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  At that, Trey did jump to his feet and, with two steps, engulfed her. His warmth curled around her, calming her nervous shaking and the storm within. She felt his body heat seeping into her, and his fingers massaged her back, warming her. Trey pulled her body into his the way he had when he’d come home from deployment: consuming, needing, wanting, owning. His lips pressed into her neck as he undid the big clip holding her hair up. He bunched her long, messy mane in his hand as he held her against him.

  “I want to explain about Leena,” he said in a soft voice. He gently loosened his hold so he could look into her eyes. He spoke softly, tenderly, “Rosette, there’s never been anything there except her trying to flirt with me. I didn’t run to her, confide in her, or ever even kiss her. Her or any other woman.”

  She measured his words and face, a flame of emerging hope in her eyes.

  “And I want to add that I handled the entire situation badly. Horribly. I knew it went into the gray, and I should have dealt with it much sooner.” He stopped and started over. “When I started yelling and said I just wanted to feel something, that wasn’t completely true. I wanted to feel love for you again.”

  Rosette lifted her face toward him. “Do you?”

  “Yes.” The words sprang out of him with such force his eyes teared up. “Yes, I do. I most definitely feel it.”

  Tears budded and filled her eyes. “Why have we been fighting so much?” she asked, pushing the words through sobs, “when we each want the same thing?”

  “We have that,” he said. “Our love for each other. We haven’t always felt it, or fought for it, or even nourished it, but we have it. We just had to dig for a while.”

  He stepped back, away from her, but she quickly saw what he was doing. He took a lighter from his nightstand and lit the three vanilla candles over on their dresser. The light glowed into the room, reflecting in the mirror behind the candles. Trey turned off the bathroom light and came back to her, pulling her close again, his lips descending.

  She felt it coming, at the last second anyway, and expected his mouth to feel soft and tentative. Instead he slipped a hand behind her head, pulling her even closer, and kissed her for all he was worth. Her body ignited, molding up into his.

  Goose bumps jumped up on her arms, not from the cold, but from an overpowering sense of awe running through her. When his mouth traced down her neck, she whispered his name, a sweet kind of utterance she’d almost forgotten. With a lift of her heart, happiness bloomed all through her.

  She reached for him, running her hands over him, reacquainting herself with the dips and planes of his body. She savored the softness of his favorite gray T-shirt, his taut muscles, the slight stubble covering his jaw.

  His hand slid over her hip to mold into the dip at her waist. The contact was so warm, familiar yet newly exciting, like returning to a much-loved vacation spot. Or, maybe, like the eagerness of coming home after years away. Trey pulled her closer, his hand moving up and down her body, over her sensitive skin, igniting sparks all along the way.

  He broke away, hovering over her mouth. “Do you want this?”

  “I need this,” she answered. “I want you, Trey.”

  His lips met hers again, but she felt something else too: his tears against her cheek.

  This is that moment, she thought, when you suddenly know another person loves you utterly, completely, beyond ever taking it back. He scooped her up and swung her onto the bed, cradling her body with his. They wanted each other—desperately—but she could tell he wanted to cherish every second, as did she. Any remaining hurt in her heart slipped away. Trey loved it away.

  Another feeling bubbled up in its place. At first Rosette couldn’t quite identify it. Then, slowly, she saw it more clearly: anticipation…an overwhelming, joyful anticipation for them, for their future, for their life together.

  They stayed up late, way too late, making love and then talking softly by candlelight. When she drifted off, her fingers laced in his, she heard him whisper, “I love you Rosette, forever and always.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alex could hear Rosette helping the little kids get ready upstairs as he finished his bowl of Frosted Flakes. He rinsed the dish and stuck it in the dishwasher. It was time to get dressed, but he didn’t want to. It was stupid, but he almost thought if he could skip the funeral, he wouldn’t have to think about all this.

  He could see Trey holding Hope in the living room and cooing at her. Sometimes he looked so happy with the baby, and sometimes he looked like he wanted to cry.

  He couldn’t imagine being in Trey’s shoes. Having everything on his shoulders. Suddenly Alex got it. All the times Trey was quiet, locked inside his own head, and all the times he left for hours to walk on the beach, he was just trying to hold it together for all of them.

  Alex came into the living room slowly, sat down on the couch, and said, “Some people say there’s a reason for everything, even all this. Do you believe that?”

  Trey looked surprised that Alex was talking to him.

  “I can’t say there’s a reason for everything like Ricky and Amanda both dying, or Hope growing up without her parents, but it seems like there is some kind of silver lining.”

  “Silver lining? Like something good is coming out of all this?”

  “Put that way, it doesn’t sound that convincing. I guess I mean we can find some way to make life better.” He stopped, pulled in a breath and tried again. “Horrible things happened; we lost people we loved. But I feel I’ve been given a second chance of sorts with all of us.”

  Trey had to be talking about him and Rosette. Alex wanted to ask about the argument but couldn’t bring himself to do it. That made it hard to apologize too, so he didn’t say anything. He just said, “Yeah,” as he got up. He meant to go upstairs, but he looked out the French doors and saw Summer step down out of the fifth wheel. She was another “something good” that came out of the bad things lately, even if it felt weird to think about it like that. Before she could come inside, he stepped out and shut the door behind him. A wet, early morning chill met him. He still wore just a T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, and nothing on his feet. The patio floor felt cold as ocean water, but he didn’t care.

