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Part 5

My mouth drops open in awe when we finally pull into Chance's driveway. His home is a renovated Victorian, built a little over a hundred years ago. It reminds me of the wooden doll house I had as a child. The red brick structure is massive, the forest green trim the perfect compliment to the stylish house. White laced curtains cover the windows and the landscaping in and around the circular driveway is immaculate. Mama and I used to dream about us one day living in a place like this.

Chance gets out and opens my door, then grabs my shopping bags from the back seat. On the way over, we stopped by the mall and he took me shopping. When I protested, he told me to consider it an advance against my salary. I had agreed, but somehow I know he's going to come up with an excuse not to take my money. If I've learned anything this morning, it is the type of man he is–giving, caring, and very strong-willed. And I can't begin to express how much I am looking forward to a shower and clean clothes. It's been a while since I've had either.

"Thank you," I tell him as he hands me a few of the bags.

"You're very welcome."

Chance shows me around the place, then takes me up to my room, which happens to be right next to his. This is both unsettling and comforting. But as I take in the amazing mix of Victorian and contemporary decor, I have to smile. With its lace bedding, hardwood floor and white leather sofa and chair, the room is absolutely perfect.

"It's beautiful," I tell him.

"I'm glad you like it. Of all the rooms in the house, this one seemed more like you. And don't ask me how I knew."

"I'm glad you were so inspired."

He smiles. "So am I."

We stand for a moment, silently staring at one another, neither of us knowing what else to say. He finally moves toward the door.

"I'll leave you to get settled. I thought I might order a pizza for dinner. Is that okay with you?"

I wordlessly nod. After not having it for so long, pizza sounds heavenly. "Chance." He stops, turning back to me. "Thank you . . . for everything."

"You're welcome, Cosset. I would do anything for you."

He leaves before I can respond. But the new inner warmth his parting words invoke remains.

iii

Why now, God?

For a week now, have lain in this warm comfortable bed with my stomach fuller than it has been in a long time. I have a job and I am blessed to live in this beautiful home. I have every reason to be happy, yet the sad memories of the past plague me and I can't get to sleep, no matter how hard I try. I can't understand it. Why is this new, longed-for sense of security dredging everything up now? Why are the pains of the past becoming so prominent?

First come the memories of losing my brother.

Sitting in the emergency room lobby waiting to hear about Nate, I struggled to get a mental handle on what happened. I had been at work when I got the call. A drunk driver hit my brother. I was on the verge of possibly losing the last important person in my life. Nate had his whole life ahead of him. He was handsome, funny, smart, and made the world a better place by just being here. He was the bright light in my life and had the potential to do great things. If I lost him, I didn't know what to do. I didn't think I could handle it.

"Dr. Callahan, how is my brother?" I was past the tears by then and I knew it was time to be brave.

"Miss Allen, your brother is in critical condition," the doctor answered. "His neck is broken, his right leg is broken in two places, and he has a punctured lung. He has a very serious concussion and is still unconscious, but we've managed to stabilize him for now. It was a very hard hit he took and he has a long way to go before he is out of the woods. He's in intensive care and will be constantly monitored for any changes."

My legs weakening, I grabbed the back of the chair for support. "Can I see him?"

"Yes, you can. And I knew you would probably want to stay with him tonight, so I took the liberty of sending for a cot and a blanket."

It was as if he could read my mind. Nate was all I had left in the world and I had no intention of leaving.

Dr. Callahan took me in to see Nate. As soon as I walked into the room, the tears began again. He looked so weak and helpless, things I could never recall my brother being before. Watching the machine breathe for him literally broke my heart.

Reaching his bedside, I sat in the chair and lightly rested my head against Nate's chest, listening to his shallow breathing, praying he would live through this.

Dr. Callahan came back a while later to check him again and informed me there was no change. Instead of setting up the cot, I grabbed the blanket and rested my head against Nate's side, falling asleep with a prayer on my lips.

Two hours later, Nate's heart stopped and he passed away.

Then come the memories of losing Mama.

I rested my head against one side of Mama's hospital bed with Nate on the other. She was no longer coherent, but I prayed she knew we were there. She was past the pain, and though I longed for her suffering to end, it was still hard to let her go, and even harder for my brother.

"Don't leave us, Mama," Nate tearfully pleaded.

Unable to pull my gaze from Mama's beautiful calm face, I was so emotional, my brain couldn't form words. We were losing our mother, and nothing could change that. I had never experienced anything so painful in my life.

"I love you, Mama," I finally whispered. "I love you so much."

An hour later, she went to sleep and never awakened.

Then my thoughts shift to my stepfather's abandonment. Though it was years ago, part of me has never been able to get over Dave's betrayal. He was my father, and I couldn't have loved him more if we shared the same blood. I remember thinking I would marry someone just like him one day. At the time I had no idea how true that prediction would be. But I didn't marry someone just like him, I married someone twice as bad, and I lost my little girl in the process.

A soft sob escapes me as long-buried grief breaks through to the surface. Oh, how I miss my Heather. Rocking back and forth, the sobs racking my body change to wails and my emotions explode, the pain in my heart excruciating. Everything I'd blocked out while living on the streets comes out in a rush.

A moment later, my head is buried against a warm chest and I am encircled in a pair of strong arms.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'm here."

"It . . . it hurts . . . Oh, it hurts . . . so much!"

"I know, baby," he croons. "I know. It's going to be okay."

"I miss my little girl," I cry, clutching the back of his t-shirt. "I was her mother and I couldn't even protect her."

"Shhh, don't. You were a good mother and there was nothing you could have done. It wasn't your fault."

My brain tries to accept his words, but my heart fights against it. Add to this the aching loneliness that fills me, the pain is excruciating. I continue to cling to him, soaking in his warmth.

Lying down next to me, Chance puts his feet up, holding me close, and I burrow deeper in his embrace as a new round of sobs escape.

"Shhh, it's all right," he continues to softly croon, burying his face in my hair.

"Stay and hold me, okay?"

He pulls the comforter over us both Pressing a kiss to my forehead, he whispers, "I'm here, honey. And I'm not going anywhere."

Chance's arms are a safe haven, and in them I find comfort. If only for a while.