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Never Say Goodbye
Irene Hannon
FROM HEAVEN TO HELL…Three years ago, married father Scott Mitchell had everything a man could want. Then, in a blinding instant, a fateful error in judgment shattered his perfect world. Yet through the long years in prison, Scott found his faith–even as his estranged wife was losing hers….TO HEAVEN AGAIN?Consumed by grief, Jess had never intended her path to cross Scott' s again. Now he was back, asking her forgiveness–and more. He wanted to rebuild their lives together. Yet how could she put her trust in the man she blamed for her most tragic loss–and in the Lord who had abandoned her in her darkest hour?



“Hello, Jess.”
Startled, Jess came to an abrupt stop as the man who had once been the center of her world stepped out of the shadows of a spruce tree. The bag of groceries slipped from her grasp, and only Scott’s quick reflexes kept it from hitting the sidewalk. He moved swiftly toward her and made a successful grab for it, which salvaged the canned goods—but dented her heart. Only inches away, his tangible, physical presence drove the breath from her lungs and she stumbled backward, desperately trying to put distance between them, unable to deal with the sudden, too-close proximity.
She would recognize him anywhere. Yet he was different. And it was more than the physical changes.

IRENE HANNON
has been a writer for as long as she can remember. This prolific author of romance novels for both the inspirational and traditional markets began her career at age ten, when she won a story contest conducted by a national children’s magazine. Today, in addition to penning her heartwarming stories of love and faith, Irene keeps quite busy with her “day job” in corporate communications. In her “spare” time, she enjoys performing in community musical theater productions.
Irene and her husband, Tom—whom she describes as “my own romantic hero”—make their home in St. Louis, Missouri.

Never Say Goodbye
Irene Hannon


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but a wish fulfilled is a tree of life.
—Proverbs 13:12
To my mom and dad, who fill my life with love
and add joy and grace to my days.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Letter to Reader

Chapter One
Three years.
Three long, lonely years.
Three years without freedom.
Three years without the woman he loved.
Three years of hell.
And now they were over.
Scott Mitchell turned and took one last look at the bleak gray walls of the high-security prison where he’d spent the past three years of his life.
Where he’d reached such depths of despair that he’d seriously considered suicide. Where he’d spent agonizing hours reliving the tragic accident that had taken the lives of two innocent people.
Where he’d lain awake night after night yearning for the tender touch and sheltering arms of the woman he loved…tormented by the knowledge that she never wanted to see him again.
Where he’d finally found something to cling to in a long-neglected interest in horticulture, a hobby that became a passion and offered a temporary escape from the drab walls to a world of color and beauty and new life.
Where he’d acknowledged his mistakes and straightened out his priorities.
And most important, where he’d slowly, one tentative step at a time, rebuilt his faith and reconnected with his God.
Scott drew a deep, cleansing breath as he stared at the hellish place that, ironically enough, had put him back on the road to heaven. But it had been a harsh, brutal journey. The abrupt transition from power lunches to prisoner, from a world where individual rights reigned supreme to a world where no rights existed had been harrowing. He’d been stripped of his dignity, reduced to a number, looked upon with contempt. He’d lost everything he ever cared about—and that didn’t mean the designer suits or sports cars or country-club membership he’d once valued so highly. No, the loss was much more basic than that—the people he loved and his freedom. Dear God, how he’d missed those two things, which he’d always taken so much for granted!
But never again, he vowed. He was a different man now, with solid priorities and two very clear goals.
First, he intended to make his faith the guiding force in his life.
Second, he intended to win back the heart of the only woman he’d ever loved.
The first would be easy.
The second would take a miracle.
But Scott believed in miracles. He couldn’t have survived these past three years without one.
Yet winning back Jess’s love would take a miracle greater even than survival. He knew that. But with the Lord’s guidance and grace, he believed it was possible. It had to be. Because on a spiritual level, he needed her forgiveness and love to complete his redemption. And on a very basic human level, he simply needed her.
And so he closed his eyes for a moment and prayed silently. Dear Lord, show me the way to prove that I’ve changed, that my remorse is real and that I’m worthy of her love. Please give me the courage to persevere and steady me when I stumble. Don’t let me lose heart if success is elusive. Help me remember that You are with me always, even on my darkest days, and that with You by my side, anything is possible.
And then, with one last look at the forbidding walls, he stepped out of prison and into a new life.

Today was the day.
The man who had killed her daughter was free.
Jess Mitchell drew a long, unsteady breath and involuntarily tightened her grip on the coffee mug. Scott…her husband…the man she had once loved with all her heart…was free. And she hated him, with every fiber of her being. He’d destroyed their marriage and robbed her of the child of her heart, cutting short a life that had barely begun—as well as the life of a respected judge who’d died behind the wheel of the other car. That, too, had been a tragic loss, for he had been a man of principle and honor, a crusader for justice who had earned a reputation for integrity and courage.
As far as Jess was concerned, Scott deserved to rot in prison for the rest of his life.
Her hands suddenly began to shake and she carefully set the mug down, the taste of bitterness sharp on her tongue as she struggled to control a surge of anger—the same anger that had been her constant companion in the months following Elizabeth’s death. Gradually a dull numbness had taken its place, insulating her from pain and allowing her to better cope with the world around her. But now the anger was back, and with it the raw pain.
Reaching out an unsteady hand toward the small glass-topped table in her breakfast nook, Jess shakily lowered herself into a chair. The February day was cold but bright, and a shaft of early-morning sun beamed through the skylight, illuminating the single daffodil in the bud vase in front of her. Gently she reached over and touched the delicate petals, so lovely but so fragile. There was something inspiring about daffodils, she thought with a bittersweet pang. The first harbingers of spring, they bloomed gloriously despite the risk of frost, announcing to those grown weary of the long, dark days of winter that the world would soon be warm and bright again. Perhaps that was why she had chosen this blossom for her table, she reflected. To give her courage to get through this difficult day.
Jess forced herself to take a deep, calming breath, thankful that at least she could once again find pleasure in the beauty of nature. She’d always loved flowers, and she was grateful that her work as public relations manager at the botanical garden gave her a ready supply. But today, even the exquisite beauty of this favorite flower couldn’t dispel her gloom or the inexplicable sense of apprehension that filled her with a restless anxiety.
Jess forced herself to think through her emotions logically, a technique she’d picked up through six months of counseling following the accident. First of all, it was only natural for her feelings of anger and bitterness to bubble to the surface on the day her husband was being released from prison, she reasoned. Knowing that he was now a free man, once more a part of the real world—her world—made it impossible not to think about the trauma and the tragedy he had caused. It was a normal reaction.
But there was no reason to feel apprehensive, she reassured herself. Though they’d had no direct contact since Elizabeth’s funeral, she’d made her feelings very clear to Scott shortly thereafter via a letter from her attorney. As far as she was concerned, no matter the outcome of the legal trial, he was a murderer. And she never wanted to see him again. Period. Those two points had been clearly communicated.
Nevertheless, Scott had written to her. Countless times. She’d returned every letter unopened and unanswered, so he had to know that the strength of her feelings hadn’t diminished. She fervently hoped that he would honor her wishes and stay away.
For a moment Jess considered praying for that outcome, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She’d given up talking to the Lord a long time ago. Why bother? He didn’t listen anyway. In her darkest days her once-solid faith had offered no explanations, no solace for the senseless tragedy that had taken the life of her daughter and turned her world upside down. She was just as bitter toward God as she was toward her husband. Jess had always known that bad things sometimes happened to good people. Had somehow been able to reconcile that with her faith—until it happened to her. Then all the words of comfort she’d once offered to those caught in tragic situations seemed hollow and trite. All she knew was that the loving God she’d always believed in had let her down. Just as her husband had.
Jess pulled herself tiredly to her feet and drained her coffee cup, hoping the caffeine would energize her. She’d slept little last night—but what else was new? Her sleep pattern had been erratic for years. Sometimes, when she was very tired and if she stayed up late enough, she made it through a whole night. Other times she was plagued with nightmares. But worst of all were the times she’d awaken in the middle of the night, overcome with memories of the love she and Scott had shared early in their marriage, when their faith and their devotion to each other were the foundation of their life. On those nights, the loneliness and sense of loss would overwhelm her, filling her with such a hopeless yearning to recapture those early days of intimacy and unity that she’d suddenly discover tears running down her cheeks. And then she’d get up and prowl through the condo, looking for anything to distract her until the first light of day banished the memories of the night to the far corners of her mind.
Jess rinsed her cup, glanced at the bagel she’d planned to eat, and turned away, her stomach churning. Food rarely held much appeal anymore, especially today. Another sign of lingering depression. She knew that from counseling. She also knew there was a reason for her mood this morning. A trigger event. But she’d be okay. She’d get through today, and then she’d go on with the gradual process of rebuilding her life. And in time it would get easier. In time she would even feel normal again. Everyone told her that.
Jess clung to that hope. She had to. Because it was the only thing that helped her get through the endless stream of empty days—and the lonely, memory-filled nights.