  Summer was already dressed in a black shirt and slacks, her curly hair brushed and shiny. She was heading toward the house.

  Funny how he had complained about how there were too many secrets in their family, and now he was keeping his own.

  “You don’t have to feel guilty about that night,” he said abruptly to stop her. He’d been planning to talk to Summer since he’d stopped Sarah on the street. But of course now he’d pushed it too close to the funeral.

  She frowned at him.

  “I want to tell you something. I’m not sure how, but it’s about that night—you know, when Amanda died.” He glanced back to make sure no one was looking. For some reason, he wanted to tell Summer about this first, before Trey and Rosette. Amanda had been her sister.

  “A girl named Sarah was out on that highway that night.” He paused to let that sink in, so she’d understand what he was telling her. “She was looking for her lost phone with only a little flashlight. At the same time, your sister came around a blind corner. It was an accident, Summer.”

  The shock slowly washed down her face, first dimming her eyes as the pupils widened, and then changing her expression. Summer caught her breath like she was choking, and she reached for a nearby patio chair. Alex moved another chair closer and sat with her. He waited while she composed herself, at least enough to listen to him.

  He knew they’d all been wondering if Amanda had driven off that road on purpose. He also knew they had all been praying that wasn’t what had happened. Now they knew it was an accident. It had to be better knowing that.

  “How do you know all this?”

  This part would make Sarah sound even worse, but he wasn’t going to lie. “She’s been watching the house…out of guilt. I confronted her and got her to talk to me
.”

  Summer fell back in the chair, shaking and hugging herself. “She killed my sister!”

  “Wait, no, Summer! It was an accident.”

  “Yeah, well, remember it was just an accident that sent me to prison for two years. The only thing I did wrong? I was there. I was trying to help, and I was there when the gun went off. I paid for that. She should pay for taking my sister away!”

  She jumped up like she wanted to run off.

  “Summer, please wait and listen to me.” He stood up too. “She wants to make it right.” He glanced backwards, and she looked at the house too.

  “Do they know?”

  “Not yet. I thought it was right to tell you first.”

  She slumped, shrinking down almost inside herself. “I don’t get you, Mr. Save the World. Why do you give a shit about what happens to her?”

  “I don’t know why, but I don’t want to see anyone else hurting. Please just hang on for now, and don’t do anything. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything before the funeral.”

  “No, you should have told me.” She huffed out a breath and ran her palms across her face, wiping away her tears and dribbles of mascara, looking vulnerable.

  “You won’t do anything today?”

  She closed her eyes. And kept them shut. He had no idea what she was thinking.

  He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Summer’s eyes flew open.

  Where did that come from? He had no idea what just happened or what to do, so he stood and stiffly walked back into the house, wanting to run, his heart racing so fast it hummed instead of beat. Somehow, his legs actually worked the entire way.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Today is a celebration of life,” Pastor Frank intoned in a clear, warm voice as he looked around the church. The scene was familiar—the same church, the same pastor, and mostly the same people. “Just two weeks ago we gathered to celebrate the life of Ricky, and now, so soon…we are celebrating Amanda’s life.” He stopped to look down and collect himself. “This isn’t a normal service. Often people come up front and share a story about the loved one, but we will do more than that today. As we say farewell to both Ricky and Amanda, we are also given hope for the future. You see, Ricky and Amanda left more than a legacy; they left us with their daughter, little Hope Sinclair. It’s our job to ensure she knows her parents. Afterwards, when we go to the reception hall, you’ll find blank pages and pens on the tables around the room. As part of our service today, I’ll invite you come forward and share about Amanda, but I also invite each you to go later to the tables and write about both of them. Write about their lives, how they showed their love to each other, and how they touched your life. The family will gather all these notes into a book for Hope.”

  Trey wanted to hold himself together, but life was asking too much of him. Of his family. This time, at this funeral, he sat right next to Rosette. The younger kids sat on his other side, between him and Alex. Rosette had been holding Hope, but so many people wanted to cuddle her, to touch her and feel a connection to Ricky and Amanda, that right now she was in someone else’s arms.

  The memory book had been Rosette’s idea. She always thought of things like that. She wrote everything down. Those were things that could be easily forgotten, and would be forgotten, if she didn’t record their histories and lives.

  He looked at Rosette until she turned her head and looked back. Tears decorated her eyes, making them lighter and brighter blue today. That wasn’t the only thing that looked different. Her eyes were open instead of guarded, warm instead of cool, loving instead of fearful of what he could say to her. Through all this pain, he’d finally realized what mattered, and how to fight for what he loved.

  When Pastor Frank finished, Trey rose before anyone else. He wanted and needed to speak first, to get all this out, before it mixed together and washed away, the way thoughts and plans can do. Up front, he turned and looked out at the church full of families and friends—people that needed and depended on each other.

