even need them.”

She reached for a bank statement lying near my feet. A few highlighted yellow lines glared at me.

“Well, I do! I need answers. And Jackson being Jonathan’s son explains a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“I went through your bank statements while you were sleeping. Only I didn’t just go through the last few of months. I went back an entire year. You said that he paid for the kids’ school twice one month.

But, I looked, Grace, and he paid for the kids’ school twice every month during that entire year. But just like you said, the second payment was always half.”

I shrugged. “He was paying for Jackson’s, too.”

“Exactly.”

“And the fifty-five dollar checks that he wrote every month?”

“Yeah.”

“I found one where I could read the signature on the back. Steve Knight signed it.”

Steve Knight owned the only karate studio in town. “Our kids didn’t take karate,” I muttered.

“Right? But does Jackson?” Her brown eyes were dark and ominous.

“Yes.” She shook her head in disbelief. “He had another child that he was paying for, and he didn’t even really try to hide it.”

“It was hurting us though. Our bank accounts were down to next to nothing when he died.”

She reached for a different statement. “No, he was transferring everything to a different account.

Look at this. On the fourteenth of January, he transferred five thousand dollars out of your joint account. There’s another transfer for three thousand the month before that. I think he was siphoning off money for when they ran away together. I don’t know.”

She was silent for a moment while she processed everything we’d figured out. “So what do you think they had planned? They were going to kill you and run away together with all four kids? That’s so crazy.”

“As the trustee of my money, he would have had all of that, too.”

“Do you think Coleman knew?”

“About Jackson? No. There’s a text where he asks if Coleman knew about everything, and she said, ‘No. Just us.’”

I mentally ran through everything I’d read. Arden’s text message to Jonathan rattled around in my head. I can’t call it off. He’s already in place.

“Holy shit, Kate! A man attacked me the night of the fire. I was late getting home from the kitchen because I was mugged in the parking lot. He had a knife and took a swipe at me. It nearly scared me to death.”

“And you’re just now telling me?”

“It seemed inconsequential after everything that happened that night.” It didn’t seem so inconsequential now, and I recounted the attack to her in as much detail as I could remember. “When I got home, he was visibly upset – drinking, which he never does. I just thought he’d had a bad day and was mad at me for being out late. But now, I think he wasn’t expecting me to walk through the door.”

She’s at the kitchen now. I’m coming over.

I wrung out my hands. “There was a glass of wine on the coffee table. He handed it to me, and I thought it was for me, but I remember complaining about our crappy dishwasher because there was lipstick on it.”

“Do you think she was there before you got home?”

“She had to be. Her text said that she was on her way. She was at my house.” I shuddered.

She leaned back and threw her hands in the air. “Lying cheating assholes! Too bad nothing worked out the way they planned, huh?”

“No,” I agreed though I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe everything would be different if the man in the parking lot had done the job that I now assumed Arden or maybe even Jonathan had paid him to do.

“So Paul saved you?” she said.

“Yeah. When I told him I was glad he was there, he said, ‘I’ll always be here for you, Grace.’”

Despite everything, I couldn’t stop a smile from creeping up on my face.

She grinned. “Do you need him to save you now?”

I thought about it for a second. “You know what? I don’t think I do. I am going to go see him though.” I moved to get up but stopped when I remembered something. “What about tonight?”

She snorted. “Do you want to confront her?”

I laughed. “I’m not having dinner with her. She’s not getting another minute of my time or energy.”

Whatever she thought she had on me and Paul, I had more on her and Jonathan. I picked up my phone.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a mischievous smile lighting up her eyes.

“She likes text messages. I’m going to text her to tell her we aren’t coming.” I pulled up Arden’s text string on my phone.

“What are you going to say?” Kate, said bouncing on the bed and causing the papers around us to shift and shuffle.

I typed my message. It was short and sweet and to the point.

Sorry but something’s come up and I can’t make it tonight. You know I’d rather be with you.

I hit send and handed the phone to Kate so she could read it.

She laughed, her laugh fringing on the edges of hysterical. “Oh, wait,” she said, throwing my phone back on the bed and grabbing Jonathan’s instead. Arden’s last message was still on the screen.

Kate typed furiously and then handed the phone to me, her laugh now crossing firmly over the line into maniacal.

And they say, dead men don’t tell tales.

REALITY GRACE I couldn’t take my car to Paul’s. I didn’t want someone to see it parked in his driveway or even around the corner. I didn’t use the front door either. Like a criminal, I snuck around the side of the church parsonage and knocked on the back door.

“I’m sorry to surprise you,” I blurted before the door was even all the way open. “But I just needed – ” My thoughts and words were cut off by the sight before me.

Paul stood in the open doorway, wearing nothing but athletic shorts, tennis shoes, and a smile. “You don’t need an invitation, Grace.”

I blinked up at his marvelousness. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man. Oh, how I loved a runner’s body. “Been running?” I asked, though there wasn’t a drop of sweat on him. How did I know? Because I was looking. Or more accurately, gaping.

“No. I’ve been working in the house. Come in and I’ll show you what I’ve been up to.” He held the door open so that I could pass through. When I did, my arm brushed his smooth, solid stomach.

It wasn’t an accident. I’d lived my entire life, always playing it safe, doing what everyone expected of me. I was done living like that. From this point forward, I was going to be braver. I was going to take chances. I was going to treat every day like it might be my last, knowing that it very well could be. A small smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth, as if he knew I’d touched him on purpose.

