By

ELIZABETH DELAYNE

The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; He delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

and saves those who are crushed in spirit. —Psalm 34:17-18

Chapter 1

© Copyright 2006 by Elizabeth Delayne Joanna Berkley wiggled the gearshift into park and looked around. A new car was parked on either side of her own ancient Ford truck, making it look just clunky instead of nostalgic. Thank goodness the paint was only several years old, a birthday present from her oldest brother. Joanna slipped out of the seat onto the ground, throwing her weight against the door to shut it. She sighed with relief, brushing at the wrinkles in her skirt. Neither teaching, nor coaching in a small town high school compared to the fast paced, luxurious life style she’d dreamed of while in high school. Such a life of opulence, she was sure, would be boring. And only in that life, or this life, she thought looking around, would her truck be out of place. Taking two steps onto the sidewalk, she finally looked up at the imposing building before her. It reached high into the smog-lined sky, disappearing out of sight. Boring, she reminded herself, taking in the hundreds of gleaming glass windows. Having driven into downtown Dallas only minutes before, enchanted as always by the jagged but beautiful landscape of the Metroplex, she was now jilted as she stood, one lonely creature underneath the mass of stone and glass. The revolving entrance swept Joanna inside to the lobby. It was an opulent room, one designed to impress and intimidate. The ceiling of the lobby was high, enhanced by a large crystal chandelier dangling from the center, the quiet light dim compared to the sunlight that shimmered off mirror-like glass that graced the room. So this was where Rod Kirkland had hidden himself for the last few years. This place he not only worked, Joanna thought, but thrived, arising to the proclamation

of their senior class— Mr. Most Likely to Succeed —and her own understanding of his nature: if he wanted it, Rod went after it. If he didn’t . . . it was nothing. Joanna found the receptionist's desk and asked directions to Rod's office, then went to the elevator for a ride to the 43rd floor. She watched the people milling around the room, showcasing their affluence and prestige in how they dressed, walked and conversed with each other. Peering into the mirrors that lined the entrance to the elevators, Joanna studied her appearance. She was tall, 5'10, and had been since the ninth grade. Her arms and legs were strong and tan from coaching and playing softball. Her light brown hair was curled into a fashionable twist instead of the usual beret or pony tail. She had high cheek bones and hazel eyes accented by the careful art of make up she’d learned from her roommate in college. The elevator arrived with a clipped melody of bells. Joanna stepped in and straightened the jacket of her navy suit, her stomach turning, worrying over the next hour. She stepped to the back of the elevator, and turned slowly to face the front. Her hands found the bar that ran waist level across the back and gripped, knuckles white. Oh, Bethany, she thought, I need you now. Upstairs, Rod sat alone in his office, preparing himself mentally for the meeting he had scheduled, a meeting he would have postponed indefinitely if the choice had been his. His blue eyes focused on the book in front of him, his senior yearbook. He stared down into the faces of the people he had grown up with, reminded of the times he had lived through, glad that they were long over. Turning the page, he found what he was looking for. At the top of the page was a picture of himself as president and Jo Berkley as vice president of their senior class. She looked the part he remembered—athletic, proud. Her expression was pure Joe Berkley; the tilt of the chin, the slight impatient slant to the eyes, and the small satisfied tilt of her lips which was her attempt to smile. The caption beneath read: President Rodney Kirkland (on left) has served his school well during his high school career. A member of National Honors Society, Choir, Future Business Persons of America, serves as Homecoming King for the senior class, Latin Club, Class President his Junior and Senior year and participated in Varsity basketball those same years. He plans to major in Theology.

Vice President Joanna Berkley has also played a great role in the growth of Glendale High School in these past four years. She played on the Varsity Softball team all four seasons, School Spirit team, was chosen to the All-American Softball team her Junior and Senior year, holds a school record for number of runs in a single Softball Game and a school record for average number of runs in a single Softball season, and has been her class's Vice President since her sophomore year. She plans to major in Accounting and work internationally. They will both be missed.

Rod closed the book and let the memories process themselves with the present. Her call had come as a surprise after the nine years since his parents had moved to Dallas, leaving him without a reason to return to the small town of his childhood. Their relationship had been odd and strained from the beginning. His grandfather, as pastor of their church, had taken Joanna and two of her brothers into his pastoral care and made them part of his extended family. She was the product of a strained, what some would call dysfunctional, home life. Jo had been a friend in that high school sort of way, connected through church, student congress, and classroom conversations. There had been a bond, a deep connection, but they’d been so competitive with each other, thriving in childish arguments and petty details. The only thing they ever seemed to agree on was the knowledge that the would never, completely, agree on the same thing. Though his parents still carried a healthy relationship with her brothers, one who was now a minister himself and the other a missionary, Rod had purposefully not seen Jo in nine years. He tended to tune out news of her family as he did anything that had to do with Glendale or his alma mater. His only other connection to the Glendale High circle was his friend Steven Carson, but Steve had left Glendale the day after graduation and had never looked back. Rod wished now that he had some insight into Jo’s last few years in life. He remembered that she needed a new atmosphere as much as he did, and hoped that she had moved on. He could see her in international business, feisty enough to win important accounts, smart enough to keep them, and competitive enough to move quickly up the ranks. One would have thought the meeting would have been a welcomed break. After all, they had known each other most of their lives. Their last words to each other had been hasty and hard. The loss of his grandfather had stirred the feelings bitter. Her relationship with his grandfather had

been deep and when Rod decided not to follow his steps into the ministry after his death, she had not understood. She’d been dating some looser guy, following a path leading toward the one her parent’s had forged. He’d lashed out, meaning to be protective, and ended up hurting her as much, or more than she’d hurt him. He supposed he was most afraid of just seeing her, seeing how her life had impacted her. Patterns ran deep in families. It was possibly the patterns of his own family had saved him, but her mother and father had been angry and bitter, selfish drunks. He flipped the pages of his yearbook with a sigh and stopped when he saw a picture of Bethany, looking as beautiful as he remembered their class's homecoming queen. She had been one of the sweetest girls he had ever known, blessed with natural beauty inside and out. He suspected she had been Jo’s best friend because they complemented each other so well. Where Jo lacked polish, Bethany shined, and where Bethany couldn’t be firm, Jo was a tyrant. He had only spoken to Bethany once or twice since last leaving Glendale nine years ago, and even that had been within months of parting. This time Bethany would not be there to mediate their talks. Could he talk face to face with Jo and not revert to the childish arguments they had once thrived on? Ten years, he reminded himself. He’d changed a great deal in ten years. “Mr. Kirkland,” his phone buzzed, “Ms. Berkley is here to see you now.” Rod stood and walked to the oak door. He took a deep breath, and prayed . . . God, if I remember correctly, our last words were harsh. Please let the discomfort be minimal. For both of us. “Hello,” Joanna said a little too brightly when Rod stepped from his office. He smiled as he looked her over, more then a little unsettled. He would have thought he’d prepared himself, but he wasn’t sure that he could have completely prepared for this . . . a mixture of memories, of present uncertainties. She was, he thought, sleek and toned, looking the part of the executive he thought her to be. She looked calm from head to toe . . . except for the white knuckled hand that held her brief case handle and her clear hazel eyes, a mixture of worry and grit. Rod stepped forward and gave her an awkward hug. The years of separation had stripped away even the small amount of rapport they had with each other. “Hi, Jo. It's good to see you.” “It's good to see you, too.”

Once again Rod just watched for her reaction, even more unsettled when he was unable to tell. The old Jo Berkley would have dismissed him, taking over, moving into his office to start the meeting. The vulnerability in her eyes was ... unexpected. Ten years, he reminded himself. “Come on in. Would you like something to drink? Cola? Water? Tea—” “Water would be wonderful,” she interrupted and watched as his obedient secretary stood and started to walk away, “but I don't want to be any trouble—” “You're not any trouble, Jo,” Rod took her elbow in his hand and led her into his office. The door was shut, the water delivered and set aside by anxious hands, before he realized something was wrong. He’d chosen to sit beside her in the leather chairs that sat facing his desk. It was Jo, however, that broke the silence. “No body calls me Jo, anymore, Rod. It's Joanna.” Rod lifted an eyebrow and smiled, trying to make light of his mistake. “A part of growing up, I guess.” Joanna looked at her hands as she turned the cool glass in her hands, reminding her of another time she had been sitting with a glass in her hands, dressed in black, as the past washed over her. The time between her life as Jo and Joanna. “I guess you could say that. Nobody's called me Jo since Bethi’s . . . since Bethany died,” she looked up at him, grief in her eyes. “I guess it started with the older ladies when they tried to comfort and everyone else followed. No one's—” “What do you mean, Bethany . . . ?” He stopped himself, stunned by the look of pain and reality in her eyes. Bethany . . . Bethi, Jo’s best friend, confidant . . . . For a minute, Joanna just watched him, confused herself, while Rod seemed to literally swallow the news. Bethany had been a good friend to everyone. She’d loved easily. Finally, Joanna looked away in pain, setting the glass on the end table, her hands unstable. “I thought you’d heard. Your mother . . . she sent me a card. She has every year. Bethany was in a car wreck four—almost five years ago. A drunk hit her on the passenger's side and she flipped twice,” Joanna stopped her speech for a moment and stood, walking over to the picture window that allowed view of the Dallas city-scape. “It . . . killed her and the baby . . . .”

As her voice faded into the silence, Rod stood and went to stand beside her. He found himself rocked—not sure if his emotions stemmed more from seeing her hurt or from his own foolishness. His words jumbled in his mind and came out the same way, “I'm sorry . . . Joanna, I . . . I never knew.” Joanna stared out the window for several seconds while she dealt with the emotions. Rod fought against the urge to touch her, to turn her into his arms and hold her. Such a touch . . . he just didn’t know if it would be welcome or not. They were strangers. For everything between them, ten years had made them strangers. “You know . . . Dallas never looked so small from the bottom—from way down there . . .” she responded absently. She felt Rod's eyes on her and turned slowly, meeting his gaze with growing strength. “Rod, I came because I thought you would want to help out with the arrangements. I didn’t realize . . .” she frowned over the words, “I didn’t know you wanted so little to do with . . . the past. I’m sorry for bothering you—” Rod did touch her then, grabbing onto her hand as she tried to dash away. They both looked down at their hands, hers smaller, darker than his. He dropped his hand, met her eyes with his, “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.” “Rod, if Bethany were still . . . We didn’t have our five year reunion because she was planning it and she was so excited. The plans just fell apart and maybe at the time I wanted little to do with our old alma mater, so I do understand. There’s about 10 of our graduates still in Glendale that have committed to help out when they can, and being that I have the summer off, it’s fallen to me to make all the plans. I just don’t have any experience doing anything like this . . . you know, like a big production, but I can.” She still lives in Glendale, Rod thought as he watched her. Suddenly, the fact that he knew so little about her made him feel foolish and set his mind spinning. Was she an accountant? She had the summer off. Did that mean she was teaching? What was she doing with her life? It seemed she had the advantage again. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.” “But you don’t want to.” “I didn’t say that—” he held up a hand to hold off any argument from her. He was surprised at the sudden need he had to argue with her again. He continued slowly,

watching the odd uncertainty shift in her eyes. “Joanna . . . you’re right. I haven’t given old Glendale High much thought, but not because I don’t care. I think it’s being pointed out to me right now that I should have handled things differently.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes and turned away out of frustration. “Those weren’t good times for me, there that last year, but I want to help. Maybe it’s time I faced those memories. We’ve worked together before.” “We nearly killed each other before.” “Maybe,” he smiled and faced her. “But we’re both adults now. The penalties are much higher. We did a good job, planning things bigger then this.” “It was a long time ago.” “Not so long ago,” Rod corrected gently, “or maybe long enough ago that we can do things better. Start over, without the past following us around.” Relief made her smile easier, and she sighed. She’d come to see Rod only because so many people had suggested she do so, but it was a relief to share the responsibility and the grief. “It won’t take much time. It’s just . . . details.” “And handling details is what I do best,” he assured as he studied her smile. He was not sure he had ever seen her smile as she was now, relieved and slightly uncertain. “How about we talk about the details over lunch—my treat?” Rod suggested, hoping to pull her away from the pain. “I don't have any meetings scheduled for this afternoon, so we could find a calm place to work. I would like to catch up with you.” Joanna watched him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. He no longer seemed to carry anger against her. Maybe. “That would be . . . nice.” “Give me a minute, and I'll be ready to go.” Joanna put the loose papers back into her briefcase slowly, keeping hers eyes away from him. Years ago she had been attracted to this man, like every other girl at Glendale High, and he had seen her only as another girl . . . nothing, the word taunted her, even as she wanted to leave it in the past. She had been nothing to him then—someone he was forced to associate with more then he had wanted. Much more. The pain had never completely receded. Oh, she had tried. And she wished. But the feelings were returning, just as strong. She could not afford to let herself be

hurt again. She would not be nothing to anyone again. An hour later Joanna sat across from Rod with their business finished, as they slowly pieced their lives together. He noted that she smiled easier then she had in high school. “I took an extended class load and went to school anytime the doors were open that last two and a half years of school. I felt so lost that I had to keep going.” “You parent's were pretty bad by then, weren't they?” Rod's words were not stated as a question, but in fact. Those last painful words he had thrown in her face nine years ago flew back, you aren't the only one around with problems, Joanna. Maybe if you'd grow up you'd realize the rest of us have dreams and hurts just like you . . . Rod reached across the table and gently took her hand in his. She looked at the consuming way his covered hers and forced herself to remain in control. “I wish I would have said these words years ago, Joanna, but I didn't . . . I'm sorry. I wish that I could have been there for you instead of being so ready to get out of Glendale that I missed everything else. You were hurting, needing support, and in the middle of goodbyes, I reacted poorly.” “You just reacted like anyone on the defense,” Joanna defended him. “I remember very well what I said. I tried to step in where it wasn’t my job . . . God has dealt with me about that. I never stopped to understand . . . you. What you do with your life was none of my business and I shouldn't have been trying to determine what God wanted for you. God certainly gave you a talent for business and has blessed you. Look how far you've come.” Rod shook his head, “I reacted out of anger because you hit something in me that was troubling me, something I didn’t want to face. A big part of me felt guilty for what I felt was letting my grandfather down, but I still think God was telling me to wait. I wasn’t ready,” Rod argued and sighed as he pulled his hands away from hers. “Will you forgive me?” Joanna smiled slowly, and nodded. “Only if you forgive me.” “I forgave you a long time ago, Jo,” Rod nearly whispered, surprised at the way his emotions reeled as he looked into her eyes. For the first time in his life he allowed himself to admit that he liked what he saw in them. There was a rich depth inside of her that he had never wanted to recognize before.

“So you graduated in three years. What'd you do then?” Rod asked, trying to lighten the uncomfortable air once more. “I went back to school for a little while. Ran from job to job, adventure to adventure, not wanting to deal with . . . family . A typical dysfunctional response. Dad left first and then mom. We sometimes we go more than a year without hearing from either one of them. I moved home to help straighten things out, and Bethany convinced me to stay, then she . . . died. My world was falling a part around me. It was hard to put things together again and even harder to let go of the anger.” For a minute Rod studied her, seeing the earnest life in her eyes. She watched him too, and saw the moment he smiled, his eyes holding joy, peace . . . and greatest of all, his understanding. “So, you think you've finally found your place, where you want your goals to be?” “Yes . . . and no, but I’m working on it. That’s a big step for me.” Rod studied her serious face for a few minutes before looking away. The silence grew thick all over again, but he did not have the words, nor the strength to stop it. He watched her spin the ice around in her glass several times . . . around . . . and around and around . . . Finally he looked up as the waitress placed the check upside down on the table. He grabbed at it first, determined to pay for her dinner. Without a word, he dropped a the money on the table with the ticket and pushed back. “Are you sure you don't want me to pay for mine?” Joanna asked, but Rod only shook his head and walked around the table to pull her chair. Feeling him behind her, Joanna waited for some movement, but felt none. “Rod?” she said hesitantly. She stood gracefully and turned, her heart in pain . . . from what she was not sure. “I don’t know. There’s just . . . years between us, Jo. It’s hard to piece it together. The last time I saw you, you were leaving Glendale as fast as I was, toting Doug Fletcher with you.” Hearing the name of such a man made Joanna laugh. It delighted her to realize she had given up at least one set of feelings for a guy who didn’t care for her, “That was a long time ago.” “For you it was.” Five minutes later, his hands on the wheel of her truck, the full impact of Rod's words were just settling. Joanna stared at him, her eyes wary. “Did you really think

I would stay with Doug Fletcher?” Rod shrugged, his eyes on the road. “You had been dating for awhile. And,” Rod frowned at the memory and worked it over in his mind. “He was there that day. The day we moved.” Standing in the driveway with her. Mocking him. Mocking her. “We dated on and off, though I guess I did get dependant on him for while. It really didn’t add up to much time at all in the long run,” she admitted, “and I didn't date him until after high school. He wasn’t very supportive of me . . . not when things got bad with my family. Not that I was supportive either, at the time.” “And you returned to teach at Glendale High. I had always hoped, I guess that you would get away.” “I did for awhile.” “You don’t feel stuck?” Joanna frowned over the question. “Not in Glendale.” She turned to look out the window. In her grief, Rod only saw strength and determination. There were no tears—or hints of tears in her eyes. “Where are we going?” she asked softly when Rod slowed to stop for a red light. “I thought we'd go back to my apartment to iron out these last few details. We'd certainly get more done away from my office. Sometimes when I’m there I think the whole world needs to speak to me.” “I think I would like to go home now,” Joanna told him without looking at him, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt. She could not pin point why or when the feeling had crept in, but suddenly she wanted to bolt. To run fast and hard as far from him as she could. “Lunch was wonderful. And we got enough done that I have more to do at home. And we caught up with each other. With the driving it’s all added up to being a long day.” “But you just got here.” “I still think it would be best if I left now. Remember, I'm the one with the long drive home.” “If you're so tired maybe you should stay here,” Rod suggested, for some reason not ready for her to leave. The day had been an emotional drain on her. “You

could stay at mom and dad's house. They wouldn't mind.” Still not looking at him, Joanna shook her head in determination. “No, I couldn't do that. I . . . I need to be home tonight to call my little league team . . . .” Rod sighed, and slowly maneuvered the truck into the turning lane. Thinking over their conversation he came up with nothing that would make her go home early . . . unless he had gotten too personal. All ready, in the two hours they had been together, he had brought up Bethany's death and her parents problems. Had she taken it as a criticism that he was surprised she was in Glendale still? Neither one of them spoke for the remainder of the trip. When Rod pulled into an empty space and put the truck in park, Joanna immediately opened her door and slid out. She said nothing to him when he stepped down from the driver's seat, his eyes intent on her. “When will we get together the next time?” Joanna only slightly hesitated as she climbed into the seat he had vacated. “I don't think there will be a next time.” Rod was surprised, but she gave him no time to respond. “You're life is so busy, Rod, and we're so different. It was wrong of me to come and ask for help. I know that last year was bad for you—more than you think I do, but it was magical for me. High school was the only thing that got me out of my house. I’m sorry I wasted your time.” Rod grabbed her hand before she could shut the door. He was used to arguing with her, but not to being blind sided. “Wait a second, Jo. I said I would help you and I'm willing to take the time out for this. It's my homecoming too, and my life isn't so busy that I can't help out a friend.” “Exactly,” Joanna said with a bitter laugh that bordered on a sob, full of hurt and confusion. She pull her hand curtly away from his. “I don’t know what I was thinking, calling you, coming here. We don’t have respect for the other. You can’t even get that I'm not Jo anymore.” Reaching for the door, Joanna pulled it closed with a jerk and threw her truck into reverse.

Chapter 2 Joanna dropped into the cracked leather chair in the unair-conditioned service station and shifted to find a more comfortable position. Despite the noisy floor fan, it was hot and humid, even more so after walking from her stalled truck. She could deal with heat and with exercise, other things that made her ill at ease. The mechanic who sat across from her was her current problem. Ray, his name embroidered name read, appeared to be on break as he chewed his smokeless tobacco. As they both sat in the narrow waiting area, the minutes ticked by slowly. She leafed through a magazine, seeing nothing but an array of color. Ten minutes past, and Ray was still there, watching her, chewing his smokeless tobacco. The glossy pages of the magazine stared back as she tried to deal with another thing that made her uncomfortable—her sister-in-law’s words, or rather, the truth behind them. “Steven's not here. He had a senior citizen's fellowship tonight. The only reason I'm home and not with him is because Paul's sick.” A deep sigh escaped, and it had nothing to do with her nephew’s illness. Helen's suburban was in the shop so they only had one vehicle for a few days. “I guess that means you can't come pick me up.” “No,” Helen said sympathetically. “Did they say when the truck will be ready?” Joanna shook her head in the negative, her finger twisting around the oily phone cord. “No, but I'm going to wait around until they do before I make alternate plans.” Even as she said it, Joanna knew she would stay the night in the old service station. Even if there was a motel near by, she didn’t have enough money for a room. Her cash would get her gas for the road home and a good sized meal, since Rod had paid for lunch. And now she had to find the money to get her truck fixed and herself home. “Well, you went in to see Rod Kirkland, didn’t you? Why don't you call him and get him to come pick you up? I'd feel much better if you did. Steven and I have stayed with his parents when we were in Dallas before. They have a lovely home and they've always been hospitable.” “I can’t.” She should have remembered that Helen was one of the people who had encouraged her to call Rod in the first place.

Helen was quiet, probably expecting Joanna to go on with a reason. When the younger woman did not, Helen spoke. “And why not? From what Steven says, you and Rod were friends, and the Kirklands have always been friends of your family. I’m sure Rod would do it. And Jan won't mind if you stay there.” “I’m the odd one out in that relationship, Helen. Jeff and Steven were always at the Kirkland’s. Rod and I have nothing to do with it,” she sighed. She would have begged for a kind word from Rod’s mother, begged for one of the hugs Jan had given out so easily to everyone else. And it hadn’t helped that she was Rod’s mother. Always on his side. “Besides, it's not that. And Rod and I knew each other, we were in the same group, but we were never—or rarely friends.” “Then what is it?” Helen asked. “Joanna, if you two are going to be working together the next two months, you're gonna—have to trust each other a little bit.” “We’re not, and that’s beside the point. He—” “Joanna, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I do know you need him right now. You can’t stay the night in a gas station in the middle of Nowheresville.” “I live in Nowheresville,” Joanna muttered, “And I'm not calling Rod. I can't.” “Joanna, please don’t be so stubborn! You know I’m going to worry about you,” Though Helen was an hour away and the phone line was crackling because of a storm in between them somewhere, Joanna could almost feel Helen’s hands pushing at her, leading her one way, then the next. She closed her eyes, tired of caring what her family thought. “Helen, I’m not a child!” “Then stop acting like one.” Joanna bit her upper lip and prayed for control. She was the baby of the family. People, namely her brothers and anyone slightly related to them, always forgot she could take care of herself. “Look, Helen, I know Stephen has a lot of respect for the Kirklands. They were really good for him. It was different with me and Rod. And I know I went ahead and called him like you suggested, but it just didn’t work out. Things haven’t changed since high school, things that not even Stephen knows about.” She shook her head trying to shake the hurt that welled under the surface, “Do you

think you can reach Steven? I don’t want to stay here all night. If he can’t come I’ll have to call Matt.” Helen sighed, understanding that Matt was a last resort. “I'll see what I can do. Stay put until you hear from me, okay? Now where did you say you were?” Joanna quickly related the location and phone number and then hung up so Helen could make her calls. Within minutes, however, Joanna wished her sister-in-law back on the phone, despite the conversation that would ensue. The miserable convenience store was lonely and dirty and twenty minutes later the man across from her kept staring. Leaning back against the torn seat cover, Joanna tried to relax and succeeded, if only partially. As sleep closed in, she had a harder time keeping the handsome image of Rod out of her mind. He had looked so good in his double breasted charcoal-colored suit, much stronger . . . more adult and more of a man than she had ever imagined. The image complete in her mind, Joanna was nearly asleep when the door to the store opened, the bell tinkling softly. The soft-shoed footsteps came in her direction, but she did not open her eyes. It was too soon for Steven. The footsteps stopped before reaching her. The clean smell of aftershave, vaguely familiar and not particularly welcome in the stuffy gas station environment, overwhelmed her in contrast. She opened her eyes and frowned wearily. Rod’s image stood before her in reality, except for jean and tee-shirt clad instead of sporting the professional suit. “What are you doing here?” Joanna asked softly as she sat up, nearly afraid of her voice. She looked up at the man, this man she thought would not, could not care, and nearly melted. “Heard you had some trouble.” “A little. How did you—” “Know? Helen called mom and mom got in touch with me since I was closer. I told her I would come get you.” The urge to murder Helen for meddling, was squelched by relief. It was hard to imagine his callousness when he was standing before her looking concerned, “Why?” Rod visibly tensed at her question, his lean jaw tight, but in control. “We need to

talk,” he looked over at Ray, who for the first time all evening was not boring his steel eyes into her. “But not here, and not now. You look completely exhausted.” They watched each other, but only for a moment, both weary of the tension between them. Rod tucked his hands in his pockets because he wanted to touch. Joanna felt helpless. She desired his comfort even when she wanted nothing more than to run from him. She was not ready to fight the memories or the feelings he brought with him. He reminded her too much . . . of her mom . . . of her dad . . . of Bethi . . . of himself. Reaching down, he captured her hand in his and Joanna allowed him to pull her to her feet. She hated that his touch felt so right—hated that she still let him affect her. “Do I have a choice?” she asked softly, hating herself for feeling drawn to him. It was dangerous to be so close, but she wanted him to care—needed him to care about her. Rod shook his head, and led her out the door to where his luxurious black four-door was parked. “And let you stay here or at any of those other cheap motels I passed on the way?” he stopped as he reached out and pulled the handle back, opening the safe and comforting environment for her to step into. Then he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face wearily. “No,” he amended abruptly, drawing her eyes back up to his, “that's not the real reason I came. I respect you, Joanna, and I'm sorry I hurt you this afternoon. I came for you.” After Rod shut the door Joanna had no idea where he went. He had left the car running so that the coolness of the air conditioner calmed her considerably. By the time the driver’s side door opened and he slipped in, she had lost track of time. Her eyes were closing in sleep, and the words he spoke were just gentle mumbles in a foggy world that seemed so far away.

* * * Disoriented as she came from sleep, Joanna sat for a minute letting her mind slowly figure out where she was. She could hear only a muffle of the efficient engine of Rod's car, and she tensed remembering, knowing he was right beside her. But, there was something else. Rain. And windshield wipers. Soft comforting motions that quickly soothed. A soft blanket had been tucked around her. She

cuddled up in it, trying to revitalize her body's heat that sleep had stolen. Slowly she opened her eyes to the grey world they were traveling in. She watched the road speed by, along with a few houses and a store here and there. They were definitely not in Dallas. Probably out in the suburbs. “Where are we?” Her voice cracked from lack of use. “You're awake,” Rod noted, his eyes looking her over as if to check on her—but he would not care would he? Even if his green eyes did hold something close to concern. She looked away, confused. When his eyes were back on the road, he answered her question simply, “Just outside of Witherspoon.” The name rang a bell and Joanna sighed. She had heard the name earlier on in the day, during lunch, and was not sure if she liked hearing it now. “You're taking me to your parents’.” “Where did you expect me to take you?” “I didn’t think about it,” Joanna told him, asking herself the same question. She should have asked him to take her to a hotel, but then she would have had to ask him to pay for it. “And I don't think it's a good idea.” “Why not?” “You're mom doesn't like me,” Joanna cringed, her brow worrying over it. Rod turned his head slightly in surprise, but wisely swung his eyes back on the stormy road before them. “What gave you that idea?” Because his mother was petite and beautiful, an etiquette-holding woman who captured attention by walking into a room. She was everything Joanna wasn’t . . . everything proper, decent, beautiful. “She just never seemed to . . .” Joanna told him, not sure how to explain. How could she tell Rod that his mother had never hugged her like she had everyone else? It sounded so petty. “I always felt . . . clumsy or . . . I don't know, I just always thought she didn't.” “Mom rarely meets someone she doesn’t like,” Rod spoke the words slowly. “I would guess it was your dad . . . both you're parent's she did not—” he paused, carefully considering his words. “You aren’t like your brothers, begging for attention, that sort of thing. She worked with abused children in the hospital, and you reminded her so much of them that she cried over it when she talked with

granddad about you.” The memory was fresh to him, startling him as he remembered that night, so long ago. It had been before high school, surely, or maybe their freshman year. Joanna shifted to look at his profile as Rod turned and met her eyes for a brief second. He smiled softly before turning them back to the road. The windshield wipers went back in forth in a tapping, calming, sound. Cried over her? Joanna worried over the words. She had never thought about his mother without being slightly afraid of her before. Well, maybe not afraid, but defiantly ashamed. And Rod was right. She’d never been able to talk to Jan. Had she misinterpreted Jan Kirkland’s concern for so much less? For hatefulness? She suddenly prayed that she had.

* * * The Kirkland's home was nestled in the midst of a glorious park of outstanding homes on the outskirts of Witherspoon. Though the two story house was not the biggest, nor the grandest, Joanna was slightly intimidated and oddly drawn inside. The pink brick house itself, with carefully placed lighting, was charming. The lawns were unmistakably landscaped, the windows glittering under Rod's headlights and the rain. Rod pushed a garage door opener and slid his car inside beside another luxury sedan, but white, not black like his own. The garage lights immediately turned on, and Rod flicked his headlights off. Joanna just sat and looked around, even as Rod climbed out of the car. The back of the garage was set up as a work room for Peter Kirkland, Rod's dad. The door on her side opened, and Joanna slowly undid her seat belt and stepped out, her eyes too fascinated on everything else to look at Rod. Closing the car door, he took her arm gently in his hand and led her to the door that led inside, probably into the kitchen. Joanna realized then how hungry she was. She should have grabbed a bag of chips at the gas station. Lifting her eyes to meet Rod’s, Joanna saw something in them, something that made her heart beat quicker. Those deep blue eyes were comforting her, gentling her, begging her to trust him. Before she had much time to contemplate the look or the sensation it brought, the door opened. Jan Kirkland, petite in frame, stood at the door. There was grey in her brown hair. She smiled, and Joanna saw Rod’s quiet smile.

“Joanna, I’m glad you could make it.” She was smiling, was all Joanna could think. Rod’s mother was smiling at her. “Come on inside, dear. You must be starving. Peter and I just finished all we can eat of the glorious bowl of stew. I grabbed the recipe from a friend I work with at the hospital. You're welcome to all you can eat.” Taking her by the hand, Jan led Joanna inside, soothing her guest. Joanna was seated at the table, steaming bowl in front of her, before she even remembered Rod. She turned slightly and saw that he had taken the seat beside her, a bowl placed in front of him also. Had he missed dinner? Joanna thought to herself, feeling slightly guilty that she had brought this much trouble on him. Had he been out on a date? Joanna stopped herself from thinking in that direction and focused on the stew before her. She would find some way to repay him later. She bowed her head slowly, in indecision on what to thank God for. She was not positive if she was glad Helen had called Rod, but she was sure glad to be away from the gas station, so far away now. Thank you, Lord, for taking care of me, she prayed, even when I was stubborn enough to not want to do it this way. Joanna ate heartily, not taking a moment to stop and look at Rod or think about what he might be thinking. When she finished and looked up, his eyes were own her. He looked away quickly. The rest of the evening past by in an air of peace. Joanna climbed into a tub of massaging bubbles for nearly an hour and completely relaxed both her stiff body and her turbulent mind. She was reluctant to climb out, but had nearly dozed twice and already had prune-like hands. Wrapping herself in an oversized hunter green terry-cloth bathrobe that Peter had provided, Joanna crawled onto the four poster queen size bed and curled up on top of the thick comforter. Not five minutes later Jan peeped into the room and found Joanna fast asleep. She pulled an afghan out of the closet and gently lay it across the still form. Rod peeked around the open door and watched his mother. His eyes fell on Joanna, sleeping so peacefully. The moonlight slipped through the window and left a glow on her skin. Without thinking, he pushed the door completely open and went to the bed. Enchanted, his eyes studied Joanna's fresh, clean face, the slightly damp hair

cascading from the ribbon that held it back. She looked so delicate and tiny curled up in the middle of the bed. He swallowed, not knowing what to do with the feelings she stirred inside of him. Part of him yearned to reach down and cradle her, to make her understand that whatever had happened 10 years ago didn’t matter anymore. Both of them were new people, still quite different from each other, but different from who they had been. He was startled when his mother gently touched his arm. He looked at her in surprise and followed her out. “Joanna's grown into a fine woman,” Jan noted after she shut the door, more for Rod's benefit then her own. “Yeah,” Rod agreed, thoughtful. He pictured Joanna, seeming so small against the covers of the guest bed. There was an ache in his arms and in his heart that surprised him. If only he could have held her. If only she would accept him. They had not talked yet, but Rod promised himself he would find some time the next day.

