Mason got up earlier than usual on Sunday so he could feed the puppy and walk her before church. It was a beautiful day, warm but not hot, the humidity low. Birdsong sounded overhead.

He took Dora back inside and played with her until it was time to change into his suit. Once dressed, he put her into her kennel before leaving. He hated to do it, but he kept reminding himself that dogs liked the safety of being in a den. She would be fine. It was good for her.

At the church, he sat with his parents, his sisters, and their husbands. He felt like a fifth wheel without Rhy. It didn’t help that the sermon was about the wedding at Cana, where Jesus had performed his first miracle.

Just a few weeks ago, Mason had felt confident that he and Rhy would be having their own wedding right here at this church before too much time had passed. Then the panic attacks had started, and Mason wasn’t sure anymore.

The first time he’d seen Rhy go through it, it had been terrifying. They had gone to the emergency room, because panic attacks mimicked the symptoms of a heart attack. Rhy was sure he was fine, but given the way his grandfather died, he wasn’t taking any chances.

After an EKG, some blood tests, and a chest X-ray, he was given a clean bill of health. At his request, the doctor had prescribed Zoloft. It had worked for him in college.

It took about a week for Rhy to feel under control. But during that time, he decided that moving in with Mason had been too much change for him at once, caused too much stress. So he moved back to the cabin—just for a little while, he assured Mason—until he was feeling stronger.

Mason hated it. He believed in his heart that Rhy was better off with him than alone. The fact that the two things had happened nearly at the same time—moving in together and the panic attacks—didn’t mean that one thing had caused the other. But how could he argue that? The panic attacks made Rhy feel unsafe, and Mason hated to see Rhy in pain.

After the service ended, Mason and his family headed outside. It was a sunny June day, warm but not hot, daisies and daylilies blooming in the flowerbeds. The pastor and his wife greeted the parishioners as they headed down the walkway and toward their cars.

Mason walked behind his parents. His mom made the rounds, saying hello to everyone she knew. As owner of one of the town’s largest real estate agencies, everywhere people gathered was a networking event for her. His dad, dutifully at her side, was the strong silent type to her friendly nature.

“Sheriff Corelli,” Mason’s mom greeted. The two had dated in high school, but she seemed to get a kick out of calling him by his title.

“What are you up to these days, Maggie?” Tony Corelli asked.

“Working on a big project with Luis Mendoza. Azalea Meadows.”

“The walking community by the mall. That’ll be nice. Plenty of green space.”

“And they’re working with Mountain Solar to install a microgrid,” Mason said. “Alternative energy is getting more affordable every day.”

“I heard you were working there now,” Tony said. “You like it?”

A sense of pride flooded him. It was a small, family-owned business, and Mason had felt comfortable there right away. “It’s a great place to work. They care about the planet and their employees.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

His mother said, “I miss him at the real estate office, though.”

“Mom…” Mason rolled his eyes. Somehow, she always reduced him to a teenager.

“We’re very proud,” Mason’s father said. “I wasn’t sure about the graphic arts degree, but he proved me wrong.”

Mason stood a little taller. He couldn’t believe his father had just said that!

The sheriff smiled and shook their hands. “It was good seeing you all.”

“My best to Nancy and the girls,” his mother said.

It was all very mundane, Mason thought, but it was the stuff of small-town life. With a shudder, he realized that Rhy didn’t have these little pleasantries that Mason took for granted. Since his grandfather had died, and with his brother and sister basically held hostage, Rhy had no family. He was twenty-four years old and alone in the world.

No wonder he was having panic attacks.

 

***

 

“Have you seen Rhy lately?” Mason’s mother asked as they sat down to Sunday dinner.

Mason explained what had happened with Rhy’s father. “In a way, I think it was the jolt he needed. It forced him to make a choice. He wants us to start going out on dates again, without the pressure of worrying about whether he’s ready to move back in.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so happy.”

Mason was happy, too. Rhy had called at bedtime the night before, the way he used to. It felt good, natural. Like he was becoming himself again.

He turned to his mom. “Did you know his dad is Austin Burroughs?”

She dropped her fork. Shaking her head, she said, “Of course he is. I don’t know why I didn’t realize that before. The family resemblance…” She stared off into the distance. “Oh, Mason. I don’t think I can work with Austin again. I haven’t got any projects with him right now, but…”

She turned silent. Maggie Kane was never silent.

Mason’s dad stirred his iced tea, the spoon jangling against the glass. “You wouldn’t guess to look at him that he was evil.”

“But that’s just it,” Mason said. “In his mind, he’s just following his beliefs. I’ll bet he thinks it’s heroic. To go so far as to reject his own child as proof of his faith? He must see himself as some kind of saint.”

After dinner, Mason and his mom did the dishes. Talking with her helped him sort things out in his mind. “I wonder if going to church again stirred up bad memories for Rhy.”

“I suppose it’s possible.” She rinsed the suds off a pot and handed it to Mason to dry. “But it was something he seemed eager to do. I never pressured him, Mason.”

“I know you didn’t.” He put his hand on his mother’s arm. It had been a source of contention for them, her wanting him to invite Rhy to join them for church, Mason wanting to avoid triggering Rhy. In the end, Rhy had wanted to be involved in their family activities.

Rhy had been alone for too long. Being part of Mason’s family had meant a lot to him. And now he was secluding himself again. What did it mean? How could Mason help him?

As Mason put the last of the dishes away, his phone beeped. The sound meant a text from Rhy. With a tickle in his chest, he opened it.

Then his stomach bottomed out, and his lips parted. With a quick apology to his mother, he headed right home.