He grabbed my hand, leading me into a small kitchen. The linoleum floor was a little dingy, in need of replacing, but the rest of the kitchen was probably average as far as church parsonages went. There was certainly nothing fancy about it.

“Just give me a second to find my shirt.” The lean muscles in his shoulders and chest rippled and strained as his head swiveled to look for it.

‘You don’t have to,’ I wanted to say. However, even the new, braver Grace still had some growing to do.

“Maybe it’s in the living room,” he said pulling me down a long dark hall towards the front of the house. Spotting his shirt, he let go of my hand. “There it is.”

My feet suddenly felt like lead, preventing me from following him into the room. The room was full of boxes. Boxes piled on top of boxes. Each one marked in Paul’s scrawled writing. Bedroom.

Bathroom. Living room. Hall closet. Every room seemed to be represented.

The one sitting in the middle of the room was marked ‘Donate.’ A roll of packing tape and a permanent marker sat on top of it.

My heart sank, my excitement to see him and tell him everything I’d learned earlier that day dissolving into nothingness. “You’re leaving,” I said breathlessly. My heart rate beat faster than a runaway train. Had he heard the rumors, too?

Fully clothed again, he sat down on the couch and casually threw his arm over the back of it. “I kind of have to. Come sit by me, Grace.” He patted the chair beside him, reminding me that someone was conspicuously absent.

“Where’s Chubs?”

“He’s locked in the bedroom. The boxes were making him nervous.”

I could relate.

I had a million questions, but one was more immediately important than the rest. “So where are you

going?” I dreaded his next words. If he said Boston, I didn’t know what I’d do. Would I follow him?

Would he want me to? Our relationship was too new for me even to guess.

“Third Street. I rented an apartment in The Commons.” Third Street was only three blocks from my father’s house. My heart was beating again, but it was doing so with the rhythm of a runaway train. “I have to be out tonight because my replacement gets here tomorrow.”

“Your replacement?”

“Why are you still over there? Do I smell or something?” He sniffed at his t-shirt, but his playful grin did nothing to alleviate my worries.

“No,” I said, remembering how I’d gotten here. “But I probably do. I ran all the way over here.”

“Why?” he asked, suddenly concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. No. Well, now I don’t know.” All the things I’d wanted to tell him now seemed unimportant.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

“I’ve been in discussions with the bishop all week.”

I gasped. “Did he kick you out of the church? Because of me?” Funny, how out of all things I’d learned today, the thought of Paul being removed from the church or, worse, being excommunicated was by far the hardest for me to digest.

“Calm down, Grace. It’s not like that. And it’s not because of you though you’re a part of it. I tried to keep your name out of it. I really did. But the Bishop needed to know everything so he could determine my level of wrongdoing.”

Everything. The Bishop knew everything.

Realizing that I wasn’t budging from my spot across the room, he stood again. However, he still didn’t make a move to come closer to me. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Grace. But I have, and now I’m in the process of fixing things. That’s why Russell was here.”

“He told you this is wrong?” After meeting him and the things he’d said to me, I really couldn’t imagine it.

“No. Quite the opposite, actually. He thinks that he’s done me a terrible disservice, that he led me astray from whatever life was meant for me. He’s always told me that his influence and my Irish guilt were a dangerous combination.”

I stared at him, motionless and silent.

“All those years ago, when I said I wanted to enter the priesthood, he tried to talk me out of it. He told me I was doing it for the wrong reasons. But I couldn’t hear him because everything he’d done and the church had done to save me was talking so much louder. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have had a life at all.” The emotion in his voice made his accent thicker.

“He was there for me then, and he was here for me last week. I didn’t ask him to come, but I guess I needed someone to help me sift through the mess I’ve created and figure out how I can fix it.”

“Am I part of the solution or the problem?”

The smile slipped off his face. He took a step toward me. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this now?” he asked. “It can wait. If you’re not ready - ” I knew now that I was far stronger than I’d ever believed. Whatever it was he was going to tell me, I could handle it. And I had things to tell him, too. Things that were now pressing so heavily on my chest that I felt I would suffocate if I didn’t get them out. “I want this.” I meant the conversation. I meant him. I meant everything.

He looked anxious, but took another step in my direction, approaching me as if he thought I were a timid deer that was going to spook at any minute. “The way I feel about you, Grace. It was wrong.”

I’d been telling Kate the same thing, but hearing him say it was even more difficult than saying it

myself. I didn’t want it to be wrong. I wanted him to want me without guilt or consequence.

“Did you know I watched you, Grace?” He paused as if he actually expected me to answer so I shook my head. “I can tell you where I was when I saw you the first time. I was new to town. You were reading at the coffee shop and were so engrossed in your book that you were oblivious to everyone around you. It sounds sort of creepy when I say it now, but it didn’t feel that way at the time.

You were captivating.”

I stared at his perfect mouth as he spoke and felt my pulse quicken with every word that came out of it.

“It wasn’t because you were beautiful – though you are, of course. I could just tell that there was something different about you. Something special.”

I held my breath until he continued. After spending the day reading about my faults, comparing myself to Arden, and thinking that I hadn’t been enough, Paul’s words were like a soothing balm.

“I never believed in love at first sight. I still don’t,” he continued, “but I think I knew then – without even knowing your name, without ever having spoken to you – that I could love you some day – if you would let me.”

Everything in the room spun as the gravity of his words hit me. I wanted him to repeat them so that I could make sure that I’d heard him right, but I didn’t dare ask him to do so.

“It wasn’t until I started working at the kitchen with you that I knew I was in too deep. But even then I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself. It was just a ‘what if.’ Spending time with you the last few weeks has shown me what could actually be, and it’s so much better than anything I imagined. I’ve fallen for you, and I’ve fallen hard.”