* * * “Dallas must have had some affect on you,” Steven remarked from the other side the room. His kids were down for a nap, and Joanna had nothing to occupy herself with. She was standing in front of the living room window, staring out, but focused on nothing. “You hardly said a word during lunch.” Joanna shrugged, not knowing how to respond. Ever since she had left Dallas on Friday, her mind had been constantly on Rod Kirkland, the Rod Kirkland of the present, not past. She saw him everywhere, and even worse, wished him there. The Sunday afternoon at her brother's came bringing her relief. She had hoped Steven's two children, Paul and Daniel, would draw her mind away from Rod, and they had for awhile. “I was enjoying the boys’ banter. They—” “It's not the house is it? or that debt collector call? I thought we had arranged the payments.” “Steven—” “Joanna.” She rolled her eyes begrudgingly, “Everything’s fine with the house.” “Then what is it?”

“Summer blues?” Joanna responded, shrugging her shoulders. She turned to meet Steven's concerned eyes. Steven could see through any excuse she would make. Facts were facts. Once again she was attracted to Rod Kirkland, and that attraction had given him the instant ability to hurt her all over again. “It's nothing. Working on our reunion preparations this weekend and going through all those high school memories was just a drain. And then my little league team lost to the Cougars again yesterday and the poor things were crushed.” Steven's eyes lit up in silent laughter as he walked toward her. “He's that bad, aye?” “Who's that bad? My team may not be consistent winners, but they do know their stuff.” Joanna forced herself not to cringe and made herself not look at her brother. “Don't play that game with me, Joanna,” Steven warned playfully. “Remember that I know you better than anyone, even better than Helen thinks she does.” “What are you getting at?” Joanna asked, turning to stare out the window again. Everyone in her family thought they knew her better then the rest. She was tired of it. Tired of being the youngest and being told what she wanted to do. And hating that Steven did know her as well as he did. “Let's see. First you go to Dallas to meet Rod after nine years of not seeing him, tell Helen that you will not ask for his help and then come back after staying at his parent's house in this . . . mood.” “I’m not in a mood.” “Yes you are. I’ve lived with you for over 27 years, Joanna.” “You didn't even see me when I got home Friday, Steven,” Joanna told him, pulling her courage together so she could look at him. “I tell you, I was thinking about my little league team. Those kids are so cool, but they just need a little work. I was just thinking of them.” Steven only shook his head, turning to leave. “I believe thou shalt not lie is written in Exodus, Joanna,” he said with a laugh as he walked away, feeling quite proud of himself. For the first time in years, Joanna wanted to tackle her brother, but knew he would win eventually. Then he would tickle her until he had all the truth he wanted to hear. She turned her hazel eyes back toward the window and sighed, Rod’s image

returning to her mind. She thought about the easiness of their conversation on Friday afternoon. The planning had been like the old days, bouncing crazy ideas off each other until the inspired something good to come out. Laughing over odd ideas and following through on the good ones. They’d been good planners, poor friends. Now things seemed different. They’d questioned each other, but they didn’t argue. Rod seemed to be taking Bethany's memory into his own hands as they worked with the plans and directing her slowly with as little pain as possible. She did not want him to do that. She did not want him to be nice only to turn against her again. She had two weeks to get her emotions together before she drove back to Dallas. She would be friendly, but controlled and focused when she saw him again. As attractive as Rod had become, he was bound to have a girlfriend somewhere. After a long afternoon at her brother's, Joanna entered the lonely old house feeling exhausted. Looking around the dark, but clean living room, Joanna tried not to think about how empty her life felt since coming home from the Kirkland's. Her brothers all lived in different towns. No one knew where her mother or father were and she doubted anyone cared. The answering machine was blinking, a persistent reminder that there was no one else in the house to answer the phone or share messages with her. Joanna pushed the button, and waited as the tape rewound and rewound—a long message. At the sound of the voice, she felt her heart skip a beat. She could feel the blood rushing from her face as she paled. “Joanna, this is Rod. A friend of mine gave me a set of his season tickets to the Ranger's game on Thursday. He and his wife are going to see his grand children and he thought maybe I'd want to go in his place. I've been before and his seats are really good. Anyway, I know it's technically short notice, but hey, I know how much you liked the Rangers. I thought maybe you'd want to go. Give me a call. I should be in for the rest of the night.” The answering machine cut off, leaving Joanna in stunned silence. In near panic, she began to nip at the edge of her index finger—as she rehearsed the obvious in her head. Rod had called her and expected her to call back. She could just call him and say that she had plans . . . even though she had not been to a Ranger's game in years . . . and her favorite sport was baseball.

She hated Rod at that moment. Hated him all over again for using her weaknesses against her. Hated him because he made her want to go . . . . The phone rang and she jumped. She answered the phone with a breathless, “Hello?” “Joanna, this is Rod.” Her heart nearly stopped and she struggled from hanging up the phone. “I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?” Anytime would have been bad, Joanna thought to herself, but managed a weak, “No.” “Good. Did you get my message?” “I was just listening to it—I just got home.” “Oh,” he said and waited for a second as if he expected an answer. Joanna stood, holding her phone against her ear with her right hand, her left hand pinned under her right elbow as if she was holding herself back. She was afraid to say too much. She was afraid of him. When she did not speak Rod continued quickly, “I thought maybe you could meet me at my apartment and we could go. Mom and dad would love to have you stay with them on Thursday night and we could talk some on Friday—you could stay until Saturday if you thought that was best.” “My team has a baseball game on Saturday,” Joanna replied weakly. “That's right. Well, you'll have to be back for that. I have a meeting on Friday afternoon, but I'm free until lunch. You can go home then if you want.” The soft bubble of laughter from her throat surprised them both. “Rod, I think you missed something. I never said yes.” He hesitated, she could tell, and she wondered how many girls actually said no to Rod Kirkland. “Are you doing anything on Thursday?” “No,” Joanna replied honestly. “And your truck is running right?” Joanna swallowed. Her truck was running better then it had in a long time, but Steven had already ordered her to take his car on her next long trip. “Yes.”

“Then what's to keep you from coming?” Rod asked, but gave her no time to answer. “I know how much you love the Rangers, and you know now that mom thinks you're great. You said yourself that you weren't doing anything otherwise. And these seats are magnificent, I promise.” “I don't know.” “Joanna, is there any reason why you can't come? It isn't me is it?” Rod's voice was almost pleading. Though Joanna's heart screamed YES!, she heard herself reply “No.” “Does that mean you'll come?” Even when she heard herself surrender, she could not believe it. She took down notes on how to get to his apartment blindly. When she hung up the phone, she somehow found her way to the sofa, and sat down, numb. What in the world have I done? Her weak mind nearly screamed. What have I done?

Chapter 3 Joanna’s frustration rose over the next few days. Only part of it had to do with her feelings for Rod. After a familiar argument with her oldest brother, Matt, she wanted to get away from the lonesome house just as much as he wanted her to stay. Her entire life Matt had been protective of her, but finding out that she was associating with Rod Kirkland had really loaded his cannons. On Tuesday Joanna watched her little league baseball team run around during practice, but as chaotic as they were, she was the one unable to concentrate. They were all excited in their extra-ordinary child-like way, even after their loss to the Cougars on Saturday, and for the first time, she was having a hard time joining their spirit. After Rod called on Sunday night, he was rarely off her mind. Joanna could not control the thoughts that rocked her mind continuously, even in her dreams. She hated herself for letting him take control of her again, after all, blind as he could be to her emotions, she knew she would end up hurt. During High School she had liked him so much, respected him, listened to him behind a guise of not listening. While there were times he had supported her, he had hurt her too.

You will never be loved. How could she reconnect with the man who had uttered those stabbing words? The ones that made being loved by anyone, even a man like Doug Fletcher, so important? “Bobby! I thought I told you to keep your swing lower!” Joanna coached, then stopped, surprised at the frustration in her voice. She watched as tears pooled in the little boys eyes and her heart turned over. I can’t live like this. I can’t do this, God. I can’t. Approaching the little boy slow, Joanna knelt and put her arms around him in a friendly hug. “I’m sorry, Bobby,” she apologized. “You’re trying, that’s what counts. Right?” Bobby shrugged, wiping away a tear with his dirty fist. He was one of the smaller ones on her team and just as sensitive as some of the others. “Cynthia?” Joanna motioned to one of the older players. “Take Bobby over to right field and work on his swings for me.” Before Bobby could walk away, Joanna reached out and pulled his ball cap off, messing his hair. “Go get’em tiger,” she whispered and watched him run off, forgiving her. Thursday finally came and Joanna drove the long road to Dallas to meet Rod, whispering those same words to herself. She parked in the enclosed parking garage, looking around at the fancy cars parked around her. At one time she’d wanted to be where Rod was, successful, with extra money in the back. Yet she’d chosen a different road, a better road for her, she thought. She wasn’t jealous, just . . . wondering if she’d made the right decision. The money issue didn’t make her afraid. It was her past, not just with him, that had carted itself in between. Her words to Bobby rang back in her ears, Go get’em tiger. She tried to believe she had the spirit she so loved in her little team, but prayed, knowing she did not. God, I’ve built myself up a hope, just like I did in High School. I can’t help it—You would have thought I would have learned my lesson ten years ago. I just don’t want to be hurt, she looked down at her shaking hands, I don’t want to feel like nothing again. Using the intercom system, Joanna paged Rob’s apartment. His cracking voice greeted her almost immediately. The electronic-locked door clicked opened, letting

her pass. She walked slowly down the hall, surprised to see Rod coming toward her. Could she help but see the smile on his face . . . could she help but hope it was for her? “Hi,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I’m glad to see that you made it okay. Were the roads bad?” Joanna shook her head, trying to fight the feeling’s Rod’s strong hands stirred. She pulled her hands away and pushed the feelings back. “Clear. I hate to say it, but I made it here in record time. Steven’s car drives smooth.” “And fast, I bet,” Rod teased, walking beside her toward his apartment. “I would have thought you would have learned your lesson years ago.” “Old habits don’t die easily,” Joanna told and stopped when he did in front of his apartment. He opened the heavy oak door. She cringed as she took in his living room. As extravagant as the outside was, the inside was sparse, but . . . grand. A high ceiling, ornate ceiling fan and modern studio lights. A large screen T.V. sat to the side wall, two sofa’s placed in front, as if set for the guys to come over for the game . A stereo system that would rival Glendale’s electronic store’s best waited to be turned on. And yet, what appealed to Joanna was that Rod’s whole apartment was not centered around the T.V. or the stereo, but the mahogany desk to the side. Without thinking, she walked over and ran her fingers across the varnished wood. She recognized the eight foot desk easily. It had been Rod’s grandfather’s desk. Sitting down in the chair, Joanna ran her fingers along the top, remembering when she had sat behind the desk. Joshua Simpson had pulled her in his big lap so many times, including the time when she went to talk to him about Jesus Christ . . . unable to understand how Jesus could love her, when her earthly father did not seem too. Jeff, one of her brothers, and Steven, the only other two Christians in her family then and now, took her to church with them mainly to keep her away from home after their parent’s had their Saturday night drinking gorges. As much as the distaste their parents had for church, it had been easy enough to convince them that Joanna would not be so much of a bother away from home. Jeff had worked as a youth intern for the church for several years and through his relationship with Rev. Simpson, Joanna met the dear, loving man. “Do you make mistakes, Joey?” the aging minister asked and the twelve year-old Joanna had nodded faithfully. “Well, your father makes mistakes. We all do. We’re

all human.” “You mess up?” Joanna asked with surprise. Never had she thought that someone as loving as Rev. Joshua Simpson could or would be like her father. She could not see him with a quick temper. She could not see him that impatient, not to either his wife, or his daughter Jan, Rod’s beautiful mother. Joshua saw the fear, the need to run, long before Joanna knew it was coming. He held onto her, making her look him in the eyes. He had seen the same reaction in Jeff during the many hours of counseling. “No, Joanna. I was not saying that I get angry like your dad does, but I do sin. I sometimes put off doing things, even when I know I have to do them. I can be selfish and jealous. Yes,” he said with a small laugh of humbleness, “I do make mistakes and go against what God wants me to do. We all sin.” “And yet, the neat thing is, that God, our Heavenly Father, doesn’t make mistakes. He’s perfect,” Joshua made sure Joanna was listening, “and He loves us, and because He loves us, He died for us.” “Mrs. Brown told us last Sunday that Jesus died so we could live, and Jeff said that Jesus wanted us to live with Him for eternity—forever, Jeff said, with Jesus,” Joanna told Joshua with understanding. “And did they tell you how you could live with Jesus forever?” Joanna nodded, “We must believe that Jesus lives and that He knows what’s best for us and He wants us to do what He thinks is best.” “Do you believe that Joey? Do you believe that Jesus died for you and rose in three days so that you might have live with Him now and forever?” Joshua looked at her, sensing the struggle inside. “Do you believe He loves you?” Joanna looked him square in the eye and smiled, her eyes twinkling in happiness. “Yes,” her voice was soft, softer than a bird on decent. “Joanna, the Bible says that ‘if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe with all your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved,” the excitement and trust in Joanna’s eyes spurred Joshua on. “Do you believe Joanna? Can you tell Jesus that you believe?” “Yes.” “Would you like to ask him into your heart right now?”

“If He wants me,” Joanna whispered. Joshua picked his Bible up from his desk and, with his arms wrapped around her, the Bible in her lap, easily flipped through. “What does this say, Joanna?” Following his strong finger with her eyes, Joanna looked over the verse. “Read it too me, out loud,” he prompted. “ Are not two stones sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more;” tears flowed down from Joanna’s eyes. She wiped them away quickly with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and re-read the sentence. “ So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than the sparrows.” “I want Him in my life, Rev. Simpson. I want to know Jesus for real.” Seventeen years later, Joanna unconsciously pulled the middle drawer out and pushed the desk tray back, not thinking that Joshua Simpson had long ago gone to be with Jesus or that she was looking through what was now his grandson’s desk. Instead she searched down through the many names written on the inside of the drawer until she saw her own, the date of her salvation written beneath. For a long time, Joanna just sat looking at her name, written so long ago, thinking about the other times she had sat with Joshua Simpson at that desk . . . including times in her teenage years . . . up until he died, her senior year. Joanna realized then that the pens and supplies in the drawer were not Joshua Simpson’s, but Rod’s. Looking over to where he sat, she saw his eyes on her. He seemed compassionate and calm. She realized that tears were streaming down her face and she turned her head away, wiping the at tears. “I can’t believe you have this desk.” “It holds many memories for me, too,” Rod said softly in understanding. “He left it to me when he died.” “He was such a Godly man. . . . He meant so much to me . . . helped me to learn and see so much.” Joanna carefully rearranged the drawer and closed it, her eyes flicking to the computer, backing away from the memories before she felt too much, before she shared even more. “Is this yours?” “Yeah,” Rod said and came over to her. For the next half hour, Rod led her through the many programs, and she played one of his games. Joanna left out a small laugh as one of the enemy fish ate her small boat that she had tried to control safely to home. “I can’t believe you get any work done on this thing,” she turned and looked up at him, finding her face inches from his. He was

leaning close to her, his arm reaching across her to the mouse, where he had been helping her through the program. The proximity brought awareness and panic. Pushing away from the desk abruptly, Joanna stood, trying to regain control. “Shouldn’t we be going?” “I guess so,” Rod replied, and Joanna tried not to read to much into his look . . . was he disappointed that she had not let him kiss her? Had he wanted to kiss her? Had she wanted him to kiss her? Rod went back to his bedroom and Joanna stood waiting by the door. He emerged with two hats in his hands, a different Texas Ranger design on each. Without asking her, he slipped the hat on her head backwards and she surprised herself by laughing. As much as Joanna had dreaded the game and being so close to Rod, she really did enjoy the night. The more time she spent around Rod, the better she felt. She stopped guarding her smiles and laughs. She jumped up and yelled with the rest of the crowd. When the wave rolled around both she and Rod hopped up with the rest of the crowd. When the Ranger’s were behind one point, they both rooted and cheered at the top of their lungs. When a ball was hit in their direction, Joanna hopped up and tried her best to catch a ball that sailed a mile away. The season pass seats Rod’s friend had really were good ones. Unknown to Joanna, Rod watched her carefully, smiling at her spirit. With the hat still on backwards and wearing cutoffs and a navy tee-shirt, she looked like a teenager again. He was beginning to love the look of her sparkling eyes and warm, laughing spirit. Several times that night he had wanted to take her in his arms and kiss the merry cheeks and smiling lips. Please give me patience for Your time, Father. Boy, am I attracted, but I don’t want to rush her . . . Rod looked over at her again, smiling as she rolled her eyes at the umpire’s call . . . or hurt her. I’m afraid too many have hurt her in her life, including me, but I’m so attracted to this woman . . . At the beginning of the seventh inning, two people from the stands walked down to the field to try their chance at hitting balls. Rod tapped her on the shoulder and whispered, “Maybe I could pull some strings and get you down there. I’m sure you could use a dinner for two.” “And who would I take?” She asked him suspiciously, “You?”

“I’d say it would be a fair trade if I could pull the strings to get you down there.” Joanna only shook her head and laughed as she looked around at the thousands of fans lining the stands, “Knowing me I’d pull a perfect strikeout.” “You rarely did before,” Rod pointed out faithfully, “even when 50 scouts were at the game looking over Texas’s finest softball batter.” “There were never 50 scouts at the games—one if I was lucky. I guess maybe I had something to prove then,” Joanna whispered, her eyes looking toward the people on the field, but deeper, lost in some world he was not a part of. The Ranger’s were ahead by one at the bottom of the ninth inning and the Angel’s were up at bat. Joanna leaned forward in her seat and watched the right fielder catch the fly ball and sail it to the second baseman for a double play. Though she wanted the Ranger’s to win, part of her was not ready for the night to end. Joanna pushed even further out of her chair, her concentration fixed as if the next play would determine her life. After a second strike and foul, the batter was determined. His sharp eyes looked to his batting coach and back to the pitcher. The pitcher released the ball and seconds later the batter swung. The ball skidded to right field, was scooped up and sent perfectly to the first baseman. The game was over. The announcer came on with post game statistics and announcements and everyone stood to leave. Joanna sat stoically in her seat for a second before standing with Rod. “I really had a good time,” she told him. “Thanks for talking me into coming, and for spending the whole night with me.” “It was a chore, I assure you,” Rod teased, taking her hand in his to lead her out. Joanna did not resist. After their companionable time together, his larger, warm hand felt comforting around hers. She was no longer afraid. Rod went through the McDonald’s drive-through and picked up some burgers, taking them back to his apartment. They sat at his kitchen table and talked over his business, her teaching job and coaching work and the homecoming activities. The company Joanna had hired to make the invitations had sent them over to his parent’s house so the two of them could stuff and address the envelopes to be sent in the Saturday mail. “I have an afternoon meeting with two of the other Vice Presidents, but I’ll have the morning to help you,” Rod told Joanna with a hopeful smile. “And you wouldn’t believe how excited mom is about this. I think it makes her feel older in a way, since this dates me at 28.”

A boyish grin intercepted his handsome smile as he touched her cheek with the back of his fingertips, “Mom really is captivated with you. I think that’s why she wants to help us. She didn’t get to talk with you as much as she wanted to the last time you were there—she told me so.” Joanna raised her eyebrows, not able to hide the uneasiness that filled her. “I’m sure she did—” If his mom felt that way, how did he fill? She yawned suddenly and blinked her eyes against the force. The clock on the wall told her it was almost one in the morning and only then did she realize how long the day had been for her. “I guess I need to be going,” she said uneasily, standing and pushing her chair in. “I can’t thank you enough for sharing your night with me. It’s been so long since I’ve been to a game.” “We’ll do it again, but I won’t promise the tickets will be so great—” “Rod,” Joanna said with embarrassment, “I wasn’t hinting—” “I know you weren’t. It’s just that I want to take you to another game or eat hamburgers with you and talk about our lives . . . your life especially . . . .” Feeling panicked, Joanna turned away from him and headed for the door. What was he saying . . . she had to be imagining it. She had no idea how to respond. “Well,” she said after swallowing, feeling rushed, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Joanna.” The simple way Rod said her name stopped her as she reached the door. Rod reached out and gently turned her to face him, and this time, Joanna had no desire to pull away. He kissed her, his lips soft and searching, tentative for only a moment. He pulled away and drew her against his chest, his strong arms holding her close. All the energy had evaporated out of Joanna and she let him hold her, comforted in his embrace. She leaned against him and eventually wrapped her arms around him and held on, afraid the moment would disappear into nothing. His heartbeat, beating strong so she could hear, soothed her. Finally, knowing Joanna still had a drive ahead of her and that they both needed to get some sleep and spend some time in prayer, Rod pulled away, kissing her forehead softly before he let her go. “I’m meeting some friends early in the morning at the gym, so I’ll probably be home before you’re up.”

Trying to memorize her once more, Rod’s eyes held onto her, not ready to see her leave. Her eyes, he thought, when had those hazel eyes become so energized . . . so vital? I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, she had said and he wondered if she doubted him. He opened the door for her and silently walked her to her car. “Be careful,” he whispered as she climbed into the sedan. “And, Joanna,” he continued, leaning down into the car’s interior, “you don’t have to guess about seeing me tomorrow, you will,” he vowed, “see me.”

Chapter 4 . . the day had already been dark and gloomy for Jo. Even the mid afternoon sun refused to show its shinning face. Softball practice had been canceled because of the drizzle, but everyone was expected to be at school before seven the next morning. Jo sighed, weak from exhaustion. Until the wee morning hours her parents had been up shouting, their voices full of rage. The little sleep Jo had received hardly lasted into the day. She fell asleep in both her biology and calculus classes and had received a detention from both teachers. Those detections had both been futile discussion sessions where her teachers had said calmly, “I'm worried about you, Joanna. You usually aren’t like this. You know you can talk to me ...” The images of their concern plagued Jo, but she didn’t want to talk about her problems and she wondered if they really cared. So many people close to her did not. Then Rod had teased her when she arrived to the Student Congress meeting late and was frustrated with her for not having the information ready on banner prices. She hated disappointing him . . . but she seemed to disappoint everyone lately. The straight A's report card hardly helped her through her day, for she doubted anymore if anyone cared. The late fall day had turned cool under the drizzle and she had not taken her jacket to school. By the time she turned onto her street she was shivering from the wet-cold that soaked her shirt. And when home came into sight, Jo felt herself slink back, splashing a little in a puddle as she tried to decide what to do, not wanting to enter the front door. Her

father's beat-up sedan was in the driveway, and after the past night, Jo had no desire to see either of her parents. She was angry at them both for being so selfish. Compromising against her emotions, Jo headed for the kitchen door and slowly stepped in. Ann Berkley was sitting at the kitchen table, staring, just staring into space. Nothing sat on the table for her to work on. Nothing was in the stove cooking. She just sat at the table. Her eyes seemed vacant and repressed. When Ann said nothing to her daughter, Jo breathed a sigh of relief and tried to slip on by. “Did you get you report card?” “Yes mam,” Jo responded, pulling the carbon copy out of her book bag. She handed the sheet to her mother hopefully, knowing if she received any support that it would come from her mother. A smile spread across Ann's face. “Congratulations, Joanna Lynn,” she said. “Thomas, come look at Joanna's report card—” No! Jo barely stopped the word from coming out her mouth. Please don't bring dad into this . . . please! I don't want to be fought over . . . again. Her eyes pleaded, but her mother was so bent on justification with her husband that Jo was completely ignored. Thomas Berkley walked into the kitchen in ragged shorts and a crumpled white tee shirt. He looked as if he had just woken up and Jo knew he had not gone to work. Oh, dad. Jo nearly began to cry. She knew he was in trouble at work for his lack of productivity. Thomas looked at the report card and said nothing. “Well,” Ann prodded with self-gratification, “don't you have something to say to your daughter?” “Congratulations.” “Thomas, Joanna just made straight A's! She's been making them all year! She's been making them for a long time.” “Do you want me to applaud?” He turned his eyes to Jo in mockery. Her raised his hands and began to clap. “Good job. Braaaavo!” he snapped. “Show your old man proud. Show us all, Joanna, how good you are! Show us all how you can make a precious A when your old man couldn't even graduate high school!”

“Thomas stop it!” Ann yelled. By then tears had begun to fall from Jo's green eyes. She hated to cry. “Please, dad. It's okay. I'll go—” “No, I want you to hear all about how proud I am of you,” Thomas's voice dripped in sarcasm. “Thomas! Just because you couldn't make anything of yourself doesn't mean you can't support a daughter who does!” Thomas turned back to his wife, but Jo knew she was not forgotten yet. “Oh, I see. So this is between you and me now—” “You're the one who can't find the decency to be proud of your daughter,” Ann spat. “I believe it's you who walked out of high school! You have no right to drive your failure over her—” “And I suppose you have a right to call me a failure. Who was the one who had to get married. Who was the one who had to be shown love? Who couldn't wait—” “Please stop!” Jo cried out. “Please stop! I don't need any of your—” Jo reached up and touched her cheek, not even sure of what had happened. Her father had never hit her before—not on the face and not in anger. Sure she had been spanked . . . the tears fell down her cheeks as realization dawned. Her dad . . . the one who was supposed to love her no matter what . . . had slapped her. Ann's brisk and angry words slowly came into Joanna's weakened mind as if through a funnel. “ . . . and you call yourself a father!” “I don't want to here her sass. She should be old enough to know better. I'm her father.” “Some father,” Ann retorted back. “She'd—” “Please!” Jo heard herself say. “Please stop fighting. Please stop arguing. I promise to be good. I promise not to sass. Please . . . just please stop!” “Please!”

Chapter 5 Joanna jerked from her dream cold and clammy. She shivered underneath the light covering and tried to pull it closer. The strange room surrounded her, extending no comfort. She shivered again. The images still floated in her mind, not as a nightmare, really, but as the cold confrontations of her past. The memory was clear, even out of the dream. Joanna crawled out of the tall bed and reached for her robe. She pulled it over her shoulders, hoping it would offer her just enough warmth. Opening the door, she slowly crept down the long hallway, trying not to wake her hosts up. It was almost six in the morning, but Peter had said the night before he would be sleeping in after talking with her until two. The grandfather clock in the living room was chiming on the hour when she hit the bottom step noiselessly. A deep cough surprised her. Joanna crept to the living room to see who had woken before her. She froze when she saw Rod sitting on the sofa, his Bible in his lap and his eyes intent on his reading. He was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, his hair wet and his face freshly shaven. Joanna had never been so glad to see anyone. Rod looked up and saw her then. His eyes lighted as they met hers in surprise and concern. He saw the pain that lingered from whatever had gotten her up at such an hour. Joanna covered the distance and slipped silently beside him on the sofa, like a child in need of comfort, leaning into his open arms. He pulled her close, accepting her silence. “What are you doing here so early? I thought only weathermen were up at this hour.” Joanna inquired long after he had returned to reading his Bible, her voice still shaky from sleep. For a long time she had been content to sit silently, his arm holding her close. Somehow she knew he would wait for her to open up. Rod smiled as he looked at her. “Well, someone has to be up to listen to the weathermen,” he dropped delicate kiss on her nose and leaned back to study her more carefully. “I go workout and eat breakfast with some friends everyday before work. I didn't stay the whole time,” he brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. He had not been able to concentrate on either the conversation or the workout. “I didn't expect you to be up waiting. I didn't think it was normal for you.” “I just woke up,” Joanna attempted, but her eyes belied her effort of hiding the truth. “Sometimes the nights are long,” she admitted weakly. “I can't escape the

past.” “You want to talk about it?” Not used to having someone to confide in about things so personal, Joanna shrugged. She felt him drop a kiss on the top of her head. Joanna nodded and leaned against him, content. “What are you reading?” she asked him softly. Rod looked at the precious woman he held, feeling her tremble. At one time she had been the strongest person he had known—at least, she had seemed to be strong on the outside. Now, he was learning that he had not looked close enough. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he replied, “Psalms.” “Will you read some to me?” Feeling blessed to have such a woman close to him, Rod shifted so he could see his Bible and hold her better. His voice rang out softly in the quiet room, full of warmth as he read Psalm 34: I will extol the Lord at all times; His praise will always be on my lips. My soul will boast in the Lord; let the afflicted hear and rejoice. Glorify the Lord with me; let us exalt His name together. I sought the Lord, and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. This poor man called and the Lord heard him; He saved him out of all His troubles. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him, and He deliver's them. Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him. Fear the Lord, you his saints, for those who fear Him lack nothing. The Lions may grow weak and hungry, but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing. Rod looked down at Joanna. Her trembling had stopped, and she felt still. Glad she was calming, he read on for a little while, his voice strong and sure. When he came to the end of the chapter, he looked down and saw that Joanna was asleep in his arms. Thankful to God that He had brought them back together after years of separation, Rod skimmed up the verses. Knowing that Joanna was hurting and wanting to be there for her, he repeated verses 17 and 18 out loud, in a prayer, “The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; He delivers them from

all their troubles. The Lord is close to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Rod appraised Joanna, his eyes full of warmth, “You hear that, Joey?” he asked, rubbing her cheek with the back of his fingers. “'The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.’ Just hang on for a little while longer. Just hang on.” He shifted her gently so that her head lay in his lap. Immediately she curled up into a tiny ball. Father, give her the strength and trust to believe in me and to confide in me, if I can help. And help me help her. Help me to know how. Let her see that she doesn't have to go through it alone. After a morning of stuffing envelopes, Rod took Joanna out to eat—as far as the far edge of his back yard that rested on the boarder of the neighborhood golf course. A sturdy card table, covered with a cheery red and white checkered table cloth, and two folding chairs were set up underneath an old oak. A single candle stick was sitting in the center, waiting to be lit. The table was set, complete with red place mats, forks, knives and spoons, glass plates, bowls and glasses. Pulling her chair, Rod motioned for her to sit down and when she did, he kneeled beside her. Concern filled his eyes when he saw the single tear on her cheek. “Are you okay?” Joanna nodded, unable to speak, giving him the best smile she could manage. Rod only smiled and brushed her tears away gently with his fingertips. He wondered if she would be surprised at the amount of time he had spent thinking about her. He stood and began pulling the dishes out of the basket. Joanna's eyes widened in surprise. Roast beef, potatoes, green beans, garden salad, rolls ... A bubble of laughter left her lips. “This sure doesn't look like the picnics I'm used too.” Rod raised an eyebrow and looked around. “Do you see any picnics taking place? This,” he said, sitting down across from her, his eyes mischievous, “is Rod's Diner, the very best in catering the needs of a special woman. You're the very first customer—” “And you plan to have more? You’ll have to bring out some more chairs.” Joanna teased and Rod shot her a look and she continued on quickly, “From the looks of

the food and the special care of the host, it'll be a success. I'll give my complement's to the cook later.” Rod reached for her hands and she let him lead in prayer. Once again, she felt protected, not just by his touch, but by his reverence for God. “Father, I thank you for this beautiful day, and for the beautiful woman across from me....” And even as he continued, his voice faded away. Beautiful woman. Rod Kirkland couldn’t see her as beautiful. The food really was good, but the companionship was better. With Rod across from her, holding her eyes across the flicking flame, laughing, brushing her hand with his, soft jazz music now floating from the CD player ... everything seemed so right. After the meal Joanna helped Rod load everything thing back into the waiting boxes. When he finished folding the table, he leaned it against a tree and turned to her with a smile. Then he reached for her hand. “I feel like burning off a few calories. Want to walk with me?” Joanna nodded, slipping her fingers through his. They walked for awhile across the large golf course that had been outfitted with trees. A man-made creek wound itself lazily across the open green lands providing a fascinating 'trap' for the golfers. When they came to slow running water, Rod easily stepped across and reached over for Joanna, helping her as she jumped. Safely on the other side, Joanna could not help but look up at him in amazement. His hand offered strength ... just as he was offering her with himself. They walked on, Joanna's thoughts scrambled. She could feel herself drawing closer to him ... and she was afraid. He needed to know about her dreams ... about her past before they went any further. “I'm not sure I’m ready for this thing between us. It’s happened so suddenly and I don’t know the when or the where or the how,” she told him and stopped, turning to face him. She trembled slightly as the wait of the decision dawned on her, but she knew he needed know the problems she had before he made another move, “but I'm ready to talk.” Rod's eyes looked over her in concern, “Are you sure?”

Joanna nodded and Rod led her to a grouping of large rocks that rested near the creek bank. They sat down and he waited. She struggled to find the right words. She looked as if she would break any moment. He wanted to stop her from speaking. He wanted to let her know he would care for her no matter what, but realized that she needed to talk to him if she could. He prayed for God's guidance. “I guess you know by now that I didn't grow up in the best of homes,” Joanna began uncertainly, taking comfort in the pressure of Rod's hand. “The dream this morning ... the anger and competition I always fight, back in high school and now, are all apart of ... “ she stood and stepped away from him, trying to form her thoughts, “...the home I grew up in.” “My dad didn't care too much about how I did. Not about my accomplishments ... but he had a good time poking at my failures,” she laughed bitterly, tears in her eyes, “and my mom, though she did seem to care some, used every force she could to throw back at my dad ... even me. My successes, if she noticed at all, were used as dagger's in my dad's low self esteem, which was probably why he seemed to hate me so.” “At the time, I didn’t quite understand, and maybe I don’t now. I always wanted them to be proud of me, but I could never do enough to please them and I guess I can accept that now ... it wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough, but that they just didn’t care. I would study until two in the morning to make the grade. I ran for student congress and made it. I practiced baseball all day long all summer in the beginning because it was what my dad loved and I wanted him to love me ... and I needed to escape. In high school, softball meant so much to me that I would have died for them to come to just one of my games. Just one.” “They never came to one banquet, one ceremony ... They never,” Joanna searched weakly for her words, “they never told me they were proud of me. Never showed me,” she shook her head sadly, “that they cared. I felt like a complete failure, especially when they split up and left without a word to the family. It hurt so bad then and I now ... I don’t want it to hurt. I don’t want it to mean anything. Even though I know I shouldn’t ... and I’m still ... so scared, Rod, and I don’t know how not to be.” Joanna could not keep the pain from her face. She wanted to know how Rod felt, but was unsure how to ask. She did not know how she would handle it if he did not understand—if he never wanted to see her again.

