CHAPTER ONE

       Three Years Later

      BECCA SMITH SQUEEZED her eyes shut and waited for the dizziness to pass. And hoped this horrible day was nearly over.

      “Are you okay?”

      She opened her eyes to see Rick Jensen’s concerned gaze. During the funeral, the presence of her husband’s best friend and business partner had had a calming effect on her.

      But now, Becca longed to scream and keep on screaming, until everyone quit tiptoeing around the fact that Gabe was dead and her life would never be “okay” again. Then she was sure the muted conversations around her would end and her friends and family would scuttle back to their unscathed lives. Their new year would soon return to normal.

      The urge to throw casserole dishes and rented glassware against the wall was almost overwhelming, as if the shards raining down on the tile floor could convey how brittle and broken she felt.

      But Becca held it together long enough to nod. Somehow, she would make it through the wake.

      “Have you eaten today?”

      “I—I think so.” It was a lie. But she knew Rick would never understand that her throat constricted every time she took a bite.

      He touched her arm. “How about if I fix you a plate? You look like you’re ready to drop.”

      “That would be…nice.” She understood his need to make things better for her, knew that her grief reminded him of his own loss—the two men had been as close as brothers. And she wished with her whole heart that food was the answer. But it wasn’t.

      When Rick handed her a heaping plate a couple of minutes later, Becca fought a wave of nausea. But she obediently pushed the food around with her fork.

      “You’ve got to eat something. For them.” Rick nodded toward her three children: sixteen-year-old Maya, ten-year-old Aaron and their brother, David, now twenty. The three stood huddled together on one side of the living room.

      It was as if they realized how vulnerable they were without their strong father standing between them and the world. Or maybe they suspected their normally patient mother was one scream away from losing it in front of all these well-meaning people.

      “How much longer?” she asked.

      “How much longer for what?”

      “Until they leave.” Until she could be alone with her grief and not pretend to be in control. Until she could surrender to the hopelessness threatening to incapacitate her.

      “Pretty soon. Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down. I can let Gabe’s folks know. And I’m sure Royce and Katy wouldn’t mind taking over host duties.”

      “No, I need to do it. For Gabe.”

      Emotion flashed in his eyes, then was gone. “Okay.”

      Becca was barely aware when he moved away from her. Or when he spoke quietly to her brother, Royce, and they worked the room in tandem.

      All she knew was that people streamed over to say a quick goodbye at precise intervals.

      Becca hoped she would remember to thank Rick for his kindness. But the task of staying focused on her hostess duties was almost more than she could handle.

      When the last guest left, she closed the door, leaning her forehead against it.

      Then was pulled into a strong embrace.

       Gabe.

      But it wasn’t his scent. It was her brother’s.

      Becca stiffened, wondering how she could have confused a brotherly embrace with that of her soul mate. Then she forgave herself for the silly slip, stepping into his arms and hiding as if she were a girl of five again.

      “I’m so sorry. I should have seen you weren’t holding up as well as you wanted us to believe,” Royce said.

      “I’m fine.”

      “No, you’re not.” He drew back and held her gaze. Touching her cheek, he asked, “Have you cried?”

      “No. I can’t. My husband is…dead…and I can’t seem to cry. I’m just so darn angry.”

      “Maybe you could use some time alone. Katy and I are going to take Dad and Evelyn to the airport in a few minutes. How about if David, Maya and Aaron come with us to see them off? Then on our way home, we’ll take the kids to the movies—give everyone a little reprieve.”

      “I don’t suppose Jim and Irene would want to go?” Becca felt guilty even as she asked the question, putting her need to be alone above her in-laws’ grief.

      “We asked Gabe’s folks to come, but they said they want some quiet time alone at the cemetery to say goodbye to Gabe.”

      “Thank you.” She hoped those two words adequately expressed her gratitude for what amounted to a lifeline.

      Her feelings must have shown, because Royce said, “That way you can have some alone time yourself and let go. Quit being brave.”

      “I’m not brave. I’m…sad and confused and so totally p.o.’d, I can barely see straight.”

      “That’s understandable.”

      Her sister-in-law, Katy, approached. “Everyone’s on board for the airport, then the movies.” She turned to Becca and gave her a quick hug. “We’ll clean up when we get home. You don’t do a thing, except maybe take a long, hot bath and crawl into bed.”

      “Thank you.” If the circumstances had been different, Becca would have loved to join them. But as it was, she was just too damn grateful for a few moments of solitude.

      Rick came up beside her and touched her arm. “You need anything, anything, call me.”

      “Thank you.”

      She hugged her kids, her in-laws and her parents and finally they all left.

      For possibly the first time in twenty-three years, Becca was totally alone.

      She started up the stairs to take a bath, but stopped halfway. She simply couldn’t face the master bedroom and bath, where every corner, every cubic inch of air, reflected her life with Gabe. Her first love. Her only love.

      Instead, she retraced her steps to the great room, automatically picking up plates and glassware. By rote, she cleared the room, twining