“But you said at the dog park that you’ve never been in love.”

“I stand by that.” The perplexed look on my face urged him on. “I love you. Probably always have.

But I wasn’t in love with you until you could love me back.”

His words were crushing. I never wanted Paul to feel unloved. He was one of the most beautiful human beings I’d ever known. “But – “ He cut me off, “It’s okay. You couldn’t love me – you couldn’t even see me that way – because you were in love with your husband, and that was the way things were supposed to be. I told myself that my feelings weren’t wrong because I knew that it could never be anything more. I told myself it was enough to just be around you. But I was wrong about that, too.”

He reached out and picked up a piece of my hair that had fallen over my shoulder, but his eyes never left mine. “It was wrong because when your hair fell over your face in that coffee shop, and you brushed it away, I wanted to be the one that did that for you.” He brushed my hair over my shoulder before resting his hand there, causing electricity to hum through my body.

“When we would do inventory at the kitchen, and you would do that thing you do with the cans, you would bite your lower lip in concentration, and I wanted to do this.” With his other hand, he brushed his thumb against my lower lip.

“But the truth is that I shouldn’t have wanted to touch you. I shouldn’t have volunteered at Karen’s just to be near you. My desire for you was wrong because my heart was supposed to belong to Him. It was forgivable, of course, if I’d asked. But I didn’t ask – not in any meaningful way – because if I was broken, I didn’t want to be fixed. I wanted you instead.”

“And then you kissed me in that vet’s office …” He shook his head, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Once I had that small taste of you, I knew that I needed all of you.”

“I could fool myself. I could fool the bishop, my congregation … even you … but I couldn’t fool the one that counts the most. You filled a loneliness that I never knew I had. He knew that you had

worked your way into my heart and that I’d already tucked away a piece of it for you. It belonged to you. Like Him, my love is irr - ” “What are you saying, Paul?” I asked, cutting him off. Was he saying that he wasn’t a priest anymore?

He smiled broadly. “Irrevocable,” he finished, as if I hadn’t spoken. “My love for you is irrevocable.”

The tears were flowing freely now. He did love me.

“I’ve asked for dispensation. It will take some time, and I don’t really expect you to feel the same way I do, but I know it’s the right decision. Even if you decide not to be a part of my life, it’s the right decision.”

“I want to be a part of your life,” I said, the words pouring out of me as fast as I could get them off my tongue.

Paul cupped my cheeks in his hands, and I could feel his touch all the way down to the tips of my toes. “And I want you to be a part of mine.”

His mouth covered mine. With no reluctance whatsoever, I knew I could give my heart away, knowing that this man would protect it as if it were his own. He would love me completely and wholly because it was the only way that he knew how to love. Even though I hadn’t said it back to him, I knew that I could. I could love him, too. He had nestled his way into my heart when I wasn’t looking and captured a piece of it.

With Paul, I could find happiness again. Despite the fact that the people I’d trusted most had betrayed me, I could find happiness and welcome it, knowing that I deserved a second chance. He could make me as happy as I’d ever been. Happier even than I’d been with Jonathan.

I looked into his eyes and saw everything that I was feeling reflected back at me, and time seemed to stand still again…

The heat of the flames and a deep breath of smoke snapped me back into the moment. I looked into the fire unsure of why or how I’d gotten this glimpse of what could be.

I’d be lying if a small part of me didn’t want that. I wanted Paul for myself, and I wanted it for him, too. We would be happy together. However, my happiness would come at a cost. It wasn’t free, and I knew it would always be tempered. I could see my life without Isabelle and Trey. Visiting their graves, grasping onto Kate and my father for support, trying to find my way without them.

Life is about choices. Every choice has a consequence. Every action has a reaction. Most of the time we do not what those consequences will be. However, I’d been given a precious gift. As much as I wanted a life with Paul, there was only one thing that I wanted more, and I would give up everything for a different outcome.

One in which my children might be allowed to live.

One in which Trey might be given the chance to be loved as freely and completely as Paul did.

One in which Isabelle might know what it was like to feel that love reflected back at her.

I would willingly walk away from it all so they could feel one ounce of what I had felt for Paul.

It was a chance I would take, and I knew in my heart that if I wasn’t meant for Paul, someone else was.

I looked up the stairs and knew that I didn’t have two choices at all. There was only one.

I had to save my children if I could.

TWO five months before PAUL I’d officiated my fair share of funerals, but this one had been different. Losing a family in a house fire was hard enough. Burying the woman you love was unbearable.

There was a saying that I’d heard and dismissed my whole life. You don’t know what you’ve got until you’ve lost it. During the past six days, I’d come to the conclusion that it was trite but true.

Of course, the phrase didn’t really even apply to me. She’d never been mine to lose. She’d belonged to someone else every day that I knew her. I’d never know what could have been if I’d had a chance with her.

However, I was finally being honest with myself and I’d always known how special Grace was.

Her death had made me see that. I hadn’t been able to put it into words or even admit it to myself before now, but I’d loved her for more than a year.

The fact that I wasn’t supposed to have feelings for her, or any other woman for that matter, had made them easier to ignore, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. On this day, when my job had required me to officiate her funeral, I was finally willing to acknowledge that a force had been pulling me in her direction from the very first time I’d laid eyes on her.

I remembered it as if it were yesterday.