Chapter 6 Sitting silently beside Rod, Joanna stared at the grassy field of the golf course, not really seeing anything particular. “The divorce was just the end of a very long road, but their was something final, something harsh to it,” her voice was soft. “When mom and dad split up, I wanted it to be their fault, but I hadn’t been home to stop it, not that I could have—stopped it, I mean. I felt like the biggest failure. I couldn’t do anything right, for myself—but I guess that was in my eyes. I know it was and I told myself it was, but ...” “After college, I couldn’t go home. I told you that. I went around from job to job and did things like hiking ... that all together could amount to a time of self-search. And after Bethany ... after her death, I was alone in that old house and I couldn’t ... it was so hard. I wanted to hold onto the past. Hold onto her. And I couldn’t let go of the hurt my parents caused me. I ... I realized then that I couldn’t control how my parent’s felt, but that didn’t erase the hurt completely ... “I never thought about the divorce, because it wasn’t the issue. For awhile I blamed myself. I wasn’t there. I refused to go home. I never intended to go back. I must have I made myself not think about it ...” “It wasn’t your fault.” “I know that ... now,” Joanna turned and looked at Rod with a weak smile. “I’ve seen students at school ripped apart by their parent’s selfishness and I guess that’s helped me heal—being able to help and watch them start to heal.” “Are you okay?” Joanna swallowed back the tears and looked at him, “I am ... I think. Are you ...” she thought about her words carefully. “Are you okay with me?” Rod smiled tenderly and released her hand only to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. “Joanna,” his voice was soft, but self assured, “there’s nothing that you’ve told me that could make me care less or,” his lips brushed against the top of her head, “make me less proud of you. You triumphed. That’s what I like—you.” Relishing in his comfort, Joanna leaned close, his strong heart-beat beneath her left ear. For the moment she pushed all the doubts away. I could stay here forever ...

“I wish you didn’t live so far away,” he whispered after awhile and Joanna smiled, her cheek pressed gently against his chest, having already thought the same thing more than once. “I’ll be back next week,” she leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, “that is ... if you want me—” Rod squeezed her against him and she laughed in delight as he held her in a tight hug before he let her go. A smile, just slightly boyish enough to make Joanna’s heart skip a beat, appeared on his lips. “Want you to come?” He asked in a loud voice. “I think I might break my vow of staying away from Glendale and head back on a long vacation.” Joanna laughed, “I know I’m special if you’re that desperate.” “Don’t tempt me,” Rod whispered leaning close and kissing her nose lightly. “Who knows what I might do. You might find yourself kidnaped and swooped off to ... to Mongolia or some other far off place where we could hide out for the rest of our lives ... alone.” For a moment, Joanna took off in his silliness. “Mongolia, eh? Doesn’t sound like a half a bad idea,” she looked at him mischievously. “Sounds pretty good when I think about all my problems here. Maybe I should take the year off and go there to do some more soul-searching. Live like a hermit in the far back wilderness or something. That always appealed to me.” A place where her family would never tell her what to do, or object when she made decisions without consulting them. Now that was appealing. “I wouldn’t let you,” Rod argued fiercely, his eyes bright with a strange twinkling. “What have we been talking about? Running away from me won’t help anything—” “Oh really?” Joanna jumped up in a challenge, her eyes glittering, “I’ll race you back to the house. We’ll see what that does for your ego.” “Hey!” Rod called after her, glad to see that the sadness had worn itself away, “You’re leaving me to carry all this stuff back alone.” Rod chased after her, and beat her to the door by several seconds. They both leaned against the rough brick breathing heavily, before heading back to the gather their lunch materials. Halfway there Rod stopped and pulled her close, kissing her.

Saying goodbye to Rod when he left not an hour later was harder for Joanna than she had anticipated. Rod Kirkland had stormed back into her life, and this time the brunt of his full-throttle invasion was knocking her head over heals.

* * * The windows were dark, the faded curtains were still. Nothing waited to be picked off the porch. The door stuck a little, like always, when she turned the key in the knob. There was no one to open the door for her. The living room was just as clean as she had left it. There was no one there to mess up. For several years she had told herself to get a dog, but never really felt a desire to take care of one. Now she felt as if she needed something ... something to fill up the deadening quiet of the house. Something to fill up the desire to run back to Dallas. Before going to the phone to call Rod, she turned on her stereo and slipped in a CD. Her home felt less empty with the music playing ... and so did she ... but only slightly. Oh, Rod. What have you done to me? She heard her name called, then the footsteps on her porch. The door flew open unexpectedly. “Joanna!” Kelly Stark from next door stood in at the threshold, panic in her amber eyes. The 17 year old looked pale. “Joanna! You’ve got to come quick. Something’s wrong with mom.”

Chapter 7 “Is mama going to die?” Brittany asked as they rounded the last corner and the resolute hospital came into view. Kelly had ridden with the ambulance, leaving Joanna with her nine year old sister. The question made Joanna’s stomach hurt. She turned and looked at the girl with compassion, not knowing how to respond. The feelings were all warped within her, churned fast and angry. Margaret Stark was much more of a mother than her own.

Joanna took the little girl’s hand in her own. “You’re mother’s a strong lady, Brittany. I know that she has every intention of living through this.” Brittany nodded briefly, her eyes swinging to the hospital parking lot. Joanna prayed that whatever happened, the family would have the strength to survive. God, Father, I want you to heal their mother ... I don’t know what you see, but from this view things don’t look so good without Margaret Stark. Kelly was not as sedate as her younger sister. As soon as Joanna had talked to the doctor and called Helen to see if she could come for Brittany, Kelly cornered her in the ER waiting area. Her hands were ringing over each other in a nervous motion. Feeling a little weak, Kelly dropped down on the waiting room chair beside Joanna. Her eyes roamed until they landed on Brittany curled into a little ball at Joanna’s feet. “But I’m glad you were home. You had just gotten home?” “Yeah ... I’m glad I was home, too,” Joanna whispered, suddenly remembering Rod. After their long, heart opening talks from that afternoon, Rod had made her promise to call him. As much as she wanted to talk to him, she felt that Kelly needed her more. He was an adult, she reminded herself. He could deal with waiting and worrying a lot better. Kelly lowered her face into her hands for several minutes, pressing her palms against her tired cheeks. Her breathing was unsteady, but deep. Joanna dropped a reassuring hand on her tense back. Margaret Stark’s girls had been through so much in their lives. Meredith Grande, her oldest daughter by her first husband, was on her way. Meredith had not only lost her own father, but her step-father as well. Their mother was their family—their protector, friend and nurturer. Eventually, Helen arrived and Joanna walked with Kelly up to the ICU waiting area. Kelly paced, sat, flipped through magazines, and poured herself cups of complimentary coffee only to sit and stare fearfully at the dark liquid. They had been outside of ICU for over an hour before Kelly spoke again. She was sitting now, her eyes fastened on the hands that she held clamped together. Her voice was sad, filled with struggle and confusion. “I’ve heard you and mamma talking before. I know you want to believe there’s some Being out there who cares for us. I suppose you would say that it’s because of God—that you were home because God knew you needed to be.” “I think He knew that—” “Then why,” Kelly looked up with stormy eyes, “is He taking her away? She’s all

we’ve got!” “Kelly, honey,” Joanna tried to reason with her calmly, “the doctor said your mother is in stable condition. People can rehabilitate themselves—compete in normal life again.” Joseph Simpson didn’t ... Joanna pushed the doubt back for the sake of the girls before her. “God took my dad away—” “Kelly—” “Joanna, don’t you see? This God of yours doesn’t care about my family!” “Kelly—” Joanna felt helpless. “You can believe whatever you want. You can even say that He let it happen! I don’t care. Even you can’t argue about that!” She looked across the waiting room. “What are we going to do? Do you realize we would have paid off the mortgage next month or so? Mom was so excited! It has been all she’d talked about for the last year or so.” Tears appeared as they slowly rolled down her cheeks. She began to sob. She bent over and gave way to the tears, mourning her father and trying to deal with the fear of loosing her mother. Joanna tried to comfort her by drawing her closer, but she stayed silent, knowing that she had said all she could. Kelly pushed away and leaned back against the chair, her face a mixture of emotions. “Thank you,” she said softly to Joanna before turning her eyes away in near humiliation, “for not thinking I’m stupid.” “I would never think that,” Joanna’s her heart went out to the girl. “And if you need someone to talk to—ever, you can come to me. You’ve grown up my next door neighbor and my friend, sometimes more my family to me then my own has been,” Joanna said softly. “Don’t push me out because I’ve been your teacher.” Kelly did not respond. Instead she stood and walked over to the other side of the room to be alone and sort out her feelings.

* * * Sitting in the cramped, stuffy hospital phone booth, Joanna pulled Rod’s phone

number out of her purse. Nearly five long hours had passed since bidding him goodbye in Dallas. He would have been waiting for her call for over three hours. Right now she just longed to feel the strength of his arms, the gentle pressure of his chin when he rested it on her head, the strong steady beat of his heart. It was amazing how much of her senses had absorbed him. A single ring barely sounded when someone picked up. “Hello?” Rod’s voice, medicine for Joanna’s weary soul, sounded hopeful, his voice soothing the weary part of her soul as it reached out to her heart. She wondered what kind of thoughts he had been thinking. After all ... she had promised. “Hi.” “Forget to call?” Joanna nodded, almost to assure herself. She leaned her head wearily against the solid wall of the booth, shutting her eyes against the weariness, “No … just, all this stuff happened. I’m fine. I’m at the hospital—” “The hospital?!” “No! I mean—” Joanna responded to the alarm in his voice defensively and sat straight up, suddenly ridged. How stupid could she be? “I mean, I made it home safely, and this has absolutely nothing to do with me. Excepted that I am at the hospital, but not because I’m hurt,” she closed her eyes wearily and sighed. “I said it all wrong. I’m sorry. My neighbor had a stroke and I came with her daughters. I haven’t had a chance to call.” “No one but that non-talkative answering machine picked up at your house. You don’t know what’s been going through my head.” “I’m sorry. I wanted to call.” “Hey, it’s okay,” Rod tried to assure her. His voice soothed the ridged muscles of her shoulders enough that she was able to lean back against the booth again. “I just wish you weren’t two hours away from me. I figured you were fine ... but things are so new between us ...” Rod ... Joanna felt tears rise to her eyes as she stared through the glass at the white hospital walls and polished floors. She was not used to someone caring like Rod

was ... not used to that sound in his voice that made her feel like she, Joanna Berkley, was special. “Are you okay? Really okay?” Rod asked her again. “You sound tired.” “Exhausted,” Joanna admitted, leaning her had against the hard wood of the phone booth. “This day has been hard ... for me ... not physically—it’s not really that kind of tired. It’s emotional ... inner. Between what you’ve said and what I’ve said and thought, and the Starks, I just feel like collapsing.” “I bet.” “Rod, I ...” Joanna began hesitantly, unable to continue, lacking the words. Rod said nothing, waiting patiently for her to develop her thoughts. The static on the phone line was the only thing between them until she spoke again. “I ... I never really told anybody, about ... about what I told you this morning. I never needed too ... no one ever, I mean ... for someone who cares, or, at least seems—” “I understand, Joanna,” Rod tried to stop her, sympathetic to her tone. “Bethany tried to get me to see all of that years ago, even when I left Glendale that last time. Maybe I did see, in part, but the pieces didn’t fit until this morning. I couldn’t understand, for so long, how Jo Berkley could lack confidence when she accomplished everything she set out for.” Had he really thought her so confident, she wondered. That was what she had seen in him. “But, no matter what, don’t try to feel bad about talking to me. Not ever.” A soft sigh of frustration escaped Joanna’s small lips. “Not all the pieces fit, Rod. There are some things even I don’t understand.” She wrapped her fingers around the phone cord. Her eyes moved vacantly to the hallway that would take her back to the Starks. “I’m so mentally conquered right now and I have people who need me for at least another hour until their uncle gets here. Meredith has to be strong and she’s holding up for the moment, but she’s near breakdown and Kelly’s having a major war with God. I’m just thankful that Helen came for Brittany. Despite her tendency to try to mother me, she is a good mother and so good with children.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, Joanna pushed the hair away from her face and continued weakly. “I feel so inadequate here. I don’t know what to do—what to say. How can I help someone who cares so deeply about their mother when I’m so unsure about how I feel about my own—but,” she stopped herself from rambling, uncomfortable with the ease that she had betrayed her own privacy. A shiver ran

down her back and she shook herself slightly, “I can’t talk about it ... not now. You haven’t said a thing about your day.” “The beginning started out beautiful,” Rod replied, accepting her need to stop sharing her heart. Her problems would take awhile to heal, and was almost surprised to realize he was willing to wait ... almost surprised. Joanna was growing on him. Quickly. Rod told her about his meetings he’d had via a round of golf, part of a conversation with his mom, and even confessed his frustrations about work. Drained and in need of a friendly voice, Joanna talked to Rod for nearly thirty minutes and tried not to think about the bill on her calling card. His voice was so reassuring. It was nice to listen to someone else talk about work in some place other than Glendale. For years she had imagined herself with an accounting degree and working in a big sky scraper on the Dallas sky-line where Rod was now. Yet, God had different plans for her, and for that, Joanna was glad. As much as she wanted to live closer to Rod and as much as she missed him and needed him, people needed her in Glendale for the moment. The Starks presently, the countless girls that spent hot afternoons with her on the softball field, her family, her little league team ... Next summer, the reunion would be over, a year would have gone by. Would Rod still be there? Would he want to be around when she was dealing with bizarre problems in her life that might never be solved? Was she prepared to give even this much of herself, to give her private emotions to one man if he did not plan to be around for that long? Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. “... hey, listen,” Rod was urging, “I hope your kids win their game tomorrow.” Joanna laughed, a smile back on her face. “Well, if they don’t win, they’ll have fun loosing, I’m sure. They’re the greatest bunch of kids.” “They have to be, because they have the best coach I know.” Rod said without doubt. “I want to get down and see them play one day.” “You’re serious?” “Of course I’m serious. I can tell they mean a great deal to you.” “That would mean coming back to Glendale,” she teased.

“You’d be surprised at the lengths I’d be willing to try.” She felt her heart flutter, suddenly nervous. Her team was almost like family to her. Having Rod come was almost like having him meet mom and dad. “What about the Fourth of July?” she asked, figuring that there was a good chance for him to have already made plans. “We have a city wide tournament that afternoon and we might get to play more than once. It’ll be our last game.” “The Fourth? That sounds good, I think. We could go out for the picnic and concert at the park after the game, snuggle up later under the stars and watch the firework’s.” Rod suggested, working everything through his mind as he spoke. “They still have the firework’s show, don’t they?” “ If you can believe it, it’s actually gotten better.” “Than it’s a date,” Rod announced, feeling satisfied, telling himself that he would have to deal with hesitation later. “I can’t wait to see you coach.” Joanna felt herself smile, “I guess I need to be getting back to those kids. “I do feel a little responsible for them since they grew up next door, like they’re the little siblings—the sisters I never had.” “I’ll be praying for you, Joanna,” Rod told her, “for all of you. Please don’t forget that.”

Chapter 8 Chad Johnson pulled his company van alongside the curb in front of the Berkley house. It was hard for him to separate the place as it was now with the house it had been when her parents had lived there. He saw the shadows on the two year-old paint job, the rusted screen door that was long gone, and the overgrown lawn in spite of the patiently trimmed yard. For a moment he let himself remember . . . eating cookies on the front porch, laughing over high school days, watching the neighborhood interact with the quiet world. Had he really picked Bethany up from this spot after short time she had stayed with Joanna when Ann Berkley disappeared? Had they really been married for three years at that point?

Sometimes Bethany and their son felt so far away, but not today. Not after he had spent hours going through her things for the reunion. Not with him sitting, a widower, in his van, thinking about the sweet blond who had attracted him so easily his junior, her freshman year in high school. Had they really been married for four years before she was killed in a car wreck? Had it been five years since her death? Sometimes it felt like a day, sometimes a millennium. Chad gathered the box of memories from the passenger's seat and carried it to Joanna's front door. He knew the memories would be hard on her, just as they had been on him, but they both needed the healing time. “Here's the stuff,” Chad muttered, unable to call the contents by name. Joanna nodded and took the box, putting it on the living room coffee table. She didn’t have to look in the box—she knew about everything Bethany had owned. All of her yearbooks were signed by nearly everyone in the school. Her queen's sash, her pictures, her scrapbooks—everything that had been Bethany at Glendale High School. “Have you been over to Meredith's yet?” Joanna asked, trying to lower the tension that always popped up between them. Chad shook his head, “I wanted to get rid of that first.” Unconsciously, Joanna looked back to the box, almost afraid of it. “I’ll walk you over,” she managed, “Maybe I can talk to her and get her to slow down enough for you to get a look around—she’s been running the past week. She got in from Dallas this morning and plans on heading back tonight.” Joanna went for her keys, leaving Chad alone in the living room. He resisted the urge to look around, to remember. The house was simpler, cleaner now then it had been. It smelled of rose petals. The stacks of papers were gone. Laundry no longer littered the floor. And he could see Bethany, stretched out on the faux oriental rug, her hands folded over her stomach as she laughed at whatever Joanna had said. He was relieved when Joanna led the way out. “How’s the family? The Starks?” “Better than I thought. Meredith’s going to be able to move here and work.” “Wish Rod was so lucky?” Joanna grimaced a little at how news spread around town. “As of right now, it’s too soon to say. You know how things tended to get between us.”

“But from all reports, things are going well between you two.” Looking away from him, Joanna was still unable to hide the blush. “Bethany would have been excited.” “Bethany would—” Joanna cut herself off, not willing to mention her best friend's name, not when they both were hurting. “She always was.” They crossed the yard silently. The Stark's house was as old as her own, Joanna thought, but time had not been as unforgiving. The brown shutters needed to be replaced, much like her own, but they hung in neat, vertical lines along the windows. The house was framed in flowers, neatly weeded under Margaret’s long term care. The house seemed dark, not wrapped on the outside with smiles and laughter. Brittany could not be heard in the back yard playing with the softball set Joanna had given her several months ago. Kelly was not in sight with her teenage friends. Meredith's sleek sport's car was in the driveway, but seemed out of place. It was out of place. As out of place as she’d been in Rod’s world. What made her think he would fit in here now. The door opened as they came up the walkway. “I saw you coming across the yard,” Meredith stated a little too brightly as her green eyes swung to meet Chad’s. He remembered her now—had visited Joanna enough to meet her neighbors. She was older now, the girlish sweetness melted into womanhood. He saw the slight surprise in her eyes of recognition and of pity. “The electrician, right?” “Right,” Chad replied, fighting back the annoyance. She had no right to pity him—not when she was obviously unbalanced herself. No more than five foot two in height and looking white next to Joanna's tanned skin, her smile bright enough to surprise him. She was already working, an extension cord draped around her neck, a printer cable coiled in her hand. “Chad Johnson,” he stuck out his hand. “You must be Meredith.” “Yeah,” Meredith led them inside, unaware of how Chad watched her. “I’m so glad you could come over, Mr. Johnson. The circutry in the house is alumninum as has been blinking in and out for awhile. Mom’s been talking about getting it fixed for quite sometime. I'd like for you to give me a price range on fix up, just in case we decide to sell. It’ll take a miracle to sell this place as it is,” her eyes were professional and business-like as she stood in the middle of the aging living room, her feelings coiled into a tight ball of agony. Nothing had prepared her for her

mother's stroke. Nothing. She shook it off, afraid if she thought about it too much she might crumple. “The problem I'm having right now is in the kitchen, where I'm set up to work. I need something done so I can work with my fax, computer and light board in the same area, but the circuits keep blowing out. I would like to have it ready so I can get back to work when mom comes.” “Your mom’s coming home?” Joanna stood across from Meredith, seeing the weariness Chad had missed. “By the end of the week,” Meredith took a deep breath, remembering her mother and how different she’d seemed—and told herself that she was just stressed. “The therapists are already teaching her the exercises that she’ll need to work on. It’ll be important for me to be able to work here as much as possible and nothing here has the strength to handle modern technology—or this quantity of it.” “How permanent are we looking at?” Chad asked, sizing up the problem. “Fairly permanent,” Meredith replied, turning to look at him. “Mom's not going to be able to live by herself for at least a year and Kelly's graduating this year. I don't think I can move them. Not yet.” “The estimate will take a day or so, but I can fix the one circuit today, I think. I'll look it over real quick and tell you for sure.” Chad headed out the open door to get his tools and a temporary serge protector. Meredith shut her eyes against the fatigue. It was easy to relax with Joanna. “I don't know what I'm going to do.” “You'll be fine. You always are. How’s your mom?” Meredith shrugged, her eyes studying the thinning carpet underneath her. “It depends on what you mean,” she looked around at everything, as if searching for something and not finding it. “She's not my mother anymore. The doctor said everything was fine medically. Some damage happened in her cerebellum, but they're not sure the extent, yet. She can walk, talk like a good patient, but she can't really smile, she’s no longer graceful,” a small tear slid down her cheek, “she can't encourage because she sees no encouragement in herself.” When Chad came back in, he went to the kitchen on his own, leaving Meredith and Joanna to talk alone. They sat down on the shaggy, sagging sofa. “Where is everybody?” “Kelly went downtown and took Britt with her. They need to get some things done

before we head back tonight. I’m taking Britt with us this time. The doctor cleared her in yesterday to see mom. It’s time. I don’t think she believes us when we tell her that mom’s alive.” “How is Kelly?” “She’s . . . dealing with things . . . we’re just not dealing with them in the same way,” Meredith admitted, turning the golden ring she wore on her right hand. It had been her mother’s wedding ring to her father—one of the many things that separated her from her sisters. “We had a huge fight last night.” “What about your mother?” Joanna asked, recognizing her life as the key. “What are the chances of her being the same again?” “The doctor’s optimistic. The stroke was mild, but if we're careful, change her diet, she should recover quickly. The therapy is going to cost us an arm and a leg, but we'll be okay.”

* * * The plug Meredith had been using was fairly easy to find. It was the one closest to the phone line, where she had hooked up a triple receiver for the fax, modem and phone. The plug beside it was equipped with a store bought serge protector, but had been blown so many times the circuits were ragged and burnt. Chad frowned at the obvious fire hazard, and looked at the wall as if he could see through it to the circuits beyond. He knew what it would take to fix it and wondered if Meredith was prepared for the full extent of the damage. Circuits blowing was a bad sign for aluminum wiring. Kneeling before the circuitry, Chad worked diligently for over half an hour before he heard the voice behind him, “How's it going?” Chad turned and met Meredith's Irish green eyes and smiled. “Almost done. I won't finish tonight, but I’ll hook up a temporary protector on another plug so you can get some work done. Just try not to burn all your candles at the same time.” “I’ll try to restrain myself,” was all the brunette said before walking to her light board and starting to work. They sat in companionable silence for a good part of the next few minutes before the phone rang right by Chad's ear. Having seen him jump, she hid her smile as she walked over to answer the phone. As she stood above him, Chad could not help but marvel at her perfume and smell—so exotic, was all he could think.

“. . . no, I'm sorry,” Meredith was saying to the person on the other side of the telephone line. “I guess you're number slipped, Mr. Montgomery. I tried to call . . . well, it might have been. Yes, I do believe I left you a message. Mom had a stroke. She won't be able to work for some time . . .” Chad watched as the tears he had been looking for welled up in Meredith's eyes, but he heard none of it when she spoke. “No, no, it really wasn't bad. We just have to be careful. Yes, sir . . . . Thank you. . . . Thank you . . . . Goodbye.” Hanging the phone in it's cradle, Meredith turned away from Chad's concerned eyes. He watched her shoulders shake, but she made no sound. Feeling a depth of compassion that he told himself he should not feel, Chad stood and went to her side. He placed his big, calloused hands on her thin shoulders and gently turned her to face him. The eyes of a little lost puppy looked up at him. The tears were still huddled in the lids, waiting for the moment of release when they would flow down. They watched each other, unable to do much else. Meredith was drawn to this man . . . this man, arms so strong that she imagined he could easily soak her problems and fears up in his comfort, eyes so compassionate, hands that swallowed her arms where he still gently held her. Chad felt simply mesmerized, if a feeling could be so simple. Wide, green eyes looked up at him, unconscientiously imploring him to comfort her. And because he needed too, because he had a hard time finding a reason not to hold her, he turned away, the same excuse he had used for years dominating his choices. He was not ready to get close to someone. He’d had a wife. He’d had a son. Meredith felt his discomfort and was ashamed. He was a near stranger, the widow of one of the most giving women she could ever remember . . . and she had been willing to throw herself at him. Where was her control? Though the feelings had been mutual, Chad watched Meredith as she went back to her light board, but he remained silent. He hated that she was blaming herself, hating himself at the same time for being so attracted . . . so electrified by her one look . . . her need.

Chapter 9 The evening sky was shedding it's light when Joanna pulled into her driveway at seven thirty. Her little league practice had gone well, but the kids were just a little too excited and noisy. She closed her eyes, weary, but not tired. She smiled as she thought of taking a long, hot bath . . . a relaxing bath with the sweet fragrance of rose petal scented bubble bath Jan had sent her. Even more relaxing was the thought of listening to Rod's deep voice later that night. She would curl up in the fresh sheets she had washed that morning and just relax, listening and laughing with someone she knew cared for her. Joanna climbed out of the truck and carried the softball equipment into the garage before going to the mail box. She started to hum softly as she flipped through the mail, nearly skipping as she walked toward the house. Mostly bills and a letter from a friend waited for her to open . . . the bills did not even bother her . . . . . . until she was in her home and opening the second one. Her eyes skimmed down and stopped in the middle. Cold. The house payment had risen one hundred and seventy-five dollars a month. Joanna could not believe her eyes and looked through the papers for a reason or . . . a mistake. No, the mistake had been in property taxes. New homes had been built all around them. Forgetting the song she was humming, the rose petal scented bubble bath, Rod . . . Joanna went to her desk and pulled out all her books and papers. She still had an expensive softball conference to attend the next week, and her budget was already tight. If she put money aside for the house, where would the rest come from? One by one Joanna began to look through her meticulous notations, writing out her bills in the order of their importance, leaving only the bare minimum to cover the meals in Denver. She wrote out her tithe check first and faithfully, knowing that would have to be taken out above everything else. Slowly she covered all the bills, from electricity, to water and then the house payment, frowning over the receipt from the repairs to her truck. Near tears, Joanna looked over her careful calculations, feeling her heart falter. She had always budgeted so well . . . the extra two hundred dollars normally reserved for groceries and occasional entertainment costs should not have stripped her away to $13.56 . . . $13.56 that had to last her until the 15 of July . . . there was no way that even the full $13.56 would get her to Dallas.

Joanna had survived before on near nothing, and her brothers would give her money if she was starving . . . even Matt. But, Steven couldn't afford to pay for her pleasure trips. Helen stayed home with the boys and tutored for extra money, but their budget tight. Her only alternative was her oldest brother, and while Matt would give her money for groceries, he would never waste money on what amounted to a trip into Dallas. Not when it was Rod Kirkland she wanted to see. There would be no way she could go to Dallas and see Rod on Thursday. Joanna did begin to cry then, not out of helplessness, but out of not knowing how to tell Rod. Even knowing how painful her father’s pride had been, she still felt her own rise. She could not take Rod’s charity, if he wanted to give it. She could not take his judgement either, if he chose to share it. She did not want his advice or his pity. She made the payments on the home because it was her childhood home. How many times had she wished to move into a small apartment? How many times had she wanted to leave Glendale, but had been stuck because of the left over debts her parents owed? Part of her argued that Thomas and Ann Berkley were the ones who needed to pay, but no one knew where they were. Another part of her wished Matt would help out with the bills . . . Steven did when he could . . . but she footed most of them. Why? Because the others had a family to support? Because she had been the one away from home when everything had gone wrong. It’s not your fault. She remembered her earlier conversation with Rod. Where did her responsibility to her family lay now? Not to her parents, but to Steven and Jeff and Matt? They’d missed out on the good part of family. But they had a home. They had a home that the three of them had grown up in, a home life they had survived. Joanna left her desk feeling helpless and went to her bedroom. The tears came slowly, sliding out one by one. The hurt returned like it always did. Joanna began to sob into her pillow. Oh, Father, she cried out, I need Your strength. I don't know how to tell Rod I can't come. I don't want him to know about the money problem . . . Show me what to do, oh, please Father, show me what to do . . . . Joanna mentally worked through the problems and figures for a long time, coming

up with no answers . . . no solutions. She would have to go to the bank tomorrow and talk it out with them. They had been so reasonable before. Why had they raised the payments twice in the last year? It wasn’t her parent’s credit she was leaning on, but her own. The thought of spending the next day at the bank, in a stuffy office, did not make Joanna feel any better about the situation. When the phone rang at nine, she was in bed, without the long bubble bath she had planned. She curled up in the covers and tried to relax. “Hello,” she said, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. “Hi,” Rod's voice was so deep and rich. Joanna suddenly desired to spill the whole mess out to him, but held her tongue. “How are you?” “Fine,” she told him, carefully stepping around the emotions she was harboring. “How did the meeting go today with that client of yours?” “Fairly well—really well, I guess. It's just been a long day.” “I won't keep you up, then.” “Are you kidding?” Rod said with a laugh. “You’re not about to hang up on me when I've been looking forward to this call all day. Knowing I'd get to hear you're voice—make sure you're really okay—kept me going.” “You need some sleep,” she advised him. “Maybe,” Rod told her seriously, “but I need you more. Sleep may help, but you would help more. Just talk to me.” “I'll hop on the next bus to Dallas,” Joanna teased. “I'll send you a ticket if you're that ready,” Rod encouraged with a small laugh, but Joanna was getting nervous again. “How 'bout we hop on that plane to Mongolia? I'm sure ready for a break.” “A break sounds good. Why don't we both just drop every commitment we have tomorrow and spend the day together?” In spite of herself, Joanna laughed. “We're in the real world now, Rod. We have to act grown up and mature.” “Fun still sounds better.”

“Chocolate sounds good, but that doesn't mean I can eat it.” “Still allergic?” Rod said as if he was surprised, his boyish voice traveling as a comfort over the long distance line. “Highly reactive,” Joanna replied, “about as reactive as the A-bomb.” “I guess I'll take that triple chocolate cake back to the store,” Rod teased, “or eat it before you get here.” “I'm not to sure that's good for you.” “Maybe not,” Rod told her, the serious man returning to the conversation. “But you are. I'd rather have you than an A-bomb.” Joanna laughed. “We'll you'd be a blimp and I'd be an A bomb. Both were used in world wars. We'd be a great team.” “We already are,” Rod said softly. “Who would have thought that we'd ever get together?” Part of me wished, Joanna reminded herself. Doesn't that count? “Half the school.” “Really?” “Yeah,” Joanna reminded him and thought of her conversation with Chad. “Maybe there's something romantic in the attractive male president falling head over heals with the popular female VP. People would ask me all the time if we were dating and I'd say no. Most of them thought we'd make a cool couple.” Rod chuckled, his deep voice resounding in a soft ballad. “I'd have to agree with them now. I think we make a cool couple.” Joanna could almost picture his face, centralized by that boyish grin she was learning to love. “Did you ever think that . . . before now, I mean?” Joanna hated to admit it, but he read right into her hesitation. When he spoke, his voice was full of something . . . not humor . . .was it . . . regret? “Did you have a crush on me?” “Oh, come on, Rod! Every girl in the school had a crush on you,” Joanna said defensively, “especially the girls that really knew you. You were an awesome Christian guy, good looking, money to spend, a car, successful . . . dating Sarah Fairchild sometimes . . . “

”I was human Joanna,” Rod urged, his voice taking on a defensive tone. “I wasn't all that great . . . remember?” Joanna did not want to reply. As much as she wanted to forget, she did remember his words . . . no one will ever love you . . . and all the while she had a crush on him then. He had been full of so much confidence . . . how could she not? He was the strength of metal, she was the magnet. Knowing that Joanna was not going to answer, Rod dropped the subject. He realized, maybe then for the first time, that he had hurt her in high school more than he had known. Instead, he tried to imagine her there with him, holding her hand, the past forgotten, the present wide open for them to explore and share. The urge to see her returned. “Say, what's keeping you from coming up tomorrow? I know you had practice today, but let's say you get here a day early. I’ll minimize my appointments.” “I'm sure,” Joanna replied, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. “I miss you.” “I miss you, too,” she batted back. “I think Steven needs the car for tomorrow.” “Well, you could ask him,” Rod tried again, but Joanna shook her head. She could not give in. While Steven had been a youth intern for Rod's grandfather, the two teenage boys had grown to know and admire each other fairly well. She knew Rod realized Steven would trade the truck easily, especially if it meant Rod and Joanna would get together. It just wasn’t the car that was the problem. It was the gas. No gas, no trip . . . . “I have to go to the bank,” Joanna tried again, her voice shaking. No matter what, she did not want to lie to him. “What's wrong?” Joanna's stomach turned over. Rod knew, as she did, that even a long line at the bank would not keep her in Glendale. She could hear the concern in his voice. Oh, Joanna, why did you give him an excuse that sounds so lame? “What do you mean? What's wrong? I have an appointment at the bank.” “You could leave after . . . or change it. I’m getting the feeling that you’re hiding something.”

