Carrie smiled to put up a good front. "Someday, Grandma. Someday."

She kissed Maddie once more and turned to walk to the doorway to the foyer where she blew her another kiss. "See you soon."

At the moment, Carrie couldn't see clearly through the tears that filled her eyes. She swiped at them with the backs of her hands before she picked up her purse from the hall table and went out to her car. A couple of blocks down the street, she had to pull over to blow her nose and pat away fresh tears.

Besides leaving her ill grandmother, Carrie was leaving behind so many other people she'd come to love, and she was driving toward a place where there was no one she loved, only people she tolerated. At least there they didn't know about the part she had played in Ralph's death and they had never asked her what happened. The irony didn't escape her as she put the car in gear and headed for the county highway out of Sunville.

If only there was someone or something in the city to make her happy. As she drove she tried to think of who or what. She came up with a blank--a blank to match the void she felt in her life.

By the time she got to her apartment, Carrie had decided she could not ever remember a time in her life when she had felt more lonely or more miserable.

"Here are the galleys for the final puppet play in the series," Carrie told her boss, Marilyn, as she laid the long sheets on her desk. "I've marked the changes that need to be made by the printer. There aren't very many."

"Good. Leave them there," Marilyn said with a wave of her hand, but without lifting her gaze from the galley sheets she was marking with a red pencil.

Carrie dropped a type-written sheet on top of the galleys. "Ah, I've written a couple of paragraphs you might use as a sidebar with the lead-in. It's based on my experiences with some kids doing one of the earlier shows."

"When was that?" her boss said, looking surprised.

"When I went to take care of my grandmother. The kids at her church performed one of them for the nursing home, the hospital, places like that."

Her boss pointed to her with the pencil eraser. "I thought you went home because your grandmother needed you so much. Instead you were playing with puppets?"

"I explained I had to wait for the care-giver to move in so I could leave. I only helped the kids a couple of times."

"Listen. I'm the one who needs your help. I pay your salary to help me, not some kids doing a puppet show, and I'm not paying for you to be gone any more."

Carrie winced and turned to leave. There was no sense in arguing. She stopped at the door and looked back at the woman sitting behind the paper-littered desk.

She hated to ask about it now, but she had to know. "Ah... Have you thought about my taking a Friday or a Monday off each month to have a long weekend to visit my grandmother, instead of taking the yearly vacation time all at once?"

"What? Oh, that's not a problem for the weeks that have holidays that you get off on Monday anyway. You've used up your vacation time for the year so from now on we'll have to take it month by month."

Carrie was disappointed, but she understood. She nodded and reached for the door k.n.o.b. "Can you let me know the next time you can spare me? It's been two weeks since I left. I'd like to go back just to be sure things are going smoothly."

"Sure. Sure," her boss responded with no conviction. "Go on the weekends or holidays, but no more missing work days until you earn vacation time again." She picked up the galleys Carrie had set on her desk and started through them without paying another moment's more attention to her a.s.sistant.

Feeling dismissed, Carrie sighed and went back to her work station cubicle. Her boss did not understand how she felt being far away from the people she loved and worried about. Carrie found herself wondering uncharitably if Marilyn even had anyone she loved or worried about.

Carrie didn't want to think about her now. In a few hours her work week would be ended and she had a two-day break ahead of her.

Chapter Twelve.

Carrie had worked at the office most of the day her first Sat.u.r.day back in Fargo. After that she managed to squeeze in nothing more done than washing the mound of laundry and getting her hair cut at a no-appointment salon at the mall west of Fargo.

This second weekend, she had a lot of apartment cleaning to catch up on. Well, it was better than sitting at her desk in the office for on another Sat.u.r.day. At least cleaning the apartment would be easier than cleaning out her refrigerator had been the night she got home. She hadn't known molds grew in so many colors.

Sat.u.r.day disappeared as Carrie waged full-scale war on dirt and germs. That evening, she turned a full circle, looking around her living room. She had to smile. The little place looked great. She'd always felt better with her rooms clean, even though this time it had taken all day. She agreed with Joyce; the lived-in look was fine, as long as it was clean. She felt good being tired from physical labor and not just exhausted from worry about her grandmother.

By Sunday afternoon, the apartment not only looked good, but it smelled good, too. Skipping church that morning as she did most weeks in Fargo, Carrie decided to do something adventurous in the kitchen--just for the fun of it. She picked something she'd always wanted to try--baking bread.

She'd never made any yeast bread before, though she'd often made m.u.f.fins and biscuits. After meticulously following the instructions in her cookbook, she was rewarded with the two golden loaves she removed from the oven. The tops were not exactly smooth, but the good smell more than made up for it.