It had been a Monday in early October. I’d just moved here and had been walking Chubs through the streets of downtown in an effort to get acquainted with my new home. The weather had still been stifling though I’d been repeatedly assured that eventually the seasons would change. Coming from Boston, which had already experienced its first snow of the year, it had been a shock to my system.

I rounded a corner, and there she was, sitting at a two-seater table outside of the town’s only coffee shop, head bowed, engrossed in a book. Even now, I couldn’t explain why I’d done it. I didn’t even like coffee. However, something or someone compelled me to walk toward the coffee shop and toward her.

I hadn’t stopped to introduce myself as I passed because that would have been strange for both of us. Instead, I walked to a table and tied Chubs to the chair. Then I’d gone inside and ordered a small black coffee because the names of the other drinks on the menu made no sense to me. I’d taken my paper cup outside and sat with Chubs while my untouched drink got cold.

While I absentmindedly scratched his head, she’d leaned her head forward, causing her hair to fall in front of her shoulder. I watched her wrap a piece of it around her finger, her eyes still on the book, and then toss it back over her shoulder. Every so often, the corner of her mouth would lift, and she would smile at whatever she’d read. Then she’d look off into space while she seemed to think about something. After a few moments, she’d return to her book as if she’d figured out the answer to whatever had puzzled her.

It sounded stalkerish now, but it hadn’t felt like that at the time. There’d just been something about her that I couldn’t walk past.

She was a beautiful woman, but that wasn’t what had sparked my interest and held me to that chair.

I’d walked past thousands of beautiful women in my life without a second thought. She’d been different though. There’d been a light in her warm eyes that made her shine brighter than most. I’d

reacted differently than I ever had before.

At some point, she’d looked up and her eyes had met mine. She’d smiled warmly, probably not even realizing that I’d been observing her for a while. Her expression was kind, but it had made me realize that my actions were completely inappropriate, considering the collar around my neck and the ring on her finger. I’d smiled in response and quickly looked away. I’d untied the dog and wandered away, knowing in a town this size I’d see her again. I hadn’t realized how soon that would be.

Several hours later, I was performing the same exercise at the church, wandering the halls as the school dismissed and meeting the parents picking up their children. My hope was that I’d recognize a few faces when I conducted my first mass the following Wednesday night.

I’d turned another corner, and there’d she’d been again talking with a small group of moms. A small girl darted up and tugged on her hand. She immediately dismissed her conversation and squatted down to her level. She’d thrust her shoe out at her, and she laughed as she tied it for her.

Afterwards, she flung her arms around her neck and said, “Thank you, Mommy.”

“God, I can’t wait for kindergarten when they learn to tie their own shoes,” the blonde woman next to her had said. Her voice had conveyed her annoyance at having their conversation interrupted.

“Some days it seems like all I do is tie Autumn’s shoes.”

The woman from the coffee shop acted as if she hadn’t even heard her friend. “You’re welcome, Isabelle.”

“I want to learn how to tie my own shoes,” the girl whispered to her mother. Obviously, she’d heard the other woman.

“I’ll teach you,” she’d said with a conspiratorial wink. “But I will never grow tired of tying your shoes for you.” She’d pulled on the little girl’s ponytail playfully as she stood.

Later, I learned that the blonde’s name was Arden and the brunette’s was Grace. When I had gotten to know them better, I had come to the decision that they couldn’t have been more perfectly named.

They were best friends; yet, they were so completely opposite from one another. Arden was flashy and pretentious and, unlike Grace, always putting on a show. Every word out of her mouth was orchestrated to fulfill her own selfish purposes. Grace, on the other hand, was quieter and gave way more to people than she took.

Now, I was exhausted after spending the last two hours ministering to what was left of Grace’s family. I’d delivered her last mass, and I had no choice but to do it as if I weren’t falling apart. It was what was required of me. It was my job. But as they lowered her into the ground, I’d felt like my heart was being ripped out and buried with her.

I picked up my phone and dialed. Russell was expecting my call and answered on the second ring.

With none of the usual formalities, I launched into the conversation we’d started days ago. “Without a doubt, that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” I said into the phone. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend that my heart is not divided and that I’m not in violation of what we stand for.”

“Do you want me to come?”

I sighed. “No.” I’d been a burden on Russell for the majority of my life. “I’ll be all right. I’ll figure it out.”

“But why do it alone? I’m coming. I’ll let you know when I have flight information.”

“Thank you,” I said, conceding that I wanted him here.

“I’m always here for you, son,” he said, hanging up.

I felt better just knowing that he was on his way. I turned to Chubs who was sitting by the door. His long thick tail thumped against the floor. “All right, boy. You’ve been patient enough. Just let me change first.”

When we got to the nearly deserted dog park, I unhooked Chubs’ leash to let him run. Or more likely, sit. I turned toward where I knew I would find a bench.

Even though I’d seen her just a few hours before and even exchanged a few words with her after the service, I paled at the sight of her. I’d made every effort not to stare at her at the funeral. However, now that she was staring at the ground in front of her, her mind somewhere other than the Merriville dog park, I gawked at her. Much like I’d gawked at Grace the first time I’d seen her.

The resemblance between them was so uncanny that I didn’t know if I would ever get used to it.

They shared the same skin tone, long dark hair, and wide brown eyes, and they seemed so close in age that I’d first wondered if they were twins. However, now that I could really study her, there were subtle distinctions that set the two apart.

Kate’s face was more heart-shaped than her sister’s, and her cheek bones were less defined. Her nose was finer and she wore her hair a bit longer, in a sleeker more sophisticated style than Grace, who’d often let the natural wave in her hair run free.

Whereas Grace was as innocent and quiet as the small-town in which she lived, Kate was bolder.

