5

Grace fought back the tears as she stumbled from her office with the shattered photo pressed against her chest. She shouldn’t be falling apart. She was stronger than this. She’d prepared herself for the emotional barrage she knew would hit her today. But all of this—the break-in, the encounter with the intruder—it was proving to be enough to push her over the edge.

She ducked into the small meeting room in the back of the building, thankfully avoiding Anne’s watchful eye. She was busy on the phone canceling today’s appointments with her clients. Becca had tried to talk Grace into taking the day off, if not the entire week. But she’d convinced herself that staying busy and focused on other people’s problems would prove to be therapeutic for her own emotional well-being.

She sat down on the flowered couch and pulled her legs up beneath her before drawing in a slow breath. She stared at Hannah’s photo. Another wave of emotion swept through her, forcing her to go to a place she didn’t want to go. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t fight the grief and tears.

Back in college, she had her life mapped out, down to how many kids she’d have, where she’d be one day career-wise, even down to what Dallas suburb she would live in. Until the unthinkable had happened and her dreams had shattered like the glass on the photo in front of her, leaving her with memories she had no idea how to deal with.

She heard the click of the door opening and shutting behind her. Nate crossed the tiled floor, then stopped in front of her.

“Hey . . . you’re crying.” He sat down next to her on the couch. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing. Really.” She wiped her cheek and turned away from his probing gaze, wondering if her best approach was to let him believe that this was simply a reaction to the break-ins. Because the last person she wanted involved in all of this was Nate. Involving him meant explaining why she was falling apart and everything she’d lost. Something she had no desire to do.

“Listen, I know we haven’t seen each other in ages,” he said, “but I think I know you better than that. Besides, you always were a bad liar.”

Memories surfaced, but this time they were good. “If you’re referring to my poker-playing skills, or perhaps the plastic cockroach I put in Kevin’s cereal—”

“And then tried to blame me, as I remember.”

“Wait a minute,” she said. “For one, that was your idea, so technically you were to blame, and two—”

“You know there’s no way out of this one.” His smile faded. “But this isn’t just about the break-in or Stephen’s death, is it?”

She blew out a sharp breath, wondering when he’d become so perceptive. “No.”

He touched the edge of the frame in her lap. “Who is she?”

“I told you about Kevin and me, but I . . . I didn’t tell you everything.” She wiped her wet face with the back of her hand, then held up the photo. “This is our daughter. Hannah.”

Saying her name out loud brought another barrage of pain with it.

“She’s beautiful,” he said.

She wasn’t sure how much to tell him. She ran her finger across the frame. “Hannah died four years ago this month. And on top of that, her birthday is today. She would have been nine.”

“Oh Gracie . . . I’m so, so sorry. I can’t even imagine what that has to be like for you.”

“It’s made today extra hard. Then between the reminders of her death and everything that’s happened . . . I’m finding it hard to deal.”

“You used to tell me I was a good listener.”

Another memory surfaced. She’d gotten a call from her mom, telling her that her grandfather had passed away. Kevin had to work, so she and Nate had ended up talking at an all-night diner until Kevin got off. Nate had just let her cry and talk. He’d always been that kind of friend.

“You were a good listener. And I appreciate the offer.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “But we need to go to the bank. I need you to find out what happened to Stephen.”

“We will, but right now we’ve got time.”

She felt the long pause that followed, thankful that he didn’t try to interrupt or push her. She could hear his steady breathing next to her and suddenly felt the urge to let him pull her into his arms and hold her. To reassure her that she wasn’t alone. It had been so long since she’d felt safe and protected. Since anyone had held her. But just like she wasn’t the same person she’d been when they knew each other back in college, neither was he. And just because seeing him again stirred up memories, that didn’t mean she really knew him anymore. But her desire to trust the person she’d known years ago won out, and she took a deep breath.

“I was seven months pregnant with her when Kevin and I moved out east,” she said. “He’d just received a job promotion with his firm, and I had the opportunity to work part-time at a counseling center after Hannah was born. She was born perfect and was the sweetest thing you can imagine. And honestly, she was until the day she died.”

She stared at the photo, working to stave off the engulfing sadness she’d been fighting all week. A sadness that always intensified this time of year.

“This was taken on her third birthday. We went to her grandparents’ farm for the day. She was happy and funny. She always made me laugh.” She handed the photo to Nate. “Her grandma gave her the stuffed elephant. She never went anywhere without it after that.”

“She’s absolutely adorable.” He brushed his hand across her arm. “But you don’t have to talk about it, Gracie. Only if you want to.”

“It’s okay.” Because for some reason, she needed to tell him. While most of her friends were sympathetic, time went on, people moved on with their lives, and she was left trying to put together the shattered pieces of her life. It was part of the reason she’d moved back to Dallas. It was a chance to start over.

While Becca had become the exception, Grace preferred making friends who didn’t know her past. It had ended up being easier than explaining over and over to everyone what had happened. And, she supposed, it had been a way to guard her heart.

“Not long after this photo was taken, she was diagnosed with leukemia, and after that, we pretty much dropped out of sight. I took leave from my practice in order to stay home with her full-time. Between doctors’ visits and treatments, I didn’t have energy for anything else. Including Kevin.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was every parent’s worst nightmare. Having something wrong with your child when there’s nothing you can do. Watching her struggle through treatment after treatment, hospital stays, reactions to the medicine . . . And then things got better. Hannah went into remission for about six months, but then the disease came back more aggressive than before. Three months later, we lost her.”

Nate winced and glanced down at the photo in his hands, then looked back up at her. “And Kevin? How did he handle her death?”