The thought of a late lunch of homemade bread and soup, even if it was from a can, made her mouth water. She was soaking the bread pans so they would be easy to wash later when her door buzzer sounded.

Someone in the apartment building entrance had pushed the b.u.t.ton over her mailbox that had her last name on it. While it happened off and on when a neighbor forgot a key, or kids played in the entrance, she always was wary of who might buzzing. She pushed the reply b.u.t.ton and asked who was down there.

"Carolyn, is that you?"

His voice sounded tinny and distant, but Carrie knew it was Peter. She was so shocked that she couldn't speak. What was he doing here? Maddie. Was something wrong with Maddie? No, Joyce would have called her. He would not have driven all the way just to tell her in person. Why was he here then?

"Carolyn? It's Peter."

Without trying to respond verbally, she pushed the b.u.t.ton that opened the electronic lock on the entrance door long enough to allow Peter to open the access door and step through. Opening the door to her apartment, she heard his solitary footfalls echoing up the stairwell.

His dark head appeared between the banister rails as he climbed up the steps leading away from her. He reached her floor, the third, turned around the newel post and walked past the other two apartments toward hers at the back of the building. The second he turned, his gaze locked on hers.

Peter looked tired, she thought. His eyes were reddened much like hers always were after the solo drive from Sunville. He must have started out in a suit, but the jacket hung from his finger over his shoulder. His tie was missing and the top couple of b.u.t.tons on his regular business-style shirt were unb.u.t.toned.

She swallowed against the pressure she felt rising in her throat... and then Peter was there, at her door. For a moment or two they just stared at each other. A voice from inside another apartment stirred them into action.

"May I come in?" Peter asked.

"Of course. I'm sorry," she said as she felt her cheeks warming. Where were her manners? "Come in. I'm just so surprised to see you here that I couldn't believe it was really you for a minute there."

She stepped back to allow him to walk past her and then closed the door. She pushed the deadbolt across as usual to keep strangers out of her apartment. Now, for the first time, the door would be locked and a man would be on the inside, locked in with her. Turning towards Peter, she drew a deep breath.

"Smells wonderful. Don't tell me you baked bread." After looking around her living room, he turned back to her with a smile. "I didn't think people who lived outside of little towns did that anymore."

Carrie loved that smile. She'd almost forgotten how it made his eyes sparkle. "You know how it goes. You can take the woman out of the country..."

"But you can't take the country out of the woman," he finished for her with a grin.

Carrie nodded. If something was terribly wrong in Sunville, he would tell her right away and he hadn't. So why was he here?

"I just took the bread out of the oven. Would you like a warm heel with some b.u.t.ter on it?" She glanced at her watch. "You must have left right after church to arrive here now. Have you eaten?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Well, I was going to open a can of soup and have it with the bread for a late lunch. Would you like that?

"Great. That would be great. Other than the coffee and cookies after church, I haven't eaten since breakfast. On Sundays, I don't eat much before the service, so I have to admit I'm starved." The smile eased the weariness on his face.

"Can I hang that up for you?"

"This if fine." He draped his jacket over the back of her couch.

"I suppose the last thing you want to do is sit down after a long drive," she said with a nervous laugh.

"It'll just take a few minutes to heat the soup." She crossed into her small kitchen that opened off the other end of the living room. He followed her there and made the room feel tinier than it was already. Keep busy and you won't have to think about how close he is, she told herself. But how could she not think about it?

Adjusting the burner to heat the liquid gently, she was so near him she could reach out and touch his bare arm. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to just below his elbows. She straightened and looked into his eyes. "Peter?" She stood just inches from him. Even if she'd wanted to, she didn't think her legs would support her to step away.

He looked down at her mouth and then back to her eyes without speaking, without moving.

"Is something wrong in Sunville?"

He shook his head.

She bit her lower lip, trying to think of what else his reason for being there might be. "Maddie's okay?"

He nodded and she could see the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallowed. "She's doing fine," he said softly. "I see her sitting on the porch with Joyce on nice days when it's not too hot. They weren't at the service this morning, but I talked to Bette after church, and she said Maggie had just slept in a little too long to get ready in time."

Carrie nodded. "Bette's a gem. She called me last week just to let me know their first week together had gone smoothly."

"Joyce was the right person to hire."

"I was so worried, but I'm glad to hear she's letting grandma get all the rest she can." Carrie wiped her damp palms on the side of her jeans. She stirred the soup and stepped past him to set the table.

"May I slice the bread for you? I've done it at enough church suppers to be an expert."