More intense. Something told me that she lived her life that way as well.

I wanted to live my life like that.

When her gaze unexpectedly pulled upward and she met my stare, she looked like a woman on a mission. There was a confidence about her, as if she were unapologetically comfortable with whom she was. I could tell that she was used to getting what she wanted.

Having been caught watching her, there was no way I could avoid her now, so I made my way across the mostly vacant dog park to where she sat.

“Father. Though I have to say,” she said, nodding at my jean-clad legs and Boston Red Sox t-shirt, “you don’t really look like one.”

I was wearing street clothes rather than my usual clerics. It was something I rarely did around town. However, considering the revelations I’d had this week, I sincerely doubted that I would ever put them back on again. My life was in flux again. Though I’d made no decisions, change was imminent. I could feel it in the air around me.

“How are you guys doing?” I asked, ignoring her commentary on my choice of outfits.

“As expected, I suppose. Some of us are taking it harder than others.”

“Everyone grieves differently. There’s no right or wrong way.”

“What about you?” she asked, her intense eyes daring me to answer honestly. “I understand you and Grace worked together at the kitchen.”

I swallowed hard and tried to maintain my composure. A certain level of sorrow could be expected from a priest who’d lost a parishioner. That was especially true in my case since I’d worked so closely with Grace at Karen’s Kitchen. However, the intense heartache I felt over losing her was entirely inappropriate.

Knowing I would give myself away, I deflected the question. “The better question is how is she?” I said pointing in the direction of the water fountain.

As if I’d called her, the girl turned and faced me. As she ran towards me, my heart broke yet again.

I was surrounded by familiar faces, but none of them were the one I wanted so desperately to see.

A rotund bulldog chased after her with more speed than I thought possible for its size. “Father Paul,” she said breathlessly. She leaned over and put her elbows on her knees to catch her breath.

Unlike her aunt who was still wearing the black dress she’d worn to the funeral, Isabelle had changed into shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hi there, Isabelle. That’s a very cool dog that you have.”

She nodded and eyed my equally out of shape basset hound. “He’s pretty cool, too.” Happy to be receiving the attention of a pretty girl, my dog moved to her side and raised a paw to beg for a scratch. A small smile played on Isabelle’s lips.

“He wants you to scratch between his ears.” Still bent over, she obliged, and Chubs’ tail thumped wildly against the ground, which was still slightly damp from the unexpected rain shower we’d had earlier.

She stood again, slipped something into her pocket, and fished out a bag of treats. “Watch this, Father Paul.” She tossed a milk-bone into the air above the squatty beast of a dog who opened her wide jaws and snagged it perfectly from the air.

“That’s quite a trick,” I said.

“Aurora is awesome,” the little girl said. “We bought her for my grandpa when my grandma died.”

A dark cloud passed over her eyes.

“She is awesome,” I said quickly while bending to scratch Aurora’s head. Before I could, she flopped onto her back, exposing her belly to me. “Is she named after the Greek Goddess or the lights?” I asked.

“Huh?” Isabelle asked in confusion.

Kate answered for her. “Her full name is Princess Aurora.”

“Does she sleep a lot?” I asked Isabelle while continuing to scratch the dog’s stomach.

Aurora snorted in appreciation and Isabelle smiled. “Yes. Last night, they let her sleep with me.”

“I bet she’s a great cuddler. You know, your grandpa probably needs your help taking care of her.

He’s going to need you to walk her and feed her and give her baths. You think you’re going to be able to help him out with all of that?” I pointed at the dog lying on her back at my feet.

“I think so.”

“Hey, Isabelle,” Kate said. “Why don’t you take the dogs over to the fountain for a drink? It looks like they could use it.”

Isabelle nodded and pulled the black shiny object out of her pocket again. She walked away from us with it tucked in one hand. The other hand patted her legs as she coaxed the dogs to follow her.

“What’s that in her hand?” I asked.

“Jonathan’s phone. It’s the only thing that made it through the fire. Well, the phone and her.” She said, nodding to the little girl who was trying to teach Chubs to catch treats out of the air. “My dad and I consider her to be a walking miracle though we know it wasn’t a miracle at all.”

I nodded, feeling the lump in my throat grow again. The fire’s devastation had been total. The house had been entirely ravaged by flames before the fire department had ever pulled onto the street.

Neighbors scurrying frantically around the house knowing that a family was inside had found Isabelle huddled in the elevated fort of her swing set. She’d been waiting there for her mom and dad because that’s where they told her they would meet her in case of an emergency. It was too close to the house to be safe so the man from next door had carried a hysterical Isabelle away.

Isabelle was only six. She was far too young to really understand what had been happening around her. Certainly, she was too young to paint a complete picture of that night. However, from what they’d been able to get out of her, we knew that Grace had come to Isabelle’s room first. She’d shoved the phone in the little girl’s hand before leaning as far out of the window as she could and dropping her to the ground. Though Isabelle had been told to run to the next door neighbor’s house, she’d gone to the fort on her swing set to wait while her mom went back to check on her dad and brother.

“She carries it with her everywhere,” Kate said, pulling me back from my thoughts. I looked up to find her staring at me. Her expression intense as if she were trying to read me, and I couldn’t help but

feel that she’d done exactly that.

I recognized something in her eyes. It was more than just a physical resemblance to Grace. She had that same warmth, that same light that I’d seen in Grace. “Carries what?”

“The phone. She doesn’t do anything without it. She would bathe with it if we hadn’t convinced her that it would ruin it.”

“It’s all she has of them.”

