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  "I was thinking somewhere public would be better."

  "Quit acting like a nervous virgin. Get in."

  Katrina’s hands trembled. She forced her voice to steady as she leaned forward. "I’ll follow you to the park."

  "Ride with me, Kitty." The chill in his voice didn’t hide the fact that his hands clamped the wheel, knuckles white. Her heart lurched. He tried to hold everything tight inside and that had always been her undoing. She sighed and pulled on the door handle.

  The car felt like him; cool, remote. There was a time she would have paid to ride in a car like this. When she’d cared too much for financial security. "New car?"

  "Just a rental."

  "What happened to your bike?"

  "It’s at the hotel. I needed something with a roof for tonight."

  The rumble of his voice tugged at her memories. She fought the emotions welling inside. She bit her lip, tightened her seatbelt. Her eyes squeezed shut.

  He had told her he’d be back. Yelled it, his voice echoing in the sparse rectory of their wedding chapel. Then he’d stormed out and she hadn’t seen nor heard from him since. Now here he was, silent as a panther in his expensive suit. She couldn’t picture the man beside her raising his voice. He was too calm, too controlled, the facade he wore for strangers firmly in place.

  When they reached the park, Katrina shoved her purse underneath the seat before getting out. Then they silently walked to the tree line and sat down on the peeling blue bench that had been there before the swings and slides. Stars glittered against the velvet backdrop of autumn sky. A cool breeze touched Katrina’s face and she lifted her eyes to the heavens. They declared His glory, she thought, as she inhaled the crisp, sweet air.

  "Who is Joey?" Alec’s voice intruded on the peace she’d been carefully building inside.

  She sucked in a quick breath. He knew. Her mind raced as her hands tightened into fists. This was it. She turned to him, uncomfortably aware he sat close enough for her to smell the mint on his breath.

  "I was going to tell you—"

  "You cheated on me." His eyes glinted in the starlight.

  Katrina recoiled. "What?"

  "He was seven three years ago. When he died? That’s why you left me standing at the altar. Because you were unfaithful and got pregnant with another man’s baby." Alec looked both sad and angry. No doubt he felt bad she’d lost Joey, yet his wrong assumption about Joey’s father was also feeding his sense of betrayal.

  How she wished he were right. That she’d left him for another man. Somehow it seemed less painful than the truth. She closed her eyes, praying for the courage she knew she lacked. When she felt steady enough, she opened her eyes and studied Alec’s granite features.

  "Your mother never told you." She said carefully, softly, guessing the answer.

  "My mother was rarely sober enough to hold a conversation. She’s dead now."

  "I know." Katrina placed a hand on his knee, as if somehow she could smooth the pain away. "Alec, I’m so sorry."

  "What are you saying?"

  "Joey was your son. Only yours."

  She heard his intake of breath and felt the muscles in the knee beneath her hand harden and tighten. Clasping her hands together, she waited.

  But he didn't speak. Only stood and walked to the swings, long legs eating up the distance in seconds. She didn’t know whether to follow him or to stay in the safety of the shadows.

  Moonlight filtered through the heavy, moss-laden trees and spilled across the grass in jagged patches, but Alec remained in darkness.

  The hum of insects filled her ears as she slowly stood and picked her way to him. He had the right to detest her. He deserved to know why she'd chosen to leave him ignorant of his child’s birth. Over the years guilt had clawed at her, chased her in circles. She should've done what was right but the more time passed, the more she feared to tell him what had remained hidden for so long.

  The swing where Alec sat was still and he didn’t look at her when she lowered herself to the swing beside him. His head bent forward, longish hair plotting with the darkness to hide his eyes from her.

  When he spoke, his voice was flat. "You kept my son from me."

  "I’m sorry." Emotion clogged her throat, made her voice thick. "By the time he was a year old I realized I had to tell you, but by then I couldn’t reach you."

  "So it’s my fault?"

  "No." Katrina swallowed her frustration, her remorse. "I’m just saying I didn’t intend to keep him a secret. It happened that way. I know you probably can’t forgive --"

  "Forgive? I had a child who lived and died and no one bothered to tell me." His accusation hung between them, wire taut. "My mother knew?"