She handed him the knife and almost dropped it when his fingers brushed against hers. She turned to get

out the bread board. "This smells delicious." "I hope it tastes as good as the homemade bread you're used to. I... I've never made it before today." His head snapped up. "Never?" Carrie shook her head and smiled. "The loaves should be smoother, and I don't expect you to fib if it tastes awful. I can take the truth. At least I think I can," she added with a laugh. "Besides, lightning would probably strike if you fibbed, wouldn't it?" Peter chuckled and set down the dish piled high with the bread he'd sliced. Carrie poured the soup into two bowls and put the pitcher of iced tea beside the bread. They sat down opposite each other at the table that was too small to accommodate any more diners.

Carrie's hands were clenched in her lap until she saw Peter extend his out to her, palms up, on either side of his placemat. She looked from one to the other and then slowly slid her hands into his as her gaze met his.

Their gazes locked for a few seconds until Peter closed his eyes and bowed his head. Peter prayed for a blessing on their food and on them. Carrie had never wanted a prayer to be as long as she wished that particular one would be. When she had kissed him goodbye in the church, she hadn't expected to see him again. Here he was holding both her hands in his. She wanted to go on holding his hands.

And she did, long into the silence.

"Carolyn?"

Carrie's eyes opened wide as she looked up at Peter. A smile filled his face.

"Since you made the bread, maybe you know something I don't know. Do I need to say more of a

blessing than that, to pray for the bread?"

He'd finished saying grace and there she sat, thinking about how wonderful it was to hold hands with

him. She ought to have paid more attention to the prayer, but she tended to think of prayer as something to do when she needed something--like for Maddie to get better. Carrie felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "I guess the proof will be in the eating." She pulled her hands back to her lap, s.n.a.t.c.hing her napkin on the way. "But I should probably taste the bread first to make sure it's safe to eat." Still warm, the bread melted the b.u.t.ter and the whole combination was delicious, but she didn't have to say so. Peter bit into a slice. "Mmmm. It's hard to believe you've never tried it before. This tastes heavenly." She laughed at his dreamy expression. "Such high praise and from a minister. That makes it special."

"Goodness, I missed your laugh. No, don't stop." His palm slapped his thigh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I just should have enjoyed hearing it and kept my mouth shut." He looked so unhappy that Carrie squeezed his hand that held his bread. "Thanks, Peter. I think I've laughed more when I've been with you than I have in... well, in a very long time."

"Then we're good for each other. I like spending time with you because you don't treat me like a different kind of person just because I'm a minister. You just treat me like... well, like a man and that's refreshing to be thought of as normal."

Carrie smiled. She didn't dare tell him that she'd never thought of a minister as a man until she'd met him.

"The kids all missed you at their show the day after you left Sunville."

"Now it's my turn to be sorry. I do apologize, but I couldn't go see it. I... I would have made a fool of myself by crying or something stupid like that when I said goodbye to... to them."

"Yeah," was all he said. He seemed to accept her reasoning without argument. They each sipped their soup.

"So tell me. How was the show?" she asked.

"A lot better than the last awful rehearsal you saw," he said laughing once again. "They got quite an ovation."

"They deserved it for working so hard."

"Last weekend they took the show on the road and performed in the pediatric ward at the hospital."

Peter entertained her with his description of what that performance had been like and how much the kids

had enjoyed it. "I wish I could have been there to help." "So do I," he said softly as he leaned back in his chair. "Thank you, Carolyn. That was delicious." This was the first time Carrie had ever shared a meal with anyone in her tiny kitchen. Even the canned soup tasted better than she remembered. The whole apartment seemed brighter and she didn't think that was because it was so clean. "Good. And you're welcome." She wiped her mouth with her napkin and lowered it to her lap.

Small talk. He was still making polite small talk, but not telling her what he was doing here in Fargo on a Sunday afternoon. "Oh, no. Today's Sunday and you're here with me. Don't you have a youth-fellowship meeting tonight?"

Peter shook his head. "Since they've been spending most of their weekends with the puppet show, they all said they needed tonight off." She nodded and took her dishes to the sink. He rose and brought his own to set beside hers. "Trying to get rid of me already?" His arm brushed against her shoulder as he leaned past her.

"No. Not at all, but..." Suddenly at the end of her patience, she turned to face him. "Why, Peter? Why are you here?"

He looked into her eyes, a lopsided grin on his face. "I thought you'd never ask." He stepped closer and raised a hand to cradle her jaw. His slender, long fingers felt cool against her cheek. His skin still held the fragrance of the bread he had sliced. "I'm here to see you."

"To see me?" she squeaked.

"Yup. I couldn't wait any longer for you to visit Sunville to see you again. And I didn't know when you'd be back to see Maddie because you left without talking to me."