“Jess?”
It was one word. Only one word, spoken through a poor connection. But she knew that voice as well as her own. You couldn’t live with a man for eight years without learning the nuances of his every inflection.
Jess’s heart stopped, then slammed into triple time. Her lungs seemed paralyzed, and she struggled to take a breath, fighting a wave of light-headedness. In the two days since Scott’s release, she’d gradually calmed down, convinced herself that he was going to leave her alone.
But she’d been wrong.
Her first impulse was to simply hang up. But if he was still as single-minded and determined as he’d once been, he’d just call again, she realized in panic. Should she talk to him, reiterate that she wanted nothing to do with him? Or should she simply call her lawyer and let him handle the situation?
“Jess? Are you there?”
Softer now, sounding as unsteady as she felt, his voice still had that intimate, husky cadence that had always set her pulse racing. And she didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not ever. Without uttering a word— unable to utter a word—she simply followed her instinct. She hung up.
Scott heard the soft but very definitive click and slowly let out his breath. It had taken him an hour to work up the courage to call Jess—once he’d found her number. He knew she’d sold the house, because during the past year his letters had been returned marked “no forwarding address.” But he was reasonably certain she’d still be in St. Louis. She’d always been close to her parents, and he was sure she’d relied on them heavily during the traumatic months following the accident and trial. So he’d let his fingers do the walking, and on the third try he had connected with her. But the connection had been purely electronic, he acknowledged with a sigh. And broken very quickly.
Slowly Scott replaced the receiver of the pay phone, then leaned back against the concrete wall of the filling station and allowed his gaze to rise above the run-down buildings around him. His breath billowed in frosty clouds toward the cobalt-blue sky, but even in his inadequate jacket he didn’t feel the cold. His heart was pounding so hard, the blood rushing so quickly through his veins, that he was actually too warm.
Scott had hoped to accomplish several things with his phone call. Test the waters, for one. And Jess’s silent hang-up had given him a definite reading on that: very cold. He’d also wanted to verify her address. That goal, too, had been accomplished. Though she hadn’t said a word, he knew with absolute certainty that he’d reached the right number. He could sense her presence, her energy, coming through the line.
But more than anything, he’d simply wanted to hear the expressive, slightly husky voice that had filled his dreams for three long years. He’d clung to the memory of her bell-like laughter and the sometimes teasing, sometimes tender, sometimes curious and always enthusiastic tone that so clearly reflected her dynamic personality. Today he’d hoped to turn memory into reality. Even one word would have been enough to sustain him temporarily. On that score, however, he’d been less successful.
But he would try again.
And next time it would be in person.

“You seem quiet today, Jess. Everything okay?”
Jess looked at her father, then transferred her gaze to her mother. Though the question had been asked calmly and conversationally, she felt their undertone of worry. They’d seen her through some rough times over the past few years, had stood by her through her deepest despair, almost forcibly taking her to counseling sessions when all she’d wanted to do was huddle in bed under the covers in a dark room. As a result, they had come to learn every nuance of her moods.
While she was deeply grateful for their steadfast caring, it was a bit disconcerting to know that there was little she could hide from them. Certainly nothing as traumatic as Scott’s phone call. She realized now that she should have told them about Scott’s upcoming release two weeks ago, when her attorney had called to alert her. But she had hoped there would be no need to worry them. Had hoped Scott would stay away and not disrupt the delicate balance of her fragile existence. But that hope had been in vain, and now she was faced with the difficult task of telling her parents about Scott’s release—and his call.
Carefully Jess set her fork down and reached for her glass of water, willing her hand not to shake as she took a sip. “I’m fine,” she replied, struggling with limited success to keep her voice steady, “but I was a little upset yesterday. S-Scott called.”
Her mother’s fork clattered to her plate, and her eyes grew wide. Her father looked equally shaken, though his shock quickly gave way to anger as his face grew hard and his mouth settled into a thin, unforgiving line.
“What do you mean, Scott called?” he said, his voice taut with tension.
Jess drew a shaky breath and met his disturbed gaze. “He’s out, Dad. John Kane called a few days ago to tell me that he was being released early for good behavior.”
Jess couldn’t quite make out her father’s muttered comment, but she knew from his tone that it wasn’t pretty. He threw his napkin onto the table and rose to pace agitatedly.
“Good behavior? From a murderer? That’s ridiculous. He deserved every second of his five-year sentence—if not more.”
“Frank, please try not to get upset,” Jess’s mother pleaded, her own face pinched and drawn. “You know this isn’t good for your blood pressure.”
He paused and glared at his wife. “How can you be so calm about this, Clare? This is the man who killed your granddaughter and almost ruined your daughter’s life.”
Clare’s eyes filled with tears and she groped in the pocket of her skirt for a tissue. “I know, Frank. I’m not happy about it, either. But what can we do?”
He began to pace again, and Jess could feel his seething frustration. “We can stop him from calling Jess, for one thing. If he’s bothering her, that’s harassment. We can get a restraining order.”
“Please Dad…Mom…it’s okay. That’s not necessary,” Jess assured them with more calm than she felt. “He only called once. And I didn’t even talk to him. I just hung up.”
That seemed to placate Frank, and after a moment he took his seat again. “Well, that’s good. You did the right thing, sweetie. He ought to get the message. And if he doesn’t, I’ll call John and he’ll take care of it. Okay?”
“Okay, Dad.”
Clare reached over and took Jess’s hand, twin lines of worry furrowing her brow. “Are you sure, honey? Because if you’re scared, we can call John right now.”
Jess stared at her mother. Scared? Of Scott? That thought had never even entered her mind. In fact, it was almost ludicrous. She might hate her husband for what he had done to her daughter and for ruining her life, but he wasn’t a violent man.
“Why would I be scared, Mom?”
Clare’s frown deepened. “Well, it’s been three years, Jess,” she said carefully. “And prison is a hard place, from what I’ve read. It can…do things to a person. Change them. Did he sound angry, or threatening?”
Jess thought back to the few words Scott had spoken on the phone. There had been absolutely no hint of anger or threat in his voice. On the contrary. He’d sounded anxious. And shaky. And…hungry.
Now it was Jess’s turn to frown. Hungry. What an odd word to pop into her mind. And yet it was accurate, she realized. There had been a raw need in his voice when he’d spoken her name. As if he had to hear her voice, to connect with her in some tangible way. It was an oddly disconcerting realization.
“Jess?”
Her mother’s anxious voice brought her back to the present, and she summoned up a reassuring smile. “No, Mom. He didn’t sound angry. He sounded…the same.”
“I can’t believe he called you,” Frank said, a thread of anger still running through his voice. “Why would he do that, when you made it clear you never wanted to see him again?”
“I don’t know, Dad.” Her own voice was suddenly weary.
“Well, let’s forget about it as best we can and enjoy our dinner,” Clare suggested, forcibly lightening her tone as she sent a “let-it-drop-for-now” look to her husband. “Your dad’s right, honey. Hanging up on him was the best thing you could have done. He’s a smart man. He’ll get the message. You’ll probably never hear from him again. Now, how about another biscuit?”
As Jess took the proffered breadbasket, she hoped her mother was right about Scott. But she wasn’t optimistic. She’d heard his voice. And she didn’t think he was going to give up until she talked with him. Which was something she did not want to do.
Maybe a restraining order was in her future after all.