  "Yes."

  "How soon?"

  "Joey’s first birthday."

  "And her reasons for being silent?"

  Katrina shifted her legs and prayed for wisdom. "I’m not sure. You know how unstable she was. Maybe she thought the burden would be too much. You were only nineteen."

  "But you still tried to tell me?"

  "Remember all those letters you sent back?" She tried for a chuckle but it came out wrong, dry and old. "I called but you blocked my number. E-mailed but they bounced. You really hated me."

  Alec looked up, and the tortured twist of his lips wrung her heart. Why had she been so selfish? She could’ve tried harder. E-mailed from a different address. Visited. There were a million different ways to tell him, but instead she’d sat comfortable in her little town, robbing him of one of the most precious things a man could have. Her eyes met his and then skittered away.

  "I’m so sorry, Alec. There’s nothing that can erase what I’ve done." She gulped. "I have movies, lots of movies, I can give to you. He wrote you letters as well. I have them in a box."

  "You told him about me?" Shadows played across his face, dancing with the rhythm of the tree branches overhead.

  "Of course." She bit her lip. "Not immediately, but when he started to ask questions. . . The first few years I couldn’t reach you. Then your mother said she told you but you wanted nothing to do with us. I believed her, for a while. I finally decided to ignore her and pursue you but by then I learned from the business section in the papers that you had traveled to Europe." She wrapped her arms around herself, pressed them against the ache that hollowed out her chest. "Anyhow, Joey constantly asked questions so I had him write you lots of letters."

  "Didn’t he want me to write him back? Was he disappointed?" Though his cheekbones seemed chiseled from stone, she heard the pained note in his voice, the desperation of regret ringing loudly in his words.

  Katrina sighed, crossing her legs, and the swing creaked quietly with the movement. "Maybe a little, but he knew you were far away and that one day you’d be back. And now here you are."

  "But he’s dead."

  Katrina’s nervous shifting stopped suddenly, as suddenly as the breath left her lungs. "Yes, he is." She stumbled off the swing, all too aware that three years did little to soften the loss of her child.

  A familiar nausea cramped her stomach. Guilt, pain, a myriad of emotions grabbed her, held her in their volatile grip, and she struggled for control. She felt Alec come up behind her.

  "I'll take you back now." His voice was ice. Burning her. His tone pulled at her clumsy bandages and like a Band-Aid too long on a wound, ripped the puckered and broken skin from her soul as he walked away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Alec invaded Katrina's dreams.

  At four in the morning she finally gave up on sleep and snatched a well-worn copy of Jane Eyre off her nightstand. What better way to forget her troubles than to immerse herself in Jane and Rochester's rocky romance?

  She slipped back to sleep after only a few pages and the dreams started again. Alec, so tender, so wild. Zooming through town on his motorcycle, giving the girls a ride. Dating Maggie. She dreamt of Alec, not the man who sat beside her last night, but the boy she'd left standing shocked at an altar.

 
; The wetness on her pillow, damp against her cheek, woke her from the dream. Heart thudding in her chest, she banished her memories to the deep corners of her subconscious and slid out of bed.

  After morning chores were done and she'd showered for the day, she pulled out her calculator and the financial statements for the store. She sat at the kitchen table, bills and the ticking of mom’s antique clock her only company. Quick calculations confirmed her worst fear: the store was sinking, and fast.

  She couldn't pay both the store loan and the medical bills from Joey and mom's surgeries. It was a cruel irony that each month the hospital bill reminded her of their deaths. Helping even less was the fact that she couldn't keep figures straight. As hard as she tried, she bounced a check every few months.

  Her cell rang around noon.

  "Ready for some reconnaissance?" Rachel's chirp almost made her wish she hadn't answered.

  "For what?" Phone between her shoulder and ear, she plucked a bill off the table and studied it. Why couldn't those numbers disappear? Did she really need to pay for procedures that hadn't done a thing to save her baby?