“Look, Rod,” Joanna replied a bit too defensively. “I just can't drop and give you five whenever you feel like it. I happen to have a life too.” “I realize that, Joanna. Look, I just wanted to see you.” “Well, I want to see you too, but I'm not about to let go of the things I’ve built for myself here when the mighty Rod Kirkland sounds his alarm. We had planned on Thursday,” Joanna reminded, “why can't we just keep it at that? Or just ... wait.” “Wait? Now wait a second. I wasn't the one who got so touchy. It was just a suggestion. It’s not like we see each other often as it is,” he sighed, and Joanna knew he was frustrated. After all, he was the one in the dark. “We can keep it at Thursday, I just wish I knew why you were so defensive.” “There's nothing wrong.” “Then you're fine,” Rod said slowly. “There's nothing going on. You're not in any kind of trouble, like,” he stopped for a moment, his mind reeling, “financial trouble?” Joanna hoped he did not hear her shocked intake of breath. “You said you had an appointment at the bank,” Rod suggested again. “Is something wrong?” Not able to kept from trembling, Joanna swallowed the lump in her throat. “No,” she told him, hating the amount of tension in her voice. “Why would you say that?” “Because it's the only thing I can come up with,” Rod sounded tired. He didn’t want to argue with her, but she was making it hard to step back. He could almost feel her pushing him away. “Do you need some money? I can give—” “I don't need any money.” “Let me help, Joanna. I’ve got a good job. It’s not like I don’t have the money.” “No! I don’t care about your money! I have never cared about your money,” Joanna could not stop the fear from rising. “It's not your problem!” “What problem? Is it the house, Joanna? Does something need to be replaced—” “I'd stop while—” “Joanna, how many times are we going to go over this? It's not your fault. You don't owe anyone anything! Your family needs to be helping more than with a-once-a-month casserole.” Rod's anger flowed. He was not thinking clearly. “You told mom you wanted to move. Why don't you? The memories—”

“Stay out of it, Rod,” Joanna warned, just as frustrated with his mother at that moment for sharing their private conversation as she was angry at him. “Stay out! It's not your family. It's not your decision! It's not you're problem.” “If that's the way you want it,” Rod replied in anger, “then I guess I’d better let you go.” “I guess so,” her own words startled her, but she realized it was for the best as the click announced the disconnection. She knew he objected to her paying so much of the bills. Doug had objected too, she reminded herself . . . but this was somehow different. Doug hadn't seen the point, Rod was concerned for her. Tears, large, and full of hurt slid down her cheek. Joanna tried to replace the phone back in the receiver, but it rocked and dropped to the floor. She turned her face into her recently washed pillow and sobbed herself into sleep, wishing with all her heart that Rod would call her back. If only she had known the receiver lay on the floor, not in the safety of its cradle. Not ten minutes later Rod called back . . . only to receive a busy signal. In the lonesomeness of his apartment, Rod, weak and weary, turned Joanna and their relationship up to God . . . . Only God could reach down and pull them in His strong embrace. Rod knew Joanna needed comfort then. If she would not accept him, then he prayed God would accept her. A cross, conquered, was Rod's assurance.

Chapter 10 Chad stretched his tired muscles, his long arms pressing up, pulling at his lower back. He sat alone in his office, a small, cluttered room at the back of his shop. His desk was littered with papers, busy work he was trying to plow his way through, cords were draped over chairs, other trade tools gathering dust on the floor. He had enough to do without a certain sprite of a woman dogging his every thought. He saw her smiling, welcoming him in. Laughing when the phone rang . . . then holding back the tears, wanting to be so brave.

Reaching into his top desk drawer, Chad pulled out an old frame. It had only been a year since he had been able to take the picture from his desk. Only a year since he had let himself let go even a little. The photograph was of Bethany and their son, taken just after his one month birthday. His throat ached as he looked at them, making himself remember the moments that had haunted him for five years now. Of getting the call, going to the hospital. Coming home to that house alone. Where they had brought their son. Where they had watched him grow, falling in love with him in every moment. And his mother. . . Beth had been the most beautiful woman he had ever known. Her smile . . . it had been her smile that had caught his attention in high school. She had been walking down the hall, talking to someone . . . and she turned, caught his eye, and smiled. Her blond hair had been like a halo around her face, her eyes so open and loving. She had been beautiful. She had been everything. Chad made himself put the picture away, tried to focus on business, but it was Meredith that captured his attention. Unless he forced himself to think of Beth, there was only one person’s business he seemed to care about. And it didn’t seem to be his own. The bells of the front door finally chimed and Chad rose from his desk wearily. It was almost closing time. He figured a nice long evening sitting in his favorite chair would make him feel much better. Or there were other things, he thought as he saw who entered the shop. "Hi," Chad noticed the tired circles under her eyes that had appeared since he had last seen her. He wondered how tough it was with her mother home from the hospital—tried not to let the possibilities bother him, "What can I do for you?" "I got your message yesterday and thought about it," her eyes were sad and he knew that she had come because she had run out of options, "I think it would be a good idea if we went rewired the house. Now." Chad only nodded. "We'd be happy to do the job." Practical, she reminded herself. She had to be practical. "I know you would, and figured as much, but the only funds coming in are mine, and I won’t touch Britt and Kelly’s social security checks. I have more than enough for a single woman, but for all this is . . ." Turning away, Meredith tried to shrug off the tension.

For the second time since they met, Chad reached out and turned her to face him. Maybe he had no right to touch her, but he was helpless in her grief. He saw the strain and the longing. It was the longing that made him drop his hands, step back. He did not want to be the answer to such need. It was his turn to be practical. "We have several different payment plans, so we should be able to work out something. I could go over them with you. Help you find one to fit your needs." Meredith's unsteady eyes met his. "Now?" It was closing time, Chad knew without looking at his watch. He could ask her to come back tomorrow and he could go home, relax, and work on keeping her out of his mind. Or he could do something about the weariness he knew she could not hide. Give her a break from the situation that was draining her.

The little restaurant across the street from Chad’s shop looked like so many of the buildings located in small Texas towns. Brick, built two stories high with plain windows and a flat roof. It appeared as old and sad as the rest of the town, but that was part of the charm. The inside had been transformed. It was warm and decorated in pale peaches, ivory and white. Candles, individually lit on each table, were the only light in the room. Soft piano music played from the overhead speakers. The hostess led them to a table near the back and left them to look over the menu. Chad liked the way Meredith relaxed as she took the atmosphere in. "I've never been in here before." "You haven't?" Chad replied in surprise. The Cafe was old hat for most of Glendale. "This place has been around for nearly two years." A soft blush appeared on Meredith's round cheeks. "I don't get home much," was all she said. "I don't come here often." “I didn’t picture this as your type of place.” “No,” he agreed, and if he had of been thinking of himself, he would not be here, “but there was a time that someone taught me about the finer things in life.”

Meredith nodded, knowing he was talking about Bethany, knowing her feelings were intruding onto where Bethany’s had once been exclusive. She lifted her menu and glanced down, forcing herself to concentrate on her own hunger. She had skipped lunch in hopes of working on some of the ads she had been assigned. The ideas were still rolling through her mind, making her fingers itch for her pencils. If only she had the time to work. Meredith looked over at Chad, watching him and wondering if she was the one making him so unhappy. There were moments when she saw him look at her with an intensity that caused her insides to quiver. And others times it was almost as if he was wearing a sign that told her to stay away. If only she knew how he felt, or understood what she felt. When he touched her, both times, Meredith had felt something like electricity, as if he absorbed it when he was working and it came out of him when he touched her. She hoped he felt it too. She really had no intention of getting involved with anyone, but Chad just broke down the resolve. Meredith had a good job, a family to take care of, a mother who needed her . . . and when things settled, a life of her own in the Metroplex. Chad was older, owned a business and had a life of his own. From just growing up in Glendale and being just a middle school ked when Bethany was a senior and a neighbor to Bethany’s best friend, she knew what kind of woman he had been married to before. She also knew he had a rough time after Bethany's death, knew how special Bethany had been to everyone. They ordered and ate on separate tickets. Chad showed her the forms and explained them to her. She had been working on her mother's checkbook earlier and knew what she did not have, but she had three projects coming up that promised to bring in enough money. "Can I think about it tonight?" Meredith asked as they walked back across the street to their separate cars. It was hard to commit to tying up her money for the next year. "Sure. Take as long as you need." "I'll be by in the morning."

Chad looked down at her and smiled. Pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, in a completely male gesture, he took out a business card and a pen that was really too big for the shabby leather case. He wrote on it and handed it too her. "Give me a call if you have any questions," he told her, "or need anything. At anytime.” Meredith was on the verge of asking him why when she saw the look in his eyes. She had seen it before . . . . Chad pulled her into his arms and held her. He did not kiss her, or make any other move toward her. She relaxed, not really sure why, listening to his steady heart beat. "See you, Meredith," he said as he released her. "Remember, if you need anything, give me a call." Meredith nodded, more out of shock than agreement. She climbed in her car and he waited for her to start it and pull away before he went to his van. Only when she was half-way home did she look at the business card in her hand. "Johnson Electricity," the front read, and the back . . . . A small smile appeared on her lips. The back said, "I mean it. Anything. Even hugs. I specialize in those." His number was written plainly, but she doubted she would ever call him. He was a man with a kind heart, but wondered if it had room enough for her, her family, her mother, their troubles. Besides, she was a city girl now. She needed to remember that.

Chapter 11 Rod tossed his phone on the sofa in frustration, half of himself wishing that modern times and the cordless phone had not taken away the stress reliever of slamming the phone down. He leaned over and buried his face in his hands, feeling utterly helpless. Since the argument on Tuesday, he had not been able to reach Joanna. Her answering machine would not even pick up. Now it was Friday. He had half hoped she would come to see him on Thursday, but she had not. Now that he thought about it, his reasoning had been absurd. Joanna had so little confidence in their

relationship. She would not come see him unless she knew for sure that he wanted her too. Rod wanted her too. He wanted to see her more than he had ever wanted to see anyone. He feared that she would never want to see him again, never want him to hold her again, to laugh and talk with her. He still worried about her paying all those bills, about her living in a house that had so many bad memories for her, but having her mad at him was no way for him to help. He wanted to talk to her, hold her and take the chance to make it up to her. Rod remembered that she had mentioned a softball conference at some point . . . he was pretty sure it was the week of the Forth of July. He had to get in touch with her before then. They had plans for the Forth. He planned to keep them. If she didn’t answer . . . he’s go to Glendale tomorrow without talking to her on the phone. Rod reached over and picked the phone up and stared at it. Answer, he muttered, dialing her number one more time.

The plane slowly pulled down the runway on Saturday morning. Joanna leaned back in her seat and relaxed. She loved the feel that flying brought, soaring high above everything to some new place far away. She traveled so little that she relished even the shortest flights. And yet . . . she glanced at the shrinking city and wondered where Rod was, what he was doing . . . and if he missed her as much as she missed him. Joanna fought the image of Rod that bore itself into her consciousness. She had been fighting the feeling of loss for three days now . . . 72 hours . . . over four thousand minutes. By retreating to Steven's, Joanna knew she had been running away, but being alone in the empty home had not been appealing to her at all. On Wednesday morning she had found the phone on the floor and realized that he could have tried to call her back, but she doubted him doing so. What would he want to do with her? What had she done for him? When he did not call her by the time she left on Thursday, Joanna doubted there was any hope. Part of her had wanted to go to Dallas as planned, postponing what ever bill she could, but she never got the courage to do so. She missed him so badly. She wanted to know how he felt. Was he still angry?

Worse than anything, Joanna no longer had the security that she was supposed to pay the bills. It did anger her that Matt did not help her with regular donations. She had always forked out the money. No one had ever questioned the fact, simply for her sake, that her money went into a house that was too large for her . . . and was filled with more bad memories then good. If I could only talk to Rod . . . . She wanted to call him, but had not known what to say. That he was right and she was wrong? She couldn’t believe that. How long had Rod Kirkland been back in her life? Three weeks? Only three weeks . . . it seemed like so much longer. Joanna frowned. It was hard to feel so angry with him when she missed him so much. What if she called him and he turned her away? When Steven had driven her to Dallas-Fort Worth International so that she could catch her plane, she had been able to pick out the area where Rod's apartment complex was from the Interstate. The thought of asking Steven to turn off at the exit and take her to Rod had been almost overwhelming, but she had kept quiet. A small tear slid down Joanna's cheek and she turned her head away from the window and the disappearing Dallas landscape. She could not forget his gentleness, the way he had held her that morning, only a week ago, tenderly soothing away the pain. She could not forget his strong voice as he read her Psalms so meekly. She could not forget the way he had rescued her from the gas station and gentled her and her fears since then. She could not forget his eyes . . . so very tender.

Chad began to pace again. He looked around his sparse apartment. He had rented the two room apartment since he sold the house he had owned with Bethany. For a long time this place had only been a place to sleep. Ever since meeting Meredith, the simple furnishings seemed bleak. He’d even thought about asking her to paint something for him to hang. It was hard for him to admit, but he needed to hear her voice. He had not been in that morning when she had come by and signed the papers, and the disappointment surprised him. He was no longer a seventeen year old school-boy. He knew the joy of love as well as the pain of loss.

He shook off the memories, the pain that still rose up like bile. Now he had a life of his own ... ... and he could not help but wish Meredith in. "I'll call her," Chad said aloud, only his old basset hound, Boomer, there to hear. The shaggy, but loyal friend only lifted his lazy eyes in surprise. Chad found his phone from underneath a stack of shirts he needed to iron and dialed Meredith's number without having to look at the slip of paper he had written it on. How many times had he looked at it already? How many times had he tried to think of a reason to call her? A voice that could only be Brittany's answered. It reminded him that Meredith had a life, and her own troubles too. Chad smiled, already coming to adore the little girl. "Can I speak to Meredith?" "Hold on," the twelve year old said and Chad heard Meredith's name screamed through the house. He heard a muffled voice and Brittany answered with, "I don't know." "Hello?" Her voice sounded good to Chad's ears. "Meredith. Chad Johnson. I was wondering, well Joanna kind of mentioned that you were asking her about churches around here—" "It's been awhile since I've been home," Meredith told him frankly. “I miss my church, and I want to get my sisters involved somewhere." "I know Joanna suggested a few," Chad began slowly, "but I wanted to ... well, I wanted to know if you'd like to come with me ... tomorrow... to the church we, I mean Joanna and I go to. It—" he stopped short, realizing that he was rambling. "Would you like to go ... or come ... with me?" Meredith looked over at Brittany, wanting to get her family back into church. How long had it been since they had gone as a family? "If you'll come for Sunday lunch." Chad smiled, "That would be good—" "I would like Britt to come with me," Meredith broke in. "Mom can't come right now ... and Kelly ... Kelly promised to stay home with mom."

Chad picked up on the underlying control in her voice, but refrained from commenting. "I'll pick you up at nine?" Meredith smiled, her heart beating just a little bit faster at the thought of seeing Chad again. "That sounds great," she told him. Really great.

Chapter 12 Seated at her mother’s old oak dining table, Meredith stared at the clock and watched as the second hand slowly ticked by. Chad was coming by at seven to pick her up. They were supposed to have their first official date. She wished she could work herself up to be excited about it. The last week had been tough. She had thought things would be better when her mother was resting at home, but everything only escalated. Meredith was tired, her energy torn between her mother, her sisters and her job. Nothing ever seemed to be completed. There was a stack of dirty dishes in the sink. A load of wash from two days ago still in the washing machine. She had a garbage bag of futile attempts of working. And there was a sharp throbbing in her head that never ceased. Kelly was in a bad mood—they had not had a real conversation in days—and Brittany ... well, Brittany went from over compensating for their mother’s lack of conversations and vitality, to dropping into a deep and sad silence. Minutes ago, standing in the entryway between the living room and kitchen, watching Brittany and her mother play a game of checkers, Meredith had let the helpless feelings overwhelm her. The weakness she saw in her mother was so foreign. “You’re quiet,” Chad’s voice brought her back from her thoughts. She looked up in surprise to find him standing in the middle of the kitchen. His large frame seemed to fill what she once had thought of as a large kitchen. “You look tired.” She was feeling much better, she realized, now that he was here. “Just thinking. I didn’t hear you come in.” “Brittany came to the door as I was coming up the steps,” his look told her he was

worried. “Your mother and I had a good conversation. She seems to have regained some of her articulation.” How would you know? Meredith almost asked, but held her tongue. “How long have you been here?” Chad shrugged as he folded his large frame into the chair just around the table from her. “Not more than five minutes.” He reached out and took one of her hands and held it within his. Only then did she realize that she had been rubbing her hands together. Anxious, he thought. “Did you have a busy day?” she asked. “Very,” he squeezed her hand lightly. “I don’t think I need to ask you that. What is the doctor saying?” Meredith shrugged, but found the courage to look at him as the pain lodged in her throat. “Not much of anything, I suppose. She’s stable, looking fine, progressingly better ...” she shook her head sadly, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do if ... .” “Come here,” Chad stood, and with the hand he already held, gently pulled her out of her chair and into his arms. As the second hand ticked slowly by, he just held on as one tear after another ran down her cheek. She surprised him when she pushed back, disconnecting herself with him. “Chad, I can’t—” He reached out and took her face in between his large hands. “Yes, you can.” He dropped a soft kiss on her nose and then leaned back just enough so she could look in his eyes. Trust me, he begged, let me be here for you. Gingerly, as if afraid touching him would prove deadly, she reached up and touched his freshly shaven cheek. Somehow she swallowed part of the lump in her throat, “You’re a ... wonderful man.” Chad smiled and wiped the remaining tears off her cheeks. “Do you still want to go out?” Meredith nodded, not wanting to spend another long evening within the house ... wanting to leave the uncertainty of her home behind ... . At least, for a little while.

The next day Meredith looked up from her sketches as Kelly came in the kitchen door. Today was the first day of her summer school classes at the community college. “How was it?” Kelly crinkled her nose and dropped down into the kitchen chair. “Terrible. Torture,” she buried her face in her hands as she moaned, “It’s summer. I’m not supposed to be thinking about bones and blood cells. Why did I do this to myself?” “Because you were thinking of your future?” The un-lady like snort made Meredith laugh. “No,” Kelly said, shaking her head, “I was dating a guy who thought it be a good idea. We’re taking the class together, but we’re not dating anymore. I think I understand why now.” Meredith looked down at her sketch and realized she had begun to draw the outline of Chad’s face. Dating seemed so unpredictable these days ... how could anyone make decisions of any kind when they depended on a person who may or may not be there in two weeks. Shaking herself, Meredith listened to her sister roaming around in the cabinets as she crinkled the paper and tossed it across the room, missing the trash can by two feet. Kelly laughed and picked the ball of trash up on the way back to the table. She spread it out as she sat down and smiled, recognizing the person. Her sister’s talent had been something she had always respected, but knowing Meredith was mindless enough to doodle some man’s face was even better. “Are you and Chad serious?” Unsure of the answer, Meredith kept her eyes on the page before her and concentrated on her rose. “It’s hard to be serious when you’ve known someone two weeks,” she answered, sounding convinced. “Would you like it to be serious?” Unwillingly, her hand stopped on the page. She looked up and caught her sister’s eyes. She wanted to tread carefully. It was the first conversation they had started that did not move immediately into a face off. “I don’t know.” Kelly looked at the crinkled page. She did not know what to think about Chad. Not yet. She knew she feared him slightly. He could take Meredith out of her life as quickly as she had been brought back in. “He treats you really good.”

Meredith smiled, unable to refrain, “I know.” She looked down at her drawing and sighed. She had begun to draw him again. His lips, so gentle and expressive, captivated her. “He’s ... been a blessing.” “Do you miss Dallas?” “Not as much as I thought I would,” Meredith decided not to fight the urge to draw Chad. Her hand moved in quick, detailed movements. She watched as his outline appeared under the point of her pencil. “I’m thinking about heading there in a few weekends for a birthday slash engagement party for one of my friends. It would give me a chance to catch up with everyone.” Kelly balled up the picture and threw it towards the trash can. Watched the smooth arch before it dropped neatly in. How come their lives had always seemed to miss the basket? Meredith had lost her father to a plane crash during air force maneuvers. Her own father had died from cancer, leaving their mother with three girls to support. Since then, Meredith had almost ceased to be a part of their lives. Now their mother had left them in so many ways. Meredith was talented, beautiful. Kelly knew that Meredith’s career and social life had thrived on the big city, but it had been so long since they had been a family. If Chad came in, became important, that meant Meredith would forget about her sisters all over again. “Where’s mom?” Noticing the change in her sister’s voice, Meredith looked up and watched as she stood and went to the refrigerator for a can of coke. “Britt’s helping her with her exercises.” “Britt’s such a good kid. I don’t know how she stands it.” “Stands what?” Meredith asked as Kelly leaned against the refrigerator door. “Stands seeing mom so ... .” “Not like mom?” Meredith offered. “Kelly, none of us like it, but ... she’s still our mother.” Kelly shook her head. There was an unusual fire in her eyes, “Not really. When did our mother need help to go to the bathroom? Have to be told to wipe food off her mouth?” “When has our mother stopped loving us?” Meredith asked, not thinking clearly as the anger and weariness poured over, “Actions and love make a mother, not

rituals and ... and habits. Our love for her makes her just as much our mother as her love for us.” “Your actions took you to Dallas. What do you think dropping by at Christmas and maybe a phone call here and there meant to us? You were two hours away. Your actions spoke clearly.” Meredith stared at Kelly and finally dropped her eyes with a sigh. She heard the door open, but could not look up. “Where are you going?” “Out. It’s not like you ever cared before.” The door slammed. Meredith looked up. She felt helpless in the empty kitchen, so haunted by the years she had been away. How could she expect Kelly to understand? Did she even really understand herself why she had stayed away?

“You’ve been quiet,” Chad stated as he settled on the porch beside Meredith. He reached over and took her hand, watching as she stared out into the yard. “I noticed Kelly wasn’t at dinner.” “We had a fight.” Meredith supposed he wanted more, but she was not going to give him any. “Do you know where she is?” Pulling her hand away from his, she nodded as she rubbed her hands over her face. “She’s at the shack. It’s this place her friends hang out at and play cards and talk. Mom and I always have a good laugh about it. It’s supposed to be a secret, but being that it’s in the old offices behind the police station, no one ever worries.” “You’re turning into a good guardian.” Meredith shook her head, “Yeah. It would of been easier if I had wanted them to be a part of my life before.” “You know that’s not true.” “No, it is,” Meredith stood and turned to face him, her hands on her hips, “How can you stand there and make a statement like that? You don’t know. You can’t know me that well by now.” She stormed angrily a few steps away and then back.

“They were just my half-sisters, okay? If I’d had a choice between a gallery showing and one of their birthdays, I would have sent them a card. I was selfish. I didn’t care. They weren’t important enough to me. My art was what mattered. It got me a scholarship. It got me a good paying job. My family had never gotten me anything ... .” “That’s what you wanted to believe.” “It’s what I believed.” “No,” Chad reached out and took her hands. He saw the pain now in her eyes. She had lost everything a little girl desired. A father she had never known, two fathers that she had loved. He had lost. Twice in one fatal blow. Maybe that’s why he saw the truth so clearly. She tried to pull her hands away. He held on. “You were hurting. There was pain here for you.” She hated the fact that he could see deeper into the reasoning ... she hated that maybe he did know her better than she wanted him to. How much safety did that give her? Finally, she sat down beside him again and leaned against his shoulder. “Kelly,” she stopped to clear her mind and felt his arm drop around her shoulders, “I can remember the day she was born. My mom and Michael had been married for two years. We were living here. My grandmother was alive then and she came to stay with me ... There has been nothing in this life that has equaled that day.” “I don’t remember my father. I never knew him. I had always felt so empty. Like I was missing some sort of part ... I used to sneak into Kelly’s room and take her out of her crib and rock her and tell her that I would never leave her like my father did. I would watch after her and keep her safe. “I broke that promise the day Michael died. It all seemed like so much. I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t handle loosing her.” Chad’s arm pulled her closer. She felt him drop a kiss on the top of her head. “You think I’m crazy.” “No, I think you’re wonderful,” carefully, he turned her. “You could be running now. You have family that could take your sisters in, split them apart, ship them away from here. You could be in Dallas. Your art is still there. Your friends are there. Your job is there,” he let his eyes simply search hers, “but I have a feeling that

your heart has never fully been there.” Meredith leaned back against him, listening for the deep thud of his heart. She took in his words, not yet able to process them. When she asked about his family, he told her. She relaxed, listening to his deep voice talk about the people and the home he obviously loved. He even promised to take her and her family out to the ranch sometime when her mother got better. Meredith loved the idea of spending a whole day with Chad and seeing Brittany up on a horse and Kelly ... well, doing something. Long after Chad said goodnight, Meredith sat in the living room flipping through her high school portfolio. Kelly had kept it in her room. She had sketched her family. There was a water color of emotions, a burst of feelings she had let forth one night. She remembered the night too well. Kelly had been put in the hospital because of the chicken pox. The front door opened and Kelly came in. She looked over and saw Meredith on the sofa. “Waiting up for me?” she asked as she shut the door. “I couldn’t sleep,” Meredith replied, sitting the portfolio aside. “I’m sorry about all those years that I have been gone. It was hard. I forgot what family meant.” Well, it’s a little too late, Kelly thought. She turned to go to her room, but Meredith’s voice stopped her. “I won’t move you until you graduate. I promise.” “Yeah, sure.” Meredith watched her sister retreat. Maybe one day Kelly would understand. Maybe one day they could believe in each other again.

Chapter 13 Joanna followed the line of passengers exiting the plane fighting against weariness. The week had been one of the worst weeks in her life. Unable to concentrate on anything, she ended up looking like a fool when on the practice field with her peers.

On top of everything else, there was a painful burning feeling around her heart that grew every time she thought about Rod. She could not eat right. She had been unable to sleep well. He dogged her thoughts and her dreams. “Ms. Berkley?” Joanna jerked, the voice unexpected. She blinked twice as she focused in on the elderly gentleman, feeling somewhat like Ebenezer Scrooge meeting his ghost of Christmas past. The man was dressed in a light grey suit and shiny black wingtips. He had a white mustache, and clear blue eyes that were framed by laugh lines. He was smiling now. Joanna took a step back, trying to decide if she should be terrified or not. “Excuse me?” “Yes, you’re Joanna,” the man’s smile pursed a bit as he laughed at her or himself—she was not sure which. “My name is Clay McDaniel. I am the chauffeur for Rod’s division. Here in Dallas.” “Rod’s division?” “Yes,” he chuckled gently. “He asked me to deliver this to you.” Joanna watched as Clay McDaniel pulled an envelope from his coat and handed it to her. “Rod?” she whispered, staring at the envelope without taking it. “He could not meet you himself. They had a board meeting this afternoon, but he felt that it was important for you to know he wanted to.” Joanna took the envelope, feeling almost faint as she ripped it open. The paper crackled under her trembling fingers. It had been impossible to hope that he wanted ... that he cared.

Joanna, I wish that I could be there while you're reading this. There are so many things I want to say, so many things I need to tell you, things that need to be said in person. Just know I'm sorry. So terribly sorry. I know in writing it doesn't sound like much, but believe me, I mean it with every heart beat I have. Hopefully you'll come to see that for yourself very soon. I'm in the middle of a board meeting, but I want to see you. Steven knows I'm doing this, well, he knows some of what I'm doing. So don’t worry about him not coming. You can call him if you like. He’ll verify these plans or come and get you if

this is once again the wrong way of handling things I trust Clay McDaniel, the elderly gentleman who brought you this letter, with my life. He'll take good care of you. He'll drive you wherever you want to go and take you to my apartment if that’s what you want. Don’t be afraid to ask him to drive you somewhere if you need something. He’s quite adept at waiting in front of stores. He says he likes the quiet. I want to see you, Joanna, if you can forgive me. If you want nothing to do with me, Clay will take you as far as it takes for you to meet Steven somewhere. I'll come and convince you for myself, later.

~Rod Her heart was beating rapidly as if trying to catch up with the words in Rod’s letter, to understand and to heal. She wanted to fly. She wanted to run straight to Rod’s office and interrupt his meeting, just so she could feel his arms around her. She trembled as Clay guided her through the airport and helped her to gather her baggage. The limousine was waiting just outside of the airport. “I—” she did not know what to say to the man as he swept the back door open for her. He must think she was a fool for causing Rod to go to so much trouble. He only smiled. “Rod will be otherwise engaged for a few hours. Would you like a tour of the finer points of the MetroPlex while you pass the time?” “I don’t know,” Joanna frowned, feeling so out of her comfort zone. A limo and a chauffeur. And Rod. He had not given up on her. “I don’t know.” “Then I think you should.” He reached in the limousine and pulled out a long stemmed rose. “I almost forgot. Rod wanted you to have this.” The large, partially open bud and thick stem, stunned her, so bold and yet precious. It was tied with a bright red ribbon that held a card. Tentatively, she reached out for it, almost drawing her hand back. Clay only smiled and helped her into the plush limousine. She sat and stared at the rose even as the limousine pulled away. Lifting the red flower to her nose, she inhaled deeply, her insides about to burst with warmth for the man who had given it to her. No one had ever given her a rose before ... well, the roses her coach gave her for

being a great softball player did not count. She had always thought it was sad to be 28 years old and never been given a rose. She saw the rose as the perfect flower, so beautiful and delicate ... romantic ... sweet ... so symbolic of love and ... . Joanna swallowed, pushing down the lump of joy that was overwhelming her. Rod Kirkland, the wonderful, boyish-man who had captured her heart twice in her lifetime, had given her a rose—her first rose. She opened the card then, thankful that she was alone in the quietness of the backseat and not in the middle of the busy airport. Joanna, I wanted to give you the most beautiful gift on earth, a gift meant just for you, just from me, the only possibility at this time was a rose, this rose, so genuine and true, so delicate and yet exciting, enticing and bold, made by God, so perfectly for you, just as He made you for me. Joanna closed her eyes as the tears trickled down her face, and leaned into the plush cushions as her emotions spiraled. Oh, Father. I don't know how Rod knew ... how perfect a rose is to me ... but I thank You for bringing this man in my life. Maybe I don't deserve him, maybe we will have problems, but I can't thank you enough, dear Father, for Rod Kirkland being in my life.

Clay gave her Rod's spare set of keys to his apartment and left her in front of the building. Her luggage was still in the trunk of the limo and would be transferred over to Rod’s car. She watched the limo drive away, and feeling oddly like a princess, turned with her rose and entered the building. The doorman smiled and tipped his hat as he held the towering glass door open for her. "Good afternoon, mam," he replied. Joanna nodded in his direction, too much in awe to speak. The lobby of Rod's apartment complex was just as lavish, if not more so, than his office building. She was glad she had parked in the garage the night of the Ranger's game, or she

might have fled. She found his apartment and unlocked the door, smiling as she entered, somehow feeling at home. It was just about four o'clock. Mr. McDaniel had been a nice man, with a well rehearsed tour speech, but she was glad the afternoon was almost over. A note waited for her on his grandfather's desk. You don't know how I prayed you would come—how I prayed even as I wrote this letter. I hope Clay was able to help you. I'll be home close to six to drive you home. I made arrangements to stay with Dr. Andrew Copeland, granddad Simpson's friend, the one who was our music minister so long ago. We'll eat on the way home, but if you're hungry, grab a bite to eat from the fridge. I promise, there's no chocolate anywhere. Please relax. Make yourself at home. Your welcome to look through anything. Curl up. I'll be home soon.

~Rod Oh, and the present is for you. A bit perplexed, Joanna found the wrapped box in his desk chair and sat down as she opened it. She pulled off the wrapping and opened the white box. Inside was a miniature treasure-chest jewelry box. Joanna smiled in girlish delight and pulled it out, admiring the oak wood and golden trim. She tried the lid unsuccessfully. It was locked. She looked inside the box for a key, but all she found was a note. I’ve thought about you more than you can imagine. I know what we have is new, and that it’s scaring you. I know because it scares me too. I wanted to give you something that will help you remember me, remember what we have and that what I feel for you is strong even when we are not together. Every time you see this treasure chest, I want you let the doubts be erased by it’s message. You are my treasure, Joanna. No one means so as much to me as you do, from the inside out. That’s the message I want you to remember. To hold onto. If you want to know why open the chest ... but wait! It's locked, you might say. I have my reasons, my own selfish reasons. But do not fear! I won't keep you in suspense for long. To be opened on July 4, under the fireworks in Glendale, TX.

