"Who?"

"The lady next door. We saw her at church this morning. It's kind of you to want to keep an eye on Grandma Leota, Corban, but it really would be better if she got to know her neighbors. Besides, you only come on Wednesdays. If anything happened . . ."

So she had believed his reason for wanting her phone number. "I think you're right."

As he turned away, she put her hand on his arm. "I appreciate what you've done for my grandmother, Corban. She was alone until you came to help her."

He heard laughter in the kitchen. "She's not alone anymore." The house was too full for his comfort.

"I think there's room for one more. Or even two if you'd like to bring your girlfriend by sometime."

His mouth tipped. Now there was an idea. "Maybe."

"He's good-looking," Susan said when Annie came back into the kitchen.

Annie laughed. "I'm not surprised you noticed, Suzie."

"And he's taken," Sam said pointedly. "He made that clear."

"So what?" Susan said. "Men change their minds, too, you know. How many girlfriends have you had and dumped?"

Sam's eyes darkened. "Dumped isn't the word I'd use."

"Discarded? Left mooning for the sun, moon, and stars?"

Annie could see Sam didn't appreciate Susan's ribbing. "It's a pretty afternoon. Why don't we have a picnic in the backyard? Would that be all right, Grandma?"

"I think that would be a splendid idea. There's more room to fight out there." Her dry comment drew a surprised chuckle from both Carters. "You'll find an army blanket in the guest room closet, honey."

Sam carried one of the old, American steel chairs out to the lawn for Leota. "Where do you want to be, ma'am?"

"Right there is just fine."

Annie thought her grandmother looked darling sitting in the sunshine wearing a battered straw hat. Flapping open the army blanket, Annie spread it on the grass. Sam caught the other side and smoothed it for her while Suzie set out the cellophane-wrapped sandwiches and plastic deli containers. They'd even thought to bring a package of paper plates and packets that each contained a napkin, a plastic fork, spoon, and knife, salt and pepper, and a wet wipe.

Sam surprised Annie and said a blessing. When he raised his head, she looked into his eyes, hoping he hadn't done it just to make a good impression on her. Suzie reached for a plate. "What would you like, Mrs. Reinhardt?"

"A little of everything, except a sandwich. Those big rolls are too hard for me to eat."

Suzie grinned. "My grandmother can't eat them this way either. She says she's worried her store-bought teeth would come out."

"It happens."

"Not to worry." Suzie opened a sandwich and forked the fixings onto a plate. She cut half of the roll into bite-size pieces. "There you go, Mrs. Reinhardt. You can't beat the taste of San Francisco sourdough." She handed the plate to Annie.

Annie added salads, garnishes, and chips and gave it to her grandmother. Sam's hand brushed hers as she reached for a sandwich of her own. "Sorry," she murmured, withdrawing her hand.

"Don't be." Sam held the sandwich out to her, a sultry look in his eyes.

"Sam said he couldn't get anywhere with you Friday night," Suzie said, dark eyes dancing at them over an open soda can. "So he thought he'd give it another try today."

Annie blushed. "You didn't have to go to such lengths, Sam."

"You mean, all I'd have to do is ask and you'd go out with me?" His mouth tipped.

Annie could feel her grandmother watching them. "No, I didn't say that."

Sam gave his sister a rueful look. "She doesn't trust me."

"Probably because she's been hearing about your antics since we were in grade school."

Sam looked at Annie. "People change."

She could see he was in earnest. "I know they do." She had no doubt his life was much different from his wilder days, but that didn't change her mind about becoming involved with him. She didn't want to become involved with anyone right now. She didn't know enough about herself to move into any kind of relationship. She was vulnerable. It would be too easy to make a serious mistake.

"I'm cute, aren't I?" A hint of devilry was back in his eyes.

"Yes, you're cute."

"Entirely too cute," her grandmother said, drawing laughter from brother and sister.

When Sam looked at Annie again, she lowered her head. He was attractive, disturbingly so, especially when his attention was focused on her. She had things to work out, things to think about deeply. If Sam's life could change so much, perhaps other lives could as well. Starting with her own.

Sam leaned toward her, reaching for a sandwich. "Relax, Annie. I'm not as bad as you might think."

"This yard must have been beautiful," Suzie said, looking around.

"Nice thing to say," Sam said under his breath.

Suzie grimaced. "Sorry. I didn't mean that the way it came out, Mrs. Reinhardt."

"Don't apologize. You're exactly right. A pity you two didn't come by yesterday."

"Why?" Sam said.

"We would have put you to work. So far, Annie's trimmed the front bushes, mowed my lawn, and pruned the fruit trees."

"Corban helped a lot," Annie said and took a bite of her sandwich.

"Yes, he did, but he's gone now, and there's a lot more to be done. I think this young gentleman is so eager to woo you, we could enlist his help."

Annie gulped down the bite of deli sandwich. "Grandma!" Her face was hot.

Sam laughed. "Consider me enlisted, your ladyship."