“While I grieved, I made sure I had people to talk to, but he didn’t cope well with losing Hannah. He didn’t talk—really talk—to anyone except his brother every once in a while, and even then, I’m not sure how much he shared. I felt so helpless. Here I was, a psychologist, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get him to open up to me.”

Just like losing a child had never been on her radar, neither was divorce. She believed in “until death do us part” and had done everything she could to work things out between her and Kevin. Not that the collapse of their marriage was all his fault. She couldn’t blame him entirely for what had happened, but things still hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned.

“Tell me about her.”

Her eyes widened at his request. Most people asked what happened, never getting to the more uncomfortable conversation of who she’d lost.

“Well . . .” Grace paused. “She loved tea parties, drawing, roses, and animals—especially horses. In fact, from the time she was four, she decided she wanted to be a cowgirl.” The memories brought a smile to her lips. “I had some friends back East who taught her how to ride. Even when she was sick, there was nothing that made her happier than riding. We spent most weekends there, and when she was too sick to ride, she’d sit out on the porch and simply watch the horses.”

And now she was gone.

She grabbed a tissue from the table beside her, finding it ironic that here she was, sitting on a couch at her practice, crying and needing support instead of being the one giving it. Wishing—not for the first time—it was possible to go back in time and do things over. Start at another place in time to get a different ending. Not that she regretted marrying Kevin. Without Kevin, she wouldn’t have had Hannah. She just regretted what had happened between them and the empty space his leaving had left in her heart. The image of Hannah rose to the surface, and that familiar surge of emotion swept through her.

He handed her back the photo, and she noticed the raised scars on his forearm. She started to say something, but he tugged down his sleeve and covered them. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with secrets. And secrets, it seemed, he wasn’t willing to share. Which meant that, for the moment, she kept her own questions about him to herself.

“I should have seen it coming and yet, you know what? I didn’t. I guess I was so wrapped up in losing Hannah, I forgot to be there for Kevin. And then one day . . . he just walked out. He set his fork down after a pot roast dinner and told me he couldn’t pretend that things were okay between us anymore. Told me he’d met someone else and that he wanted a divorce. He wanted to completely leave his life behind and start over. Like he could somehow just . . . forget Hannah and me.”

Time might have smoothed out some of the jagged edges of the pain, but she knew she’d carry them with her the rest of her life.

“I’m so sorry.” Nate leaned back against the couch. “It’s hard for me to imagine how he could have done something like that. I also can’t imagine how hard it would be to lose a child.”

“It’s been over three years since he left, and for the most part I’ve found ways to move on, though I don’t think it’s ever possible to get over the loss of a child. There’s always this . . . this deep, black hole inside me. Like something’s missing. And then the dates of her birthday come around, or the anniversary of her death . . . those feelings are magnified. Sometimes it feels as if I’m starting all over again with the pain and loss. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children. They say a high percentage of marriages break up after losing a child. I guess I never imagined it would happen to us. That we’d become nothing more than a statistic. But we did. And at the time, I didn’t even see it happening.”

She took in a deep breath while he waited for her to continue. “I find myself hardly able to breathe sometimes. I don’t know why she died before me. I still feel guilty when I’m happy. Miss the memories we never created. And yet at the same time, I’m thankful for the time we had and don’t regret any of it. I wouldn’t be who I am today without her short time on earth.”

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “I know it can’t be easy to dredge up all those memories. And with all that’s going on right now—especially with today being her birthday.”

She nodded. But this wasn’t a place she could stay. Not today, when there was so much she needed to deal with right here. Stephen was dead. Someone had broken in, threatened her life. No, she needed to stuff her grief back into its compartment. At least for now.

She glanced at her watch. “We should go. The bank’s going to open soon—”

“Gracie, forget it. You don’t need to do this. Not with everything you’ve gone through. You should be spending the day with friends and family. Definitely not this. We’ll get the necessary paperwork and get it done.”

“You need answers, and I can help get them for you. Besides, not only is it a distraction I need, it puts off having to clean up the mess here and having to deal with all of this.”

“Gracie—”

“Please.” She touched his arm. “I need to do this. If I go home, I’ll just end up eating a pint of ice cream and binge-watching Netflix.”

He squeezed her hand. “You’re sure?”

She nodded, surprised at how comfortable she felt talking with him. Out of all of Kevin’s friends, Nate had been her favorite. He’d been funny, smart, steady . . . and today it felt as if time hadn’t even passed since she’d seen him.

Except for her, everything had changed.

He glanced at his watch. “Okay, but that’s it. You walk into the bank, get Stephen’s stuff, and leave. I’ve got a team on their way here to see what they can find. With all the people who are in and out of this office, I’m not expecting much, but there could be something in your office that will help point us to the intruder.”

She grabbed another tissue and nodded. “Just give me a couple minutes, and I’ll be ready.”

She walked into the small bathroom, stopped in front of the sink, and splashed some water on her face, trying to ward off the familiar panic she’d learned—in part—to deal with. There was something about Nate’s presence that helped to center her. She’d made it through this day before, and she’d make it through again.

Five minutes later, she followed him out to his car, feeling the rising defenses she’d put into place so many times before. When today was over, she’d go home, have a long soak in the tub, and cry. And maybe eat that pint of ice cream.

Nate’s phone rang and he answered the call.

“Everything okay?” she asked once he’d hung up. But she could tell by the expression on his face that it wasn’t.

“No, actually. That was my partner. The medical examiner isn’t done yet with his autopsy, but he’s found evidence that Stephen Shaw didn’t commit suicide. He was definitely murdered.”