A small laugh escaped Joanna's lips as she brushed away the tears. Too antsy to sit still, and suddenly feeling hungry for the first time all week, Joanna headed for the refrigerator taking her rose and treasure chest with her like a child in need of her baby blanket. She set them down on the counter as she opened the refrigerator and took stock, finally deciding on a sandwich. She explored while she ate. Opening the heavy curtains, she looked out on the impressive Fort Worth skyline in the distance. She flipped through Rod's lavish CD collection, admiring his tastes. The educator and life-time student in her respected his books, carefully arranged on a bookshelf. She recognized a few of them from his grandfather's office. Many of the books were Christian discussion and others were just literary masterpieces. At one point, after washing her dishes, she found herself looking through a straightened kitchen junk drawer. She smiled as she picked up a small stack of writing pads, a group of pens rubber-banded together, two pairs of scissors, and a travel size sewing kit. Her last stop was his bed room. Decorated in burgundy and white, the furnishings were oak. The bedspread and pillows, curtains and pictures were masculine, but seemed to be completely from a woman’s touch. Having been to his parents’ home, she knew exactly where that touch came from. A brown bear, old and worn, sat on the bed staring at her. He had blue eyes, so much like Rod's, the arms and legs tattered and loose. Years ago his nose had been torn off and replaced with brown thread stitched over and over and over again, now also worn from time. Joanna thought the bear was adorable. A note was attached by a safety-pin to his hand. She picked the bear up so she could read the note. So, you invaded my room, but if you had not, I would have still given this to you. Mom and I found him in the attic last month. I was going to send him to my sister's to give to my nephew, but I'd rather give him to you. Curl up with him. If I remember correctly, he's a real big comfort. Just don't get too comfy, or Mr. Bear will be shredded stuffing. Joanna laughed, and pulled the cover's back on the bed. The bed invited her exhausted body to lay down ... just for a minute. I guess I should relax, she told herself. I won't go to sleep. I want to see Rod too badly.

But no matter what she told herself, the sheets were too fresh, the bedspread too comforting. She curled up with "Mr. Bear" and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep ... ... dreaming of teddy bears, roses, and Rod Kirkland.

Rod slowly opened his apartment door and looked around. When Joanna did not immediately come to him, his heart skipped a beat until he realized that she was probably asleep. He did not fault her, though. Not if she needed it as bad as he did. He had been unable to concentrate during his meetings, worried that Joanna would turn his offer down. Nothing could have brought him greater relief than when Clay sent a message into the board meeting and said that Joanna was safely at his apartment ... nothing except seeing her for himself. "Joanna?" he looked around and noticed the slight changes in his apartment. The lights in his living room were off, the curtain pulled back, open to the skyline. In the kitchen he found her rose sipping water from a clear glass, the treasure chest beside it. There was a knife and plate resting in the dish drain, still a little damp after being washed. Rod found her on his bed, curled up in a ball underneath the warm covers, the little bear tucked in her arms. Her hair was slightly mused, her make up virtually gone. He smiled, content to watch her for several moments. Relief washed over him. She was back ... close enough for him to touch, to hold ... the week had been so long without her. Sitting on the edge of the double bed, he reached out and gently shook her shoulder. She stirred, but did not wake up. For a moment he sat and watched her. He could not get over how vulnerable and sweet she looked as she slept, oblivious to his true, deep feelings. "Joanna," Rod prodded, shaking her again. This time she did wake, her eyes blinking four times as she focused in on her surroundings. She turned over, stretching slightly ... . The change in her eyes when she saw him told Rod everything he needed to

know. He had been forgiven. Joanna sat up sleepily and immediately leaned against him, his arms wrapping around her. She did not say anything, but Rod did not expect her to. From the two evenings she had slept over at his parents’, he knew she would be a lethargic being for at least an hour after she woke up. In high school she had been the same way until about second period. He wondered how she taught her early classes, knowing how little she spoke. How did she play softball so early? Rod tenderly kissed the top of her head, thanking God for such a wonderful woman. There were so many things he wanted to say. Knowing it was too soon to tell her he loved her, Rod just pressed his cheek against the top of her head and whispered, "I missed you Joanna." He lifted his head so he could meet her hazel eyes. "I missed you more than I can say." "Oh, Rod," she returned fervently, leaning against him, unable to voice her feelings clearly. Her reaction was enough for him. He held her gently for a few moments, content. Rod felt her arms slide around him. Joanna looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "I love my rose." Rod smiled, thinking the words that filled his heart in perfection ... and I love you, Joanna Lynn Berkley. And I love you.

Chapter 14 For the second time in less than a month, Joanna awoke to the smooth feel of Rod's car, tucked into a soft blanket tucked. The radio was on this time. Joanna listened through the grogginess of sleep to the end of the song and the announcer's smooth voice. Joanna looked up and watched Rod, unobserved. Warmth filled her insides as she watched his strong hands in control of the steering wheel, his deep, green eyes concentrating solely on the road. She smiled, thinking of those hands holding her, those green eyes watching her. He was always so tender with her and her fears. She was comfortable with him. I love him, Joanna realized suddenly as if her heart was being squeezed just

enough. She sat, frozen, unsure of how to respond. Do I ... do I really love Rod? Her eyes traced the fine lines of his face. She was a woman and he was a man, growing together... . No, the girlhood reminders and crushes were gone. Rod looked over at her then and Joanna looked down fearfully, certain that he would know—and she wanted time, needed time, to let herself understand. The feelings were new, almost unwelcome. Can he know? she chastised herself. Can he see by looking at me? What if he doesn't feel the same? I know he cares, but that doesn’t mean ... ? Rod cleared his throat and found her hand underneath the blanket, securing it with his strong one. The fear scattered—slightly. "Sleep well?" Joanna looked up at him finally and smiled, pulling her emotions under control. "Ummm-hmmm." "I worry about you, you know, driving from Glendale to Dallas. You seem to fall asleep when you're in the car," Rod squeezed her hand and Joanna relaxed. She no longer felt like worrying. Rod was with her; he cared for her. It was enough for now. Sitting up, she pushed the blanket to her lap, swallowing against the sudden closing of her throat. "I'm okay most of the time," she promised when she found her voice. "I just fall asleep when I don’t have to concentrate. Don't worry about me." Rod turned his head for a second and studied her, loving the way she looked after she woke up. In the times he had seen her, she always seemed peaceful, too blurry-eyed to let the world and it's problems both her. "I don't mind you sleeping," he admitted. "I like watching you while you sleep. You can curl up in a car, snuggling up in the blanket and getting your arms all tangled ... so different than when you’re awake." Joanna chuckled softly, her cheeks warm in contentment. "My brothers used to tell me I reminded them of a snail." "Snail wasn't the comparison I was thinking of," Rod said gently, his hand pulling her’s closer to him. "I was thinking more of ... a ..."

"A rolly polly?" Rod laughed, "Well, no ... but I guess a rolly polly's better than a snail." "I used to play with rolly polly's," Joanna defended, her eyes twinkling as she sat beside the man she loved, his hand holding hers, his voice enwrapping her in comfort. Her mind drifted off to a memory almost buried under the ashes of the later past. Joanna was in her backyard, her dad beside her. She was young, four or five. “Ready, Jo-bug?” Thomas asked his excited daughter, using his special name for her that she assumed was a rendition of “June-bug.” “Ready daddy!” Jo held her bat high in the air, perhaps too high, ready to take a swing at the ball. It was her birthday and her dad had bought her a used bat and some balls to go with the glove he had given her for Christmas. Nothing had ever seemed so exciting. Rod’s soft pressure on her hand brought Joanna back into the present. She looked at him with a small smile. Once again, he saw the distance in her eyes. Let me in, he begged with his own, not really worried that she would not. She usually confided in him. “You okay?” “Yeah,” Joanna replied softly, still lingering in the memory. Finding the right words, she slowly told him the story. Rod seemed surprised. It occurred to her that he had not known her at that time. They had grown up in separate elementary schools, and though they knew each other in the sixth grade when she became a Christian, they did not really associate until high school. Joanna realized she had only talked about the later years when things were bad. She tried to answer the questions that he asked with his eyes. “Things didn’t get rough until dad was laid off. I guess I was about seven or eight. He went through a serious of jobs, but with the oil crisis things were hard all over Texas. Mom had to go to work, and dad had to find something to do with himself. Before that, we were ... happy.” Turning to look out the window passenger side window, Joanna sighed softly. “As I grew up things crescendoed to worse,” Joanna turned back and looked at Rod. His eyes were faithfully watching the road, but in slight glances, keeping her in tune as well. “Maybe the reason I would never let myself be friends with you was because I envied you,” Joanna laughed softly. “I had this huge crush on you, but I didn’t want to like you. All those times we got into an argument in Congress meetings, I think the worst of my fury came from that envy. I didn’t want to back down even when I

knew you were right,” she tilted her head as another thought popped in her head. “And that probably explains why I didn’t want to like your mom. She was always there for you—as was your dad. You had everything I wanted ... it seemed.” “Even a terrific grandfather,” Rod chimed in, almost bitterly. “I didn’t want to share him and he seemed to accept you and your brothers as part of the family,” he looked over at her, “Joanna, I was so self-centered. I still can’t get over the fact that you had a crush on me.” A grin tugged at the edge of her lips as she met his eyes, “I never could, either.” The conversation lightened as Rod began to share some of the fun times they did have. Joanna had to admit that even though both of them had been fighting friendship, it had been there, hidden under the jealousy. Bethany had seen it. Possibly even Joshua Simpson had noticed. Joanna smiled in the dim lighting of the car, wondering if Rod’s grandfather had thought about them one day dating. In high school she never would have guessed her feelings could have gone so far. The feelings were so much deeper than she could have dreamed. She loved Rod Kirkland. God had saved her wishing-well wishes and prayers for later, waiting for the time to be right. Now Joanna could share her deepest feelings and know they were well received. Joanna did not want the drive to end, but Glendale came into view in a matter of minutes. They drove through town in silence, pondering the past few weeks and even the past 15 or so years. Rod carried her suitcases up to her porch and unlocked her front door for her. "I'll be by around eight to pick you up. We’ll grab something to eat before the game," Rod told her. Joanna smiled, recognizing that Rod wanted sometime alone with her. The game started at ten. “And you’ll be at Dr. Copeland’s?" "Yeah,” Rod pulled out his leather billfold and handed her a business card. “I wrote down his number for you if something comes up. I’ll be up before six—Dr. Copeland and I have a scheduled appointment, as he calls it," Rod’s eyes were bright. She could tell he was looking forward to talking to their old music minister. "It's been a long time since I've seen him. There are some things that I really need to get out to someone. He's the closest person I have left to being a grandfather." Joanna loved the way his eyes lit when he thought of Joshua Simpson. Her heart constricted, loving him ...

“I guess I’d better get going,” Rod replied softly, looking at his watch. “We have a long day tomorrow. Little League championship, long walks in the park, a picnic for two. When do the activities at the park begin?” “All day long. The usual cheap carnival stuff, I think,” Joanna tried to remember. With him standing so close she was having a hard time focusing. “There’s a concert before the fireworks—it’s been added within the last few years. Kind of an attempt to make up in what’s lacking in spark, you know? Nothing spectacular, but it’s fun. I think it starts at eight-thirty.” Rod nodded, squeezing her against him as he smiled the boyish smile of his, “Then the fireworks.” “Yes, the fireworks,” Joanna repeated with her own smile. “Fireworks and the treasure chest.” “Couldn’t forget about the treasure chest, now could we?” “Not in this lifetime!” Joanna challenged, loving the way he held her, his smile gentle and teasing. She looked up and met his shining eyes with her sparkling ones. Rod’s smile softened with a serious tug. He shook his head in wonder and whispered, “You’re completely amazing, Joanna Lynn Berkley.” He kissed her then, their first kiss since getting back together. Joanna melted, having desired those lips on hers for so long. When Rod pulled away, he studied her for several heartbeats, his eyes serious. "I could hold you all night, but I think it’s time we both got some sleep. If you’ve slept as little as I have ..." he looked up into the starry night sky, his eyes searching for something ... searching for the right way to say his heart. "Joanna, I haven't mentioned last Tuesday for a reason," he felt her stiffen and looked down into her eyes with his desperate ones. "I wanted you to be completely comfortable with me again. I realized I never wanted to be that separated from you ... that disconnected from you again. I'm not going to tell you what you should or should not do. I can’t. You have to make the decision, you and your family, and I realize that." "I never should have gotten angry the other night. I was too far away to really listen. To really understand and we’ve only been together for such a short time." Rod admitted her softly. The realization had given him some bad moments over the past week. He did not like being so far away when she needed him.

“I won't say that I agree with you, but I will tell you that I care for you. I care for you deeply. Anything that's bothering you, bother's me. Just know that. Please don't push me away or try to hide anything from me." Joanna did not know what to say. She just stared at him, her eyes searching his. He smiled gently and pressed a kiss against her nose. "Go to sleep. I'll see you bright and early—" he stopped and winked at her, “or should I just say early? Joanna stood on her porch and watched him climb into his fancy car and pull out of the driveway before she went inside, her heart full. That night she didn’t fall asleep quickly. Her mind was full of all the words Rod had said to her, both in person, in the letters and with the gifts.

Chapter 15 Ten ... eleven ...” Meredith winced at the pain in her mother’s eyes as she squeezed the tennis ball for a third round. The day had been long. Physical therapy always wore them both down. “Come on mom, just five more! You can do it!” But Margaret Stark could not. No matter how much optimism Meredith put forth, she couldn’t do the exercises for her mother. It killed her to see the defeat in her mother’s eyes. “Come on ... twelve—you can do it ... twelve ...” Meredith sighed. “How ‘bout we try something else? You haven’t worked on your puzzle today or we could go for a walk—” “No Meredith,” Margaret stated firmly, her lips pressed firmly together. She set the tennis ball down with a thump. “I’m tired of all this. Do you see it helping? I can’t walk in a straight line—I don’t want to put a puzzle together! I want to get better!” “I know—” “No you don’t!” Meredith flinched against the sound. While she was growing up, her mother hardly raised her voice, but lately nothing seemed right. Meredith couldn’t wash the dishes right, or make the beds the way her mother wanted.

“You can still so your artwork without any problem. I just want to sew a dress for my girls. I that too much to ask of my hands? I don’t see you working on a puzzle when you would rather be doing something useful!” “Mom, it’s supposed to help you do all those things you love again.” “But I want to do them now!” Margaret stood and reached for her cane. “I’ve had enough for today. I’m going to my room.” Meredith dropped her eyes, not wanting to watch her mother wobble out of the room again. Hateful words rummaged through her tired mind. Every time I sit here with you I do work on a puzzle when I would rather be doing something else, she wanted to scream. I would rather be in Dallas, at home, in my apartment or doing something with my friends. At least there I don’t have to be yelled at! Meredith suddenly stopped. What was she saying? Her mother needed her. How many times had Margaret Stark nursed her as she grew up? How much had her mother given up for her over her lifetime? Meredith sighed, burying her face in her hands. It was selfish to get frustrated. God, I’m sorry. Please give me enough strength to get through this time. I’m not used to someone needing me, and now three people need me, whether Kelly admits it or not. I keep pushing mom over the line—I need to realize when she needs a break. I shouldn’t ever get frustrated. Please forgive me—and help me. I’m so weary of being yelled at ... Meredith stood and made her way up to her mother’s room. The door was shut. Quietly she knocked. “Mom?” There was a pause, just like there always was. Her heart skipped a beat wondering if her mother had fallen or something else had happened. “Yes?” Slowly she cracked the door. “May I come in?” Though Margaret was tired and still upset by her lack of progress, her daughters still meant the world to her. She nodded, attempting to smile. Meredith stepped in and shut the door as a feeling so old rushed over her. She felt the feelings of a child stir in her heart, the feelings that had brought her to her mother’s room before. Small tears pricked at her eyelids. Crawling up on the bed she curled up next to her mother like she would have done

as a kid. There always seemed to be protection in the large bed. When she was four, Meredith could remember it just being her mom. Thunderstorms came and went. Fears and questions were all discussed. Hugs were always given. Her step-father had never intruded on those special times, and though few, Meredith did remember several occasions as a teenager that she had crawled up on the bed, in need of forgiveness, love, or maybe extra attention. Now the tables were turned. By the look in her mother’s eyes, Meredith knew the time was as much of a big deal to her mother as it was to her. “I’m sorry.” Margaret reached out a shaking hand and gently tried to push back Meredith’s straight hair. The gesture was just as comforting today as it had been years ago. “You were just doing your job,” she said as she looked across the dim bedroom. “I’m sorry, too. Sometimes I forget ... sometimes I just want to get better.” “Mamma, that’s normal,” Meredith sat up and took her mother’s hand. “Remember back when I was taking piano? I wanted to be a great concert pianist,” a soft smile spread across her mother’s face with the reminder. “And I wanted to be able to play everything and it frustrated me that I couldn’t. What I was doing wasn’t music.” “It was, Meredith,” Margaret promised. “To those of us who listened, it was.” Meredith nodded, “But to me it wasn’t. I wasn’t going as fast as I thought I should, but eventually, I got up on stage at city hall and played my first piece. It wasn’t perfect. I made so many mistakes ... and if I would’ve continued my lessons I would be a poor musician instead of an artist ...” Margaret laughed, and to Meredith that laugh was better music than the best Beethoven could have offered. For nearly an hour they talked, perhaps for the first time since her stroke.

Joanna pushed the front door open and peaked in. “Is anyone home?” “In here!” Meredith appeared from the kitchen, wiping her flour covered hands on her apron. She had a touch of flour in her short black hair. “Mom’s doing some musical relaxation exercises and I’ve been tuning them out for the past half hour. You weren’t knocking long were you?” “I just got here.” Joanna stepped back and picked up the four lawn chairs she had

dug out of her garage. “I got your message. These aren’t new or anything, but they hold their purposes, if you get my drift. Where do you want them?” “You can leave them right there,” Meredith pointed to the wall beside the door. “We just threw this party together. Kelly thought of it, and I’m glad she did, but it’s a lot of work at the last minute,” she pushed her short hair away from her face, leaving another trace of flour. “You know you’re a life savor, don’t you?” Joanna laughed, “I try my best.” She stood straight up and wiped her sweaty palms on her mud splattered clothes. She looked Meredith over in an attempt to see what had happened in the last week. “Everything okay?” “Most of the time. I’m worried at times like tonight, hoping that mom can handle the excitement, but everything should be okay.” She knew Joanna expected her to be honest—it would be Joanna she could turn to the easiest if things ever escalated out of hand. “We have our bad times. You don’t have a minute, do you?” “For you I have time,” Joanna teased, mentally calculating how much time she needed to shower and be ready to go with Rod to the picnic. It was only four and she had until six. Plenty of time, she promised herself as she followed Meredith into the kitchen. “So, is Chad coming over tonight?” Joanna asked as Meredith rounded up two glasses of water. She sat down at the kitchen table and watched as the younger one hesitated. Meredith nodded, finally, the motion tense. “He’ll be here off and on, when he’s not working with the fireworks display.” She turned toward Joanna, her heart in her eyes. “You don’t mind, do you?” “Why would I mind? I think you’re good for him and it’s easy to see the positive effect he has had on you.” Meredith sighed and set the glasses of water on the table. Her courage faltered as she sat across from Joanna. “I’ve been praying all week, Joanna. It really bothers me ... well, with you being Bethany’s best friend ... I remember how close the three of you were.” Joanna wanted to reassure the younger woman—Bethany would have wanted her to. It was hard to swallow past the hard lump in her throat. Even harder to begin. “I want you and Chad to be happy, Meredith,” she managed. “In my mind I never let myself see Chad with anyone else until recently, but that’s because Bethany was all I could see. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. And it’s a relief to hear the words from you. All week I’ve been scared of the feelings between us—” she looked down at her glass. “He’s still very close to Bethany’s memory. I was afraid he would push away from me if you didn’t want us together.” “You don’t have to worry about that anyway,” Joanna responded with a laugh. “Chad’s never been one to listen to anyone but himself. Of course, you’re probably noticing that, aren’t you?” Meredith nodded, a sly smile creeping onto her face as she sipped her water. He often told her stories of his life before Bethany. She loved the mischievous gleam that came into his eyes as he admitted those little secrets younger brothers keep to themselves for years. Finally she set her water down and met Joanna’s laughing eyes. She hated her feelings being so obvious. “So, was that Rod’s car parked in your driveway all afternoon?” she asked in an attempt to get the attention off of herself. Joanna nodded, her eyes drifting out the window to where her truck was presently parked. “Does that mean things are okay between the two of you?” “Things are unbelievably great,” Joanna responded honestly. She had been itching to share her feelings with someone all day and Meredith was a willing listener. Leaving out the most personal parts, Joanna opened up, ironically, she realized later, to the one person that had ever been close to Bethany’s replacement for Chad. Almost two hours later, however, Joanna wished she had kept her feelings to herself. Not because she regretted sharing them, but because she was running behind. While Rod waited patiently in the living room, Joanna threw herself together. She had hopped in and out of the shower in record time, barely throwing her clothes on and getting her hair dry before Rod arrived. Too late to make herself perfect, Joanna berated herself sternly ... but stopped. She doubted Rod would care. Standing in front of the mirror, Joanna smiled. She was wearing jean shorts, a sleeveless white sweater and leather sandals. Her hair was down, with only a slight touch of accenting makeup on her face. She was in a great mood. She grabbed the treasure chest and held it close to her heart in a prayer of thanksgiving before nearly skipping out of the room. “Hey,” Rod said and stood when she entered the room. He flipped the T.V. off and waited for her to join him on the porch as she locked up. The smell of someone’s barbeque scented the evening air. Rod’s stomach rumbled.

“Ranger’s winning?” she asked, and handed him her keys. Rod smiled. He had never dated a girl who’s first words on a date were Ranger’s winning? But then Joanna was not any other girl. “No ... but the night’s still young, though. The Indian’s just had two RBIs.” “In the same inning?” “‘Fraid so.” Joanna wrinkled her nose in disdain and Rod laughed. He reached out and drew her close enough to drop a kiss on her nose. His eyes twinkled as he looked down at her. “Hello, Miss. Berkley. You know you really look great tonight. I missed you very much.” Joanna blushed as he teased her. “Sorry. Sometimes my mind is just out there.” “I wouldn’t want you any different.”

Next door, Meredith turned away from the barbeque grill to find Chad watching her. He had been acting different all evening, a little more nervous then usual, she thought, a little more observant. As she met his eyes, she tried to decide if he was ready to make things more. “What?” He shrugged sheepishly and walked over to her. “Nothing. You just look fantastic in that apron.” Meredith looked down at the large apron that said Grease is my favorite vegetable. It had been her step-dad’s years before and nearly swallowed her small frame. She smiled and wondered if she would ever get around to letting Chad wear it. “Thanks. Certainly helps my cooking. How’s the meal coming from the inside?” “Safe. Kelly’s new boyfriend’s not as bad as I thought he was at first.” “Bad?” Meredith looked at him in surprise. “What made you think he was bad?” Chad shrugged, “I guess I remember what I—or, I mean, what my friends were like,” he saw the laughter in her eyes and tried to remained composed, “when they were his age. Besides,” he continued smoothly, “I wanted him to be cool—just so you wouldn’t have to worry.” “I’m not worried.” “You’re not?”

Meredith shook her head, suddenly feeling defensive. How come he always had to be looking for the worst in Kelly? “There doesn’t seem to be anything to worry about. Kelly and I have our problems—but we’re okay. She knows the boundaries.” “I just don’t want you to let your guard down.” “I’m not letting my guard down!” Meredith turned and flipped the hamburgers, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t want to think the worst of her and—” Strong arms reached around her. Chad pulled her gently back against his chest. She faced the red embers of the charcoal, melting as his strong, calloused hands rubbed her tense arms. “I’m sorry,” he said as a tear slipped down her cheek. She let it go, not wanting to do anything to disengage herself from his hold. “You’re right. Kelly needs to be trusted, and I really don’t have the right to ...” he turned her to face him. “I don’t have the right to judge her or boss either of you around.” As Meredith smiled, it was Chad’s turn to melt. He reached up and brushed away the water line an unseen tear had left. Father, I need to trust you. I need you to protect her. If anything ever happened to her ... he frowned at the thought, wondering if he was ready to feel something so deep. “As I was saying, Ben’s a good kid.” “Yeah, and I bet I know why,” Meredith teased, waving the over-sized fork in front of him. Her eyes were sparkling again. “You two started talking sports. I happen to know Ben’s a Texas sized Cowboy fan.” Chad laughed, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of being near her. “Exactly. His dad has great season passes. He’s a member of a special group on the Internet. Gets all the latest news. He knew some facts a single guy like me doesn’t know.” “You seem impressed.” Meredith’s eyes twinkled in return as she looked up into his eyes. “Well, I guess Kelly and I have more in common then I thought.” “And how’s that?” “We both seem to be able to attract the good ones. Must be in the family ties. Mom did a good job too. Twice.” Chad’s look changed as his eyes darkened with emotion. “Could be,” there was no hiding the change in his tone either. “I don’t know what it is, but something is

roping me in.” Their eyes locked, and a part of Chad brightened for the first time in years. Meredith had no control over her response. Her heart flew to her eyes so he knew she cared for him as much as she did. Chad reached up and pushed a lock of hair away from her face. As unnerved as he was about getting involved, he could not help himself. “Hey!” Kelly belted from the back door, breaking the moment. “Don’t let dinner burn while you start your own fire. People in here are starving!” Meredith met Chad’s laughing, but disappointed eyes. She wrapped the moment in her heart and treasured it, saving it for the quiet moments when needed to hold on to the memory.

Chapter 16 Rod stuffed the last paper box into the trash bag and waited for Joanna to fold the blanket. He reached out and captured Joanna’s hand, noting that she was growing a bit anxious. “Want to take a walk before we settle down for the fireworks?” Looking around at all the people, Joanna nodded with relief. The concerts had been fun, but with all the kids running around, laughing and screaming, a frisbee constantly flying over their heads, and the adults, most of them who knew everyone around, yelling back and forth ... well, she wanted to get away from it all. They walked around the park for several minutes. Darkness was settling in slowly, the soft glow of the sunset full of promise and hope. Joanna let her eyes wonder as she felt the security of being with Rod. For the first time in years her eyes were opened to past memories, not the bad, but the good. How long had it been since she’d remembered her dad bringing her and her brothers to the park for a game of catch or baseball? She saw the younger version of her dad standing in the grassy field in front of her, cheering her on as she ran past him around the home-made, bean-bag bases. “You know,” Joanna decided to confide, “Dad used to bring us to play baseball in this very field. He used to love baseball. We would to have picnics over there on that picnic area,” she pointed to a set of red and blue painted picnic tables that had

been faded over time. “Mom would plan and prepare for days. Jeff and Matt and Steven would play football over there, but they never let me play. I learned to ride my bike over there.” “That seems like yesterday, right now,” Joanna tried to laugh, but the humor did not reach her brown eyes, “but it was a real long time ago. Sometimes I’m not sure it happened.” Rod had been watching the emotions as they paraded across her face. He squeezed her hand and whispered, “Whatever your parents’ shortcomings, they gave the world a great kid.” Joanna blushed, but met Rod’s serious gaze. She was learning, slowly, not to be afraid of his feelings. He was not ashamed of sharing them, she should not be hesitant to accept them. Time passed quickly as they walked around and talked of anything from changes in Glendale to past activities at the park, including their junior picnic. After awhile, they briefly discussed Homecoming activities, but Joanna had delegated well enough that plans were moving on their own. Rod was glad that their relationship did not revolve around the work that brought them together. Eventually, they headed out to the parking lot and perched side by side on the tool chest in the back of Joanna’s truck. Rod just held back the laughter as he watched the anticipation in Joanna’s face and movements. He was reminded of his five year old niece on Christmas morning. “You want to know what’s in the chest, don’t you?” Rod teased. “Why would you say that?” Rod shrugged, “Oh, I don’t know. We can wait if you want.” “No.” Eyebrow raised at the simple statement that was almost a demand, Rod laughed. The last week he had spent preparing his heart with prayer as the day moved in. Reaching through the back window of the truck, Rod picked up the treasure chest and placed it into Joanna’s upturned hands. He then pulled a small velvet bag out of his pocket and turned it upside down into his palm. A thin, silver-roped chain slipped out, and attached to that was a small key. With a mischievous smile on his lips, Rod undid the clasp and motioned for her to turn with a slight jerk of his head. Joanna obeyed, loving his boyish enthusiasm.

She felt the key fall against her shirt, and then her hair being lifted so the chain could rest against her neck. She turned around to meet Rod’s blue eyes once again. “The key,” he spoke softly, lifting the silver key slightly, “symbolizes something you already have. The key to my heart. No one has ever touched me or tugged on my heart like you have in this past month. I have no doubt that it started years ago and will continue for the rest of our lives.” Next, Rod lifted her hands enough to slip the key into the treasure chest and open it. She was sure he could feel the beating of her heart as it thundered out of her chest. He opened the lid and lifted out a silver charm bracelet from the bed of red velvet. Without any words, but volumes coming from the look of love and promise in his eyes, Rod took the bracelet out and set the chest down on the truck’s bed. Then he captured her wrist and worked with the bracelet until the clasp was secure. He lifted the first charm, a silver cross, and then met her eyes with his shinning ones. “I picked each of these out with a special reason,” Rod told her, “because you are so special to me. Here is a cross to symbolize that our relationship must depend on Christ being first in both of our lives. It also reminds us that He brought us together.” The next charm was a baseball bat. Joanna watched as Rod turned the bracelet and held the tiny bat between his fingers, “And this symbolizes that God has given you wonderful talents that I want you to continue using the rest of our lives. From what you said, it also speaks of what God has done for you in the past. Your scholarship got you through college and now you use it as a ministry as you coach.” “And this one,” Rod continued, and without looking down, slid his fingers along her wrist and captured a thick silver heart, “is a reminder that God has given you an open heart, one that allows you to minister to a broken family that lives next door, even when your own heart is confused; one that has let me in and holds my own heart inside.” Moister was forming in her eyelids. She blinked it away quickly, needing to see the look in his eyes, “And it once more symbolizes that you have a heart for God. I have prayed for a relationship with a woman like you for a long time ...” his voice faded away as he looked down at the final charm. It was a silver charm for the present year. Ten years after graduating, the year they fell in love. Rod slipped his arm around her and drew her close. She could tell he was fighting for words and for the first time she realized she was crying. Crying? What was she crying for? Joanna Lynn Berkley doesn’t cry—never cries, except for the past few

days when he had ventured so close to her heart ... she had not cried so much since she was a little kid ... and there was nothing to cry about ... I’m becoming a sap, Joanna told herself, not bothering with wiping the tears from her cheeks. She hoped Rod didn’t think she would be like this all the time. Finally, Rod released her and turned her so she was looking directly into his eyes. They were not far apart. He captured her face in his strong hands, his fingers rubbing gently along her neck, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. This time his eyes did not leave hers to look down at the charm, but held hers steady. “This year has been the most incredible year of my life. God brought you to me, showed me what so much of His promises were all about,” his eyes sparkled with a strange merriment that tunneled deep into her soul, “I love you Joanna Lynn Berkley.” Rod leaned forward and his lips touched hers. Rod Kirkland loves me! she could hardly believe the words, but knew they were true. Oh, Father! Rod loves me! Joanna leaned back in his soothing hold and smiled up at him in wonder. She managed to free her right hand and reached up and touched his cheek, his jaw and then his lips, her movements betraying her amazement. He kissed her fingertips and then leaned down and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Oh, Rod,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out, “I love you ...” Rod drew her against him and held her close. He felt Joanna’s arms slip around him. He loved having her this close. A deep peace settled around his heart. Joanna loved him. Even though he knew they still had some tough times down the road, it thrilled him to know that they would meet them together. Joanna closed her eyes, feeling the tears still slipping out of her eyes. She no longer cared, for the tears were from joy, and God had sent her the joy. They were tears of a little girl—those that came from sitting on her Heavenly Father’s lap of blessings. For the first time she heard the fireworks. She opened her eyes and watched the splashes of color opening in the sky, Rod’s arms holding her in security.