A gust of frigid air whipped past, and Scott turned up the collar of his denim jacket before jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He was chilled to the bone after waiting at the bus stop for thirty minutes, and the inadequate heater on the public conveyance had done little to dispel the numbing cold. The greenhouse looming in front of him promised a haven from the freezing temperatures, and he quickened his pace, breathing a sigh of relief as he stepped into the balmy oasis.
For a moment Scott just stood there, letting the welcome warmth seep through his pores as he scanned the interior. The facility was well maintained, with half of the space devoted to row after row of tagged trays containing tiny seedlings, while larger pots of healthy-looking perennials occupied the other half. Large rubber hoses lay neatly coiled at periodic intervals, and hanging pots were spaced methodically above the seedlings. The operation appeared to be orderly and well run, Scott noted with approval.
“You must be Scott.”
At the sound of the gravelly voice, Scott turned. An older man had entered the greenhouse by a side door and now stood observing him from several yards away. Make that “assessing him,” Scott thought wryly, as the man’s shrewd, slightly narrowed eyes studied him. Scott took the opportunity to look him over, as well. An unlit cigar was clamped between his teeth, and his fists were planted on his hips. His white hair was closely cropped in a no-nonsense style, and his attire—worn jeans that molded comfortably to his lean frame, and an open fleece-lined jacket that revealed a T-shirt containing the words Lawson Landscaping—spoke more to practicality than style. His stance and tone were definitely intimidating enough to scare off most potential job applicants.
But Scott wanted this job. Reverend Young, one of the local clergy who volunteered as a prison chaplain, had warned him when he set up the interview that Seth Lawson was a fair but hard taskmaster. That he expected a lot and cut no slack. But that was okay with Scott. He wasn’t looking for any favors. He just wanted a chance to start over. And as an ex-con himself who had served time for armed robbery many years before, Seth was sometimes willing to give newly released prisoners that chance. Which was more than could be said for a lot of employers. Or people in general. Even though ex-cons had served their time and paid their debt, society was often unwilling to take them back. So the odds were stacked against them.
But Scott didn’t intend to become another statistic. With the help of people like Reverend Young and Seth Lawson, he would make it. He straightened his shoulders and gazed steadily into the older man’s razor-sharp, intensely blue eyes. “That’s right. I’m Scott Mitchell.”
Seth studied Scott for another moment, then nodded toward the rear of the greenhouse. “Office is back there. Let’s talk.”
He led the way to a compact but well-equipped office furnished with three unoccupied desks, several filing cabinets, a fax machine and a copier. Instead of sitting behind one of the desks, however, he continued toward a small conference room at the back, pausing as he passed the coffeemaker.
“Want a cup?”
Scott nodded, trying not to appear too eager. He was still trying to shake the February chill, and coffee would help. “Thanks.”
“Cream?”
“Black.”
Seth poured two cups, then moved into the conference room, shrugged out of his jacket and sat down at the round table. Scott followed suit—but he left his coat on.
“So tell me why you want this job,” Seth said without preamble, chewing on his cigar.
Scott wrapped his hands around the coffee cup, letting the warmth seep into his numb fingers. “I need a job,” he said honestly. “More than that, I need a chance to start over. I know something about horticulture, and I don’t want a job with walls. This sounded perfect.”
“It’s far from perfect,” Seth replied bluntly. “Most guys don’t last more than a few weeks. It’s hard work. Dirty work. And the pay’s not great.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work. Or dirt. And I don’t need much money.”
Seth considered that answer for a moment. “You have any family?”
A spasm of pain ricocheted through Scott’s eyes. “I have a sister and brother-in-law in Chicago. And three nephews.”
Seth glanced pointedly at the wedding ring on Scott’s left hand. “That it?”
Scott drew an unsteady breath. “I also have a wife. In name, at least. She doesn’t believe in divorce. But she never wants to see me again.”
“Too bad. It helps to have family and friends around when you get out. But a lot of people can’t handle the stigma of being associated with an ex-con.”
“Jess isn’t like that.”
Seth’s eyebrows rose. “But she never wants to see you again.”
Scott swallowed past the lump in his throat. “For good reason. I made some bad mistakes.”
“You also paid for them.”
“In the eyes of society, maybe. I’m not sure about in the eyes of God.”
Seth considered that for a moment. “How long were you in?”
“Three years.”
“What did you do before?”
“I was in marketing.”
When he named the company, Seth’s eyebrows rose. “Were you in for one of those white-collar crimes?”
Scott frowned. “Didn’t Reverend Young tell you?”
Seth shrugged. “Didn’t ask. Doesn’t matter. I judge people by who they are now, not what they did years ago. I was just curious. Don’t get too many guys in here with your polish.”
Scott took a sip of the scalding liquid, which suddenly tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’m surprised there’s any polish left,” he said quietly.
Seth looked at him shrewdly. “It’s rough in there, all right. Takes a lot out of a man.”
“Yeah.”
“You have any money?”
Scott frowned again. The conversation was all over the place and he was having a hard time keeping up. “No.”
“You’re still married. Anything still in your name?”
“No. I signed it all over to Jess when I was convicted.”
“Think she might give you a loan to get you started?”
“I don’t plan to ask.”
Seth folded his arms across his chest. “Be pretty hard to live on the salary I’m offering.”
“I’ll manage. I don’t need much. Just a chance.”
Seth nodded shortly. “That I can give you.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew a wallet and laid several fifty-dollar bills on the table. “Consider this an advance on your salary. Get yourself a warm coat and some sturdy shoes. Be here tomorrow at seven.”
Scott looked at the money. There was a time when he would drop twice that amount on a business dinner with several colleagues. In those days, money had meant prestige and power. Now it just meant survival. Funny how dramatically things had changed, he reflected. Slowly he reached for the bills and carefully folded them over. “Thank you,” he said. “For the loan. And for taking me on.”
Seth shrugged and stood up. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s hard, dirty work. You might not last a week.”
“I’ll last.” The statement was made quietly—but with absolute conviction.
Seth looked at him speculatively, but made no comment. Instead he turned and led the way to the door. “Tomorrow morning. Seven sharp.”
“I’ll be here.” Scott extended his hand, and Seth took it in a firm grip. The older man’s probing gaze seemed to go right to Scott’s heart.
“I was in your shoes once,” he said evenly. “I know how hard it is to lose everything. And society doesn’t make it easy to start over. Some guys make it. Some don’t. The bitter ones never do. Neither do the ones who can’t admit their mistakes. I figure you’re gonna make it.”
Scott felt a prickling behind his eyelids. For some reason this stranger’s words of encouragement touched him deeply. “I figure I am, too.”
“Reverend Young tells me you’re a churchgoing man. That gives you a leg up right there.”
“It also gives me hope.”
“Hope is a good thing to have.”
“It’s the only thing I have right now.”
“Maybe that’s enough. For right now,” Seth said sagely. “One thing you learn in this business. Patience. Things happen in their own time.” He nodded toward a pot where new green leaves were just beginning to push their way through the dirt. “You take care of plants, give them light and warmth and water, and in time they’ll flower. You can help the process along, but you can’t make them bloom until they’re ready. Same with a lot of things in life. Especially people.”
Scott thought of Jess, and the slow, daunting task of trying to win back her love. “Yeah,” he said heavily.
“But remember one thing. Spring always comes.”
Scott looked at Seth, taken aback by the man’s philosophical—and poetic—insight. No wonder Reverend Young had spoken so highly of him. “I like that thought.”
Seth shrugged, the philosophical moment clearly over. “Good. Now go buy that coat. You’ll need it tomorrow,” he said briskly. A movement on the far side of the greenhouse suddenly caught his attention, and he turned. “Jason? Wait up!” he called. He looked back at Scott. “Gotta talk to him about the spring shipment of dogwood trees. See you tomorrow.”
Scott watched the older man stride down the length of the greenhouse, impressed and encouraged by their encounter. This job was going to work out fine. He could sense it.
He turned up his collar and moved toward the door, bracing himself for the blast of cold air waiting for him on the other side. Seth was right, he thought wryly. The first order of business was a warm coat.
He was right about something else, too, Scott acknowledged as he stepped into the frigid February air and began the long, chilling trek to the bus stop.
No matter how cold, how inhospitable, how merciless the winter is, spring always comes.
It was a good thought, Scott reflected. An uplifting thought. And he resolved to hold on to it—no matter what lay ahead in the weeks to come.