  “I didn’t get up to speak at Ricky’s funeral. It was just too soon, but I regret that.” He paused and stared down, gripping the podium. He could do this. He had to. “Ricky was much more than my brother—he was my childhood confidant, my cohort in troublemaking, and my best friend. Most of you who know us can recall some story that ends with Ricky and me making a racing escape from the scene. I look back over my life, and for so much of it, Ricky was right there. As we grew up, I think I became more serious, but Ricky never did. He never stopped telling jokes and wild stories, never stopped entertaining any and everybody within earshot. When he found Amanda…” Trey had to stop and drag a tissue over his eyes. He had always hated letting anyone see him acting weak. Now he was completely breaking down. Looking up again, he sought out Rosette and held her gaze for strength. “Amanda was the rest of him. She completed him. It’s as simple as that. She could zing him back and then laugh until she snorted.”

  Everyone here would feel the absence of Amanda’s bright presence and her ever-ready smile. Life always changes. He’d learned that lesson over and over. He took a shaky breath. Then another.

  “There’s something on my mind, something I need to share. The last thing I said to Ricky was I love you over the phone. I couldn’t wait to see my brother and best friend again. And I thought I’d see him again; I really did. I’ve thought many times since, what if I hadn’t said that to Ricky? The last time I saw Amanda, I said, Love you—hang in there. I was lucky. So many times we don’t get to say those last words. You never know. My point is this: we should value and enjoy the people in our lives every day. We should love them every day. I’ve learned family matters above all.”

  He could have stopped there, but all that was just building to what he really wanted to say. Rosette had a tear rolling down one side of her face. She wasn’t the only one crying. Most people were.

  “It’s weird to say this now, up here, but I want to say I love my wife. I love you, Rosette. My kids, Candice and Jake. My brother, Alex. I love all of you. I don’t want to ever live a day where any of you question that. I want Hope to grow up knowing and feeling that. Summer, I want you to know we’re your family. We’re here for you.”

  On the way to his seat, Trey squeezed Alex’s shoulder. Then he sat down and slid his arm around his wife. She turned into him and whispered, “I love you too, Trey.”

  He turned his head and lightly rested his forehead on her hair. They listened to Amanda’s friends talk about her, and Rosette read some poems Amanda had written about Ricky and about life. One was about their baby, titled “Promises of Tomorrow’s Sunshine.”

  Trey wiped a tear off his cheek and prayed, Please, God, let us find days ahead where we can feel the sunshine again.

  Rosette squeezed his hand as if she’d heard his prayer.

  The service finally finished, and everyone gravitated toward the reception hall to visit and to write their stories and memories. Trey and Rosette both took turns. The kids drew pictures for Hope. Trey was sitting, listening to people sharing stories, when Rosette’s hands came over his shoulders and rubbed. He leaned against her and wrapped an arm around her waist. He was long past ready to go home, but hardly anyone had left yet. The room was loud and crowded, and he figured he should be thankful for the obvious tribute to Amanda, but the noise was getting to him. Leaning against Rosette with his eyes closed let him escape for a few minutes.

  Suddenly Rosette gasped. “Trey, that’s her!”

  When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of a girl standing by herself in the back of the crowded room, watching them.

  “Who is that?” he asked. “Is that the girl you’ve been telling me about?”

  “Her name is Sarah,” Alex said, suddenly appearing next to them. “She came here to tell you something.”

  The noise around Trey turned into a throbbing headache.

  “Alex, what are you talking about?” Rosette demanded. “How do you know her name?”

  “I’ve talked with he
r. Can you listen to her for a few minutes?”

  The girl was watching them and waiting. She tentatively started toward them.

  Trey looked at his wife, who appeared as confused as he was. It was just Alex who knew what was going on.

  She reached them and waited awkwardly.

  “Let’s go someplace quieter,” Trey said, gesturing toward the door. He led the way out of the reception hall and into a smaller classroom down the hallway. Once everyone was inside, Trey turned to close the door.

  Summer stood in the doorway. “I’m a part of this too.”

  He wasn’t sure.

  “It’s okay,” Alex said.

  Now Trey turned and looked at his younger brother. How did Alex know about all this, and seemingly know this girl?

  Summer stepped inside. “Is this her?” She directed the question at Alex, making Trey even more confused. Alex had learned something, had told Summer, but had left him and Rosette in the dark?

  Trey closed the door now. “Am I the only person who doesn’t know what’s going on?”

  “I don’t either,” Rosette ventured with a meaningful look at Alex. “What is all this? Why haven’t you said anything before today?”

  Alex looked contrite, shrugging with his palms up. “I wasn’t sure how to say anything, or what to say. Or what do to about it. I confronted her, on our street, and made her talk to me the other day. I told Summer this morning. Then Sarah showed up here. She wants to tell you herself.”

  Trey felt a strange mix of respect and anger for Alex. Even so, he sent Alex a pointed look, one that said he should have given them some kind of heads up.

  Sarah searched their faces, slowly, one by one, until she stopped on Summer’s. Trey realized she must feel cornered—she was cornered in the room. They were blocking the door.

  “I’m so sorry.” Each word came out on an anxious breath.

  Trey was about crawling out of his skin. “For what?”