Chapter 17 On Sunday afternoon, Joanna and Rod spent their last few minutes together of the beautiful weekend. He had to leave by three so that he could get to Dallas in time to catch a plane. He would be in Minnesota for the majority of the next week. Joanna sighed softly, sitting next to him on her old sofa. Looking out the window she could see his car parked next to her truck. Inside, his navy pinstripe suit was draped neatly over her arm chair from when he had changed after they ate with the Copelands. He seemed like he belonged ... and she could get used to having him around. Rod slipped his arm around her and squeezed her against him. “You’ve grown quiet.” Joanna turned and looked into his eyes and smiled weakly, but she could not speak. She was not sure what she should say. They had been talking all day and there was so much more they could have talked about, but the silence continued. She knew she would miss him. How much more lonely would she feel when she was alone again, walking through the halls of her empty house, seeing him sitting in her living room, watching T.V. or waiting for her ... . Rod seemed to understand. He touched her right temple with his index finger and drew an imaginary line down to her jaw. “You know you’re welcome at mom and dad’s anytime.” “Yeah,” Joanna told him with a gentle smile, “I know.” “I’m going to miss you.” Joanna smiled, “Me too,” she whispered. Her eyes drifted over her living room that would seem empty and lonely within the hour. “I think you’ve ruined my whole life.” She sat up and met his questioning eyes with a smile. “This whole place is going to feel empty without you, and to think that just over a month ago, I was fine with everything the way it was, and if I thought of you, well—” “I know, I know,” Rod teased, “you nearly gagged short of death.” Joanna laughed. “You don’t know how close you are to the truth, Bud,” her eyes were filled with a wonderful laughter that Rod was growing to love. “You were about as far away as, well, as Bethany is, and I never let myself think we would ever truly be friends or ... fall in love.” Rod smiled and reached for her hands. “I like the sound of that. You know,”

Joanna melted under the content look in his eyes, “I don’t know how I lived without you before. God really worked a miracle, don’t you think? I was also satisfied with my life before and now, well, you’re such a part of my life ... and my heart.” Rod reached up and rubbed her cheek gently, the look in his eyes direct and loving. She smiled into his blue eyes thanking God for the man who held her heart. They walked outside together, Joanna’s hand in Rod’s left and his right carrying his suit over his shoulder. He turned to her after hanging his suit in his car and starting the engine. His hand found the charm bracelet and his eyes watched as he turned it slowly around her wrist. When he stopped, he looked up and met her eyes with a deep, content smile. “Don’t be lonely, Joanna. I’ll still be here for you.” Rod leaned back against his car and drew her close, still holding her hands. “Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote that ‘God’s gifts put man’s best dreams to shame.’” He smiled, and drew her into his arms, her head resting against his lean shoulder. “I have to agree with her.” Joanna beamed, “I’ll see you in two weeks.” “Two—lets say less than two,” he told her. “You’re going to be the hit of the party.” Minutes later, as Joanna watched him drive away, she realized that even with him gone, her heart would never hold the amount of loneliness it had before. God truly had given her a gift. Joanna’s heart could not measure the delight she felt when she was in his arms. She thought about her dreams, dreams she never would have thought would come to bear fruit, and smiled. “Well, Mrs. Browning,” she said aloud as she turned toward the house, the charm bracelet rubbing against her arm, “I think you were right, and I can’t say that I’m disappointed that you were.”

Two weeks later Joanna arrived at Rod’s apartment, armed with her makeup bag, curling iron, and a dress she splurged on when she finally received her paycheck. It had been on the clearance rack, possibly left over from the previous summer sale. After performing a simple alteration on the awkward hem, it looked perfect. The midnight-blue, silk dress started with tank sleeves, then sloped down into a simple ‘A’-pleated skirt, stopping just above her knees in the new, careful hem she’d hand stitched. Helen’s pearl necklace complimented the round neckline perfectly, complete with the pearl earings she also loaned Joanna. Pulling Steven’s car into the garage for the second time in her life, Joanna found a

parking space, took a deep breath and quickly opened her door before she could turn around and leave. I’m going to be okay, she told herself and climbed out, dragging her carry-all with her on the way. Two weeks ago, when Rod had asked her to joined him for an office party, Joanna had been pleased. She looked forward to meeting Rod’s friends and co-workers. They were part of his life. She was part of his life. But reality seemed to catch up to her. She wasn’t in business, from Dallas, and she didn’t known much of what in meant. What would they think of her? She was neither a sophisticated business woman, nor a good mingler. Since college, she had almost inhibited herself by staying in Glendale. But Joanna knew she could not let Rod down, no matter what the reason. She was about to enter his life, and if she wanted to be a part of it, she would have to succeed in his world. By eight o’clock, Joanna’s nerves were giving her a headache. Dinner with just Rod had been wonderful. It was only until they were separated at the party that Joanna nearly lost control. Rod had more than complimented her on her looks, but next to Rod’s friends she felt inferior. The room was full of sophisticated people. It wasn’t just in the things they wore, but in how they carried themselves and how they talked. As if behind a glass wall, she watched them move around, trying to mingle. Rod was over near a fancy two-room penthouse fireplace, talking to some associates. The woman was the essence of femininity. She had long, silky blond hair, thin ankles and legs that looked even better in her three-inch heals. Joanna forced herself not to look down at her own legs in comparison. She had a bruise on one knee —barely camouflaged by her hose—from nearly tripping over one of her nephews during a basketball game. She was muscular and thin, but she was not the beautiful hour glass shape that she saw on the other women in the room. She did not have that feminine pose ... that look. You look great. The words came as if spoken. Joanna looked around, but there was no one around her that appeared to have spoken to her. Joanna sighed. God, I’m sorry. I haven’t been trying to talk to you all night. I need you, Father. I can’t handle this at all, because I’m letting it get me down. I need strength. I need a friend. I need to be reminded that this party will not affect my relationship with Rod ...

But even as Joanna prayed, she could not get the sinking feeling out of her stomach. Rod needed a wife that could support him in his daily functions. Can I? she asked herself, her eyes roaming the crowd all over again. Suddenly, a feeling, slight, but daring shook her system. Joanna swallowed as she realized what she was saying. Hadn’t she recently been in a crash course of her high school years? Where had the confident high school vice president and one of the top soft ball pitchers from high school gone? Where was the energetic college student who was friends with everyone? When had she let go of those qualities that made her know she was likable ... and yes, made her a great mingler. Besides, Rod loved her. He loved her. Taking a deep breath, Joanna stepped mentally away from the fences in her mind. She felt herself shaking, but she was remembering who she could be. Rod’s life was only a few paces away. You know me, she reminded God, you created me in my mother’s womb. You remember me at my worst and my best. Remind me. Help me to remember how to be the woman you created me to be. The woman you created for Rod. “Hi,” she stated to the first woman she came in contact with, “I’m Joanna Berkley.” “Joanna!” The woman exclaimed with a smile as she stood there in her expensive dress and perfume, dangling earrings sparkling. “My goodness, I was wondering when Rod was going to bring you around. He talks about you all the time,” she laughed and then leaned toward Joanna to whisper, “we were suspicious that he was making you up.” Joanna laughed, feeling most of her anxieties disappear. “Well, I’m suspicious to wonder if the Joanna he talked about is the one who is real.” The woman laughed and Joanna soared. “Have I told you how you charmed everyone tonight—how jealous half the men in the room were that you were my date?” They were outside of his parent’s house on the wicker furniture, enjoying the quiet and the moonlight.

Joanna only rolled her eyes, but felt her heart swell. “I think you’re a little prejudice.” “I have proof to the contrary. Johnny Flipton told me you were the hit of the party,” Rod smiled and reached out to find her hand in the semi darkness. “I was worried about you for a little while, but you hung in there. That Berkley umph came back.” Joanna smiled. Once she had gotten over her initial nerves, and finally turned herself and the night over to God, things became easier. Letting God take the fears, she had been able to listen to others and learn more about Rod. He was respected and even adored by one older woman. “I have to apologize to you, though.” “Why?” “I think—no, I know I could have made things easier for you. Grace was a little disappointed in me, because I didn’t invite you up here earlier to have dinner with just them. You would have at least known and felt comfortable with them. She told me that I dumped you in on a party of rats and left you to fiend for yourself.” “Well,” Joanna countered, “it gave me a chance to get to know your friends—” “Not all of those people are my friends, Joey. You met Grace and Johnny. They’re probably my best friends in the world, but with company change overs and the fact that I’m the boss, really skews perceptions on both sides.” Rod squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you got the chance to know Grace. She really thought you were a true gem. Told me more than once that I’d better not let you go. I had to agree with her.” Joanna blushed. “I happen to think she was the incredible one.” “You know, I’ve wanted you to meet her for weeks, so I don’t know why I didn’t think of asking you here for a dinner with just them.” “I think you’ve had plenty of things on your mind,” she reminded him, thinking of his lack of peace about staying with his company. They had talked about his feelings, plans and dreams a good deal, but neither was left with a sense of preparation or answers. “You know, I only have one thing on my mind right now.” “Do you?” Joanna smiled at the light that glittered in his eyes.

“Umm-hmm,” Rod told her, the party and everything else almost miles away from him now.

Chapter 18 Chad stared at Meredith. He had just arrived at her house after work for an evening, he thought, of relaxation with the woman he was coming to love. Yet, knowing a confrontation was brewing turned his stomach into knots. She was weary and resting less every night. The circles under her eyes proved said so. In the past two weeks since the Fourth, her art had practically been sitting in the corner, untouched. She struggled on the things she had to, to keep her paycheck rolling in, but he never saw her lift a finger for her personal art work. He saw the sadness in her eyes, the dreams passing her by. Now, she was mopping the kitchen floor after sending Britt off with their mother to another room. A broken bowl and red Jell-O in the trash can told the rest of the story. “Is there anything I can do?” Chad managed. Meredith looked up at him, the pain in her eyes turning his stomach over. “No, I’m almost through.” “You could sit down, let me finish it up.” “No, really. I’m fine—just give me a minute.” Chad’s restraint broke. “How long is this going to go on, Meredith? You can’t do this much longer.” “What are you talking about?” Her hands stilled the broom’s sweeping motion, her eyes lit with Irish temper. “What am I talking about?” Chad’s long arm swept the kitchen in an angry motion. “This is what I’m talking about.” He stepped closer and gently took her face in his large hands. His thumbs rubber underneath her eyes faintly. “So is this. Meredith,” he continued carefully, the anger lifting from him, leaving concern, “you’re killing yourself and you’re scaring me in the process.”

“My mother needs me.” “You’re mother needs help,” Chad reminded her as he stepped away, “and no one said you had to do it all by yourself.” “The doctor says she’s getting better.” “Do you think by watching her that she’s getting any better or that she’ll be better soon? You have so much to give—and you’re limiting yourself.” “She’s my mother.” “No one said that you were the only one who could help her.” “It’s part of being a family.” “Is that your only excuse?” He asked her. “I know what family is, Meredith. I know what it is to pay my dues. I also know what it is to loose. Maybe I’m the one who’s being selfish. I’ve lost one woman I care about—” “I’m not Bethany.” “No you’re not.” The tone came out all wrong, sending a spike of pain into Meredith’s heart. Her lips trembled as she tried to respond. In some way … somehow. Rolling over in his emotion, Chad wasn’t sure he could go back. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. “Things were taken out of my control before, and I lost. Maybe the situation’s different, but I’m not sure I’ll stand by and loose again. I’m not sure that I can.” “I never said you had to,” Meredith reminded him, anger and fear rolling through her. She saw him leave, before he left—felt the loss, knowing she couldn’t hold on. She didn’t have the strength. Chad stared at her, his jaw tight. Saying nothing more, he turned and walked out. Meredith closed her eyes. She heard the door slam shut. But she’s my mother, Chad. You have to understand. Is that your only excuse? Meredith opened her eyes to look at the mop she still held in her hand, vaguely

remembering why. Doubt filled her. Was she really doing the best thing for her mother, Kelly and Britt? Was Meredith all they needed? What else could she do? She remembered all the years she’d been away, calling only every so often, leaving Kelly and Britt to her mother, especially after her step-father died. Bitting her lips, Meredith let the guilt slip over her. Tears slipped down her face. It’s the only reason I need. Chad threw the door open to his van and climbed in, the vice grip he had on his jaw beginning to hurt. He slammed the door and looked back up at the house. Meredith’s home. He closed his eyes in pain. He was falling in love with her. He could not deny what he felt, but he didn’t have to stay around and tie himself down further. It killed him to watch her destroy herself. One woman he loved had died, and there had been nothing he could do about it. An accident—what a strange word. Chad could not stand by and loose another woman, especially not as she killed herself. He would leave it to her.

Chapter 19 The last Tuesday of July, five weeks to the day after Chad delivered it, Joanna finally forced herself to deal with Bethany’s box. She was a little bored, a little needy. Rod was tied up in a business deal in California, his mind and time focused in on what he needed to do. They still talked on the phone, but their conversations were brief, little etchings of time that he made for her in his schedule. Telling herself she had no right to feel neglected, she cleared the kitchen table and set the box on top. With trembling fingers, she traced the cardboard flaps, taking slow, cleansing breaths, scolding herself for being a coward. The doorbell interrupted Joanna’s mental lecture just as she wrenched the flaps free. “Steven,” Joanna welcomed brightly before she saw the pale look on her brother’s face. A knot formed in her stomach and she remembered a day, so close in her

mind with the box opened in the kitchen, when he’d come for her before, his face ashen—the day Bethany and her little boy ... . The memories were so fresh that she stumbled a bit trying to decipher time. “What’s wrong? Helen—” “No, Helen’s fine. The boys are fine. It’s—” he reached out with his right hand and gently touched her left arm uncertainly. “Why don’t we sit down?” He walked passed her into their family living room. Joanna shut the door and followed him, feeling her hands shake as she tried to remain calm. She lowered herself slowly to the sofa when he sat down. “Matt called,” he stumbled a bit, his voice deeper, a tone somewhere between gentle and lost, “he said mom—it’s about mom, Joanna, she’s ... she died yesterday morning.” “Died?” Joanna repeated the word, not sure if the sound actually left her lips. The air wasn’t entering or exiting her lungs. “How? When—mom? I ... .” The words simply bounced around in her head. Her mother was ... dead? She folded her hands together in her lap—tried to sort through the confusion in her mind. No, her mom ... she had not seen her mom. No one knew where their mother was. She had to be fine ... alive. Steven waited patiently, and she saw the grief and uncertainty that mirrored her own eyes. “How ... ?” Helplessly, Steven shrugged. “Apparently she’s had cancer for awhile. She died at a hospital in Wichita Falls. Just slipped off ... suddenly, Matt said. The doctors called him according to her request. She didn’t want us to know, he said. She didn’t want us to suffer.” “She was all alone—was she all alone?” Steven met Joanna’s confused, hurting eyes with his own pained ones. “I don’t know—” he shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I just don’t know. We weren’t with her. We should have been with her.” Joanna hated seeing Steven so weak. He’d been so much of her strength, so solid, especially in the last six years. She suddenly felt helpless ... so small.

“Matt called Jeff last night after he found out and wired him money for a ticket. He’s on his way in from France—should be here by tomorrow afternoon. Helen’s finding a sitter for the boys so she can help you prepare the house. We’ll bury mom near granddad in the family plot.” The word family brought tears to Joanna’s eyes. “Do we ... has anyone heard from dad. Does he know? Does anyone know where he is?” The answer was obvious, but the need to ask was instinctive. Their father was gone. “I don’t know.” Steven’s voice caught and he leaned back against the sofa, trying to pull himself under control. His eyes scanned the room, a room full of so many memories for all of them. Joanna reached for his hand and they sat in silence, neither knowing what words to say or if there were any words. Their eyes roamed, memories, good and bad, pouring into their thoughts. Finally, Steven stood, turning to Joanna, in control and a little detached. “Will you be okay until Helen gets here? She’ll be in by tonight.” He rubbed his hands over his face, as if it would brush away the weariness, “Everyone will probably stay here. It’s easiest.” Joanna nodded, feeling numb, wishing half-heartedly that she didn’t have to deal with family when needed to be alone. “You’ll be okay for a little while?” he asked, his eyes probing hers. She nodded again, unable to speak, knowing she needed the quiet time. She stayed on the sofa long after Steven left, letting herself weep in her sorrow. “Mom,” she whispered hoarsely into the empty room, “where have you been all this time when we could have been together? Why did you have to die by yourself? Why?” After Helen finally went to bed, exhausted, Joanna walked the large, quiet house alone. She looked at things she had avoided seeing all day, noticing the faint scratches from little boys fighting and worn edges from time and neglect. Putting Bethany’s box away unopened, Joanna sat at her kitchen table alone and stared at the cold cup of coffee she fixed out of habit. It reminded her of her mother, the countless mornings a cup of coffee would grow cold while her mother

smoked her first two cigarettes of the day. The dark liquid stared back at her, reflecting an emptiness she felt that she couldn’t quite sort through. Ann Berkley ... mom. My mom died this morning. She repeated the phrase over and over to herself, trying to make it seem real. Six long years had passed since she had seen her mother—since anyone had heard from her beyond a few short post card messages. Rubbing her face with tired hands, Joanna heard the soft tinkling of her charm bracelet. She turned her wrist, taking comfort in each of the small symbols of Rod’s love, holding onto it desperately. She hadn’t been able to take the bracelet off, even to protect it as she and Helen worked to get the house ready for the family to return. She wanted to remember his voice, his assurance of his love. She’d called him minutes after Steven left, nearly hanging up the phone just when he picked up on his cell, unsure if calling him was the best thing to do with him in the middle of a business deal. “Hello?” “Um—” “Joanna?” he guessed, his voice sharpened. “What is it?” “It’s ...” It had been so hard to find the words, to tell him the unbelievable truth when she was having a hard time accepting it. “My mom—Rod, my mom died. She’s dead.” She’d stunned him, but he’d pulled out of it much better then she had, talking to her over a long distance mobile call for a good half hour before he felt that she was handling things well enough that he could disconnect. He called repetitiously after that, informing her of his plans as he made them, when his plane would be in, when he stopped for something to eat. She couldn’t remember much of their conversations—still in shock, feelings and memories reeling over and over in her tired mind. For awhile she had felt nothing. Making beds and preparing the bathrooms had been routine. Her concentration was centered on things as she dealt with them. With nothing left to do, she simply stared at the cold cup of coffee, her eyes occasionally lifting to look around the kitchen, the memories returning hard. So many years had passed ... how could Ann Berkley’s presence be so strong?

“Oh mama,” Joanna moaned, “why couldn’t things have stayed the same? Why’d you have to change and go away ... why did you have to die all alone?”

Chapter 20 Matt and his family arrived early the next morning and Joanna mechanically helped them move into his old room, putting his children in her old room. Steven arrived with Jeff soon after and settled into the room they had shared until Matt left for college. The tension was nearly unbearable for her as she watched them slide around each other, never actually looking each other in the eye, never saying more to each other then what was expected. She was relieved when they went ahead to the funeral home. They drove away in their separate cars, leaving Joanna when she pleaded with them to go on ahead of her, letting them think she needed time alone. She knew better then to drop her news about Rod with Matt there to argue and the other two there to defend. The doorbell rang, slicing through the quiet in the house. Joanna wiped the tears away from her cheeks, and nearly ran to the door, fumbling with the doorknob. Then she stopped, feeling cold. “Dad ...” After six years, Tom Berkley stood before his daughter meekly. Tears formed in his hazel eyes, the aging crow’s feet wrinkling, “Joey ...” he whispered, his stiff voice cracking. Joanna stood stoic, her hands latching onto the door frame, fluttering against the wood. He was older, she thought, so much older. His hair was grey—sparse and thin, his skin pale and rough. She wanted to shut the door—locking him and the changes out of her life, but she couldn’t. There were too many questions to ask, too many emotional hurdles in her life that needed to be jumped over. Weary, numb and cold, despite the hot July heat, she stepped back, watching as he hesitated before taking an uncertain step through the door. He turned and met her eyes. “How are you, Joey?”

“I’m fine ...” Joanna told him mechanically. She shut the door and turned to face him, her hands nervously fumbling with her silk shirt. “You ... heard about mom?” “I ... yes,” Tom Berkley, always a coward, turned away. He lowered himself onto the sofa, lifeless, much like she had done yesterday. Joanna hated the way he looked—helpless, defeated. “I know you’re a little shocked—” “I don’t know what I am,” she muttered, “you can’t know. How did you know about mom?” He looked away, shamed, “Joey, your mother and I ... we’ve seen each other a few times since ... we didn’t plan it, we just ran into each other years ago now, had planned to start over when I—when we stabled out a bit ... ” his voice faded away as his eyes traveled across the room. Obviously seeing things so familiar was hard for him. “But what about us?” she felt the words stumble out. “Why did you leave us? Why haven’t you been here?” For me. He didn’t respond—he seemed unable to respond. Joanna sat down beside him, her arms crossed in front of her as she worked to gain some control. She needed time, just as much as her father did, her mind fuzzy with dream-like details. Her father had come home. He’d seen her mother after they had separated—after they left their family. After they left her. It simply came down to that—she realized. The pain of abandonment went back further then six years. Her parents had left her long before their bodies were physically gone. They sat in silence for a long time, the memories and pain in between them. Joanna didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to say anything. Tom finally mustered up his courage, turned and faced her, his eyes betraying his guilt. “I guess you’re a little surprised,” he muttered, looking away. “I suppose I was too. We never intended to see each other again. When we ran into each other, it was like ... seeing each other for the first time. If we could have pretended that there wasn’t a past in between us ... .”

“We kept in touch, not wanting to give in. Neither of us could let go of ... of the past. The disappointments. We destroyed ourselves when we were together. We destroyed our family, let the past get in the way. I had promised her more, much more then was in me to give. I had promised her love that I’m not capable of feeling—of receiving.” He painted a picture that Joanna could see—two people who loved each other, unwilling to give again. She couldn’t sympathize with the picture, but she did see it. Her parents had built their own defenses, and as her father said, destroyed themselves. Maybe he couldn’t deal with love, she thought, but he was home. She needed to deal with the reasons first. “When did you last see mom? How was she?” “I saw her in May,” he answered, slowly coming out of his grief. “She seemed fine. I didn’t stay for long, only long enough to give her some money,” his eyes were glazed over in the memory. “Your mother hasn’t been well in along time, but I never knew how sick she was. She never told me.” “Then you knew of the cancer.” “Yes,” he told her meekly, “I knew. The doctor called me when she lost consciousness. I wasn’t able to get there in time. My job—it kept me far away.” “Was she alone when she died?” Thomas shook his head. “Matt was with her.” “Matt?” Joanna repeated. She couldn’t believe, didn’t want to believe ... and yet, she knew. She knew Matt. “He couldn’t have. He—he’d been looking for her for years ...” “Your mother and Matt have never been out of touch for long. I never saw him,” Tom’s weary head dipped in shame. “Matt never wanted to see me. Ann warned me to stay away when he was around.” The emotions warred within her—anger, hurt, uncertainty—for her father, for oldest brother. “Matt ... he’s carrying around a lot of anger.” “Don’t we all? You must carry around some too.”

She saw the way he was destroying himself now, slowly, painfully, and she nearly wept. He was still her father, she realized, and she was still his ‘Joe-bug,’ whether the relationship had remained in tact or not. “Daddy, I love you,” Joanna whispered, her heart breaking as the words made their way from her heart. “I’ve never stopped.” He froze, his eyes mirroring her earlier shock, before turning away, unable to accept her words, grieving because of what he had lost. She watched him, seeing the emptiness, attempting to separate the reality from the pain in her own heart. Father, he needs to know You. Give me the words and open his heart to You so that he will hear You. “I was angry for a long time—” she admitted slowly, giving her words time to be processed, “and maybe I’m still angry, and I know I don’t completely understand, but in the last month I’ve started to deal with some of the pain. You had no right to leave us. I understand that now. No right to believe that we didn’t need you, that we didn’t love you enough,” Joanna swallowed, examining her heart—felt the truth settle in. “In the last month, God has been working in me. I was in such pain because I never saw myself worthy of anything, even love, especially God’s complete love.” “You sound just like Steven,” Tom started, his eyes sharp as they would have been years before. Then the look changed, softened, the anger relinquishing, shifting, leaving emptiness. “No, you don’t. The words—you say the same words, but you sound different ...” He sighed, his heart full of words he didn’t know how to say. “I didn’t deserve you. I didn’t deserve to have you.” “You gave me life,” Joanna reminded him. “You never had to deserve me.” “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Joey. You and Steven, Jeff and Matt. It scared me to love you as much as I did ... and I could never be more proud. You graduated in the top of your class, graduated from college, have held a job,” he reached out and touched her cheek with his hand. It was warm and rough, trembling with emotion and age. “You’ve turned into such a beautiful woman.” Joanna wanted to weep—felt tears on her cheeks. “Am I?” she whispered, reaching for his hand, “I tried so hard to be worthy of everything. I wanted to be good enough for you and momma, even for God. Yet, that’s the strange thing about love—what you and momma never seemed to

understand. You don’t have to prove yourself or be good enough for it. Love means accepting people—accepting who they are, even when you want more or better for them. I know that now.” “Joey, God can’t accept me. I’ve done nothing. I am nothing.” “You are something! God never creates nothing. It’s not what you’ve done with your life, it’s what you let God do with you that matters.” Joanna watched her dad and felt something inside of her move. He’s listening, she realized with a start. Her father was listening to her—really listening. Oh, Father, please help me. Daddy needs to know You—more than anything else he’s ever known. “God loves you, just as he loves me and mom, Steven, Jeff, Matt ... You don’t have to prove anything to Him, you only have to accept God and believe that He loves you ... believe that He loved you so much that He died for you and know that conquered death so that you may know him for the rest of your life, so He can help you and carry you and ... and love you.” “No—no.” He didn’t want to believe. “That’s not right—it’s too good to be true.” “Just answer me this,” Joanna suddenly asked, not letting herself think further than the question. “If I hadn’t made it to the top percentage of my class, or if had never hit a baseball. If I had dropped out of school, would you still love me?” Tom turned and looked at Joanna, tears flowing out of his eyes. “You, Ann, the rest of the kids were everything to me. That’s why I left, so I wouldn’t hurt you. I was hurting you. I lost control. I just couldn’t hang on to anything anymore.” Something sparked in Tom’s eyes as the impact of his own words settled into his heart. God loved him like he loved his children, but only more. If what Joanna said was true ... where would he be? He knew he had failed his kids and had failed God, but God had not failed him. Was it true? Could God love even him? He met Joanna’s eyes. “Is it true, Joey?” he asked. “Could God love even me?” “Daddy,” Joanna said softly, her heart soaring so high that she felt the anger and the hurt slip away, “No one is perfect. Not me, not Steven or Jeff or ...”

Not Joshua Simpson. Joanna knew where the thought came from and sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward. “I’m going to show you something someone once showed me. It comes from the Bible. For me to believe in God—to understand fully that He really loved even me—I had to hear it,” she went and retrieved her Bible, flipping through the pages even as the memorized verse ran freely through her mind. She wanted her father to see the evidence—she wanted him to know where it came from. She sat beside him and held the Bible open for him, pointing to the verse, “Jesus says here, ‘Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more;’” tears flowed down from Joanna's eyes. She wiped them away so she could see her father’s eyes, “‘So don't be afraid; you are worth more than the sparrows.’" Tom just sat there, looking at her, stunned—and yet, almost ... almost understanding. He glanced wearily at the Bible, then once more at her, “Joey,” he began, the words barely working themselves around his parched throat. “I can’t think—it’s ... the words, your words are so ... beautiful, but your mother. I loved your mother and ... .” his voice trailed away. Feeling a little panicked, Joanna opened her mouth, wanting to plead with him when the doorbell rang. Matt ... she nearly panicked before she realized that her brothers would never knock when they were staying with her. If it wasn’t Matt or Steven—it would be Rod. Worry was in his eyes when she opened the door. He reached out and took her in his arms, holding on when her arms came around him to cling. “Joanna,” he whispered against her hair, “you’re okay. I couldn’t stop praying for you. God hasn’t let go of me all morning. I’ve felt this intense burning ... like something was wrong. Are you okay? I—” She knew, before she looked, that he recognized her father. She swallowed, feeling her heart swell with love. “Rod Kirkland,” she said slowly, bringing him out of his stupor. “I would like you to meet my father, Tom Berkley.”

Chapter 21 “Are you okay?” Rod asked when the door shut behind her father. Tom Berkley had only stayed a few minutes after Rod arrived, pausing to approve with his eyes, before escaping from the house, the memories, taking only his daughter’s words with him. Not his pride ... not her love. Rod brushed a length of hair away from her face, his eyes compassionate and concerned. She nodded, swallowing against the ache in her throat, leaning into the comfort Rod offered. His strong arms surrounded her, protecting her, physically and emotionally. She knew he was waiting for her to talk, to explain the presence of a man who had deserted her once before. She needed time to separate the emotions involved in the encounter. “I think I am,” she said slowly, remembering a mirage of details all at once. “It’s been a tough day. Anytime the three of my brothers are in the same house together ... I hate the way they treat each other. I hate that we can’t just hold onto each other in this painful time.” She sighed, shifting her head slightly so she could better hear Rod’s strong heartbeat. “I don’t want to go tonight, Rod. Call me a coward, but I don’t want to face that place and my mother ... not in this way. Not like this. I don’t want to see her and not ... have her.” He didn’t say anything, only held her as she worked through her needs. “But I would regret it for the rest of my life,” she continued, finally. “Mom, at least the memory I have of her, deserves it. And my brothers won’t understand. They’ve never completely understood.” His hand rubbed into her shoulders, gently pressing into the knots. “I wish it was over—I wish we would bury her and get it over with. We're just sort of waiting for the funeral to happen. I guess that everyone who's going to be there is here.” “Even your dad.” “Yes,” Joanna heard the confusion in his voice. She knew what he was thinking—the same thing she did when she opened the door for her father. She told Rod everything she knew; that her father and mother had seen each other often over the years, that her father had been giving her mother money, and that Matt had kept in touch with their mother. “It’s so sad. He loved her, I know that, but they couldn’t get passed what happened in this house. I don’t suppose they would have left if they could have—or if his

feelings matched my mother’s.” “What are you going to do about Matt?” Rod asked, watching her as she leaned back and met his eyes. “I don’t know,” she admitted, leading Rod over to the sofa. “Matt has never trusted the rest of us—I think he’s felt left out of our lives, never quiet able to understand the bond we have as believers, jealous of our faith. Maybe if I’d understood that before, things wouldn’t have gotten so far out of hand, where he couldn’t trust us to love our mother. To protect her in her sickness.” “I would have done almost anything to see her again, especially in the last month,” Joanna shook her head, not wanting to get bogged down in the confusion. “I don't want to jump to any conclusions. Matt hasn't always been fair with me, or with any of us, but he’s been a good brother in the tough times. I don't know what he was thinking this time.” She looked at Rod, a wry smile on her face. “Since the subject’s been brought up, Matt won’t be happy to see you—especially when he realizes that you’re with me. I hope there’s not a scene.” “Why?” “Because I’m a coward and he doesn’t know we’re together. He doesn’t even know you’re in the picture. I didn’t face him before he left this afternoon,” she hedged, clearly not answering his question. “I think that he’ll be less likely to throw a fit in the funeral home.” She saw the worried look in his eyes and bristled, “It's my life Rod, not his. And he can be the protective older brother all he wants, but he won't stop me from seeing who I want to.” “Hey,” Rod said gently, reaching to gently brush her hair away from her face, “calm down. If Matt ever tried to keep us a part, I wouldn't let it happen. I mean, we're both old enough to know what we need.” He dropped a gentle kiss on her nose. “Why doesn't he want me to see you?” “It doesn't matter.” “Doesn't it?” Joanna hesitated. “For starters, he’s always been protective of me, so much more so than Steven and Jeff. He just thinks he has to, and it doesn’t help that you were the preacher's grandson. Matt doesn't hold to dearly to the clergy, especially since Steven and Jeff haven’t dealt with the situation in the best way. I’m beginning to

think that part of Matt’s problem was that he was excluded from us, and since your family had a special relationship with them, Matt is equally hostile toward you for the same reasons.” “But ... there’s something else,” Rod realized, seeing the underlying fear and uncertainty in Joanna’s eyes—a look he had seen once before, that first Thursday in Dallas, right before she attempted to drive out of his life. “Something more?” Joanna looked away, but Rod turned her chin back with gentle fingers. She had hoped that they would never have to talk about it, but she had only been fooling herself. She took a deep breath, praying for strength and guidance. “He knows about ... he knows you've hurt me very deeply before and he doesn't want me hurt again. I guess his intentions are good.” That time she did look away from him. Rod sat quietly, contemplating what she had said and what she had not said. “Was there was a specific time that I hurt you more than usual?” Joanna bit her lips together. She refused to bring the incident up. They had never talked about the night of their senior party. “If we have to talk about it, I would rather we wait until tonight, after we go to the funeral home.”

Chapter 22 With Rod’s hand in her own, Joanna went into the viewing room to where her mother’s body lay. There were people in the room, but she didn’t see them. She just moved forward. She wanted it over with. She stared down into the casket and frowned. “It’s not mama.” She felt Rod’s arm slide around her and she leaned into his shoulder. “I just expected ... that she would look ...” Joanna swallowed over the pain. Ann Berkley had done more than age. The illness and years, and whatever else had happened in between, had done more to her than a handful of years could.