Chapter Two
“Scott? Is everything all right?”
Scott smiled as his sister’s voice came over the line. “Everything’s fine. It just took me a couple of days to get settled.”
“I can’t believe Joe got appendicitis the day before you got out! We wanted to pick you up and help you get settled,” she fretted. “Do you have a place to stay? Are you eating?”
His smile deepened. Karen had always been a mother hen, even more so since their own mother had died five years before. And her mothering instincts had intensified since he’d been in prison—for which he was deeply grateful. Other than Reverend Young, she’d been his lifeline, his only contact with the outside world for three long years. He would never forget her steadfast support and her willingness to stand by him despite the tragic mistakes he’d made—nor her long monthly trek to visit him. “Yes to both. How’s Joe?”
“He’ll live. It’s you I’ve been worrying about. Why didn’t you call sooner?”
“I did call. Almost as soon as I walked out the gates.”
“But that was three days ago!”
“I’ve been busy ever since. I had to look at the apartments Reverend Young lined up, and I had an interview at the nursery today.”
“Did you get the job?”
“Yes. It was the strangest interview I’ve ever had, but I have a feeling things will work out fine.”
“Good. I know you were counting on that job.” There was a slight pause, and when she spoke again he could hear the frown in her voice. “Listen, where are you?”
“In my apartment.”
“So you have a phone. Give me the number.” Scott complied, then Karen read it back to confirm. “Okay. I’m hanging up and calling you right back,” she said briskly. “You can’t afford this call.”
“Karen, I’m fine. You don’t have to—”
“I’m hanging up. Bye.”
The line went dead and Scott shook his head, smiling with equal parts affection and exasperation. As a stay-at-home mom with three boys, Karen wasn’t exactly rolling in dough, either. But when she got a notion in her head, there was no stopping her.
A moment later the phone rang and Scott reached for it. “That wasn’t necessary, you know.”
“Listen, big brother, do me a favor, okay? Let people help you if they want to. I just wish you’d come up here for a few weeks, like I asked you to.”
“I appreciate the offer, Karen. I really do. But I need to get back into the real world sooner or later. It might as well be sooner.”
He could hear her sigh of frustration over the wire. “Look, Scott, you could use a break. You deserve it. I was there, remember? I saw you the first Friday of every month. You lost forty pounds in six months. You looked like death. I worried about you night and day. You never talked about life in there, but I know it was hell. I know how close you came to…giving up.” She took a deep breath, and when she resumed speaking, there was a tremor in her voice. “Dear God, my heart bled for you every time I walked out the door and had to leave you behind. Do you know where I went when I left, after my first five or six visits? To the ladies’ room to throw up. I just couldn’t bear that you were in that place, and that I couldn’t do anything to help you.”
Her voice broke, and Scott felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut. Karen had never before even hinted at the emotional toll her visits had taken. Just the opposite. She’d always been upbeat and chatty, working hard to cheer him up by telling him humorous anecdotes about the family, passing on drawings the boys had done for him, sharing photos of the birthday parties and Christmases he’d missed. Those visits had been the only thing that kept him going in those early months. Because of her he had still felt connected to the outside world. Because of her he was able for a brief time to feel human again. But if he’d known the emotional toll it had taken on her, he would never have let her come. “I’m so sorry, Karen,” he said, his voice anguished. “I had no idea.”
“That was the intent.” Her voice still sounded a bit shaky, but she quickly got it under control. “I know you, big brother. If you’d had any idea what those visits did to me, you’d have told me to stop coming. And I wanted to be there for you. But it’s over now. I only brought it up because I want you to know that I realize how horrible it was. And I think you need to take some time to readjust. To rest. To decompress. That’s why I wanted you to come up to Chicago and stay with us for a while. I still wish you would.”
Scott felt overwhelmed by a rush of love and gratitude, and his throat tightened with emotion. Karen’s love and support were blessings for which he would always be grateful. “I love you for offering, sis,” he said, his own voice none too steady. “You don’t know how much it means to me. Just like your visits. In case I haven’t told you—and I probably haven’t, because men aren’t always too good at that communication thing—I want you to know that I wouldn’t have made it without them. Knowing you were coming back, that I wasn’t totally alone, that someone cared and was thinking about me, is the only thing that got me through those early months. You were my rock.”
He heard Karen sniff over the wire. “Who says men aren’t good at communication? You just got an A,” she said tearily. She paused to blow her nose, and when she continued her voice was steadier. “Okay, now, enough of this mushy stuff. If you won’t come up, then let me send you a little money to tide you over.”
“I’m fine, sis.”
“You can pay it back, okay? Consider it a loan.”
“I have a job. And a place to live. I’m fine. Really.”
Another exasperated sigh. “You are one stubborn man, you know that?”
He grinned. “I think it runs in the family.”
“Very funny. Okay, have it your way. What’s your address?”
He hesitated. “No money. Promise.”
She muttered something he couldn’t make out. “Fine. No money.”
He gave her the information, and then glanced at his watch. “This call is costing you a fortune.”
“Look, forget the money for a minute, okay? Indulge me. We’ve got three years of catching up to do without a guard standing over our shoulder. Which reminds me…do you think you’ll be ready for a visitor soon?”
“You don’t have to make a special trip down, Karen.”
“Hey, just because you’re out of prison doesn’t mean you’re going to shake me that easily. I’m heading down to check on you as soon as Joe’s mother comes to visit in mid-March. She can help him with the kids while I’m gone. I’ll consider it a vacation. Trust me—I deserve it. We’ve been decimated by the flu this winter, and guess who’s been playing nurse?”
Scott chuckled. “When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”
“You can’t,” she replied pertly.
He glanced around the tiny furnished apartment, with its threadbare upholstery, worn carpeting and nicked furniture. He could just imagine what Karen would say about his living conditions. “Just don’t expect the Ritz, okay?” he cautioned.
She gave an unladylike snort. “With three kids and twenty more years to go on the mortgage, the Ritz is out of my league, anyway.”
But not this far out, Scott thought as his gaze once more traveled around the shabby apartment. She would not be happy to find him living in these conditions. But that was a battle for another day. “Tell Joe and the kids I said hi.”
“Will do.” There was a slight hesitation, and when Karen spoke again her voice was cautious. “Listen, I don’t mean to be nosy, but…have you talked to Jess?”
Scott’s smile faded. “Yes.”
“Any luck?”
“She hung up on me.”
Karen sighed. “I’m sorry, Scott.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t expect her to welcome me with open arms.”
“Hang in there, okay?”
“I will. Believe me, I’m an expert at that after the past three years. I’ve learned to take everything a day at a time.”
“Not a bad philosophy. Listen, I’ll call again in a couple of days. Promise to take care of yourself in the meantime?”
“Count on it.”
“You’ll let me know if you need anything?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. I’ll let you go for now. And Scott…welcome back.”
As they said their goodbyes and Scott replaced the receiver, he thought about Karen’s parting words. Welcome back. They had a nice sound. And it felt wonderful to be back. To be free.
But the words he really wanted to hear were Welcome home. And those could come from only one person.

