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She inhaled the sweet scent of the rose. Stroked the velvety petal. “He may have paid a higher price for his crime than you think. Living with the knowledge that you’ve done wrong, keeping secrets from your family, struggling to salvage what remains of your life—none of that would be easy.”
“It’s not like serving prison time.”
“There are many kinds of prisons.” She let out a gentle breath. “And he did come forward at the end with the answers you’ve always wanted.”
How could she be so calm and cavalier about this?
“Nan.” He leaned forward. “He killed your son and daughter-in-law.”
She laid her hand on his again, sadness dimming her eyes. “And I’ll never get over that loss as long as I live. But hating a man who never intended to kill, and who worked hard to lead a virtuous life for the past twenty-five years, won’t bring them back. If God has mercy on a repentant heart, shouldn’t we follow his example?”
“In theory, yes.”
“Practice is much harder. I know.” She fingered the rose petal again. “How providential that this was the last one blooming. In the language of flowers, do you know what pink roses represent? Gratitude.”
His shoulders stiffened. “I’m grateful for the answers, but nowhere near mercy.”
“It will take me a while to get there as well, despite everything I’ve just said. I have a lot of emotions to sort through. You should give yourself time too.”
The same advice Bri had offered.
“Have you talked to your friend Bri?”
Marc did a double take.
Had she read his mind?
“I swung by her place on the way home.”
A slow smile curved Nan’s lips. “I must meet this intriguing young woman soon.” She pushed herself to her feet and motioned toward the counter. “I baked a batch of your favorite brownies. They should hold you until dinner. We’re having pot roast. It’s been in the oven for hours.”
All at once the savory aroma permeating the kitchenregistered—a measure of the depth of his distraction if he’d missed that enticing scent.
“You were busy while I was gone. I would have picked up takeout for us.”
“We’re done with takeout. I want to get back into my routine. And I want you to start giving your own life top priority.” She leaned down and inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose. “The end of radiation, a decades-old mystery solved, answers to prayers—I’d say we’re on the cusp of a new beginning. I’m going to take that nap now. Wake me at five for dinner.” She bent down, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and continued down the hall.
Marc remained at the table long after she left, mulling over all she’d said and staring at the symbolic rose.
Maybe one day he’d make his peace with the fire, as she had. Even dredge up the forgiveness Joseph Butler had asked for.
Maybe.
But he was in full agreement with Nan’s comment about new beginnings.
And unless an unexpected break emerged on the Kavanaugh case in the next seven days, come next Saturday he was going to launch a new chapter in his life that had nothing to do with mayhem and murder.
TWENTY-FIVE
NO, NO, NO, NO!
Sophie adjusted her laptop screen to cut the glare from the afternoon sun and stared at the news story from fourteen months ago, heart thumping against her rib cage.
Adam Long was dead too.
The guy Alison had fallen for in college.
The guy she’d expected to marry.