  "Are you listening to me?" Rachel's voice broke her concentration.

  "What?"

  "I'm coming over after lunch. Be ready." The phone clicked, decisive and hard, like Rachel.

  Sighing, Katrina put away the bills and the calculator. Rachel showed up exactly at one o'clock. Sunday had arrived sunny and warm.

  Once Katrina hopped in Rachel’s SUV, her friend squealed onto the street, barely giving her time to buckle in. Frowning, she snapped the seatbelt and settled back against the leather seats.

  While Rachel talked to a client on the phone, Katrina took a moment to enjoy the ride. At least she wouldn't have to sit home all day, thinking about her store and how she might lose it, dreading the thought that she might see Alec in town. That look on his face last night...

  If only she could stop thinking of his cologne, or the way he’d stood in her store so confident and strong. A man now. A father who would never know his son.

  Trees whizzed past the window, fast, as quickly as the years with Joey had sped by. Now he was gone, and time slowed, so that every day she longed for night, only to wake in the morning and long for night again.

  "Stop sighing." Rachel's voice popped through the car. "We're on a mission so get the weepy look off your face."

  Weepy look? Katrina straightened and tried to look normal. "What's going on?"

  "Something bad." Rachel's lips pursed. She flipped a glance at Katrina. "Are you okay?"

  "It's that time of the year."

  "I know. You should move on."

  "Excuse me?" Her cheeks burned.

  "You know, smile more, get involved with people again."

  "I go to church all the time."

  "You didn’t today."

  "Today is different."

  "Are you reading your Bible? ‘Cause you sure don’t talk about God anymore."

  "I don’t want to discuss this."

  "Just answer my question." Rachel shot her a look. "Where are you at with God?"

  "I still believe." Rachel rolled her eyes as Katrina chewed on her lip. Honestly? She was afraid to search too deep, afraid her faith had withered away like her social life.

  "God loves you. The things that that happened don't mean He doesn't care." Rachel’s tone was unusually gentle. "Do you really want to be alone for the rest of your life?"

  Because she couldn't answer without sobbing, she bit her lip and shook her head in a quick no. Thankfully Rachel dropped the subject. She turned onto a pot-holed road.

  Sharon's street?

  Curiosity sludged up from some deep, unused well inside. She shifted forward and peered out the windshield. "Why are we going to Sharon's?"

  "We're not." Rachel pulled the vehicle over and parked against the curb. "We're spying."

  "What?" Despite everything, Katrina felt the first glimmer of interest. "Why?"

  "Because last night before the reunion I couldn't talk to Sharon without having to listen to Steve cuss up a storm in the background. When things started to crash, Sharon claimed the kids broke some dishes and hung up." Rachel reached over and snagged a bag Katrina hadn't noticed sitting on the floor near her feet.

  "You think Steve was doing all that?"

  "What I think is that our dear friend has been lying to us for years." Rachel slammed her palm against the steering wheel, startling Katrina. "This is way past verbal abuse, and it’s going to stop. Are you with me or not?"

  Katrina fell back against the seat, the air whooshing out of her in a long exhalation. It would explain the clumsiness, the flinching. "I can’t believe Steve’s really hurting her. Physically. Are you sure?"

  "We're going to find out."

  That didn't sound smart. "Shouldn't we call the police?"

  "First we’re going to verify this. Besides, all they'll do is bring forms for her to fill out. A restraining order, maybe." Rachel scowled, her face flushing almost as red as the roots of her hair. "If she's been lying to us about her 'clumsiness' for who knows how long, then why would she tell them the truth?" Rachel shot her a look that said you'd better come with me, or else.

  Katrina didn't open her door. Not yet. There had to be a better way than invading their friend's privacy. Was this something she wanted to get involved with?

  Now that's selfish, an inner voice taunted.

  She swallowed and let her hand flutter to the door handle. "What exactly are we going to do? We're not going to break in, are we?" One never knew with Rachel.

  "No," Rachel scoffed. "Now quit being scared and come on."