Jess slammed the car door shut with her hip, juggling a briefcase, a bag of groceries and a shoulder purse. She didn’t usually work on Saturdays, but with the opening of the orchid show only a few days away she’d needed to tie up a few loose ends on publicity. The weather was too nice for indoor pursuits, though, she thought as she made her way toward her condo. The early-March day was unseasonably warm. Almost balmy, in fact. It was like a sneak preview of spring—and perfect for a nice long walk, she decided. As soon as she put away the groceries, she would change into her walking shoes and…
“Hello, Jess.”
Startled, Jess came to an abrupt stop as the man who had once been the center of her world stepped out of the shadows of a spruce tree. The bag of groceries slipped from her grasp, and only Scott’s quick reflexes kept it from hitting the sidewalk. He moved swiftly toward her and made a successful grab for it, which salvaged the canned goods—but dented her heart. Only inches away, his tangible, physical presence drove the breath from her lungs and she stumbled backward, desperately trying to put distance between them, unable to deal with the sudden, too-close proximity. She stared at him, wide-eyed, her hand moving involuntarily to her throat, frozen to the spot as she tried to process the impressions bombarding her senses.
There was no question that the man who stood motionless six feet in front of her, balancing the rescued grocery bag easily in one arm, was Scott. Absolutely no question. She would recognize him anywhere. Yet he was different. And it was more than the physical changes, though they were quite apparent, as well. For one thing, his dark hair now contained a sprinkling of silver at the temples. There were more lines on his face, which oddly enough seemed to suggest character rather than age. And he looked more toned than she’d ever seen him. His jeans fit his lean form like a second skin, and his T-shirt hugged a broad, muscular chest and revealed well-developed biceps. Scott had always been a handsome man. Now his virility was almost tangible.
But the physical changes weren’t what gave Jess pause. It was something else, something almost indefinable. A sense of quiet calm, of acceptance, of surrender almost. As if he’d somehow found a way to deal with all of the tragedy and pain and horror, made his peace with it and moved on. In the depths of his brown eyes she saw serenity, and a wave of envy surged over her. How had he been able to achieve that when it had so utterly eluded her? she wondered resentfully. Nothing seemed left of his restless, driving ambition, which had grown stronger and stronger until it had become the center of his life and had driven a wedge into their marriage. In its place was a quiet, appealing gentleness.
But there were other things in his eyes as well, she realized. Things that were even closer to the surface and equally disturbing in a very different way. Hunger. Need. And undisguised love. All of which left her completely off balance and confused.
While Jess struggled to come to grips with her volatile emotions, Scott took stock of the woman who had added so much joy to his life and filled his dreams for the past three years. She, too, was different than he remembered, and the changes troubled him. There was an unfamiliar tautness to her face, as if the skin was stretched too tightly over the fine bone structure beneath. And she seemed tense, tightly coiled, radiating an unsettling nervous energy that suggested she might snap at the least provocation.
Scott had known his unexpected appearance would upset her. But he sensed that Jess’s tension went far deeper and was of a much longer-term nature. As if it was the norm rather than a momentary reaction. She seemed somehow…brittle, as if she would break at the slightest touch. And far too thin, he concluded with a sweeping gaze. The fluid silk blouse that hugged her upper body suggested angular lines and sharp edges rather than the soft curves he remembered, and the circumference of the belt of her black slacks seemed tiny. Jess had always been slender, but now she was just plain skinny. His gaze moved back to her deep green eyes, and there he noticed the greatest change of all. Gone was the sparkle of joy with which she had always greeted each new day. In its place was a deep-seated sadness that was clearly of long duration.
Scott’s gut twisted painfully. He was well aware of the pain he’d caused Jess. Had always recognized it on an intellectual level. But now, confronted with the physical evidence of it, he knew that the hell he’d been through in prison had been no worse than her own private hell, which had left her shattered and fragile and heartbreakingly vulnerable.
Scott wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms and promise to take away her pain, to care for her, to never hurt her again. But he knew his words would fall on deaf ears. Because he was the cause of her pain. He hadn’t been able to care for her in her greatest time of need. And there was no reason for her to believe that he would never hurt her again. Winning her back, he realized with a heavy heart, would be an even more daunting task than he’d imagined.
As he gazed at her, at the white-knuckled grip she had on her briefcase, at her face suddenly grown pale, he realized that she was trembling. Badly. She suddenly swayed ever so slightly, but when he instinctively took a step toward her she backed away in alarm, only to lose her balance as she tottered half on and half off the concrete walk. A moment later she lost her footing and found herself sprawled on the ground.
In a flash, Scott set the groceries on the walk and knelt beside her, his concerned eyes only inches from hers, his voice worried, his hand on her arm.
“I’m sorry, Jess. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”
She stared at him, hardly able to breathe. She looked at his hand—strong, gentle and achingly familiar—on her arm, and her heart stopped, then slammed into overdrive. Dear God, why was she being tormented this way? she cried silently. She’d never wanted to see this man again! She hated him! Hated how his ambition had eaten away at their marriage. Hated how he’d begun to turn to alcohol to relieve the tension of stress-filled days in the business world. Hated how he’d taken the deadly chance that fateful night that ruined her life and ended two others. And hated how, in his presence, she was confronted again by the “if only” that had hung like a dark cloud over her life ever since the tragic accident. The “if only” that said her daughter might not have died if she’d insisted on driving that night instead of letting Scott take the wheel.
Choking back a sob, she scrambled to her feet, filled with an urgent need to get away from Scott. For some reason she sensed danger. Not of a physical nature. But danger nonetheless. She had to get to the safety of her condo, where she could bolt the door against this intrusion on her life. Yet even as she slung her purse over her shoulder and reached for her briefcase, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that she couldn’t bolt the door against this intrusion on her heart. That her life was once again about to be turned upside down. Blinded by tears, she groped for the grocery bag, but Scott beat her to it.
“Let me help.” He reached for it and swung it up into his arm.
She hesitated for only a moment. Then, without a word, she turned and headed for her condo, half running as she dug through her purse for her keys, struggling to control the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.
“Jess, please.”
He was behind her. Following her. Harassing her. She walked more quickly.
“Please, Jess. I just want to talk to you.”
Something in his tone made her step falter for a moment, but then, angry at herself for allowing the choked entreaty in his voice to affect her, she resolutely quickened her pace.
He didn’t speak again, but she knew he was still behind her. Her hand was shaking so badly when she reached her door that she had difficulty fitting her key in the lock. Then, just when she thought she was home free, it slipped from her fingers and clattered to the concrete steps.
Before she could react, he reached down and retrieved it. Panic once more engulfed her. Now she was trapped. Tears of frustration spilled from her eyes, and she swiped at them angrily and desperately tried to figure out what to do. But her brain seemed to have shifted into neutral.
To her surprise, however, Scott didn’t hold her hostage. After only a moment’s hesitation he reached past her and fitted the key into the lock. It took him two tries, and she noted with surprise that his hands were almost as unsteady as hers. After he turned the key, he stepped back.
“I’ll leave your groceries on the step,” he said quietly.
She heard the rustle of the paper bag as he deposited the sack, and she reached for the knob, prepared to flee, planning to retrieve the groceries later. But then he spoke again.
“I never had a chance to say this in person, Jess. And I know it doesn’t change anything. But I want you to know how sorry I am…about everything. I made a lot of mistakes. Tragic mistakes that I regret with all my heart. But the one thing that wasn’t a mistake was loving you.”
The raw pain, the passion, in his voice jolted her, compelled her with a force she couldn’t ignore to turn and face the man she had once loved. He was standing a couple of feet away, his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, his face filled with such sadness and remorse that she couldn’t doubt the truth of his words. But being sorry didn’t change a thing, she thought bitterly as the tears she’d tried so hard to contain suddenly spilled out of her eyes.
Scott watched helplessly, feeling physically sick. He’d been prepared to face Jess’s anger. But he hadn’t been prepared to watch her crumble in front of his eyes. He lifted a hand in an imploring gesture, then let it drop back to his side. “Dear God, Jess, I’m so sorry,” he repeated hoarsely, his voice choked.
She shook her head and reached again for the doorknob. “It’s too late,” she whispered brokenly. Then she slipped inside, shutting the door firmly behind her. A moment later he heard the bolt slide into place.
For several minutes Scott simply stood there staring at the closed door, struck by the symbolism. She was shutting him out of her life…and her heart. Her three words said it all. It’s too late.
But Scott didn’t believe it was too late. Couldn’t believe it. Because it was impossible to envision a future without Jess. He needed her…just as he believed she needed him. They had linked their destinies once, for better, for worse, and Jess had abided by their vows despite the tragedy that had befallen them. Though they were married in name only at the moment, he clung to the hope that with God’s help, Jess would eventually come to realize that he was a changed man. That his remorse was real. That his love for her had not only endured but grown during their long years apart. And that the joyous, vibrant, life-giving love they had once shared could live again.
As he turned away, Scott knew that his prospects seemed bleak. But he wouldn’t give up. Because he believed in the truth of Seth’s philosophy.
Spring always comes.

