Hello, Again (Book 2)

Wayward Publishing

KATHERINE

I sent a text to Stephanie, my receptionist, when Erland left the house with Bella in tow. Even though Matt had let them use his guitar and recording equipment to work on a new song after morning service, they still complained about not having "what they need" to finish the music. To be fair, maybe the construction from the neighbor's house could've been getting in the way. But I still couldn't shake the feeling of dread that came over me whenever Erland left the house without me.

"He's a good driver," Matt remarked from over his afternoon cup of coffee. His handsome grin did little to diminish the squeezing feeling in my chest.

"I know." I stared at the wooden door, but struggling to decipher what I wanted to say.

"He's a good kid, Kat," he said. "You've done a good job."

My gaze shot to my fiancé with shock. "I didn't raise him, Matt. Mom did."

He set his cup down, and I knew by the expression of his face he was struggling just as much as me on figuring out what to say. "You say that, but..."

What he wanted to say dawned on me. I crossed my arms. "You think I act like his mom."

He shot me an awkward look, as if to say, You said it, not me.

I sighed. Glanced back at the door, out the window, where the dust clouds of the driveway were settling down to the gravel again. "He's got a girlfriend," I said. "If Mom's not looking out for him, who knows what they'll be up to."

Matt sipped from his coffee.

"I know it's not my job," I continued, "but you were young once, you know."

Matt made a show of looking offended. "Once? Why, Kat, I thought you loved me for my youthful glow. I'm a month younger than you, I'll have you know."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help grinning at his words. "Stop reminding me."

Matt reached over the counter and prepared another cup of coffee—half cream, half coffee, with five sugars. Then he passed it to me. My cheeks flushed with warmth at how he'd memorized how I liked my coffee, though he himself drank it black.

As if sensing that my anger had been pacified, he rested his elbows on the counter, his chin on his interlocked fingers, and looked at me directly. "I was exactly as you think Erland is," he said, his expression sober. "But you have to let him live. If he makes a mistake, he knows that he has to answer to God, not you. I didn't have that when I was younger, or I wouldn't have been so stupid, so he'll figure it out. Eventually," he added with a wry grin.

I had to admit he had a point, but it didn't do anything to alleviate the fears that coursed through me like shocks of static electricity. A jolt could send my hand to reach for my phone. Or run to the door. The past two years had been difficult, in the transition of working out the company and Gramps and difficult cases that Matt has worked with, but it's all worked out in the end. At least, up until now. Even if I couldn't exactly trust Erland's boyish mind, I could trust God, right?

The next morning, it was Erland's turn to get the car. So he dropped me off at Wayward Publishing before continuing on to Harvey High School. I entered the first floor of the glass-faced building, waved at the receptionist, and rode the elevator to the thirty-first floor.

At the top, I was greeted by Stephanie, who jumped out from behind her desk, face twisted with worry. "Miss Malloy, did you get my message yesterday?"

I nodded, ignoring the flush of embarrassment that hit me now that I saw how riled up she was over it. "Yes, thank you."