She reached out, briefly touched the cold hand, and made herself say goodbye. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t find the words to share with Rod what she was feeling. She couldn’t even cry. Finally, she turned away and looked around the room. More people were gathered in the funeral home’s small viewing room then Joanna could count. As Rod held her hand tight in his, she looked around, noting the people who had turned up to support her family. The church staff that Steven worked with, Joanna's own pastor, music minister and Sunday School leaders. Friends of the family, especially Jeff's, stood around solemnly, catching up with each other. Rod's parents stood by the far wall talking with Dr. Copeland. Joanna looked up at Rod, stunned. “Your parents are here.” Rod smiled at the perplexed look on her face and would have taken her in his arms if the setting had been different. “I forgot to tell you—they drove down ahead of me this morning, were planning on meeting with the Copeland’s. Mom would have contacted you, but she was afraid that you were under enough pressure with what had to be going on at your house, with the number of people there.” Joanna breathed a sigh of relief, finally feeling a sense of comfort even Rod had not been able to give her. Jan saw them coming and met Joanna half way, holding on when Joanna’s arms refused to let go. Rod stood beside his dad, watching them hold on to each other, peace inside of his heart. He’d known in the loss of Ann Berkley, a woman who mothered Joanna so little, that Joanna needed his own mother—needed the love and attention only Jan could give. Jan led Joanna over to a bench in a quiet corner to talk, letting Joanna pour out her tears and emotions that needed to be shared. They wrenched from her. The hurts that had been built up in Joanna as a little girl, poured forth, the emotions so conflicting and painful that she hadn’t been able to release them all. She loved her mother, because Ann Berkley was her mother, but she was so confused in how to handle the abandoned feeling—abandonment her mother had continued into death.

* * *

The moment Joanna had been dreading came later. Rod had given her his keys so she could get into his car, on the pretense of getting some gum for the kids. She walked out into the night, following a stone path through a section of bushes, taking a few needed deep breaths. She’d needed to get away. Rod had understood that simple fact. She returned, gum in hand, all too soon. Matt was waiting for her just inside the door. As Joanna looked up into her oldest brother's eyes, she saw the resentment and the fear he felt for her. While she understood, because she knew her brother, it bothered her that he had chosen to confront her at the funeral home. “What are you doing, Joanna?” “Rod and I are seeing each other,” she stated calmly, meeting his eyes, seeing no reason to delay the obvious. “We’re different now Matt. We're both older and we've put the past behind us. I know that’s not something that’s easy for you to do, but I’m asking you. Please understand.” “I haven’t forgotten what he did. What he said to you. Guys like him can’t, won’t love you. They strike out to hurt when they need to feel macho. You know what it did to our father.” “Rod isn’t our father.” “How do you know?” “Because he’s not like that. He never was. He acted like he did because of the moment, because of who we were to each other then. I don’t even think he remembers it.” “He’s just using you—” “Wait a second,” Joanna countered. Her brother was angry, but then so was she. “Maybe you would have a right if there was some evidence, recently to Rod doing anything of the sort, but that’s not the main issue. How dare you bring this up when our mother is lying in there. I’m never going to be able to ask her why she left. I’m never going to be able to understand. We're here at the funeral home! We could at least respect the fact that mother did not want us to argue.” “You were the one who brought him.”

“I brought him because I love him and I needed him here—” “Joanna, grow up!” “I do not need to grow up!” Joanna said through her teeth, stomping her foot on the floor. The absurdity of it almost made her smile. “Matt, I will not justify myself to you right now. All I know is that I love him, he loves me, and you have some explaining of your own to do to this family.” “What are you talking about?” “I've heard from a reliable source that you and mom have kept in touch all these years when the rest of us thought she was gone from our lives.” Joanna stared at her brother, waiting for him to explain. When he did not, she continued, “When you're ready to tell me, then I'll be ready to explain my feelings for Rod Kirkland. Until then, I suggest you keep to yourself.” Joanna whirled and walked back outside. She was too upset to head into the reception room. She needed some fresh air. “Joanna?” Chad voiced as he saw her sitting on the trunk of Rod's car. He had just pulled up and was heading in when he saw her. “Is everything alright?” “Yes ... no, no it's not.” Chad sat beside her on the car, letting the night settle around them. He missed her, had made himself too busy to stop and see her recently. Joanna lived too close to Meredith’s house for him to take a chance. “Which one is it?” Joanna laughed, a sound that surprised her. Chad had been close enough to her family long enough to know tension would be in the air when they were all together. “Matt.” “I could of guessed that,” Chad said frankly. “What's his problem now?” “He's just being Matt,” Joanna said with a shrug, frowning over the memories she wanted to forget. “I wasn't surprised. I'm expecting more conflict from all of my brothers, but that doesn't make any of it any easier.” Chad nodded. He knew her family had problems, possibly more than anyone else

outside the Berkley's. Bethany had been Joanna's relief for so long. She seemed to be thinking along the same memories. “I was this close to going through that box you brought over weeks ago,” she said, holding her thumb and index finger and inch a part, “at least, before all this happened,” she looked at Chad and saw the weariness on his face for the first time. “Are you doing okay?” “No, I'm not,” he said without thinking and winced, knowing he needed to tell someone. Maybe it was Joanna he needed to talk to, Joanna who would understand. “I haven't slept much all week.” “How's Meredith?” “I don't know. Haven't seen much of her. Neither one of us are ready for a relationship,” he lied, hating himself for being so low. Joanna didn’t ask him to continue. She was too close to Bethany and Meredith to really understand his dilemma. They sat on the trunk of Rod’s car for awhile, comforted in the silent understanding that they both could give. He tried very hard not to think of Meredith, but failed, constantly haunted by those Irish green eyes of hers. Finally, to get away from the quiet or go crazy, he hopped off the car. “Are you coming in?” “Not yet,” she whispered, “I'll be there in a minute.” Chad nodded. They both had things they needed to face in the next few days, and he prayed that God would give them both the strength they needed.

Chapter 23 Ann Berkley was buried next to her father on their family plot. Joanna felt like she was watching through a glass box. Her pastor’s voice faded in and out. She was sure what he said was good and comforting, but there was not much he could say. A sob caught in her throat every time Joanna thought about it. Rod caught her hand each time and she held on for dear life. Tears rarely came. She felt too numb to cry.

Tom Berkley stood outside the crowd, defeated. Her brothers noticed him, everyone did—but she was surprised when Jeff who broke away and went to his side. He set his hand on his father’s back, touching when he couldn’t talk. As far as Joanna could see, they didn’t exchange words aloud, but mountains of emotions passed between their eyes. The family headed back to Joanna’s after standing in the receiving line. Her father said a few words to Jeff and left, his middle son watching him go. Rod’s parent’s headed home and invited her for the weekend. Joanna made no promises, but she thanked them and clung to Jan one more time. The friction inside the house kept Joanna in the living room with her brothers and their wives. Steven was pretty much ignoring Matt, talking around him and directing his comments and questions elsewhere. Jeff was simply quiet, as always, trying to sort the emotions out in his mind, neither reaching nor striking out. Matt was not making the situation better as he dropped hints throughout the conversation that Jeff was not doing his part, wasting away at an orphanage mission in France, and his comments toward Rod were spiced with animosity. Joanna waited for the explosion she knew was going to come. Rod watched and kept quiet, his eyes observing all the details of the room. Oh, Father, I didn’t want Rod to get involved in this—and yet, even as she prayed, she knew how much trouble that attitude had gotten her into the last time. “I can’t believe you, Matt,” Steven’s voice exploded. Joanna flinched. Obviously, Steven had finally figured out that Matt knew more then he’d ever said. “We’re family, tighter than any bond on earth and you hide something like this from us!” “Steven—“ Helen started. “What bond? The bond that turns brothers against brothers before we even grew out of the same house?” “Matt!” This came from Matt’s wife. “I’m talking about now. We loved mother just as much as you did.” “It was mom’s wish, not mine.” “But you knew she was dying! You knew how we would feel!”

Jeff stared at his older brother, his face twisted in confusion and agony. “You mean, you knew? How could you? Matt you had no right!” “You and your religion! How good would those false words of hope been for her if she could hear you?” Matt belted. “Oh, if mother would have heard that preacher today she would have been so ashamed!” “Ashamed of God?” “Ashamed that a man could pronounce such hocus pocus over her grave. You don’t even know how much both of you hurt her because you could do nothing better with your lives then to throw them into the work of superstitions. She raise you. Gave you the best she had.” “The best?” Steven glowered. “Steven,” Helen placed a hand on his arm. “You never did try to understand. You preached all this good and she had so much pain.” “Matt—” Joanna broke in, not wanting the conversation to turn into an angry battle of religion all over again. She had heard the arguments so many times growing up, and only now understood how wrong the situation made each one of them. She didn’t want her faith flaunted or insulted. “There is a God, Matt,” Jeff whispered through his teeth as if Joanna had not spoken, “and one day you’re going to realize the truth. I pray it won’t be too late.” “I think he’s gotten us off track,” Steven ventured. “We were discussing why he lied to us—” “Steven!” Joanna felt helpless. She turned her eyes desperately to Helen. The two women stood, unmoving, while the tension soared. “Joanna, stay out of this!” Steven scolded, as if he had any right. “Why?” She asked, her voice rising with emotion. “This is my family as much as yours, and maybe it’s time all of you realize that. I won’t have all this anger and ... and anger. Not today, not in this house ...” she tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down. “Our mother just died and all you can think about is arguing about something we can’t change? We are family, even if we’ve tried to stop being one.”

“Joanna—” “No no no no no! Let me finish! I’m sick and tired of this bickering between us. Steven, Jeff, how do you two expect for things to get better when you never talk to Matt? I know for a fact that the only connection you have with him is through me. Do you think things are going to be solved today, while you rant and rave and condemn him? Do you think Matt is ever going to see the God we believe in and love when you act like a pack of wolves?” “Well, I have a surprise for all of you. None of you are ever going to be better than the other. This thing you have between each other is a competition, not about faith. You all have your faults. Believe me. I know so because I grew up with you.” “And Matt,” she turned toward her oldest brother, her anger toning down some. Not because she knew he was right, but because she saw the hurt and confusion mixed into the anger. “You had no right to not tell us about our mother—to think your love was all she needed or any better than ours. How dare you keep us separated—because of our so called religion and God. Your lack of faith wouldn’t have let us keep you away—not for anything. She was our mother. Mine, yours, Steven and Jeff’s. We are a family,” her eyes met each sibling one on one, “Maybe it’s time we started acting like one. Especially today.” “I’ve listened to all of this my whole life. I don’t think it has anything to do with mom or dad. You’ve been like this since I can remember. More than once I was told to keep my mouth shut and grow up, but I don’t think I’m the problem. I’m tired of being told I’m the problem. For once I’d like to ask you to grow up. All three of you.” Joanna turned and ran up the stairs, fighting the tears and the feelings that shook her to the core. The house seemed to shrink in on her. The house with all its memories, with all its failures and anger. She had to get away. She had to. She found a light suitcase and blindly started to pack. I can’t go on like this. Please work in the hearts of my family. Keep them safe, and somehow, please, somehow, break down the problems that keep us separated. At the moment, she didn’t care if her truck broke down on her way out of town. She was not about to ask Steven for any favors at the moment.

Feeling someone watching her, Joanna turned, ready to explode, until her eyes met Rod’s concerned ones. She’d forgotten that he was there. That he had witnessed all that had gone on downstairs. “Are you okay?” The anger slowly depleted until she was left shaking in her weariness. As Rod stepped toward her, Joanna stepped back. “No, please,” she whispered, “please don’t touch me.” Rod reluctantly let her retreat. Joanna’s resolve only stiffened as she met his eyes. “I need to get away, Rod, and right now that last thing I want is to be comforted. I get so confused when you’re around.” “It’s not your fault,” Rod reminded her gently. How many times in her life was she going to have to hear him say that? “I know,” she wanted to reach out and touch him, but the familiar feelings she wanted to experience dissipated with the lingering pain and problems on top of her. “It’s just that I’m tired of all this. I’m tired of watching my family tear itself a part. I look at each of my brothers and love them all—but I feel torn between them. I just can’t stop the ripping I feel on the inside, not right now, and not here,” a small tear slipped from her eyes, and she hated it for slipping out. “Does that make any sense?” She looked down at the bracelet on her wrist. A thought passed into her mind, burdening her heart further. After Rod has time to think—will he still want me? Joanna nearly looked up as Rod cleared his throat, but refrained, afraid of the confusion he would see in her eyes. “Where are you going?” His eyes were on her face, she knew, but she forced herself to look down at the bag in her hands. Surely, if she looked at him, she would really cry. “I don’t know,” she replied solemnly, shrugging her shoulders, “I guess I hadn’t let myself thing about it.” “Well, if you want,” Rod suggested cautiously, “go see mom.” Joanna nodded, in her heart knowing that’s where she had been headed all along,

she just had not thought about the details yet. “You will come see me—not today, but tomorrow?” “I’ll call tonight—” “Please—” Joanna whispered, her pained eye finally looking up to meet his. “You can call your mother, but I ... just give me some time. I want to talk ... I want you, but I’m so confused. I need some time.” “Okay,” he whispered, afraid to press her too much. “I’ll call mom and tell her you’re coming.” Joanna nodded. “Is there anything you want me to tell your brothers?” Joanna shrugged. “No, I guess I said everything I wanted them to hear.” Even as she whispered the words, the love in her heart suddenly wanted to speak volumes. She knew she could not speak to them yet. She took a deep breath, “Tell Jeff, that I do love him, and if he heads back to France before I get back, well, tell him I’ll miss him and to tell Angela I miss her too. I understand he misses her and he has his mission responsibilities so he can’t stay forever. Tell him he can have full reign of the house while I’m gone, if he stays,” she shrugged again. “I guess that’s all I have to say.” Rod nodded, wanting to hold her, but he knew she needed to be alone for a little while. “Here,” he said, handing her the keys to his car, “take my car.” Joanna shook her head, “No, I—” “Joanna, please don’t ask me to let you drive away like this in that truck,” his eyes pleaded with hers as he pressed the keys into her palm. “I understand you need the time and the distance, but I want to make sure you’re safe—that you don’t have to deal with the problems that your truck will give you. Please.” Joanna nodded and gave him the best smile she could muster. He reached out and took her bag. They walked silently through the house, now mysteriously vacant. Rod opened the door to his car and tossed in her bag, then moved out of the way so she could settle in. He dipped down and took her hand, holding it with steady pressure, “I love you, Joanna,” he whispered. “Call me if you need anything.” Joanna nodded, knowing better than to leave without saying the actual words. “I do love you, Rod Kirkland. I’m sorry if I’m not expressing myself well.”

“You’re doing the best you can.” Joanna smiled, squeezed his hand and then reluctantly pulled away, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Rod stepped back and closed the door. Suddenly he knew what she was doing ... understanding that her inner instinct to run away was being routed by God’s hand. She was not running from him, only to a haven—a place where she knew she was loved. She needed to pray for her family. Her heart was crying out to get with God and somehow prayer seemed impossible in her childhood home. Possibly the pain of her surroundings was too great. Rod stood in her yard and watched her drive away. While he had yearned to leave before now, taking her with him, he was now inclined to stay ... now that he knew Joanna’s heart, all he wanted to do was pray. And unlike Joanna, the old house did not break his spirits.

Chapter 24 Rod arrived late in the afternoon the following day, his hands itching to hold Joanna. She rounded the turn into the entryway just as he shut the door behind him. Then she was in his arms, capping the moment off with a brief, but joyful kiss. His arms still around her, he leaned back and took in her hazel eyes, the shadows mostly gone, and the smile, no longer strained. He saw the sadness and the pain, the intensity subdued, but no longer the anger or the fear that had sent her running. “You okay?” he asked. It had been hard to stay away, but his mother had agreed with Joanna’s desire to be alone and away from the emotional feelings of her relationship. He’d appeased himself last night by taking her truck to a garage, hopefully to delay her in Witherspoon long enough for several kinks to be replaced. He wasn’t exactly sure how happy she would be if she knew how much leeway he had given the serviceman. “I’m much better,” she leaned against him, content in his arms, soaking in the spicy smell of his aftershave and the warm feeling of his arms around her. Despite her need for space, the afternoon had been long without him.

“Tired?” She chuckled, “No—satisfied and more then spoiled. Your mother’s been absolutely amazing.” “I’m glad.” She leaned back, took a deep breath as she look at him, as if absorbing his presence. “I saw you come into the driveway. The car—it’s not my truck.” “No.” “Did it give you any problems?” “Nothing major.” “Rod!” Her eyes pleaded with him to be honest, while her brow furrowed in worry. He laughed, dropping a kiss on her forehead and slipped his arms down until he captured her hand. He knew she would not be waylaid—knew he needed to tread carefully and had prayed about how to do so all day. Money was a testy point in their relationship. He led her into the living room, and settled on the sofa as he explained. “I noticed the shocks were out—thought they could be replaced while you were here. It’s no big deal,” and not the entire truth. He had also requisitioned the replacement of several belts, and her breaks to be worked on. Joanna’s brow frowned, as he had known it would, “Rod—” “Joanna,” he cradled her chin in his free hand. “I wanted to.” “But—” “I know, I should have asked and I know it wasn’t my car and I didn’t really have the right,” he compromised, his hand tracing the ridged jawline until he gently cupped the back of her neck, “I know. But since I wasn’t allowed to call, I went ahead and did it, and figured you could pay me back in some way later.” “Just the shocks?” “Unless he finds something else wrong.” He would have to find a way to tell her about the tires later. Unlike the other things, she would likely notice new tires. “I want the receipt.”

“Promise,” Rod told her. He would give it to her on their wedding night, but not before. He would find a way to hold her off that long. There were other ways to accept payback then with money, other things that would mean more to him then money. “How about a walk, Beautiful?”

* * * Joanna became suspicious the next evening on the ride home, her truck handling the road better then it ever had, but all of her thoughts and plans she made to deal with Rod flew out of her mind when she saw Matt’s car parked in her driveway. She parked and turned her engine off, watching the house. The lights were on in the living room. Was it Matt there waiting for her? To what? To discipline his little sister for her outburst? She winced, reminding herself that God was in control. Besides, he was only her big brother. Not the a family police. Gathering her things together, she went inside, figuring that Jeff had to be back in France if Matt was waiting. But she was surprised when she opened the door. Matt and Jeff were sitting on the floor, papers spread out before them, a rainbow of activity. She recognized the paperwork and the box, knew they were looking over her parent’s debts. They looked up, relieved, she thought, and not the least bit ashamed for digging through her less-than organized filing system. Not that she would complain. She felt somewhat relieved that the whole mess was no longer simply in her hands. “Jo,” Matt stood and brushed off his jeans as she greeted them wearily, shutting the door with her foot. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” “You could at least let her catch her breath,” Jeff jumped in, but for once there was humor in his voice and Matt did not take offence. Joanna looked at her oldest brother as she sat her bag down, feeling appraised, as if her brothers were analyzing her mood and attitudes. Her heart was beating rapidly. “Sure. In your office?” Matt smiled, recognizing the old terminology for their front porch. He nodded, “That would be fine.” He followed her out and they were seated on the porch steps before he began to speak. Joanna vaguely remembered other times with Matt, when he would sit with

her on the old porch and discuss baseball, quiz her on averages, percentages and the league’s top players and teams. Her father had taught her to play, but it had been Matt that had taught her the sport. She loved her brothers. She loved them all, but especially Matt. They were older now, Joanna realized, and more then time separated them from those easy talks. He took a deep breath, his eyes on his hands that were interlocked and nervously twitching. “I wanted to apologize to you,” he started slowly, “For several things. I know that I’ve made you feel responsible for this house. Maybe I even locked you into it, used your own rocky emotions against you. Maybe I did it on purpose. I couldn’t bare to let go of the house, I couldn’t bare to deal with it.” “I’m sorry. I had no right to incarcerate you into these memories. They had to be worse for you then they were for the rest of us. I just wanted ... I just wanted to hold things together, and I didn’t know how.” Compassionate, Joanna placed a soothing hand on his back. “None of us did, Matt. And you couldn’t have locked me here if I had somewhere else to go.” “I didn’t want you to find it—even though I knew that you were better off somewhere else then what mom and dad built for us here,” he looked up and sighed, taking in the yard and the neighborhood, remembering how it had been instead of how it looked now. “All of us were. “And you were right—I should have told you, all of you, about mom. I don’t know why I wanted to defend her, and I didn’t realize until this week that I had even been doing so. I never believed that what she did was right, or that she had ever been unselfish. She and dad were both at fault. They built their own destruction.” Joanna nodded, remembering her father’s words. Her parents had indeed destroyed themselves, separated themselves from their family. Matt met Joanna’s hazel eyes, eyes the color of his own. She knew how much the apology had cost him. She reached out and awkwardly put a reassuring hand his tense arm. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I can’t say I understand why you kept me away, but we need to go on.” Matt nodded and then laughed, a soft laugh that told Joanna they were okay for

the first time in a long time. “Well,” he said, “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you don’t understand me. I certainly don’t understand you.” “You’re talking about my belief in God, again, aren’t you?” Matt sighed, “Yeah, I guess I am partly. I don’t understand how you can base your life—your decisions on the supernatural. It doesn’t make sense. You have no backing—nothing to hold you up.” Joanna sat in the silence letting a prayer lift from her heart. Never in her life had she been able to share so many words that meant so much. First with her father, and now with Matt. God would have to change him, not her, not Jeff and not Steven. It would be God, and in His time. “I don’t know,” she finally responded with a slight shrug. “I guess because God is stronger and more real than anything else I’ve ever had. I can’t back myself in money, because I don’t have any,” she laughed at herself, “and if I did, it could be stripped away from me. Whatever I have on earth won’t follow me to the grave.” She met Matt’s eyes. He was listening, even if he was in doubt. “God will,” she said simply, “God is where my real treasure, Matt. He is what brings light into my life. The relationship Rod and I have is nothing without God,” she looked up at the sky to see the sun slowly setting. The colors were gorgeous. “And maybe you say I can’t see God—but I can see His work.” She pointed to the sky and Matt’s eyes followed. “The beauty He gives is all around us.” “The sun creates the sunsets, Joanna,” Matt admonished. “But the sun doesn’t know when I need them most. That was a gift to us, Matt,” Joanna whispered. “Begin to look for God and you will begin to see His work, His art, His gifts,” she smiled, “and eventually you will begin to see Him—and only then will you ever understand what Jeff, Steven and I have.” Matt only looked at her, the doubt still lingering in his eyes. They sat silently on the porch and said nothing for a long time. Finally, he stood and said goodbye. She stayed on the porch and watch him walk to his car. For a moment he stopped and watched as the last embers of sunset slowly faded away—and she saw his search, his doubt. Thank You God, Joanna prayed, lifting a hand to wave as he pulled out of her driveway. When she went inside, Jeff was also ready to talk, the papers cleared from the floor and the box out of view. She told him about her conversation with Matt and they prayed together for several beautiful minutes, for the first time

sharing the burden of their family. Joanna could not remember a time when being with her family had made her feel so blessed. “Steven went home,” Jeff confided as they sat on the sofa. “I think it’s going to take him awhile to forgive Matt. I guess I would be in a similar situation if I had a place to retreat to, but Matt’s been here on and off since you left, waiting for you, trying to deal with his guilt and his nerves. He left me no other choice but to talk to him.” His broad shoulder’s sagged. “You were right. Steven and I have handled the our relationship with Matt all wrong. At the time, we felt so helpless—desiring for Matt to find what we found in Christ. I didn’t take the time to understand that as the oldest, he was dealing with family problems we were blind to until later. Eventually, we pushed him away and backed ourselves into the proverbial corner. I’ve been carrying around a bitterness for so long—I finally gave it up.” The look on Joanna’s face made him laugh, “Now don’t be so surprised. I’ve been struggling with it for years, but your words were a direct arrow into my defenses. I knew I would be going back to France, Angela and our mission, completely out of sorts with Matt and God—and I would have to wait until our furlough to come back and mend things.” “Now, don’t go and think everything’s fine and dandy,” he warned. “Things are still a little tense,” his hazel eyes looked across the room, lost memories appearing in his mind. Joanna nodded, “How did Matt take it?” “I think he was about to wet his pants.” Joanna laughed, her heart swelling as a boyish grin lit Jeff’s face. “We had lunch—he even paid.” “Really? Matt paid for your meal?” Jeff smiled, knowing full well that Matt was the miser of the family. “Said he didn’t understand why I chose a sorry job in France that paid nothing, but he couldn’t fault me for that, he figured. And I was able to explain that I did more as a missionary then talk about God. We run an orphanage, have strong ties into Eastern Europe and Russia, meeting peoples most basic needs. He was surprised—impressed, even. And he asked questions. For the first time he felt comfortable enough with me to ask questions and to listen when I answered.” Joanna felt her heart swell as she listened to all that God had pulled together. Simple conversation meant so much more in her family then it would in many homes.

She excused herself only for a moment so she could call Rod and let him know she was home. They did not talk long, for Jeff was leaving in the morning and she wanted to spend all the time she could with him. He would not be home again for another year and a half. For the first time in perhaps her entire life, Joanna was able to thank God for her family with a clear heart. She knew, better than anyone, that more than one miracle had been accomplished that day. Jeff and Matt were speaking companionably for the first time in years, bringing Matt to a point where he could really see something in their words. Joanna smiled and in her off-key voice, lifted up a chorus of praise.

Chapter 25 Meredith tossed her sketch pencil across the table and heard it bounce on the linoleum. If she was not taking care of her mother, doing something with Britt or Kelly, she was thinking about Chad. Who was she fooling? Even when she was doing something else, she was thinking about Chad. She couldn’t get him off her mind. In two weeks she had seen him a little—across the worship center at church and once at the grocery store. He made no effort to see or talk to her. As far as he was concerned, Meredith supposed, she had never been in his life. What hurt the most was that out of all the people in her life, Meredith had trusted Chad more than anyone. He knew she was going through a difficult time. She couldn’t understand why he couldn’t—why he didn’t want to understand. Maybe she was not making the right decisions. Maybe she was dealing with every heart ache the wrong way, but everything seemed so big, so hard. It all overwhelmed her. She didn’t know how to deal with anything. She needed him, to confide in him, to lean on him. She needed his encouragement and his advice. And he was gone. The tears that appeared in Meredith’s eyes made her furious. Her emotions were

balancing on a thin line. She felt alone and more afraid then she had ever been. She stared at the unfinished piece in front of her. It was an idea she was toying with for a children’s medication animated advertisement. It was supposed to be a drawing of a rabbit, shivering in a little ball, a huge bear-like germ figure hovering over with huge fangs and claws. Yet, all she could see was the bear—the terror. Meredith suddenly realized that she could draw herself in the picture. She was the little rabbit, frightened and uncertain and her life was the big, ugly bear. What bothered her, as she stared at the unfinished picture, was that she was unsure where God was at the moment. Oh, she knew. The trite phrase, he’s carrying you, rang in her ears. And yet, she did not feel carried. She felt hard pressed and tired, weak and afraid. “I have to get away,” Meredith spoke into the empty kitchen. She suddenly wanted to be back in Dallas. Alone. No, she argued, she wanted Chad. Wanted to be able to share her feelings and fears. Wanted to hear his advice, now that she was ready for it. Wanted to bounce alternative ideas off his mind. And without him, she needed the quiet and the space to figure things out and pray. Chad was no longer there for her ... even when she was ready to listen.

* * * Chad sat at his desk, looking through paperwork that had stacked itself up over the summer. His eyes seemed to be content on his work, but all he could think about was Meredith. He had passed her the day before as he exited the grocery store, looking exhausted and so very vulnerable. Seeing her unlocked a longing so strong that he nearly dropped to his knees then to beg forgiveness. He wanted her in his arms. He wanted to call her—to hear her voice—to tell her everything would be alright. He wanted to pray with her, hold her small hands in his. With a flick of his wrist, Chad turned his computer off and pressed his hands against his head trying to force his thoughts from Meredith. She was all he could think about. Her face, her beautiful hands, her smile ... the small details about her that made her into Meredith, into his Meredith ... the small details that he treasured.

What was keeping him back? Chad pushed away from his desk, guilt forcing him to analyze his reasoning and admit the truth. He couldn’t blame Bethany anymore. In the way she lived, in the life she had with him and Christ, Chad had little doubt that she would not want him to go on with his life. She would want him to protect and help Meredith, to meet her needs as his heart was crying out for him to do. Bethany would always be a part of him, and he knew he would always love her. Yet, inside of him a new love, a different love, was blooming with Meredith in mind. He just didn’t want to loose again—and for the first time he realized that he had lost her, or would loose her, because of his stubbornness. But stubbornness wasn’t always a flaw. He could still remember the times Bethany had chosen to laugh at him over it. And he figured he was stubborn enough to convince Meredith she needed him—almost as much as he needed her.

Chapter 26 Meredith carried her suitcase outside and slipped it in her open trunk. It was a hot August day, the sun so hot she could almost hear the rays sizzle as they hit the ground. She wiped the sweat from her brow, then stepped back from the trunk, hands on her hips, flipping through the sporadic, but detailed list in her mind. She had packed her art supplies, canvases—unfinished. Rechecking her mental list one more time, she knew she was ready to go. She still hesitated. Closing the trunk, she turned and frowned at the professional For Sale sign staked in the middle of her yard. It looked ... lonely, out of place. It had only been a few days since she, Kelly and Britt had put the sign up, hefting it into place like the soldiers raised the flag at Iwo Jima. It had been a victory, between the three of them, a moment where they’d let go together. Still, it was hard to believe that she was doing the right thing, making the right changes. Hopefully the trip to Dallas would answer her questions. She planned to look into some clinics for her mother, following the doctor’s most recent advice,

see about a school for Britt to attend, drop by her boss’s office to go over her work and ideas. Then she planned to bury herself in her apartment, to escape into the silence and familiarity for a moment of peace, time to pray, to cry for Chad and all the constructed agonies that still hurt. She loved him, she knew that now, but she was ready to make the changes he had not waited for her to make. She sighed and started back into the house. Brittany and Kelly were staying with Joanna, she had hired a nurse to stay with her mom. It was time, past time, to go. The rattle of a vehicle outside made her pause just as she opened the side door, feeling her heartbeat leap. The sound was a familiar clatter of an old van. She turned, slowly, and watched the van come to a standstill in her driveway, heard the silence as the ignition died. Then Chad stepped out of his van. His eyes were on the For Sale sign. The unguarded pain tore at Meredith. It was his fault, she reminded herself, as much his fault as it was her own. Finally, he shut the door of his van and turned, meeting Meredith’s eyes. Without speaking, he walked toward her, stopping only feet from her. “You’re selling the house.” The statement tarried between them. Chad swallowed against the sudden panic. “We put it on the market.” Chad nodded, “You were just going to leave?” “What did you expect me to do?” she asked him, hurt and confused, holding onto her pride when she wanted to crumble in relief. “You walked out of this house two weeks ago, angry because I wasn’t making decisions fast enough for you. I haven’t seen you since.” “I needed some time.” “I was willing to give that. I needed to think, to get my life and priorities in order as well, but it didn’t seem like you wanted to be a part of those priorities—to help me make the decisions you were pushing me to make.”

“I didn’t realize that ...” he struggled over the words, over the apology. “I didn’t think it mattered,” she gave in to her need and reached out, taking his hand in hers. He met her eyes. “I’m going to Dallas tonight to really think about everything, to get a perspective on all possible changes. We need to talk, Chad, and I supposed we should do that before I leave.” Inside Chad stopped her and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her soft hair. “I’ve missed you,” he muttered, sighing a little when her arms came around him. Surprised, but welcoming his embrace, she pressed her face against his blue work shirt. “I wanted to tell you—to talk to you, to hear your voice, your advice. I just wasn’t sure you wanted to know, wanted to deal with the situation anymore. I didn’t know if you were ready...” He cupped her face between his large hands, looked into the solemn Irish green eyes, “Dallas was your home a few months ago—is that home for you now?” Carefully, as if afraid his skin would burn her, she reached up and pressed her fingertips against his cheek, slowly tracing his jaw line. His eyes never left hers. “I don’t know. I’m no longer sure where home is. Maybe months ago I would have called Dallas my home. Now ...” She shrugged and leaned back against his firm chest. “Since coming back to Glendale I’ve changed. I just don’t know how much.” Chad wiped a tear carefully away with his thumb. “Have I messed things up for us?” “It’s not all your fault,” Meredith whispered, completely missing the look of fear that overcame him. Her words sounded so final. “I was just as afraid of letting you help me. I was afraid of being dependent on you, and then running out of reasons to need you.” Chad shut his eyes as the emotions rolled over him. He felt the release and the pain, “I never thought I could feel this way—anything like this again. It surprised me, made me cautious where I shouldn’t have been. You don’t ever need to run out of reasons to need me, unless you don’t need my love.” Her breath hitched and she smiled, finally, her Irish green eyes sparkling, “You love me?” “Didn’t I just say I did?” He asked, with a tender smile. “You’re everything, baby—you, your family. I need you, I love you. It’s different then before, strong and whole,

but it’s not whole without you. I’m not whole without you.” Tenderly, she touched a hand to his cheek, “Chad, if you’re asking if I love you, I do—love you.”