“Scott. It’s good to see you.” Reverend Young grasped Scott’s hand warmly. “I was hoping you’d make it to services.”
“It was a little tricky,” Scott admitted. “The buses run on an entirely different schedule on the weekends.”
The minister frowned. “I must admit I forgot about your lack of transportation. We’ll find you a ride from now on.”
“I don’t want to put anyone out, Reverend. The bus worked out fine.”
The minister laid a kindly hand on his shoulder. “There are a lot of good, Christian people out there, Scott. Give them a chance to put their beliefs into action.”
Scott smiled. “It’s pretty hard to refuse when you put it that way.”
“Sometimes accepting help is much harder than giving it,” he acknowledged. “So are you settled in? Everything going okay?”
“So far so good.”
“How are you and Seth getting on?”
Scott grinned. “Fine. I think. He’s not much of a talker.”
Reverend Young chuckled. “True enough. But he’s a good man. Fair and honest and dependable. He’s not much of a churchgoer, but he really lives the golden rule. Is the work okay? I know he expects a lot.”
“He does. But I don’t mind hard work. Which is a good thing, because he’s got a lot of commercial landscaping contracts and spring is a busy time. Let me put it this way…I rarely have any trouble sleeping.” Except for the nights when even bone-weary fatigue couldn’t overcome the longing in his heart for Jess, he added silently as a shadow swept across his eyes. Then he forced his thoughts in a different direction. “You have a nice church here, Reverend,” he complimented the man, glancing around the grounds. “It’s just like you described.”
The minister nodded in satisfaction. “We’ve come a long way since this land was donated five years ago. Would you like to see the back?”
“Sure.”
They made their way around the building, which stood on a slight rise that overlooked a small tree-ringed pond. Though it was in a suburban area, the grounds were quiet and secluded. “I come back here when I need a few moments to refresh my soul,” the minister said. “It’s a nice spot, isn’t it?”
“Very. What’s going on back there?” Scott nodded toward the edge of the pond, where some sort of construction project was in progress.
“One of our members thought a gazebo would be a nice addition, and offered to build one.”
“I agree.” Scott eyed the terrain critically. “Have you thought about adding a meditation garden, as well? It’s a perfect spot for one.”
The minister looked at him in surprise. “Frankly, no. Though I have to say the idea has appeal.”
“I’d be happy to draw up some plans for you. And if the church could afford to invest in some plants and trees, I’d be glad to do the work.”
Reverend Young smiled. “You work all week, Scott,” he reminded the younger man gently. “Everyone needs a day of rest.”
Scott shrugged. “It would give me a lot of pleasure to create a place of beauty that people could enjoy. I wouldn’t consider it work. And I have the time.”
The minister studied him for a moment. “You need to take some time for yourself, Scott. And for Jess.”
Scott stared out over the placid waters of the lake. Reverend Young knew his most intimate secrets and dreams, more so even than Karen. He’d tried to shield her as much as possible from his private demons, though clearly she’d picked up on far more than he’d realized. But with Reverend Young it had been different. The minister had been there when Scott was at his lowest ebb, when he’d given up on life, when he’d been able to see only darkness on the horizon. And he’d made the long journey to prison numerous times in those days just to see Scott, to walk with him through the valley of darkness, until light had finally begun to dawn on the dark horizon. If Karen had saved Scott by giving him abiding love, Reverend Young had saved him by giving him abiding faith.
“Things aren’t going well with Jess,” Scott said quietly.
“Have you talked to her?”
“Yes. The first time she hung up on me without saying a word. The second time I waited for her at her condo. But she couldn’t get away from me fast enough. She just said it was too late and closed the door in my face.”
“You knew it wouldn’t be easy.”
Scott sighed. “Yeah.”
“Hate is a difficult thing to overcome, Scott. And forgiveness doesn’t come easily for many people.”
Scott frowned. “That’s the odd thing, Reverend. I expected hate. And anger. But what I saw in Jess was more…I don’t know. Confusion. Fear. Pain. It was almost as if the whole thing happened four days ago, not almost four years ago.”
“I’m sure your release brought back all the memories. Made them seem fresh again. She may need some time to sort through her feelings now that you’re back in her life. To deal with unresolved issues.”
“So should I back off? Wait awhile?”
“You might want to move slowly,” the minister counseled. “Even though I know that’s hard to do. But I know the Lord will show you the way if you put your trust in Him.”
Scott sighed and shook his head. “Patience is one of those virtues I’m still working on, Reverend.”
The minister smiled sympathetically. “You and millions of other people.” Then he turned back toward the lake, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You know, I think a garden would be just the thing for the gazebo. I’ll run it by the church council at our meeting this week and let you know. Besides, gardening is a good way to develop patience,” he added, his eyes twinkling as the two men headed back to the front of the church.
Scott grinned. “You sound like Seth.”
The minister chuckled. “He’s quite a philosopher, isn’t he?” As they prepared to part, the minister laid a hand on Scott’s shoulder, his eyes once more serious. “Hang in there, okay? I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
Scott took the minister’s hand in a firm clasp. “Thanks. I can use them.”
The minister smiled. “That’s my job. You plant trees. I plant prayers. But both send out roots. We just need to do our part.”
Scott thought about the aptness of Reverend Young’s analogy as he headed back to his apartment. The visible signs of his relationship with Jess, the arching branches and beautiful blooms, had been ruthlessly chopped off at ground level. To the eye it had died. But Scott believed with all his heart that the roots were still there, filled with life. That with nurturing, tender new shoots would spring from the parched ground.
It was up to him to make that happen. And with the Lord’s help and guidance, he would find a way.

Chapter Three
Jess glanced at her bedside clock and groaned. Three in the morning—only ten minutes later than when she’d last checked. Since going to bed four hours earlier, she’d logged all of thirty minutes’ sleep, she calculated wearily. This was going to be one of those nights. Meaning tomorrow would be a very long day at work.
With a resigned sigh she threw back the covers, swung her feet to the floor and reached for her robe. Maybe a soothing cup of herbal tea would help, she thought hopefully as she padded toward the kitchen. Mechanically she filled the kettle, turned on the stove, dropped a tea bag into a mug. But her mind was elsewhere. Namely, on her encounter with Scott the day before.
She’d slept little last night and had spent most of today trying, with some success, to avoid thinking about Scott. But she had far less control over her subconscious thoughts, and they kept bubbling to the surface each time she began to drift to sleep.
The whistle of the kettle distracted her momentarily, and she automatically went through the motions of making her tea. Then she carried it to the living room and sank into a comfortable chair, letting her gaze rest on the photograph of Elizabeth prominently displayed on the coffee table. Her daughter’s smile was infectious, her four-year-old eyes bright with enthusiasm and lively intelligence and the sheer joy of life so common in the very young. She would be almost eight now. Finishing up second grade. Looking far more grown-up than she had in this photo.
If.
Jess drew an unsteady breath. She knew it didn’t do any good to keep rehashing the past. To keep asking the “what if?” questions. Her therapist had stressed that over and over again. You had to deal with the bad things in your life, then move on. And Jess had done that. She’d put the “what ifs” aside, learned to deal with her pain and then established a new career—and a new life. No, it wasn’t totally “normal” yet. She still didn’t sleep well. She didn’t eat enough. And despite the support of her family, a deep, aching loneliness was still her constant companion. But no one knew that. In fact, few people outside her family would ever guess the trauma she’d been through. So yes, she had moved on. And she’d felt good about the progress she’d made.
Until now.
Because Scott’s return had completely unsettled her, resurrecting doubts and emotions and questions that she thought had been laid to rest long ago. It had been easy to hate him, to blame him for everything, to think of him as cold and uncaring, when he was miles away. It was a whole lot harder when he stood three feet in front of her, his eyes filled with anguish and regret.
His physical presence also made her remember all too clearly the love and intimacy they had shared before ambition distracted his attention from the things that really mattered. It was one thing to dream about those things from the past, and a different thing altogether to have the subject of those dreams stand only an outstretched hand away in the present.
And she certainly hadn’t expected him to still love her. Not after the hateful things she’d said to him when Elizabeth died. Not after the cold, bitter note she’d sent him following the accident. Not after years of ignoring his letters. Nor had she expected his gentleness, or the quiet calm that seemed to reflect an inner peace and an acceptance of the past, as if he’d come to grips with what he’d done and found a way to live with it.
Her chaotic emotions, her sudden doubt and uncertainty, made her wonder whether she’d been deluding herself all along. Had she really dealt with the past, or simply ignored it, focusing on the events while burying the real issues deep in the recesses of her mind and heart unresolved—and still raw? If she had truly resolved her issues and put the past behind her, wouldn’t she feel some of the quiet calm, the acceptance, that she’d seen in the depths of Scott’s eyes? And if she had truly written Scott off, hated him as deeply as she’d convinced herself she did, wouldn’t she have been able to sustain her righteous anger and dismiss him without a second thought? Wouldn’t she have been able to ignore the love and regret in his eyes?
Wearily Jess let her head drop back against the upholstered chair. The answer to those questions was obvious: yes. But in reality, she felt far from calm. She hadn’t been able to dismiss him. And she hadn’t been able to ignore the emotions she saw in his eyes. Like it or not, Scott’s presence had disrupted her carefully reconstructed existence.
For more than three years, Jess had suppressed memories of the life she’d shared with Scott. But now she could no longer keep them at bay. So with a resigned sigh she let them flow.
Jess thought back to their first encounter, in a business meeting. They’d done no more than shake hands and say a few words, but the spark that leapt between them had made her nerve endings sizzle and left her stunned. He had looked equally dazed. So she hadn’t been in the least surprised when he’d called the next day and asked her out.
From their very first date, Jess had known that Scott was the man she would marry. And when she’d walked down the aisle with him a year and a half later, her heart overflowing with love, she’d looked forward with joy to the life they would build together as husband and wife.
The first few years of their marriage had more than lived up to her expectations, she recalled wistfully. They cooked together, laughing over exotic new recipes. They gardened, a passion they both shared. They took weekend hiking trips. And when Elizabeth came, bringing a new joy and closeness to their relationship, Jess willingly gave up her public relations job to be a full-time mother. It was a decision she and Scott made jointly and with absolute conviction. Her joy seemed complete.
But as Scott began to climb the corporate ladder, things started to change. Slowly at first. In manageable increments. A late night at the office here. A missed family event there. Jess could handle those. She understood that there would be occasional conflicts between work and personal life. What she didn’t realize was that those minor changes were only previews of the major ones to come. Because Scott had been “noticed” by the right people. His talents had been recognized. And as a result, career demands increased. “Rising young executives,” it seemed, were expected to put their jobs first. Always. Period.
Jess tried to cope with Scott’s increased absences and his growing distraction. She watched with alarm as his job became the center of his life. Between his cell phone, e-mail and pager he was never able to get away from the office. She kept telling herself that in time the demands would ease. But as the months, then years, went by and the pace only intensified, she realized that things would never change unless Scott changed them.
So Jess tried to talk to him about it. Repeatedly. But the conversations always followed the same script.
“What do you want me to do about it, Jess?” Scott would say impatiently. “In this business, if you’re not on the fast track, you’re not on any track. And I can’t afford to be without a job. I’m the sole breadwinner. Which is fine. We agreed to that. But I do feel more pressure now to provide us with a good living.”
“Good is one thing, Scott,” she’d reply earnestly. “But I don’t need that huge new house you’ve been talking about. Or the new car. Or a diamond bracelet for Christmas. I’m perfectly happy with simple things. Maybe you could change agencies, find a less demanding job. One that would give us more time to spend together.”
He would frown then, the conflict in his eyes apparent. “I know I haven’t been around as much as you’d like, Jess. But people don’t just walk away from jobs like this.”
“Why not?”
The question was always met with a sigh of exasperation. “I worked too hard to give all this up now.”
“Give what up? The country club membership? The designer suits? Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Is there something wrong with those things?” he’d ask defensively.
“No. Only when they come at the expense of other, more important things.”
“I’m doing the best I can to balance everything, Jess. I’ll just have to try harder, I guess.”
And that’s where the conversation would always end. In a stalemate.
Two years into that lifestyle and after numerous dead-end conversations on the subject, Jess began to notice another disturbing change in Scott’s behavior. He’d always enjoyed a glass of wine with a special dinner, a beer while cutting the grass on the weekend.
But now he went for the harder stuff. A gin and tonic became his standard way to unwind at the end of a long day. And at social gatherings he drank far more than was prudent. It was one more worry for Jess to add to her growing list.
But there were good times, too. Scott was a wonderful father—when he was home. He never looked more relaxed or happy than when he was playing with Elizabeth. And she adored him, reaching out her small chubby arms to him and laughing with glee when he appeared. They had good moments as a couple, as well. In the small hours of the morning he would sometimes curl up behind her, stroke her body and whisper words of love that made her heart ache with tenderness—and with a bittersweet pang for the days when making time for love had been his first priority.
And then tragedy struck. The death of her beloved daughter. Bitterness. Recriminations. The end of their marriage in everything but name. The death of her dream for a happily-ever-after life.
Jess felt a tear trickle down her cheek, and she reached up to wipe it away. With an unsteady hand she raised the mug to her lips and took a sip.
But her tea had grown cold.
Just like her life.