“I steal it when she’s sleeping.” I looked down at her, an odd look on my face. “I’ve been trying to get inside, but Jonathan put a passcode on it. I’ve tried everything I can think of – birthdays, anniversaries, names – but nothing has worked.”

“Is there something inside that you need?”

Kate’s expression frosted over. “I think so. I’ve been snooping around this week, and I’ve learned some things about Jonathan that don’t feel right. I have a feeling that there’s a whole lot more to learn.

Since that phone and his computer at work are all I have, I’m determined to get inside of it.”

“Things?” I asked, dread growing in my stomach. Generally, I tried to see the best in people, but there’d always been something about Jonathan that I didn’t fully trust. Could it have been because I had feelings for his wife? Maybe. But when I was around them, I couldn’t help but notice the way he talked down to her and the way his eyes glossed over her as if he didn’t really see her at all. “I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“Watch this, Father Paul,” Isabelle said loudly from the middle of the park. A dog treat sailed through the air, and Chubs raised off his feet just enough to catch it. She giggled loudly. “He’s a fast learner.”

“That’s the first real laugh I’ve heard from her,” Kate said quietly as Isabelle ran back towards where we were sitting. There was an air of pride in her voice. I could see the love that she had for Isabelle.

“Maybe you can teach him some other tricks some time,” I said. “He doesn’t listen to a thing I tell him.”

The smile that lit up her face reminded me so much of her mother. It was a good reminder. The best kind of reminder. “Can I, Aunt Kate?”

“Absolutely,” she said, standing and tugging her slim black dress down with the palms of her hands. Standing next to me, I realized that she didn’t really look like Grace at all. Aside from the color of their hair, they were very different.

“Good. Because I think we need to set them up for another playdate.” I tore my eyes from Kate to find a wide-eyed Isabelle watching Chubs licking Aurora’s face. “I think Princess Aurora has a boyfriend.”

“You think so?” she said, chuckling.

“Uh huh. Just look at them!”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to meet up again then. Who am I to stand in the way of true doggy love?”

We began walking towards the parking lot, and Isabelle grabbed my hand. “Hey, Father Paul. Aunt Kate is taking me to a new burger restaurant for dinner. She says it’s going to be epic. Wanna come with us?” Despite everything the little girl had been through this week, her eyes were full of hope.

When I’d first seen them at the park, I’d thought that being near them would be impossibly hard.

That they would be nothing but a sad reminder of the beautiful soul we’d buried today. But it was already getting easier.

When you lose someone you love, there’s nothing more comforting than being around other people who loved them just as much, if not more, than you did.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I said, squeezing her hand.

EPILOGUE KATE I opened the back door of my very practical SUV to let Aurora and Isabelle out of the car. The two poured out of the backseat, each equally excited to be here.

I started following them to the playground but stopped when Isabelle ran to the swings where a familiar little boy was being pushed by his slightly older sister. The two welcomed Isabelle as if no time had passed, as if they still played together every day. True, they still saw each other at school, but I hadn’t made any effort to let them see each other outside of school. I’d tried to make sure that Isabelle’s life was as close to normal as it could be, but there was no way that I could make nice with that woman after everything she’d done.

It hadn’t been easy. It had taken me a few months, but eventually I’d pieced it all together.

Jonathan’s affair with Arden had been just the beginning. Their lying and scheming had no bounds.

The only consolation I had was that my sister had never known. If she had known how long it had gone on, if she’d known that Jackson was really Jonathan’s son, I think it might have broken her. But then again, maybe it wouldn’t have. I’d always thought she was stronger than she gave herself credit for being.

I searched the benches scattered throughout the park and found her sitting in the shade near a water fountain. I’d made no attempt to seek her out, but that didn’t mean that I hadn’t been looking forward to this moment.

It was wrong to feel a little gleeful about what I was about to do – Paul would probably disapprove – but I couldn’t help myself, and I knew he would forgive me.

I returned to my car and retrieved the box from the glove compartment. I’d put it in the car a few weeks ago, knowing that in this small town, the opportunity would eventually present itself.

Today was that day.

Without saying a word, I took a seat on the other end of the bench with the box resting conspicuously on my lap. Arden didn’t speak though the slight raise of her eyebrows told me that she knew I was there.

I wondered what was going through her head. She’d never responded to my text from Jonathan’s phone, but I imagined that she was thinking about it now.

“It’s wonderful to see them play together, isn’t it?” I asked, careful to make sure that my voice didn’t travel far enough for anyone other than Arden to hear it. I certainly didn’t want Isabelle to hear this conversation.

“It is.” Her voice was equally quiet. However, there was an edge to it, and I hoped it was because my presence here made her uncomfortable.

Jackson ran over. Panting he asked, “How long until Daddy comes to get us, Momma?”

“A few hours,” she said, ruffling his hair. “We’ll go home and pack in a few minutes.” Happy with that answer, he ran back to the playground and yelled to Autumn and Isabelle to follow him to the top of the slide.

“Such a sweet boy,” I said. “He must really love the weekends he spends with his father.” I stressed the last word. I’d never been one to shy away from an opportunity to be dramatic.

Her mouth turned down in a dismal frown. “He does.”

“Oh, my gosh.” I inwardly laughed at the effect that Paul and Isabelle had had on me over the past

few months. My mouth was cleaner than it had been since sixth grade. Words like ‘gosh’ and ‘heck’ were now a regular occurrence. Paul’s presence in my life had been a calming one, and I was a happier person for it.