"All right, young man. We'll see if there's more to you than charm and good looks. Eat your sandwich. You're going to need your strength. As soon as you're finished, Annie will show you where to find the tools. And then I'm going to tell you what to do and where to do it."

Chapter 11.

Nora sat in Pastor Burnie's office, waiting. She realized she should've called before coming. Perhaps if she had, she wouldn't be left sitting where anyone might see her and wonder what she was doing here. She'd forgotten there was a Bible study today. Women were milling around in the great room waiting to begin their class. She'd also forgotten Pastor Burnie taught the class.

If she hadn't been so upset, she would've stopped to think what others might say about her coming to church for counseling. Now she felt exposed, humiliated, and angry. There was no privacy in this big church. Everyone knew everything about everybody. Maybe the Catholics had the right idea about going into a confessional. At least there people had privacy. Why hadn't she realized when she saw all the cars in the parking lot that the women's Bible study was meeting this morning? Half a dozen women had seen her come in. She recognized two, and they were probably talking about her right now. She'd had lunch with them. She knew what they were like. How they delighted in knowing and discussing everyone's business!

Uncrossing her legs, Nora crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap. Her palms were sweating. Her heart was pounding. She was trembling. She wouldn't be in this miserable situation if her psychologist, Dr. Leeds, had been willing to speak with her for longer than one minute! She'd been completely undone when his secretary told her the doctor's schedule was full for the next two weeks. Two weeks! She'd told the woman she needed to speak with him right away, but the woman insisted he was with a patient and did not want to be disturbed. The patronizing tone of her voice had made Nora want to scream. Instead, she simply told the secretary she would not be put off. She'd insisted the secretary get Dr. Leeds on the line immediately; it was an emergency.

He came on the line shortly after that, as she knew he would. She'd had to insist before. This time, however, he didn't seem to care that she was in crisis. She could tell by his tone that he was angry with her. When she'd tried to explain, he said it was old territory and he would call her back at his convenience. When she said she couldn't wait, he told her to take a Valium! He said he wanted her calm when he spoke with her. She told him she could be calm if he would speak to her right then, but he said, "I will speak with you later, Nora," and hung up.

After the thousands she had paid Dr. Leeds over the past three years, that's all he had to say? Take a Valium and wait? If he'd given her five minutes of his precious time, she wouldn't be sitting in the church office in front of God and everyone waiting for Pastor Burnie to be free enough to speak with her. This was all Annie's fault! If she'd gone off to college where she belonged, there would be no reason to worry.

Nora trembled with agitation. Seeing her mother always upset her. That's what was wrong. A few minutes in the company of Leota Reinhardt was enough to undo a month of sessions with Dr. Leeds. Nora never remembered the breathing and meditation exercises the doctor had taught her until after she left her mother's house. Dr. Leeds had told her to be honest with her mother. And say what? Tell her mother how much she despised her for abandoning her children, how she couldn't stand to go back to that house, how her childhood had been miserable? She'd said all that a hundred times. Her mother knew-not that she cared.

Nora raised a hand and pressed trembling fingers to her throbbing temples. It never failed. All she had to do was think of her mother and her head started to pound.

What was taking Pastor Burnie so long?

Nora crossed her legs again. She started thinking about Fred and how angry he was with her for not showing up for dinner with his clients. She had tried to apologize, but he wouldn't even look at her. He scorned the omelet she had cooked for him. "When have you ever seen me eat breakfast, Nora?"

He had never been rude before, and it had stunned her. Then there were his eyes . . . they had been darker than she had ever seen them. She poured him some coffee, but he didn't touch that either. It was as though anything she offered him was tainted and untouchable. Nothing she did was good enough.

It was like living with Grandma Helene. Nothing was ever good enough. . . .

Nora didn't want to think about the past. She didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to figure out how to get Annie home again and how to make Fred forgive her.

Fred's words rang in her ears. "You're always sorry, Nora, but nothing ever changes. Just once, I'd like to see you think about someone other than yourself. I'd like to see some effort . . ." He had started to say more, but she had been so distraught, she had fled into the living room and flung herself into the swivel rocker. She thought he would follow her and say he was sorry for upsetting her. That's what he usually did. But last night, Fred went upstairs and closed the bedroom door. When she went up and asked him whether he cared how she felt, all he said was, "I'm going to bed. I'm tired."

Tired? Of what?

Of her?

No one understood her. No one cared.

Fighting tears, Nora glanced around Pastor Burnie's office. Three walls were covered with bookcases laden with volumes neatly arranged in categories: family, Bible studies, commentaries, devotionals, prayer, biographies. Two entire shelves behind Pastor Burnie's desk held various versions and editions of the Bible: King James, New International Version, The Living Bible, New American Standard, Phillips, New Living Translation, The Jerusalem Bible, TouchPoint. Nora frowned. How many Bibles does one man need? Of course, the man was a pastor . . . perhaps he collected them. One Bible was enough for normal people. More than enough. She had tried reading it once-after all, it was supposed to be classic literature-but it was boring.