“You look tired, honey. Are you feeling okay?”
Jess glanced at her mother. She usually enjoyed the weekly evening with her parents, but she’d dreaded tonight’s dinner. She’d done her best to camouflage the dark circles under her eyes, the result of several almost sleepless nights, but obviously her makeup skills hadn’t been up to the task.
“It’s been busy at the office,” she hedged.
“I’m looking forward to the iris show,” Frank remarked.
“So am I,” Jess said with a smile. Taking her parents to see the gardens when the irises were at their peak, followed by an elegant brunch in one of the downtown hotels, had become an eagerly anticipated annual outing.
“Speaking of flowers, I need to order some mulch for the rose beds. And I think I lost my Mr. Lincoln this winter. I’ll have to replace that as soon as the shipments come in.” He turned to Jess. “I’m planning to extend the back garden and add a few more bushes this year.”
She smiled. Her father’s rose garden was a neighborhood legend. “How many do you have now, Dad?”
“Forty-five.”
“I don’t know why you even bother going down to the botanical garden. You have your own right here.”
He looked pleased. “Mostly roses, though. I like to look at all the other flowers, too.”
“So have you been working longer hours?” Clare asked Jess, doggedly returning to her earlier line of questioning.
Jess toyed with the food on her plate, and took a deep breath. She might as well tell them about Scott’s visit. After all, they were all adults. They could discuss the situation rationally. “Yes. And not sleeping very well for the past few days. Scott came by on Saturday.”
Her father stared at her in stunned silence for a moment, then threw his napkin on the table and stood. “That’s it. I’m calling John Kane. We’ll put a stop to this.”
So much for rational discussion, Jess thought ruefully. This was the reaction she’d been afraid of. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Dad.”
He planted his fists on his hips. “Are you telling me that you’re not upset by these contacts?”
“No. But he’ll get the message eventually.”
“He’ll get it a lot faster if he gets slapped with a restraining order.”
He’d also get in trouble. Probably big trouble, Jess figured. She doubted the criminal justice system showed much mercy to newly released prisoners who were accused of harassment. And after looking into his eyes, she just couldn’t do that to him.
“Let it go for now, Dad,” she said quietly. “I’ll think about it if this keeps up.”
Her father studied her appraisingly. “What did he say to you?”
She shrugged. “Not much. Just that he was sorry.”
Frank snorted. “It’s a little late for that.”
“I told him the same thing.”
“Did you also tell him to leave you alone?”
“More or less. I shut the door in his face.”
“I don’t like this, Jess,” Clare said, clearly worried. “It’s been a hard few years for you. You don’t need to have your life disrupted again.”
Jess didn’t disagree. The trouble was, her life was already disrupted.
When she didn’t respond, Frank spoke again. “Your mother’s right, Jess. You’ve been through enough.”
Jess looked at her parents. They’d always been overly protective of their only daughter. And while she deeply valued their support and understanding and unqualified love, this was a decision she had to make on her own. She’d been affected by Scott’s return in ways she didn’t quite understand. And until she did, until she made sense of her chaotic emotions and thoughts, she was reluctant to take any action.
“I appreciate your concern. But I want to give this a little time,” she said firmly.
There was silence around the table for a moment, and then Clare spoke. “It’s her decision, Frank. She’ll let us know if she wants us to step in.”
Jess sent her mother a grateful look, then transferred her gaze to her father. He frowned in disapproval and seemed poised to make another comment. But after a moment he silently took his seat instead, confining his response to a single sentence.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said shortly.
So did she, Jess thought with a sigh.

“The welcoming committee’s here!”
Scott grinned at Karen, who stood on the other side of his door bearing a pie carrier in one hand and a plate of brownies in the other. “I’m salivating already. I haven’t had anything home cooked in years.”
“There’s more,” she called over her shoulder as she sailed past. “The cooler in the trunk is filled with lasagna, meat loaf and a bunch of other stuff. Can you grab that while I take these to the kitchen?”
Scott did as requested, returning to find Karen surveying his apartment with a frown, her hands planted on her hips, her lips compressed into a thin line. Here it comes, he thought resignedly as he deposited the cooler on the kitchen floor. He took a deep breath and braced himself before turning toward her
“I appreciate all this food, sis. More than you know. But you didn’t need to go to so much trouble. It must have taken you days to make all this.”
“I’m glad I did. I just checked your freezer and your cabinets. Corn flakes, bread, instant rice, instant mashed potatoes, canned stew, eggs. Is that what you’ve been living on?”
“It beats prison fare,” he replied lightly. “Was the drive down okay?”
“It was fine. But I’m not through talking about you yet.” Her gaze swept over the apartment before returning to him, and she folded her arms across her chest. “This isn’t acceptable, Scott.”
“I warned you it wasn’t the Ritz.”
“It isn’t even a cut-rate motel,” she shot back.
“It’s good enough for now.”
“There was a lovely guest room waiting for you in my house. There still is.”
“I need to be here, Karen,” he said quietly.
She looked at him in silence for a few moments. “Because of Jess.”
“Yes.”
She sighed resignedly. “Well, I’m not going to argue with you about that. It would be a lost cause. But I’m not happy about this,” she said with a sweeping gesture around the tiny apartment.
“I didn’t think you would be.”
“Is this really all you can afford?”
“For now.”
“Does Jess know how you live?”
“No.”
She bit her lip. “Look, Scott, I know you signed everything over to her when you went to prison, but don’t you think you deserve something—just enough to give you a stake to get started again?”
“No,” he replied flatly.
Karen shook her head in exasperation. “Okay, I’m not going to argue with you about this. Yet. Put on your coat. We’re going out to dinner. My treat.”
Scott frowned. “But there’s plenty of food here.”
“That’s for you. After I go back.” When he started to protest, she held up her hand. “Not open for discussion. Besides, after the long drive down here I deserve a night away from the kitchen.”
Scott shook his head bemusedly. “Are you this bossy at home?”
She shrugged. “I happen to be a strong-willed woman.”
“Bossy,” he reiterated.
“Assertive,” she corrected.
“Stubborn, too.”
“If you keep insulting me I just might pack up my food and go home,” she threatened.
Scott held up his hands in capitulation and then reached for his jacket. “Heaven forbid! You win,” he said with a chuckle.
“I’m glad you see the light,” she said smugly.
Not until they were seated in the quiet restaurant and had placed their orders did Karen once again bring up the subject of Scott’s wife. “So tell me how things are going with Jess.”
“They aren’t.”
“Are you giving up?”
“No. Regrouping. Trying to figure out how to break through the wall she’s built between us.” Suddenly Scott’s eyes grew thoughtful as he studied Karen. “Hey, I just had an idea,” he said slowly.
She gazed at him suspiciously. “I don’t like that look in your eyes.”
He ignored her comment. “Maybe you could convince her to talk to me.”
Karen stared at him. “I haven’t spoken with her in years,” she protested. “Why would she listen to me?”
“Because Jess always liked you. And she won’t hold my mistakes against you. I’m willing to bet that she’ll at least be polite.” He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “Look, I hate to ask you to do this. And I don’t know if it will work,” he admitted. “But I’m willing to try anything at this point. She’s shut me out both times I’ve tried to contact her. I need someone to run interference for me.”
Karen waited while their food was placed in front of them, her brow furrowed. “I’m not into confrontation, Scott.”
He tried to smile. “You could have fooled me. You don’t cut me any slack.”
She made a face. “Very funny. You’re my brother. That’s different.”
He looked at her steadily. “I know it’s asking a lot, Karen. You’ve already gone above and beyond. But this means a lot to me.”
Karen was silent for a moment, then she sighed deeply and picked up her fork. “I’ll think about it, okay? Now eat your steak before it gets cold.”