  Gulping, Katrina opened the door and stepped onto the patchy driveway. The house loomed silent and dark. She shut the door with a quiet click before following Rachel up the walkway to the front door.

  Suddenly Rachel veered onto the grass and rounded the corner of the house. Katrina tiptoed after her, heart bumping against her ribs. What was she doing? It felt dangerous and really uncomfortable.

  "Here, hold this," Rachel whispered. She shoved the bag toward Katrina, who took it clumsily, looking around. Surely the neighbors might think something was wrong?

  A small click grabbed her attention.

  "Got it." Rachel's smile spelled out smugness as she held out her hand for the bag, a small camera dangling from her wrist.

  Katrina gave it back. "What did you see"

  Rachel pointed to the gritty window. "Just good old Steve, passed out on the floor. The nice thing about this baby," she swung the camera, "is its incredible zoom. There's nothing like a close up of a man's drool and his grazed knuckles. Someone's been hitting things. Now we just have to make sure it wasn't his wife."

  Katrina blinked. "Do you really think--"

  "Ninety-nine percent sure." Rachel's smile flattened.

  "We have to help her." Fingers trembling, Katrina started back toward the car. How could she have missed this? She had to set things right. Somehow, some way.

  *****

  Monday arrived with a persistent drizzle that kept Katrina from going on her morning walk. She readied for the day but couldn’t find enough cash for lunch. Hadn’t she slipped a ten in her black purse before the reunion? After fumbling through her closet and not finding the purse, she gave up and slipped some money out of her secret stash and into her everyday wallet.

  Had she left the purse at the restaurant? She got into her car and slammed the door shut.

  Great. One more thing lost in the muddle of her life. At least she kept her license in the car so she could legally drive to work.

  When she reached the bookstore, the lights glowed warmly.

  Good for Sharon. Someone around here was running on schedule. Katrina let herself into the shop. The empty store greeted her, a reminder that unless people started buying books in the double-digits, she’d have to give up her lease and somehow sell her inventory. A narrow hallway behind the register led to the bathroom and back office. Feet heavy, she trudg
ed through the store. Sharon must be working in the office and hadn’t heard the door jingle when she came in.

  Katrina took a deep breath outside the office door. The last thing she wanted was for Sharon to see the guilt that plagued her. Telling Alec about Joey had only made things worse. She'd found no peace in Bible reading or prayer. Had barely tried, if she were honest.

  Surely God forgave her, but would Alec? Could she forgive herself? And why would it matter anyway?

  The past couldn’t be undone.

  Squaring her shoulders, she opened the office door and caught Sharon’s flinch.

  "It’s just me."

  "Oh." Sharon’s shoulders rounded but she didn’t turn around, and continued working at the little desk Katrina had picked up from a yard sale years ago. The desk sat against a wall and she’d managed to wedge two little plastic chairs in front of it.

  Katrina set her purse on the file cabinet to the left of the door. "Everything okay?"

  "We have a new shipment coming in a few weeks." Sharon didn’t look up from the desk. Her fingers flew across the computer keyboard, punching and clicking.

  New books. Katrina smiled, anticipating the smells, the textures that came with fresh ink and pressed paper. This was her life. Books and sales. Comfort should be found in the ordinariness of her life now. She had to forget Alec, how she’d wronged him, and move on.

  It sounded so cold. Something Mom would have said. She pushed the thought to the side.

  "Anything else I should know?"

  "Widow Carmichael wants to meet you for lunch today."

  Katrina groaned and flopped into the chair next to Sharon. "I don’t have the money."

  "She wants to see if you’ll donate books to the church bookstore."

  Again? Would the woman never stop asking for freebies? She slid down the chair and propped her knees against the desk. "Do we have any older ones that didn’t sell?"

  "No." Sharon hunched over the keyboard. Her blonde hair covered the side of her face. "You’ve been so careful with inventory this last year that everything you’ve ordered has sold or been returned to the publisher."

  This was ridiculous. Meeting with the widow would trap her because the woman was set in her ways and pushy. "She’ll guilt me into giving her books. I should do it, too. Pastor Joe needs some fiction in his church."