Chapter 27 Joanna was curled up in one of Steven’s old tea-shirts thinking and praying when the phone rang. It was the Monday four full days away from the reunion—the reason she had traveled into the glass and glamour of Rod’s world the first time. A good portion of the remaining preparations had been delegated to a committee of her piers. “Hey,” he responded into the phone, “how are the night skies in Glendale?” “Clear, I think. The Weather Channel said you were having storms.” “Well, Dallas might be, but I’m not,” Rod told her. “I’m in Nashville.” “Nashville?” Joanna repeated, “When did this happen?” She heard his sigh, deep with frustration. “Oh, this afternoon—actually, I guess it’s been going on awhile. One of our clients has been slipping out of our fingers and today we almost lost him.” “He was a big client, huh?” “Big? No, he was bigger than that. In the United States of clients, he was Texas, or that’s the way the CEO feels.” Joanna hated hearing the weariness of his voice. “And I suppose there’s an Alaska?” Rod laughed wearily, “Yeah, there’s an Alaska. I don’t think we have any worries with losing him.” “You sound tired,” she worried out loud. “Is this really your responsibility?” “It’s my responsibility to get him back,” he sighed, “but no, I wasn’t the one who bumfuggled the deal.”

“Bumfuggled?” “That’s a legal word for what I want to say,” he teased in return, needing to hear to laugh, needing to laugh with her. “You know what? I want nothing more than to take this job and throw it out and come running home to you.” Joanna laughed softly. “Well, I guess I won’t see you until October. Why don’t you catch a plane and fly to Dallas and then try running home? That would get you here by the end of the week.” “You’re tempting me.” “There’s always Mongolia.” “That’s it!” he thundered sweetly. “I’m packing my bags and I’ll meet you at the airport as soon as you can get here.” Joanna shook her head and laughed. “You know God’s been working in my life for a while now. I’m not sure how long he wants me with this company.” “Rod, I trust you and I’m praying for you,” Joanna returned, “We might turn out to be poor home missionaries in south Mongolia, struggling day to day for ends meet, but I would still stand by you.” “Would you really?” “Yes,” she returned with a promise from her heart and then laughed softly, “of course, Matt would really fly off his rocker, then. If Jeff’s pay and life style makes Matt ill, I think he would blow his top with that one.” Rod chucked, “That he would.” “Not that it would make a difference what he thought.” “I’m sure it would make a difference, but I know we’d work on it together. You’re still seeing me, aren’t you?” “I guess I am ... though Nashville’s a little too far away from my eye sight right now.” “How would seminary sound?”

“What?” Joanna asked. That had talked about him becoming a minister before, but every time the idea came up, it sounded like a dream from the past. Was God really leading Rod back into church ministry? “Seminary? When?” “Well, I don’t have all the details worked out, but I might within the next couple of weeks. We’ll talk when we get home.” Joanna groaned, “We have a lot to do when you get home. I can’t believe this weekend is—” She stopped when she heard his soft groan. “What is it?” she asked, alarmed. “You will make it, won’t you?” “Oh, sweetheart, I want to be there...” “You promised,” she squeaked out before she realized what she was saying. “I mean, it’s okay. I mean I know you promised, but I’m an adult and I can handle it. I didn’t mean to sound that desperate.” “You did mean it,” he corrected her with a laugh, though he hated that he would have to break one of his earliest promises to her—that he would have to break any promise, “I did promise and with all my heart I meant to be there.” “A month ago, you would have needed to hold that promise for me to believe you, now ... I just know ...” “Just know what?” Rod prodded, wanting her to say the words. “That I love you.” “And?” “And ... and you love me.” “I do love you,” he whispered, “with all my heart.” She smiled, wishing his arms around her. She reached over and picked up the small treasure chest, turning it over in her hands. “Rod, please take care of yourself. And don’t worry about this weekend. Things will be fine. I’ll be fine.”

Chapter 28 Rod leaned back in his pillows and stared at the blank T.V. screen. The needed files were spread out across his legs, but he was no further through any of the paperwork than he had been an hour ago. Closing the folder, he slipped it into his briefcase and reached for a book, but ended up drawing his hand out empty. He was having a hard time concentrating on anything—what made him think he could read a business book? His mind was reeling over a conversation he and Joanna had never finished. He knows you've hurt me very deeply before and he doesn't want me hurt again. I guess his intentions are good. He could not forget the words, or stop them from swirling in his head. In the distant past they’d had their share of fights and arguments. Joanna had been extremely upset when she learned he was not going into church ministry. Yet, she admitted now, it had been because she’d believed he’d been betraying his grandfather, rebelling against the memory of Joshua Simpson. In high school, there had been plenty of arguments. He would be the first to admit that he had taken pleasure in mocking her in student council meetings. She had returned her fair share, defensively, he realized now. But what had he done to make Matt hate him so? He knows you've hurt me very deeply before and he doesn't want me hurt again. I guess his intentions are good. He had a feeling, an itch in his mind, a memory so unclear and undefined that it haunted him. God, I need to remember. I believe You’re behind this gnawing inside of me. If I need to drop the subject or wait, please give me a peace—I can handle that—but if you desire for us to bring this . . . this memory out and to a halt now, then I need Your help. You know my heart better than anyone, Father. I love her. I want to take care of her. I want to ask her to marry me—soon. I don’t want this type of pain hovering over our relationship. I want to make it up to her no matter how much it hurts me to know. Help me to remember. Please, Father, give me some leads. No immediate memories popped into Rod’s mind, but he did think of Steve Carson, one of his best friends during high school. Steve had liked Joanna as a friend and they had worked on several student council tasks together. He had religiously flirted with her, but never seriously.

And there had been a time when Steve had taken Joanna’s side completely—right at the end of their senior year. He looked at the clock. It was just after ten, not quite late enough that he couldn’t make a few phone calls.

* * * Joanna hurried into the gym with a package of paper napkins. She tore at the plastic as she moved, music whirling around her. Inside of the mountain of decoration and memorabilia that enveloped the gym in the school colors of red and gold, her high school class mixed and mingled. Maybe the animation was fake, maybe they were really having a good time. No one had bothered to tell her what they were really thinking. There were a good number of people out on the dance floor. Someone had collected a list of favorite high school songs to play, songs full of memories. Images flashed through her own mind: cruising the strip with Bethany, or laying on Bethany’s white poster bed dreaming dreams and giggling over movie stars, or doing absolutely nothing, with the radio playing in the back ground. Joanna skimmed the room with anxious eyes ... still no Rod. She set the napkins on the table and looked at her charm bracelet, fingering the tiny symbols. She had prepared herself to handle the night alone, but she missed him, needed him. Less then ten people had asked about Bethany and on two occasions someone else had been around to tell the story. The other times she had voiced the words alone. She sighed and turned to look at the memorabilia table with Bethany’s trinkets scattered through other odds and ends. She had gone through the box only when she had taken things out to decorate. Her emotions had been repressed at the time, holding off until she was alone at home with Rod’s teddy bear and her treasure chest in the darkness of her own bedroom. Hovering around the tables, looking carefully after the catered food, volunteer and hired help, she tried to appear like she was enjoying herself. At some point in the night Melissa Graton would announce that there would not be a Royal Dance and explain the circumstances. They had neither King nor Queen. “Jo have you seen Mark Winfloy?” A female voice asked from behind her. Joanna turned to the woman, an older version of the person she remembered—just like everyone else. Glenda, she thought, finally placing her name. “Mark—umm, I think ...” she began turning to scan the crowd. She could barely

remember what Mark looked like in high school. “He was with Rice—no, Fred Parker—a few minutes ago. I don’t see either one of them at the moment.” “Oh well. He needed my business card for my law firm. He says his father-in-law has something of his, or something and wanted us to look into it. You know Mark ...” The gym doors were open and a familiar figure was stepping through. Her heart leapt in anticipation and then joy, Glenda’s babbling fading away. Rod’s here! Rod ... her heart cried out as she watched him ... caught his eyes ... and joined his smile. She turned to the woman—the near stranger and smiled. “You will excuse me, but it seems like my ship has come in after all.” “Of course—your ship? Jo Berkley what are you talking about?” Joanna barely refrained from running across the room to the man she loved. She need not have worried about what Glenda or any other person in the room thought. Their love and admiration for each other were written on their faces, in their smiles and in the way they greeted each other with a simple touch. Bets placed ten years ago were suddenly rehashed as their classmates took notice. “You’re here,” Joanna could not keep the breathless sound from her words. She reached out and gently touched the sleeve of his blazer with a tentative hand, relief spreading through when they connected. “You made it.” “Yeah. I did.” Joanna saw the weariness, the eyes, a little tired, wary, cheeks slightly pale. “Are you okay? You look—” “Rodney Kirkland!” She stepped back in surprise at the voice and together they greeted the former boy, now man. Robert Clemmons—Joanna knew who it was even before she saw him. The class clown, always the easy going guy, and one of the essential members of their youth group. He was as short as ever, a little portly, but with the same winning smile. Knowing Robert could keep Rod tired up for hours, Joanna started to step away, but Rod’s hand reached out and captured hers holding her securely next to him. She met his smile. She could wait. They had the rest of their lives.

* * *

Much to Rod’s chagrin, Joanna somehow escaped, leaving him alone to maneuver through the revolving dialogues. Being a Vice President of a fortune 500 company made conversation easy. He was successful, and very happy, soon to be married, even if the bride hadn’t been asked yet. Of course, he kept the marital bit of information to himself. A few people asked, “What happened to that man who was going to become the great church minister that had chased dreams in high school?” Rod only smiled and patted the left side of his chest. “He’s still here, I think,” he would reply. “Who knows, he might emerge again one day.” Only two or three of those who asked were disappointed. Rod spotted Joanna slipping out of the auditorium with a set of books someone had brought to donate to the school library. It was part of a school homecoming tradition. He excused himself from the conversation and followed her down the school halls, noting that while people changed, walls and lockers had not. The school had been smaller then, larger now with the two additions on either side. Still, the lockers brought back memories of big textbooks and notes slipped through the slots. He found her in a classroom, a brown and white wooden plaque with her name fixed to the door. He grinned. Coach Berkley. Math. He wondered if he would have liked her as a high school kid. Maybe he would have had a crush on her. Leaning against the door frame, he simply watched as she arranged the books in an open box. She was the woman he had waited for, the woman God had always intended for him. Truly, the past was in the past for them, and soon ... soon ... he would bring her officially into his future. He looked around the room, noted the mathematic formulas scribbled in precise handwriting on the old green, but clean chalk board. Her walls were decorated in anti-drinking posters, baseball accents and a bulletin board of student newspaper clippings from the previous year underneath a sign that read ‘the tradition passes on.’ He’d almost forgotten she was starting back within the next two weeks. Only when she looked up and met his eyes did he speak. “So, this is your classroom?”

She nodded, “Remind you of anything?” “Takes me back ... I never would have put you in Mrs. Tonley’s room.” “It’s the room where you courted Sarah Fairchild—or, should I say, one of the rooms where I watched you do it.” “That’s right,” Rod remembered. The room was different now, the chairs turned toward the center instead of in straight rows. “It was you, me, Sarah and Steve on the side over there.” “For the first half of the semester,” Joanna muttered dryly. “Until Steve and I were moved to different places in the room and you got to—” Rod chuckled, “We had that fight.” “A sparing match,” she corrected. “In the middle of class,” he shook his head, “Mrs. Tonley was so mad.” “I was jealous. I think I can admit it now,” she shrugged uneasily and sighed, looking at the far wall. She was not proud of the anger she’d held onto then. “When I first moved into this room two years ago, I sat in the desk over there and noticed that Sarah had written your name on the wall, really small with a heart around it. I wish now that I would have left it there ... just so you could see. She was looking for you, earlier.” It took him a second to catch up with the shift, the time change. He stepped into the room, gauging her mood. “She’s not a Fairchild anymore. Married with three kids,” he turned her around, thankful to see the twinkle in her eyes. She’d nearly had him on his knees, willing to beg her forgiveness for another time and place. The boy he’d been probably deserved it. “I think I’ve been waiting all evening to get you like this.” Joanna smiled, went right into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she reached up and touched his tired cheek. “Are you okay?” “Yes.” “Are you sure? You look tired and there’s something ... well, you just seem—”

“I know,” he assured her. “I’m a little edgy, and we need to talk, but ... well, my problem’s just that we need to talk, to spend some time together. We’ve been too far a part for most of our relationship—geographically, I mean.” Joanna smiled and accepted his reasoning. Rod dropped a quick kiss on her lips. She pressed her head against his solid chest and rested. For several quiet moments they stood in each others arms and relished in the security that each other brought. “Are you okay?” He asked finally, knowing that she was dealing with her past and some heavy pain. “With Bethany?” Rod nodded. “I thought I was prepared, but I haven’t been. They ask so innocently and then they’re so stunned,” she laughed suddenly and looked up at him as if sharing a joke, but the humor did not reach her eyes. “I think if I could go back to high school, I’d beg Bethany not to have so many friends. She was better at making people like her than I was at making people angry at me.” Pulling her back against him, Rod laughed gently and pressed his cheek down against the top of her head. “Joanna Berkley the tyrant—” “Yeah and if I hear one more person refer to me as Joberk, I think I’ll ...” she shrugged and rubbed her cheek against Rod’s chest, breaking off her thought as she realized how good the feel of his arms felt around her. “You know, I think I’d give anything to get away from this place right now.” Rod understood her feelings. They no longer fit in the high school setting. They were two different people, with different goals, outlooks and motives. They had grown and fallen in love with each other. If there had been rules on the books, they had been trampled over. “I guess we need to get back,” Joanna muttered. “Not yet,” Rod told her, not loosening his grip. “Give me a few more minutes to hold you. Then ... maybe then I’ll let you go.” Joanna did not complain.

Chapter 29 Rod did not complain when they walked back into the gym and Joanna was snatched from his steady hand. Avoiding most of the crowd, he stood in the dimming shadows and watched her mingle. She’d bloomed in the last few weeks where she’d withered, handling the people and the situation with a confidence that was reminiscent of the Jo Berkley he had once known. She seemed so at ease here, in this weird setting of past and present, even when he knew her heart was troubled. “Have you talked to her?” Rod jumped as the familiar voice tackled him from behind. He turned and met Steve’s concerned eyes with his own. He shook his head, “I haven’t had a chance.” “Everything’s going to be alright.” “It has to be. I don’t want anything to come between us,” he could feel the hairs rising on his neck, remembering how he had humiliated her, understanding now where the link between them had turned, spoiled, leaving them feeling more enemies than friends. The past had been coated, their mutual affection for each other hidden under a cloud of hurt, tampering with their emotions and their memories over the last ten years. “I think she has forgiven me, but I want to make sure she’s forgiven the person I was that night,” Rod shook his head, anguish in his eyes. “I just—I can’t ...” “It was only words Rod, and Jo’s stood the test of harder material. Her parent’s were full of it. Even I knew that.” Rod drew in a deep breath in an attempt to push everything back where it had been moments before. “Where’s that wife of yours? Were you planning on hiding her all night?” Steve laughed, shaking his head, “She left me for a bit so we could talk.” “She’s a good woman.”

“The best.” Rod slapped Steve on the back, “and she married the best.”

* * * As Melissa Graton, senior class secretary and head cheerleader their senior year, made her way to the microphone, Rod once again sought out Joanna and caught her hand within his. She looked up at him and met his tender smile with her own grateful one. The song ended, leaving the gym in an odd silence as the dancing slowly came to a halt. Slowly the talking stopped as they turned to see Melissa waiting. The paper in her hands shook once, belying the emotion behind her relaxed posture. Her eyes scanned the crowd, finding and locking with Joanna’s in sympathy and warmth before she began her prepared speech. “I guess you all have heard about Bethany Parker—later Johnson, that graduated from our class as Homecoming Queen and one of the most treasured of our classmates. Five years ago, Bethany was killed in a car accident along with her child. A son.” Joanna felt Rod’s fingers tighten around her hand. She fought at the tears, lost. “Bethany Parker was a wonderful person, the best listener I knew. In her husbands own words, ‘she gave out hugs like candy, smiles like pennies and laughter like the stars in the sky.’ Bethany even touched me, helped me see past my own popularity to make the friends that I still have in some of you. Many of you remember the change she made. She loved our class, the people gathered here tonight, as much as she loved our school and gladly paraded her school spirit. She is not the only person we have lost from our class, nor can I argue that she is the most missed, yet she was a beautiful person we all remember and loved.” Melissa stopped for a few tense moments to control the strain in her own voice. “There’s a memorial table set up to Bethany and the other nineteen members of our 287 member class that have passed away in our ten years of separation,” she took a deep breath, looking down at her notes, and then met the eyes of the crowd again, calm. “Now, it gives me the pleasure of announcing our Royal Dance. I don’t think that there would have been anything more fitting then for us to present this honor, to these two people, whom Bethany loved. Rod Kirkland, Homecoming King and Class President, will dance with Joanna Berkley our own Vice President and Bethany’s best friend.” Joanna looked up, startled, into Rod’s shining eyes. She did not notice the crowd around them step back to give them room. He reached out a hand, clasped the other.

“Will you dance with me, Joanna?” Joanna smiled, a single tear sliding down her cheek as she laughed softly, knowing the whole room was watching. Feeling a little of the old pride rear at having her emotions put on display, she pushed it back and moved into the slow turn with him, “Do I really have much of a choice?” He took her in his arms, his hands at her waist, holding her hand, “No,” he told her with a small chuckle. They moved smoothly, the soft music a distant melody to the emotions between them. The crowd stood by and watched as they danced, “I’ve got you right where I want you.” “Yeah? Well, ditto.” Joanna leaned slightly against him, forgetting about the people around them, missing the money pass to Robert Clemmons from another, less cheerful classmate, but Rod saw and winked at his friend. Joanna felt tears as people swirled around them, ignored both. She was in the future now, holding onto the man she loved with all her heart. The present was blossoming beautifully. The past ... the years of high school that she had treasured and hated, were disappearing out the windows of her heart ... windows that Rod had helped her open. Their song ended too soon, but Rod kept her close and danced with her a little while longer. She closed her eyes, leaned into him, and soared. When they finally stepped off the dance floor, and grabbed some punch, people had begun to trickle out. “Are you ready to jet?” Rod asked softly as he slipped his arm around her. Joanna looked up at him and shook her head. “I have to help with clean up.” “No you don’t.” “Rod—” “Melissa said she had everything covered. You’ve pulled more than your weight with this, let Melissa do something. She’s having a blast.” Joanna let her eyes find her friend in the crowd, watched as she was hugged by a classmate, her laughter spilling across the gym. Remembering the once distant girl, Joanna smiled, indeed seeing the change Bethany’s presence had brought.

“Yeah, I guess she is. She was always into this sort of thing.” “And she knows that I want to get you out of here,” he added, taking her hand. With Rod leading the way, they said simple goodbyes to people that had been a part of their lives a decade ago. A few, like Steve and Melissa, had lasting places in their hearts, in the future. This night of looking back had changed little ... except, Joanna thought, that the hole of Bethany’s death, had finally begun to really heal, allowed her to deal with the memories. “Where are we going?” Joanna asked after Rod turned out of the high school parking lot, heading in a different direction than her house. Rod mumbled something, his face masked in the car’s dim light. It was after eleven thirty, but she was far from tired, so she did not complain. Resting her head back against the car’s head rest, she closed her eyes and listened to the radio. Sometime later, Joanna heard the click of a seat belt unbuckling, realized it was her own as she felt the strap loosen then slither across her body. “Joanna?” Rod whispered, not far from her right ear, “come back to me.” His hand rubbed her cheek gently. The car was no longer moving. She felt the breeze on her cheek, heard the lapping of water, crickets orchestrating in the back ground. “Rod?” she asked as she opened her eyes. She saw his smile, felt it pierce into the confusion. Removing his hand from her cheek, he guided her out of the car. She stopped, lost her breath, her balance. His hand steadied her. They were at the lake—where they had gone for their senior picnic. It was the same as that night—except there was no music, no colored paper lanterns floating on the lake or lining the dock. People weren’t milling around to where it was almost crowded. No tables overloaded with food and empty wrappers. No one was dancing. She was alone with Rod in the one place she feared, the one place she hated. It was quiet, dark. The emotions gurgled from within. She could not help the helpless sound that rose from her throat when she spoke. “Rod?”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, shutting the car door and leading her down to the dock. Her palms were suddenly damp and her hand trembled in his, but he forced himself to continue as he prayed for God’s strength. He never would have believed that this fear, this hurt, lay between them. The dock moaned underneath their steps, the lake sparkled in the moonlight. As they reached the end of the dock, Rod turned to her, leaning against the railing. “I just wanted to talk to you, Joanna,” he began, his eyes, easy to read, expressing both his love and regret. “We need to get this behind us.” Joanna dropped her eyes, but nodded. She knew he was right, fought the need to run—anything to keep from facing the humiliation of that night. “I called Steve earlier this week,” Rod told her, “You said that Matt knew I had hurt you very deeply and that he was afraid I would do it again. I couldn’t get your words out of my mind. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember anytime I’d hurt you so much ... enough to make you this afraid of me.” Joanna looked up then and met his eyes, her own begging him, spearing him with her uncertainty, “I’m not afraid of you.” “But you’re afraid of this ... of dealing with it, afraid of dealing with me. Of who I was and who I told you that you were.” She could not deny his words. She reached out for the deck’s rail, needing it’s ridged support and looked out at the glistening lake. He had led her—goaded her into admitting her true, deep feelings for him, of admiration, or girlish love and trust. Then he’d mocked her, shamed her, destroyed her. Rod turned to view her profile. He could see she was struggling, could almost feel the waves as they rolled over her. “Steve told me the whole story ... about a time I had forgotten and been too drunk to remember. I’d been drinking. I’d forgotten that. I forgot all about that.” “It was right after your grandfather died.” “Several weeks, but that’s not a reason, Joanna,” Rod reminded her, hearing the sympathy in her voice and not wanting it. “I had no excuse for treating you like I did.” He sighed, still watching her. “We were here and though chaperoned, someone got in some kind of alcohol. I got loaded and then came after you. I danced with you, embarrassed you into opening yourself up to me,” pain filled his voice, “and then when you backed away from me, I yelled at you. I told you that you were

nothing and no one, anywhere, would ever love you. I grabbed you by the arm, wanting to hurt you, hurting you emotionally and physically, then pushed you off the dock.” She jerked, her fingers stiff around the dock’s rail, remembering the sudden burst of humiliation, the pain. Still feeling the cold water as it surrounded her, shocking the tears away. “In the back of my mind I suppose I was jealous of you—that much I can remember. You held my grandfather’s heart in your hand, but he was my grandfather. I thought myself better than you—better than everyone. I know where the words came from,” he told her, finally reaching out to touch her. He had no idea how much she needed that touch. She needed to know things had not changed between them. “The day before my grandfather died, you were at the hospital with him and I came up and listened outside the door. He told you he loved you and that he was proud of you. The last of his energy, the last of his time spent of his life he was ministering to you.” “He fell asleep after you left and only woke up once more. I never got a chance to talk to him again. I had pushed the feelings aside for weeks, not wanting to deal with them, not really understanding that they were there. I needed someone to hurt with. I came to your game and helped you, prayed with you, telling myself over and over again it was what he would have wanted.” “But as the weeks past, it was harder to deal with. I remember avoiding you. We fought more. Everything we said to each other escalated. At the party, under the alcohol, everything rolled over. I wanted to humiliate you—I wanted a those few precious moments to come back with my grandfather so I could spend them with him. It was foolish. I wanted my grandfather back, but I acted in a way that would have shamed him. More than shamed him.” A small tear slid down Joanna’s cheek as Rod reached out and drew her against him. She began to cry, her heart pouring out all the sobs and hurt she had felt that night. Why it came back now, she did not know. Surely she had forgiven him ... pushed the memory back. “I’m so sorry.” “I know,” she whispered, working the words around the pain and the past, “I was so relieved that you were talking to me again ... and then you and ... and it hurt. It hurt so bad.” “Joanna,” Rod searched for the right words, forcing himself to remain strong

because she needed him, “I treated you hatefully then, and I promise those feelings of jealously have long since gone. Will you forgive me? Reckless as I was?” Joanna pushed away and met his shimmering eyes with her own, felt a weight lift from her heart that she hadn’t known she carried, hadn’t understood that it lay between them. “Rod, I have forgiven you. That day at the park when I said we should put everything behind us, I was speaking of this too. I wasn’t sure if you remembered.” He reached up, wiped the tears from her cheeks gently away with his thumb, “I was such a fool.” “A young fool,” Joanna reminded him, feeling a peace settling around her. The dock suddenly lost its frightening grip and turned into a beautiful setting before her eyes, “and though no one can go back and change what they have done in the past, they can restore themselves for the future. Thank you.” Rod reached out and took her hands in his. Looking up into the star-speckled sky, he prayed, “Father, I thank You for leading and helping us restore our future. Only through you can pure restoration take place. I give you our lives, Father, to open and close doors in our future. Be a light unto our path. Lead and we’ll obey.” “Amen.” Joanna echoed after him. She met his eyes and smiled. “I have to admit, Rod, I felt pretty good when Steve told me how you’d suffered the next morning.” “I’m sure you did. He said that you two talked about it ... that you worked through it together. I didn’t remember anything about it, besides waking with a hangover and my parent’s ready to kill me. Some parts have come back, like an image, but it’s—” “I know,” Joanna’s eyes twinkled, the weight of the night dissolved. “I’ve always known, I suppose. Matt was the one I called to come pick me up. I was shaking so bad and Matt has never handled female things like that well and in his defense, it really ripped him up. It was Mr. Razor who told me to call him. Mr. Razor who kept Matt away from you.” “Good old Mr. Razor. Helped me get out of the party without getting caught. Steve said he knew something was wrong. Took me home to my parents and let them deal with me instead of the school. As I said, I do remember that.” “Let you off easy.” “Hah. You don’t know my parents then.”

Laughing, Joanna started to turn again and look out at the lake. Rod reached out and turned her to face him, “I meant what I said.” “Rod, I know you’re sorry—” “No,” Rod stopped her, “I meant in the prayer that I wanted God to lead us. I love you. I want to marry you Joanna. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Joanna nodded, her face expressionless. “I guess I knew that too ... in my heart,” she smiled, meekly, “and in my dreams I’ve hoped. I love you, too, Rod Kirkland and yeah, I want a future with you.” Rod groaned and reached out to draw her close. He kissed her, only the crickets and Heavenly presences around to watch. When he pushed back, he let his gaze memorize her one more time and then released her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small jewelry box. Joanna met his gaze only briefly before he opened it. She gasped with delight, as she saw the ring, her reaction pleasing Rod. The small diamond was nestled deep within the gold, sparkling wildly in the moonlight. “Will you marry me, Joanna Lynn Berkley, join our lives together in service for God?” Joanna looked up and met his eyes. For perhaps the first time in her life, she was not ashamed of the tears that spilled out of her eyes. “Yes, I will ... I will.” Rod slipped the ring out of the box and gently took her hand. Joanna watched him slide the ring on her finger, his gentle touch sending a buzz of electricity through her. Standing on tip-toe, she kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck so she could hold him close. Later, as they stood on the dock, Joanna leaned against him as they looked out at the lake. An odd thought crossed her mind. “How long have you been planning to ask me on tonight?” “A couple of weeks.” “We’ve only been together a couple of weeks.” “Two months,” Rod reminded her, “and we’ve known each other for a long time. It’s these past months that we’ve been in love.” Joanna smiled, cherishing the sound of hearing the word love from him. “Did you

have the ring with you all night?” “Mmm-hmmm. I had thought about asking you during the Royal dance ... but I wanted to make sure you felt comfortable enough to say no.” “Rod Kirkland,” Joanna pushed away from him, her eyes sparkling. She felt light, giddy, “haven’t you figured out by now that I don’t have any problems picking fights with you? I thought we did a good job at that.” Rod laughed and once again reached for her. “Rod—” she stopped the kiss, suddenly remembering, “Did you bring the receipt with you?” “What receipt?” “The one for my truck?” “Mmm. I’ve got it somewhere,” he muttered, stopping the thought with a kiss—and she forgot all about it all over again.

Epilogue Joanna, I just wanted to write and see how ya’ll were doing. How’s the pregnancy coming? I am so excited for you! Chad and I are trying. He’s finally ready to try for a child of his own again. You would be surprised to know how much time he spends in the toy store! Oh! and God has opened the doors for us to buy our own house. Kelly will be home in a few days. She’s excited about your baby. Thanks again for taking care of her while she’s in school. She loves Dallas, and she’s having a good time in school. Knowing you’re there watching over her is helping out a great deal. Chad and I are so proud of the woman she’s becoming. Britt’s still adjusting, and her teachers are reporting good behavior for the third week in a row. The past year has been hard without mom. We still head out to the cemetery once a month. Chad’s mother and sister-in-law have been such blessings for Britt. She goes out and spends the weekends at the ranch. Next week she’ll be in her first rodeo show. We bought her a horse of her own, and she

named it Gretchen. Oh, and some of my paintings will be exhibited in Dallas at Galvin & Tanner’s Gallery beginning in January. Stop by if you have a chance. Wish Rod good-luck on his finals for us. I miss you. Hope to see you on our next trip to Dallas. Love Always, Meredith Joanna settled back against the pillows on the bed. She was tired, thankful that Christmas holidays were approaching at school, and knowing she had two more months until the baby will be born. As if knowing her thoughts, he kicked a strong and sturdy soccer kick, she decided, and laughed, “I’m not complaining, Sport,” she promised, pressing her hand to her swollen abdomen. “I’m just ready for you to get here.” Paul, Christian, or Thomas Berkley Kirkland--whatever the name of the little boy that was inside of her—was loved. Joanna had never felt as good as when she lay in her husband’s arms at night, talking about what God was doing in their lives, with their little superstar kicking inside of her. Rod never tired of feeling his son moving and she never tired of her husband’s touch or his constant attention and love. Two and a half years had passed since she met Rod up at his office. They had been married for just over a year and were expecting a son. The ten months they had been engaged had been long for them, but needed, as they adapted to each other, to their families, to their ministry. They had seen each other every other weekend and on holidays. Joanna finished her last year at Glendale High and Rod . . . well, God worked out Rod’s life for him. His company had begun downsizing and employing new leadership rolls in their company from the bottom up. Rod’s boss arranged for him to take a part time position in helping to manage the turn over while he attended seminary. Now, he was graduating. The years had been spent well. Rod’s new, if smaller paycheck, was still twice the size of Joanna’s teaching one. As he had been doing for years, they worked together through investments and put away the money they could. Rod had a dream to use the money to help people and, if invested well, the money would last a long time.

Joanna looked around their bedroom in the large apartment Rod had owned for nearly six years. They would be giving it up soon to move into a house in a town where God would lead them. She quivered in delight knowing that somewhere a church was praying for them to come and minister with them. Curling up with a pillow, she lay in the bed smiling, thinking of the way things had turned out in her life. Days before that first Thanksgiving after she became engaged, Tom Berkley stopped by to see her. He had accepted Christ right on their front porch and was putting his life in order. He wanted to be a part of the lives of his children and grandchildren. Matt was gradually accepting his father and was softening to the faith his family had. There was a crack in his firm stance against God, and his new wife, Becky Ann, had begun taking his children to church when they were staying with them. Joanna’s thoughts made her smile. She snuggled up against the pillows, pulling one against her chest—a familiar comfort. Rod came in, but stopped as he spotted his wife. She was beautiful, laying in the big bed, seeming so small, so soft and quiet. With his eyes, he traced the outline of her body underneath the covers, thinking that she was even more beautiful as she carried their son. Never in his life had he imagined feeling so blessed. Thank you, Father. Not sure if she was asleep, Rod stepped over to the bed and gently moved her. Still, after a year and a half of marriage, she took up the entire bed when she slept. He was constantly moving her over to her side. They had bought extra pillows so she would stop taking his during her sleep. Joanna opened her eyes as he lifted the covers and crawled in beside her. “How’s the studying going?” Rod groaned, but relaxed as she rested her head on his chest and found his hand with her own. Slipping his other arm around her, he held her close and smiled to himself. “I know what I’m going to know.” “I’ll review with you in the morning.” Rod snorted, “Yeah sure.” His reaction was too familiar and loving for her to feel offended. She snuggled closer to him and let out a soft sigh. They lay in the silence of their bedroom for a few minutes. Joanna’s mind was still

roaming, but she was relaxed. Rod’s heartbeat was just under her ear. “Rod?” “Hmmm?” She pushed back a little bit so she could see her husband’s eyes, needing to share the thoughts Meredith’s letter had spurred. He was relaxed, but wide awake. “You’re not asleep.” “No, I’m not,” he responded to her statement. “How could you expect me to far asleep when I could be looking at you?” “You do it every night,” she reminded him, “and sometimes in the afternoon.” “Oh, yeah.” Leaning back against him, she waited until his arms surrounded her once more. “I love you.” “I love you too.” “God’s got a good life for us together. For however long . . . he’s brought us together to serve him.” “Mmm-hmm.” Joanna sighed softly. “Years ago, I did not understand what your grandfather wanted to tell me, but I do now. He knew I was broken inside, and he knew that the brokenness was all I understood. What he wanted me to realize, above all else, was that I had a place in God’s plan. God’s going to use us Rod.” The awe in her voice nearly brought tears to his eyes. He drew her closer and pressed his lips to her brow. “Yes, Joey, God’s going to use us.” Rod felt a tear land on his palm and he leaned forward slightly to look into her face. She was smiling. She met his eyes with her own peaceful ones, “Wow,” she whispered as she rested in the warm embrace.

The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; He delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

and saves those who are crushed in spirit. ~Psalm 34:17-18