When it came to Arden, though, I was no angel. “I never got a chance to give you your birthday present.” I held the box out to her and she took it reluctantly. I waited as she slowly untied the ribbon and pulled off the lid. She pulled out the small piece of paper resting on top and carefully unfolded it.

As she took in the naked picture of herself, I looked away but not before I watched her eyes nearly explode from her head. I stifled the urge to laugh when she shoved it back into the box without bothering to fold it.

“There’s more, Hope.”

Panicked eyes met my glare before returning to the box. She dug through it with shaky hands and finally pulled out the black glossy phone. The phone that had answered almost all of my questions.

What it hadn’t, Paul and I had figured out on our own. We spent a lot of time together during the past few months. Time trying to figure out the Hope mystery. Time with Isabelle. Time getting to know one another.

I returned my gaze to the kids, refusing to look at her any more. “I want you to have it. There’s a lot of good memories on there, but know this. I have a good memory as well, and I’ve made a copy of everything on it.”

In the periphery of my vision, I saw her nod.

I stood, ready to leave the park and her presence. “It would be a shame if Jackson found out the truth about his mother and father, wouldn’t it? It would be a real shame if Coleman did. I bet he’d be interested in knowing the truth about his son.” I paused to let my threat sink in and then I made another one. “In fact, there are a few things on that phone that I think the police might be interested in too.”

The latter were empty threats, but she didn’t need to know that.

As much I’d like to see her pay for her sins against my sister, there wasn’t much I could do. We suspected that Arden, and possibly Jonathan, had tried to murder her, but we didn’t have any real proof. As much as I wished they were, the texts weren’t enough. Unless we found the man who had mugged my sister in the parking lot, there was little chance that we could pin Arden with the charge of attempted murder that she deserved.

But the lack of proof wasn’t the only reason I wasn’t taking this to the police. The bigger reason was that I’d known my sister inside and out. No one had a bigger heart than she did, and she wouldn’t have wanted me to do anything that could hurt Jackson.

Would she have been upset to find out that her best friend and husband had betrayed her? Of course. Would she be angry? Undoubtedly. But when the smoke finally cleared, she wouldn’t have wanted Jackson to get hurt in the crossfire. He wasn’t her child, but he was Jonathan’s. And she’d loved him, too. He had been a part of her life since the day he was born.

Jackson still had a father who loved him and that’s the way Grace would want it. Coleman was a good man and he loved his son. As someone who’d lost my parents at a young age, I would never wish that on another child. I knew as well as anyone that families come in all shapes and sizes.

The irony of our unique situation wasn’t lost on me. I’d been raised by my aunt and uncle, and now I was raising my niece. Being a great parent was about more than just blood. I’d learned from the best how to step in and raise a child that wasn’t yours to feel as if they were. Isabelle was mine now, and I would make my sister proud.

Arden would never know any of this. She’d never know that my threats were as empty as Jonathan’s promises. However, if she spent the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, that was fine

by me.

I didn’t look back at her, walking instead to the edge of the playground. “Come on Isabelle. Paul’s waiting for us.”

She ran over and grabbed my hand. “What are we doing tonight, Aunt Kate?” she asked.

I tugged her ponytail. “He’s making us dinner. Remember, silly?” I turned toward the car to find the subject of our discussion leaning against the hood of my car. His arms were crossed and a ball cap sat low on his head. “Look, there he is,” I whispered. The sight of him made my heart do a little dance in my chest. My feet picked up the pace, wanting to get to him a little faster.

She tugged on my hand. “Are you going to kiss him again?” she teased.

I laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw him kiss you in the kitchen yesterday.”

“Oh, you saw that, did you?” I could feel my cheeks heating up.

“I’m just so glad that you’re not kissing Maddox, any more! Yuck!” Isabelle said with a scrunched up nose. “Paul is so much better.”

I couldn’t have agreed more. Cutting ties with Maddox had been easy after I’d discovered that he’d known all along about Jonathan and Arden and Jackson. However, cutting ties with him had been inevitable anyway. Though I’d tried to distract myself with him, he’d never really been any competition for Paul. From the moment I’d met Paul, I had known that no one else would ever compare.

Kissing Paul was a new development. He’d left the church the week after Grace’s funeral, and it had taken him a while to adjust to his new life. Though I’d been attracted to him from the beginning, our relationship had grown slowly over time. It had been a while before I could believe that I wasn’t just a fill-in for the woman who’d unknowingly changed his life. He’d never actually admitted it, but I knew how he’d felt about her.

He had loved her first, and I was okay with that. Grace had been the most lovable person I knew.

Knowing that someone had loved her, even if from afar, the way she had deserved to be loved made me happy. And, oddly, his love for her made me feel an immediate closeness to him.

He’d never know what would have happened if he’d had a chance with her, but Paul wasn’t one to dwell on what could have been. I was pretty certain that she would have loved him if she’d been given the chance. I didn’t see how she couldn’t. As far as I was concerned, he was the most magnificent person I’d ever met.

However, I was fairly certain that she would have loved him differently than I did. She would have loved him quietly, reverently, and sweetly. I loved him in my own way – boldly, with humor, and uninhibited affection. I could accept his love in return because I knew that he felt that, too. He saw our differences and never compared us.

Grace and I were very different people. That was true. However, during the process of getting to know Paul and Isabelle, I’d also gotten to know myself a little better, too, and I had discovered that in some ways we were just as similar as we were different.

Because Grace and I weren’t true sisters, I’d always denied any likeness between us. I’d tried to put as much space between us as possible. She was quiet, so I was loud. She was good, so I was not.

