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She kept her eyes locked on Finn as the two of them walked toward the street. They were almost out of sight, when Finn looked over his shoulder at her one last time. She wanted to run after him, but her pride kept her from making a fool of herself.
Colleen took a seat on the same park bench. Choking back tears, she touched her lips. His kiss had meant something; it had to.
She sat on the bench until the halogen lights flickered on, illuminating the walkways with an amber glow. The leaves on the surrounding trees rustled with a breeze.
Taking a deep breath, she made a decision. She would give him a few days. He would email her when he got home, and he’d likely invite her again. And this time she wouldn’t hesitate to accept his offer.
CHAPTER 1
COLLEEN
Colleen bowed her head while the choir sang her father’s favorite hymn. When she was a little girl, he used to hum it while tucking her into bed at night. His deep baritone was as soothing to her as a bedtime story. She welled up with fresh tears with the stark realization that she’d never hear him sing again. She wiped her eyes with an already soaked tissue.
“Here,” her mom whispered, handing her a fresh tissue.
“Thanks.” Colleen took the tissue and lifted her eyes to see that reassuring smile. Her mother had been beautiful when she was younger, but she had aged considerably in the last few years. Her stylish blond bob haircut had grown out and now she wore her hair in a drab ponytail. The toll of taking care of her father was unmistakable by the distinct worry lines on her forehead and around her mouth.
She took Colleen’s hand in hers, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. Together.”
Colleen had a surge of guilt. She should be the one consoling her grieving mother today.
Her mom cast Colleen’s boyfriend a disapproving glare. Colleen followed her gaze to Brian’s jiggling knee. He was bored, and it hadn’t escaped her mother’s attention. She was embarrassed by his lack of self-control.
“Calm down,” Colleen whispered, with a hand on his knee. “The mass is almost over.”
He muttered something and placed his arm around her shoulders with a loud sigh.
Colleen noted a hint of an exotic floral scent. This wasn’t the first time she had detected perfume on Brian’s clothes. Anxiety spread through her body.Shove it down. Put that thought away. For now. She peeled his arm away as subtly as she could.
Brian’s leg continued to bounce like a pouting little boy.
Colleen fixated on that knee. She wanted to slap a hand on it, push down hard, and force him to keep still.
Leaning forward, her mom gave Brian “the look” that terrified Colleen and her brothers. Using only a single raised brow, she could stare down anyone with those crystal blue eyes. Eileen Murphy never tolerated disobedience from any of her children, especially in church.
Brian turned to her mom and immediately stopped the bouncing knee. Finally.
Colleen looked behind her and caught Lucy’s eye. Her best friend gave her a kind smile and leaned her head against Justin’s shoulder, her hands resting on her small baby bump.
After concluding Communion with a short prayer, Father Garcia faced the congregation, giving Colleen a small nod. This was her cue.
Colleen took her notes from her purse, her hands a little shaky. The eulogy she’d written and made so many revisions to was a labor of love and now the reality of her task seemed overwhelming.
Her mother patted her hand. “You’ll be fine. Just remember to take your time and make your family proud.”
“I’ll do my best,” Colleen said with a nervous smile.
Brian leaned in and whispered, “Stay focused on your text and don’t get distracted.”
“Okay.” She got to her feet and made her way to the lectern. Her legs might have been a little unsteady, but she held her head high.
Once Father Garcia made a final adjustment to the height of the microphone, he gave Colleen a final nod and took a seat off to the side.
Colleen took a moment to look around the church, to take in this place that was an integral part of her childhood. By modern standards, Sacred Heart was a small church. Built during the 1940s, it was in desperate need of repair, but it retained much of its original beauty. Light poured through the stained-glass windows depicting familiar New Testament stories with the name of donors on the bottom. Her family always sat near the window showing the Annunciation, the panel paid for by her maternal great-grandparents.
She surveyed the many familiar faces of her large, extended family sitting in the front pews. Most of her aunts, uncles, and cousins had come to mourn her father. Her mother raised her eyes to hers with calm expectation, waiting for Colleen to begin. Many people said Colleen looked just like her. They both had blond hair and were tall and thin. Her three brothers sat on the other side of their mother. Sean was the tallest, with an athletic build, Ryan was muscular, and Aidan was the shortest and way too thin. Her brothers shared their father’s dark hair and azure blue eyes.
Colleen opened the pages of notes, centering them on the lectern. “James Declan Murphy was born in Queens, New York. He was the youngest of six children of Sean and Nora Murphy, who emigrated to the United States from County Cork, Ireland. My father was a bright young man and believed education was the path to success. He received a full scholarship to the Ph.D. history program at UCLA. After years of New York winters, he couldn’t wait to be in California. Not long after he arrived, he met my mother, a young nurse, right here at Sacred Heart. But as many of you know,” she paused to gather her thoughts, “his dream of earning a Ph.D. was interrupted by obligations to his growing family.
