and perfect in their porcelain backdrop. Their hollow quality, though, captured him, reeling him in, making him ache in the vicinity of his heart. She looked like a waif, and he felt this need to protect her. For an unguarded second, her expression hinted she just might let him.
Brett wasn’t sure what had passed between him and the mother of the Williams children—only that whatever it was, Rusty, Jr. had seen it, too. With an abrupt jerk, the boy ripped away his hand and marched to the bench, where he dumped off his bowling shoes.
“Mom, it’s time to go. We have to get up for church.” Already, the boy had his sneakers on and was holding up Max’s for him.
It didn’t take a psychology degree for Brett to recognize the boy’s jealousy over his mother. He couldn’t blame him for feeling threatened. What had he been thinking, looking at Tricia with the hope that he could heal her heart, that maybe she could even heal his?
“He’s right. We’d better get home.” Tricia’s gaze was apologetic, if guarded. Had she felt it, too?
Max stomped his foot. “I don’t want to go.”
“But we’re having fun,” Lani whined. “Do we have to?”
“It’s getting late. I’ll have to drag you guys out of bed in the morning.”
Tricia bent to change her shoes, but Max wouldn’t budge. He sat down cross-legged on the floor and folded his arms.
“Max, do I need to count to three?” Tricia asked in a low warning, but the boy didn’t even look up. “One…two—”
Before she could reach three, Brett scooped him up and tickled his belly. “Hey, bud, you’d better listen to your mom. You don’t want her to say we can’t play together anymore, do you?” Upside down, Max shook his head.
Tricia’s surprised expression showed she’d gotten the message about another play date. As he carried the child to her, she met him halfway, probably to remain out of her older son’s earshot.
“I want to see you again,” Brett whispered.
She accepted Max into her arms. “I don’t think—”
“I never got a real date. It wasn’t very nice to cancel that way. Not quite a lie, but almost.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but—”
“Good, then I’ll accept your apology Friday when we go out.” As he waited for her to look at him, he sensed victory. “Think you can get a sitter?”
When she hesitated, he pressed his advantage. “Because if you can’t, I can probably call your friend, Charity. But then I’d have to explain how you cancelled out on the first date and—”
“I can get one.”
With that she stalked away and helped Max tie his shoes. Rusty, Jr. refused to look in Brett’s direction, but Lani kept peeking back. Both she and Max waved at him as their mother hurried them out the door.
The bowling alley felt empty as soon as the troop left. If he had any sense at all, Brett would simply forget to call about Friday and chalk the whole situation up to bad judgment in his letting Jenny set him up. He was in way over his head by considering even one real date with a widow, let alone a widow with children. If Tricia Williams’s baggage was weighed at an airport, it would be stamped “heavy” and slapped with a surcharge. But here he was tempted to offer to carry it for her, anyway.
He should have been counting his blessings that her son had tried to stop all this craziness before any real damage was done. But he could only feel relieved and grateful he’d get the chance to see Tricia again.
Chapter Two
A digital bedside clock and a distant street lamp offered the only illumination as Tricia collapsed, fully clothed, onto her bed an hour later, the bed-and-bath routine behind her. From the way her body ached, she would have guessed it was past midnight, but the red clock numbers confirmed it was only nine-thirty. As shadow and light slow-danced along the wall in the shape of maple tree branches, she wondered how long it had been since she’d slept. Truly slept. Days had become months and then metamorphosed into years when she wasn’t watching.
She couldn’t shake the image of Rusty, Jr., who had radiated tension as she’d helped him out of the shower and into his pajamas. His misplaced fury was transferred to everything around him, from the comb that wouldn’t go through his hair to the stuffed dog that landed on the floor next to his bed. He had every right to his anger, for all he’d lost. She understood it, felt it down to her soul.
Nervous tension had her scooting across the bed to flip on the lamp, letting the warm yellow light bathe what had become her favorite room. Here she could be alone with her memories of Rusty, warm thoughts of his arms around her and private thoughts of the sweet intimacies of their marriage.
Reaching for her wedding band on the table and slipping it on, she surveyed the room. In the far corner, she could still see Max’s cradle where it once had rested. A smile settled on her lips as she envisioned her family’s first day in the house, her belly still swollen with the promise of their youngest child. Rusty and she had tumbled together on the bed that night, too exhausted from moving furniture to even love each other in the bungalow they’d struggled to finally afford.
She’d felt so safe then—and always—in his arms. The way she never did now. The way she never would again.
Memories of her husband flashed in her thoughts, in brilliant color this time when they’d become more like a sepia photograph lately, in danger of crumbling. But why were the memories coming tonight, when she needed rest to prepare her for the ordeal of going to church?
The Sunday tradition of attending services as a family was once the highlight of her week, even if they were continually late, and someone was always whispering or making paper airplanes with the bulletins. They were together then, worshiping God. The way it should be. Now every time she sat listening to one of Reverend Bob Woods’s sermons, something seemed missing. Not her belief. She’d never lost that. Without her faith, she never would have survived the last two years. But hope—there just wasn’t enough of that in her heart anymore.
Though she’d regret it in the morning, she let her thoughts travel, through picnics, birthday parties and quiet moments. To Rusty’s contagious smile.
But then another smile stole into her thoughts, so surprising that she flipped over and sat up in bed. Brett Lancaster? The man was a stranger. A stranger who had no business being in her thoughts—or in this room where Rusty’s memory still thrived.
Agitation had her wrapping her arms around her knees. She didn’t want to remember the disaster their would-be date had been. But maybe God had chosen now to convict her heart over her deception in breaking the date.
Why hadn’t she just gone out with Brett and gotten the whole annoying business over with? As adroit as she’d become at avoiding second dates, she already would have said goodbye to Mr. Lancaster and would be free until her next friend insisted on setting her up. Instead, guilt had forced her to reschedule.
Shaking her head, Tricia couldn’t help smiling at the thought of Brett’s mini bowling clinic. At the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he laughed with Lani. But it was the memory of those same chocolate eyes focusing on her and widening