She loved easily, so I fought against it. But through the loss of her, I discovered that we had more in common than I had allowed myself to admit.

Thanks to Isabelle, I’d discovered that I was more maternal than I would have ever guessed. I would never hope or try to replace Grace, but I would take care of Isabelle as if she were my own. I would make Grace proud.

Thanks to Karen’s Kitchen, I’d learned that I received far more from helping people than they took from me. I finally understood why my mother and sister had loved it like they had, and I was happy spending my evenings there. With Paul.

Thanks to Paul, I was learning that some people will fight their way into your heart whether you think you want it, whether you think you need it, whether you think you are ready for it. He saw things in me that I’d never seen before. Good things. Wonderful things. Lovable things.

I had the highest hopes for our new relationship. Because, of everything I’d learned about myself during the past few months, the most important thing was that I was capable of loving someone else more than myself. Every day, I fell a little harder for him, and in the process, fell in love with a new, quieter, more genuine version of myself.

Yes, kissing Paul was a very welcome development indeed, and I was okay with my niece, and anyone else, knowing about it.

I approached my Delectable Deacon, still leaning against my car, watching us expectantly. “Hey,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist. “What are you doing here?” The familiar smell of fabric softener mixed with whatever it was that smelled uniquely of Paul washed over me.

“Hey to you, too,” he said, pulling me in a little closer. “What about Isabelle?” The warm breath that accompanied his whispered words caused my stomach to flip and chills to race down my spine.

“She knows,” I said, nodding to my niece who was now skipping circles around the closest tree with Aurora hot on her heels.

“Kate and Paul sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” she sang. “First comes love. Then comes marriage.

Then comes a baby in a baby carriage.”

“Don’t mind if I do then,” he said as his mouth found mine.

Every kiss with Paul was unlike any kiss before it. Standing in the park, with my niece flitting nearby, I wanted him like I’d never wanted any man before him. I couldn’t even compare it to anything that had ever preceded it because it stood on its own, in a class all unto itself. I was sure that if he opened his eyes, he would actually be able to see and touch the adoration and hope emanating from me.

I’d spend every day of the rest of my life in this town if it meant spending it with the two of them.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR I’m one of those people that likes to ponder the what ifs in life. I make decisions every day, and each one of them has some effect on my life. Some big. Some small.

The day I left my daughter at school against her will after her Valentine’s party may have ended up saving her life since I totaled my car on the way home.

The day my husband decided to forego an Ivy League education in favor of the state university was one of the happiest days of my life. I didn’t know it at the time since I wouldn’t meet him for another two years.

Though the events of With the Father are not based on actual events, they were inspired by them, and at times Grace’s story was difficult for me to write. Of course, you know now that Kate’s story was very different from Grace’s. I believe that if you were to go back and reread just her chapters you would see them in a different light now that you know the truth about Grace.

If you want to talk about the book with me and other readers in a spoiler-friendly environment (or curse at me), please join me in the After the Father Facebook group. Lovers and haters of With the Father are equally welcome as long as everyone gets along. https://www.facebook.com/groups/1566880493532431/

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The first round of thanks goes to Jeff, Ethan, Dylan, and Ella. You guys are the best cheering section a wife/mom/author could ask for and I am so very lucky to have you.

Thank you to Elizabeth Ward who drank many cups of coffee with me while we worked our way in and out of plot holes. If it weren’t for your filter, there would be terrible lines like, “I want you to rearrange my cans,” at the most inopportune moments.

A special thank you to my beta readers: Lauren Battles, Kate Good, Chelsea Keller, Emily Bynum, J.B. Avants, Mary Kate Wilson, Andrea Thompson, Aileen Jones, and Tawnya Pendleton. Thank you for helping me tweak it to make it as perfect as possible. J.B., Chelsea, and Mary Kate, an additional thank you for your eagle eyes.

Thank you to my editors: Autumn Hull and Tiffany Halliday.

Thank you to all of my author friends in Author Support 101. You enlighten me and educate me every single day.

Thank you to everyone who signed up for the cover reveal and the book release blitz and/or accepted an ARC edition of this book, not knowing what they were getting into.

Thank you to every book blogger that has promoted any one of my books. Without you, no one would have ever heard of my books. I couldn’t do this without you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Jenni Moen lives in her hometown with her husband and three crazy, exuberant kids that have the potential to burn the house down at any time.

When she’s not chauffeuring kids, performing her mom duties as a short order cook, or vacuuming for her fastidious husband, she hammers away at her keyboard at her big girl job as a patent attorney.

While vodka and exercise have provided some relief from the daily grind, it is reading . . . and now writing . . . that are her true escapes.

OTHER WORKS BY JENNI MOEN Remembering Joy ( Joy #1) Alexis doesn’t believe in fairytales.

She knows first hand that life can turn on a dime – that one stupid mistake can shatter dreams and irrevocably shape the future.

Though her memory of that day is hazy, She’s spent the last ten years trying to put it behind her and focus on the future.

Adam is dark and brooding and strangely charming. The film student is the perfect distraction from the mundane life she’s created for herself.

Unfortunately, Adam’s memory isn’t hazy at all …

And what she doesn’t remember, he can’t forget.

Finding Joy ( Joy #2) Love is patient.

It can happen when you least expect it, where you least expect it, with whom you least expect it.

Love is kind.

But love may not grow out of kindness.

It can happen with the person who hates you most because love knows no bounds.

And it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love doesn’t hold a grudge.

Love forgives.

Love forgets.

But when the healing of your heart breaks the hearts of the ones you love, it may seem impossible to ‌ Find Joy