What was taking Pastor Burnie so long? Nora stood up and paced. The wall behind the couch on which she was sitting had family pictures on it. The beatific face of Sally Burnie annoyed her, as did the laughing faces of the Burnies' son and daughter. Here and there about the room were mementos from trips Pastor Burnie and his family had taken to Israel, Africa, Greece, an Indian reservation in New Mexico, an orphanage in Honduras. They stood there, in every picture, smiling, always smiling.

How did they manage to be so happy? She knew their lives hadn't always been easy. Sally had multiple sclerosis. Pastor Burnie's salary was a fraction of what Fred made, yet they got by. The Burnies' son had learning disabilities, and though their daughter was quite intelligent-Nora studied the girl's features in the photos on the wall-well, she would need her brains. Nora didn't understand it. How could the Burnies all be so happy when so many things were so clearly wrong?

Why can't I be happy? What have I ever done to deserve the misery I live with on a daily basis?

She heard Pastor Burnie in the outer office. It was about time. He entered his office. "Hello, Nora." He closed the door quietly behind him. "I'm sorry for the delay. We needed to have one of the deaconesses take over the class this morning. I had to give her a quick outline of what I was going to cover. Now, how can I help you?"

She burst into tears. She hadn't meant to cry, but what could she do when she was so unhappy? Dr. Leeds sometimes put his arms around her and let her cry it out.

"Has something happened to Fred?" Pastor Burnie's tone was concerned, though he kept his distance.

Nora clenched her hands in her lap. "Fred is just fine. Everything is business as usual. Annie left home. Had you heard that yet? Her father spent a ridiculous amount of money on a car for her, and she just got in it and drove away without so much as a backward glance. She's living with a hippie in San Francisco, of all places. I'm so disappointed. I thought my daughter had a conscience."

"She's living with Susan Carter," he said quietly. "I know her. And her family. Susan's been well grounded."

Nora looked at him. "So was her brother Sam. Do you remember him? He's caused that family nothing but grief. Did you know he was in jail for a while?"

Pastor Burnie's expression made Nora's face go hot. She wasn't gossiping! It was the truth about Sam Carter. How could the pastor look at her as though she were carrying tales he didn't want to hear? He went around his desk and sat down. Nora felt as though a wall had gone up between them. She was on one side; he was on the other. She had never felt so uncomfortable and confused in her life. She couldn't look him straight in the eyes.

What had she done to feel so ashamed? She dabbed at her nose delicately with her lace hankie. Maybe Pastor Burnie didn't understand the whole picture. He'd be more sympathetic when he did. "Anne had a scholarship to Wellesley. All those years of hard work, and she threw it away."

"College isn't for everyone."

"It is most certainly for Anne-Lynn."

"You seem very certain of that."

His neutral tone irritated her. "Of course, I'm certain! It's what she's always wanted. It's why we worked so hard. She's always had outstanding grades. And when she didn't, I made sure she had a tutor. She's belonged to the best clubs. What girl wouldn't want an opportunity to go to a prestigious school like Wellesley? Any girl with an ounce of sense would jump at the chance. Anne-Lynn said she'd go."

"Do you think Annie might have said that to please you, Nora?"

What was he driving at? "If she wanted to please me, she wouldn't be taking art classes in San Francisco. That certainly doesn't please me. What use is that going to be to her? Besides, she hasn't any talent." The words came out before she had time to think how they would sound. She saw the pastor's eyes flicker. Her face heated once more. "I didn't mean it that way. I'm just upset. That's all. Sometimes things come out badly when I'm upset."

She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose delicately. "I suppose some might say Anne can draw a little, but you can't make a living at it. She's only opening herself up to rejection. I don't want to see her hurt. I want to see her succeed."

Pastor Burnie put one hand over the other on his desk blotter and closed his eyes. Was he praying? Nora cleared her throat nervously. He raised his head slightly and looked at her. "Nora, all the answers to your problems are found in a new relationship with God."

What was that supposed to mean? "I know God."

"Do you?"

"Of course, I do! I've been going to this church for five years. Have you any idea how much money Fred and I have given? And I've been on all the most important committees."

"People come to church for all kinds of reasons. It would help if you could tell me what you believe."

"Believe about what?"

"About Jesus Christ."

"This is ridiculous." Nora felt cold with shock at the implications. "You know what I believe. I believe what everyone else who goes here believes." She was completely at a loss as to what more she could say. And yet Pastor Burnie sat, waiting. Hadn't she said enough? Was this a trick question? Furious, she glared at him. She wasn't a Sunday school child to be tested on her recitation of the Apostle's Creed or the Ten Commandments. She was an adult, for heaven's sake! "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I'm not asking you to recite anything, Nora." His smile seemed almost tender. "What I do need is some idea of where you stand with the Lord."

She gave a bitter laugh. "Considering how my life is going, I would say I don't count with God at all. He certainly hasn't shown me any favors lately. No matter what I do, it's never enough to change anything." She stood up and moved to the window overlooking the street.

"What brought you here?"