winter had been late with the first snow not arriving until Christmas Eve, but then hanging around for weeks. Daffodils, crocuses and tulips had arrived in mid-March to brighten up the garden. The last of them were making one final effort before disappearing in the warming days of spring. The lawn wasn’t too bad and the front porch looked inviting. She’d put out the bench and two chairs just the previous weekend.
The house itself was two stories. Like many homes in this part of town, it had been built in the 1940s and was a Craftsman style with big front windows and lots of little details like built-ins and moldings.
Lillie led the way up the stairs and through the front door.
Inside there weren’t many changes. A different sofa, a couple of new appliances in the kitchen. When Patience had moved back shortly after her divorce, her mother had made a few modifications. The three bedrooms upstairs had become two, with the smaller rooms being combined into a decent-sized master suite. A second master had already been added off the main floor. It jutted out into the oversized backyard. A necessary addition, given Ava’s condition.
When Patience was thirteen, her mother had been diagnosed with MS. If there was a “good” kind, Ava had it. The disease progressed slowly and she was still mobile. But there were hard days and climbing the stairs had become too difficult. With the additional master downstairs, that wasn’t necessary.
“Grandma, Grandma, guess who I met today?” Lillie asked as she burst into the house.
Ava was in her home office. An open area with a desk, three computer monitors and keyboards. A technological marvel that could make NASA envious. Apparently computer smarts skipped a generation. Lillie could do almost anything on a computer, while Patience had trouble working her smartphone.
“Who did you meet?” Ava asked, holding open her arms.
Lillie ran toward her and retrieved her afternoon hug. They hung on to each other for several seconds, a daily ritual Patience always found gratifying.
“Justice Garrett,” Patience said, standing in the doorway to the study.
Her mother stared at her. “That boy who disappeared?”
“That’s the one. He’s back in town, and he’s not a boy anymore.”
Ava smiled. “I would hope not. As it is, he has plenty of explaining to do. What happened? Did he say where he’d been?”
“He was in the witness protection program.”
Ava’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Patience glanced at Lillie, a signal that she didn’t want to go into the details right then. Her ten-year-old didn’t need to know there were parents awful enough to want to kill their own children.
“We invited him to dinner,” Lillie said. “He said yes after I told him about the lasagna.”
“Of course,” her grandmother said. “Who could resist lasagna?”
Lillie laughed.
“He’ll be here at six.” Patience glanced at her watch. That gave her barely enough time to shower, put on makeup and obsess about what to wear.
Ava’s brown eyes twinkled. “You probably want to go get ready.”
“I thought I might change my clothes. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Of course not.”
“He’s just an old friend.”
“Yes, he is.”
Patience grinned. “Don’t make this more than it is.”
“Would I do that?”
“In a heartbeat.”
* * *
AT TWENTY MINUTES to six, Patience was in her bedroom. She’d showered, blown out her long, wavy hair until it was straight, traded in her work T-shirt for a light green twin set in a fine-gauge knit and her black jeans for a dark blue fitted pair. Then she’d put on a dress, followed by a shirt and blouse before settling on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that proclaimed her the queen of everything. She was the single mother of a ten-year-old who also happened to live in the same house where she’d grown up, with her mother. There wasn’t an outfit on the planet that could disguise the truth. Not that she wanted to change anything about her life. Or apologize. She’d made a good life for herself and her daughter. It’s just that thinking about Justice made her nervous. He would either respect her choices, good and bad, or he would go away.
She went downstairs and found her mother and Lillie in the kitchen. The table was set. The last of the tulips in the garden had been cut and placed in a glass vase. The smell of lasagna and garlic filled the house.
“Relax,” her mother told her.
“I’m relaxed. Shrill and relaxed. It’s a great combination.”
Ava smiled with amusement. “So, is Justice coming alone?”
“Yes. He said he wasn’t married.”
“And he doesn’t have kids,” Lillie offered. “He should have a family.”
Patience turned to her mother. “Don’t you start anything.”
“Me? I’m happy to welcome one of your school friends back to town. Nothing more.”
“Uh-huh. Let’s keep it that way.”
“I am curious about his past, though.”
Patience held in a groan. “Please, Mom, you can’t.”
“I’m the mother,” Ava reminded her with a wink. “I can do just about anything.”
* * *
JUSTICE STOOD ON the sidewalk and stared at the familiar house. Very little had changed. The color, maybe the garden, but nothing else. Off to the side, he could see a wheelchair ramp, but it led to the back door rather than the front. For Ava, he thought.
As he walked up the stairs, he braced for what he might find. Patience’s mother had always welcomed him into their home. She’d been kind and motherly. As a kid who’d grown up surrounded by a lot of fear, he’d soaked up the affection she’d offered. She provided an emotional haven and he’d missed her nearly as much as he’d missed Patience when he’d had to leave.
He didn’t know a lot about her disease, but he knew it was relentless and cruel. He told himself he’d seen worse. That his job was not to react. Then he rang the bell.
Lillie opened it seconds later and smiled at him. “Hi,” she said cheerfully. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m starving and the garlic bread smells so good.” She stepped back to allow him entry, then turned to yell, “Mom, Mr. Garrett is here.”
Patience walked into the living room. “Indoor voice, remember?” She glanced at him. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. Thanks for the invitation to dinner.”
She
