Closing his lids, his heart thundered as the contact was made. And he prepared himself for her to make some comment about how horrible he looked" or even say something in a tone of voice that told him ex- actly how mortified she was at what he had become.

She even took off the baseball cap.

He waited, bracing himself"

Jesus has brought you home, she said hoarsely as she cradled his face, and kissed him on the cheek. Precious boy, He has returned you to us.

Edward couldnt breathe.

Precious boy . . . that was what she had always called him when he was little. Precious boy. Lane was her favorite, always had been, and Max she had tolerated because shed had to, but Miss Aurora had called him, Edward, precious.

Because she was old- school and the firstborn- son thing did matter to her.

I prayed for you, she whispered. I prayed for Him to bring you home to us. And my miracle has come finally.

He wanted to say something strong. He wanted to push her way because it was just too much. He wanted . . .

Next thing he knew, he had leaned in to her and she had wrapped her arms around him.

Much later, when everything had changed and he was living a life he couldnt have imagined on any level, he would come to recognize . . . that this moment, with his head in Miss Auroras hands, with her heart under { 320 }.

his ear, with her familiar voice soothing him and his brother watching from a discreet distance, was when he began to truly heal: For a brief instant, a split second, a single breath, his pilot light flicked on. The spark didnt last long" the flare died when she finally stepped back a little.

But the ignition did, in fact, occur. And that changed every thing.

I prayed every night for you, she said, brushing his shoulder. I prayed and I asked for you to be saved.

I dont believe in God, Miss Aurora.

Neither does your brother. But like I tell him, He loves you anyway.

Yes, maam. Because what else could he say to that?

Thank you. She touched his head, his jaw. I know you dont want to see me"

He took her hand. No, its not that.

You dont have to explain.

The idea that she felt she was somehow a second- class citizen made him feel like hed been shot in the chest. I dont . . . want to see anyone.

Im not who I once was.

She tilted his face up. Look at me, boy.

He had to force himself to meet her dark stare. Yes, maam.

You are perfect in Gods eyes. Do you understand me? And you are perfect in mine as well" no matter what you look like.

Miss Aurora . . . its not just my body thats changed.

That is in your hands, boy. You can choose to sink or swim based on what happened. Are you going to drown? Pretty stupid now that youre back on dry land.

If anyone else had said that bullshit to him, he would have rolled his eyes and never thought about the statement again. But he knew her background. He knew more than even Lane knew about what her life had been like before she had started to work at Easterly.

She was a survivor.

And she was inviting him to join the club.

So this was why he hadnt wanted to see her, he thought. He hadnt wanted this confrontation, this challenge that was clearly being offered to him.

{ 321 }.

What if I cant get there, he found himself asking her in a voice that broke.

You will. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, Youre going to have an angel watching over you.

I dont believe in them, either.

Doesnt matter.

Easing back, she stared at him for a long while, but not in a way that suggested she was taking note of how much older and thinner he looked.

Are you okay? he asked abruptly. I heard you went to the"

Im perfectly fine. Dont you worry about me.

Im sorry.

About what? Before he could reply, she cut him off with her more typical, strident voice. You dont be sorry for taking care of yourself.

Ill always be with you, even when Im not.

She didnt say good- bye. She just brushed his face one more time and then turned away. And it was funny. The image of her walking over to Lane and the pair of them talking together under the heavy dark green leaves of the magnolia tree was something that was going to also stick, as it turned out.

Just not for the reasons he thought.

{ 322 }.

THIRT Y- SEV EN.

T he rain that was not forecasted started just after five p.m.

As Lizzie folded up the last of the tables under the tent, she smelled the change in the air and looked out to the ivy on the brick wall of the garden. Sure enough, the trefoil leaves were dancing, their faces shining up to the grey sky.

It isnt supposed to rain, she muttered to no one in particular.

You know what they say about the weather around here, one of the waiters retorted.

Yeah, yeah, she knew.

Where was Lane? she wondered. She hadnt heard anything from him since shed seen him by that truck, and that had been six hours ago.

Mr. Harris came up to her. Youll tell them that its all to go into the staging area?

