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Hidden behind her bedroom curtains, Sarah watched Dan go. Shoulders slumped, head down, he looked exactly like she felt: lonely, bewildered, sad.
Her heart twisted. Part of her—the trying-to-be-brave part—wanted to race out and apologize and try and make him understand. But courage cowered against the heavy confusion that had snuck up in the night. She couldn’t rationalize her panic last night, only that it seemed like such a betrayal to Stephen’s memory to have been sitting there on his birthday—that she’d forgotten!—having had such a fun date.
Wanting Dan to kiss her.
She hadn’t been able to explain any of it to Ange or John apart from assuring them Dan had been the absolute, perfect gentleman. She leaned her forehead against the window and tried not to let the burn in her eyes turn to liquid. No. She’d finally started feeling like she was moving on only to realize that the ghosts wouldn’t let her. She’d so enjoyed last night, and Dan had seemed to also.
Until she’d managed to spoil things.
Again.
Chapter 14
“Daniel. It’s good to see you.” His mother dropped a barely-there kiss on his cheek, then stepped back to survey him. And sighed. “But why do you insist on wearing such old clothes?”
His smile dropped a notch. “It’s a vacation, Mom. It’s about relaxing.”
“Hmm.” She arched a brow, then turned to totter up the stairs in her fancy heels and linen pantsuit. Dan bit his lip and turned to his father, who placed the last suitcase on the drive.
“Hey, Dad.”
His father’s deep brown eyes looked him over before he nodded. “Son.”
Dan fought the trickle of rejection he’d always experienced in his father’s presence. He should be used to this by now. “I’ll bring in the bags.”
His father nodded, walked up the steps, and disappeared inside.
Dan exhaled and bent to pick up his parents’ expensive luggage set when a red sports car raced through the gates and down the drive. He straightened as the Corvette pulled up sharply, scattering gravel, then stepped closer as his younger brother got out of the car. “You know you’re gonna have to rake that up later, stunt man.”
“Later.” His brother grinned, giving him a hug. “It’s great to see you too.”
“Been too long.”
“Way too long. I’d almost forgotten what you looked like.” Sam looked up at the clear sky. “Looks like an awesome day for fishing, right?”
“Perfect.”
Sam nodded to the silver Mercedes. “What’s the temperature like today?”
“Cold but calm. So far.” Dan picked up his parents’ bags as Sam popped the trunk and retrieved his gear. “Come on. I think we all need a coffee.”
Dan closedhis eyes and prayed for strength. One, two, three, four… He exhaled, opening his eyes to stare out the kitchen window to the lake, shimmering blue in the sunshine. Thank God for Sam. At least there was one person in the world that understood him, who he didn’t need to try and second-guess or walk on eggshells with or have to explain himself to all the time.
His parents, however…
“Daniel? Are you serious about these drapes? They’re starting to look a trifle dated. Surely it’s time for new ones.” His mother walked into the kitchen wearing her usual look of discontent.
“Mom, they’re fine.” He handed her a cappuccino. “Enjoy.”
She grasped the mug, took a sip. The lines on her brow eased away in a rare smile. “Thank you, Daniel.”
Warmth filtered into his heart as she moved back toward the lounge area. He wondered sometimes about his parents’ love, both for him and for each other. Since making a ton of money ten years ago on the stock market, they seemed to have assumed new personalities, and most of the warmth he remembered had disappeared, along with the old house where he’d grown up.
Dan sighed. Everything seemed to be about appearances with them now: the best address, the latest car, constant redecorating, designer clothes. Not that it ever seemed to make them happy. Maybe it accounted for Luke being the golden boy in the family, with his join-the-dots life of academic excellence leading to an investment banking career and a perfect, pretty wife. Dan wasn’t jealous, and it shouldn’t bother him that his parents didn’t understand his different priorities. Because, really, without God to live for, what else should he expect from them?
He wiped down the espresso machine, dumped out the coffee grounds, then put away the skim milk his mother used—right next to the regular milk he’d started buying for whenever Sarah came over. He chewed his lip. Despite the many coffees he’d made for Sarah, she’d never once wanted anything diet-like, always insisting full fat tasted so much better. But then, she never seemed to care too much about appearances, which was just another thing he liked about her.
A clatter announced his brother’s arrival. “Hey, wanna come fish?”