Jess glanced toward the door in surprise, then at her watch. Her pizza order had arrived in record time. Which was okay. For the first time in several days she was actually hungry. She reached for her wallet, then headed toward the foyer.
“You guys get faster all the…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the petite, dark-haired woman facing her on the other side of the door. Scott’s sister.
Karen nervously hitched up her shoulder purse and offered a tentative smile. “Hello, Jess.”
Instead of responding, Jess glanced behind Karen, her gaze darting into the shadows of the deepening dusk.
“I’m alone.”
Jess’s gaze swung back to Karen, who looked as uneasy and uncomfortable as Jess felt. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?” Karen asked.
“I don’t really think we have anything to say to each other, Karen.” She was amazed at how cool and controlled she sounded, considering her insides felt like gelatin.
“I won’t take much of your time.”
Jess didn’t budge. “Did Scott ask you to come here?”
Karen hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Look, Karen, I don’t have anything against you. In fact, I always liked you. But nothing you say will make any difference. I don’t want Scott in my life. Period. I’ve made that pretty clear both times he’s contacted me. I don’t know what else I have to do.”
Karen took a deep breath and held her ground. “How about five minutes?” she persisted. “That’s all I ask.”
Short of closing the door in Karen’s face, Jess was faced with no option but to grant her request. Besides, she didn’t want to hurt Karen. Or be rude. The woman had always been kind to her, and the two couples had shared some very good times. What could it hurt to give her five minutes? In fact, it might help. If Karen saw how resolute Jess was, maybe she would carry that message back to Scott and discourage him from further contact. It was worth a try.
Jess stepped aside and opened the door. “All right. Five minutes.”
Karen moved past her, and Jess nodded toward the living room. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” Karen replied as she settled on the edge of the couch. Jess perched on the arm of a chair across from her, folded her arms and waited.
Karen gripped her purse and took a steadying breath. “Look, Jess, I really don’t want to be here. But I love Scott. I’ve seen what he’s gone through these last few years. And I want to help him. He’s had a really tough time.”
“Forgive me if I can’t feel too sorry for him.”
Karen seemed momentarily taken aback by the sarcasm in Jess’s voice. “I don’t mean to imply you haven’t, too, Jess. But prison is hell.”
“So is tragedy. And loneliness. And grief. You don’t have to be behind bars to taste hell,” she replied tersely.
Karen nodded. “I realize that. But in addition to everything else, Scott also carried a heavy burden of guilt. He lost the two things he loved most in the world—Elizabeth and you. And it was his own fault. He lived with the anguish alone, day after day, locked in an eight-by-eight cell, with no one to talk to, no one to comfort him, no support system. It…it almost killed him.”
For a moment Jess seemed taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“He wanted to die, Jess,” Karen said quietly. “I came to visit him every month, and for the first year I was afraid every time I left that he would…do something. He lost forty pounds, and his hands shook all the time. And he always had this hopeless look in his eyes, even though he tried to act normal when I was there. But I know him too well. And he was far from normal. I worried every day.”
Jess eyed her skeptically. “He looks fine now.”
“He’s better,” Karen conceded. “But hardly fine. He believes there are unresolved issues between the two of you. And he’d like a chance to address them. That’s why he wants to see you.”
Jess couldn’t argue about the unresolved issues. Not after spending too many sleepless nights thinking about the situation. But she didn’t need to talk with Scott to deal with them. She’d work through them eventually. On her own. As she did everything these days. Her eyes grew cool and she shook her head.
“I don’t think so, Karen.”
For a moment Karen studied the woman across from her. Jess was almost like a stranger. An unhappy, unreachable stranger, whose eyes reflected disillusion and bitterness. “You’ve changed, Jess,” Karen said quietly.
“Haven’t we all.”
“Yes. And that includes Scott. I wish you’d give him a chance to prove that to you.”
Jess stood, her face impassive. “If he’s changed, I’m glad. But that doesn’t bring back Elizabeth. It doesn’t bring back the judge who was killed. All it brings back is the pain. If he really cares for me, he’ll leave me alone. I would appreciate it if you’d tell him that.”
Karen hesitated a moment, then stood and walked toward the door. She paused at the threshold to look back at the other woman, her eyes sad. “I’m sorry I bothered you, Jess. And I hope you don’t regret this decision. I have a feeling that you’re making a big mistake.”
As Karen walked away, Jess frowned and slowly closed the door. Was she making a mistake? Or was she being wise?
She didn’t have a clue.
And when her pizza arrived a few minutes later, she realized that her appetite had vanished—just like her peace of mind.

“I’m sorry, Scott,” Karen concluded with a sigh as she finished the report on her visit with Jess.
Scott tried to hide his disappointment. He’d known all along that it was foolish to hope that Karen’s visit would make a difference. And it wasn’t her fault that Jess had been unreceptive. “Don’t be. You did your best. I knew it was a long shot.”
Karen wrapped her hands around her mug and stared into the dark depths of her coffee. “Jess has changed a lot,” she said carefully.
“Yeah. I know. She’s way too thin. And too tense. And much more high-strung.”
Karen nodded. “True. But she’s different in other ways, too.”
Scott frowned. “What do you mean?”
Karen shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly. Jess used to be so open and full of joy. Now it’s like she’s shut down. Like there’s no way to reach her. She has such bitterness and anger….” Karen shook her head in dismay. “Frankly, I don’t know what it will take to get through to her.”
“There has to be a way,” Scott said resolutely.
Karen looked at him steadily. “And if there isn’t?”
“I’m not willing to consider that yet.”
“You know, sometimes people are physically hurt so badly that they can’t be saved,” Karen said softly. “I think the same is true of some relationships.”
Scott rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands. After a moment he drew a long shuddering breath, and when he looked at Karen a bit of light had gone out of his eyes.
“I’m not giving up.”
“She doesn’t want to see you, Scott.”
“I respect that. But I believe that God is with me on this. Because I know, in my heart, that the marriage He blessed was meant to go on. And not just in name.”
Karen’s eyes were filled with compassion when she looked at him. “I hope you’re right, Scott. But I think it will take a miracle.”
“I survived three years of hell, Karen,” he said, his gaze locked on hers. “I believe in miracles.”
She had no rebuttal to that. “I wish I could help.”
“You can. Pray.”
“I already do. Every day.”
“Then keep it up.”
Because he knew he would need all the prayers he could get to bring about this miracle.

Chapter Four
At first glance, Jess wasn’t sure. It looked like Scott from the back. In fact, as she studied the distant figure more closely, it looked enough like him to make her step falter. But surely she was wrong. Why would Scott be planting bushes in front of the hospital? she wondered in confusion.
Suddenly the man turned, and her suspicion became reality. It was Scott, she realized as her heart skipped a beat. For a moment he seemed as taken aback by her presence as she had been by his. Then he slowly set his shovel aside and walked toward her.
Jess thought about turning away, fleeing in the opposite direction. But she wasn’t going to spend her life running. Since Scott lived in St. Louis, there was always a chance their paths would cross. She’d have to learn to accept that. And deal with it in a mature way. Which she was perfectly capable of doing, she told herself determinedly. After all, her first encounters with him had been upsetting only because they’d been so unexpected. Now that the initial shock had worn off, she was better prepared to deal with him.

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