Yes, she said. Thats where the rentals always go afterward" and before you ask, yes, silverware and glassware, too.

As the man lingered next to her, she was tempted to tell him to grab hold of the table and help her hump it across the event deck. But it was pretty clear he wasnt a hands- dirty sort of fellow.

{ 323 }.

Whats the matter? she asked, frowning.

The police have arrived again. They are trying to be respectful of our event, but they wish to interview me anew.

Lizzie lowered her voice. Do you want me to take care of things out here?

Im afraid theyre not going to let this be.

Ill make sure its done right.

The butler cleared his throat. And then, God love him, he gave her a bit of a bow. It would be most appreciated. Thank you" I shant be long.

She nodded and watched him go. Then she got back to work.

Jerking the table off the deck, she strode across the now- cavernous interior and proceeded out into the open air where a sprinkling of that rain dusted her head and shoulders. The staging tent was way off by the opposite side of the house, and Gretas German accent emanated from it as twin streams of servers, one filing in with party debris, the other emerging with empty hands, moved with speed.

Lizzie waited along with the rest of them, inching her way closer and closer to the drop- off.

The larger of the two tents would be taken down in about twenty minutes" and the sweep- up crew was already working the floor, pick- ing up crumpled napkins, errant forks, glasses.

Rich people were no different from any other herd of animals, capa- ble of leaving a trail of detritus behind them after they abandoned a feeding station.

Last table, she said as she once again went under cover.

Good. Greta pointed to a stack. It goes there, ja?

Yup. Lizzie jerked the weight up to waist level and slid the length on top of the pile. Mr. Harris has to take care of some business, so Ill be manning clean up.

We have all in order. Greta motioned for two young men with six crates of glasses apiece to the other corner. Over there. Make sure un- der cover, ja?

Im going to check in with the kitchen.

{ 324 }.

Well be finished out here in an hour.

Right on schedule.

Always.

And Greta was right. At six oclock on the dot, they were finished, the big tent down, the house and gardens cleared out of anything rented, the backyard reset sure as if it had had its Ctrl+Alt+Del hit. As usual, the effort had been tremendous: As the staff filed off, most of them were heading downtown to drink off the aches, pains, and OMGs of the day, but not Lizzie" or her partner. Home. They were both going home"

where she would wait for Lane, and Greta would get treated to a meal cooked by her husband.

As the two of them walked down to the staff parking area together, they didnt say a word, and at their cars, they shared a quick hug.

Another in the can, Lizzie said as they pulled apart.

Now we get ready for the Little V.E. birthday party.

Or Gins wedding reception, Lizzie thought.

At least it wasnt going to be Lanes wedding anniversary.

Ill see you tomorrow? she said.

Sunday? No. Greta laughed. Not a soul will be stirring, not a martini nor a mouse.

Right, right, right. Sorry, my brain is fried. See you Monday.

You all right to drive home?

Yup.

After a wave, Lizzie got in her Yaris and then joined the lineup of cars and trucks proceeding out the staff lane.

As she took a left on River Road, what had started as sprinkles turned into an actual rain, and the deluge made her think of the race"

shoot, shed missed it. Reaching for the radio, she turned the thing on and futzed with the dial to find the local station. By the time she found the recap, she was out of spaghetti junction and heading over the Ohio.

But she didnt follow the reporting and not just because she didnt follow the sport.

Frowning, she leaned into her steering wheel. Dear God . . .

Up ahead, the horizon was filled with tremendous black clouds, the { 325 }.

rolling thunderheads looming high in the sky. Worse? There was a green tinge to it all" and even to her untrained, naked eye, the stuff appeared to be rotating.

She checked over her shoulder. Behind her, there was nothing much going on weather- wise. There was even a stretch of blue sky.

Shoving her hand into her purse, she took out her phone and dialed Easterly. When that clipped English voice answered, she said, Weath- ers coming. Youre going to need"

Miss King? the butler said.

Look, you need to batten down the pool area and the pots"

But there is no weather, as you called it, due. In fact, the weather- men have made it clear that a spot of rain is all we shall have this evening.