Her heart thumped within her chest as she picked it up, staring into the eyes that had last looked so shattered. This smile was confident and wry and a little droll. Probably his business persona. If the picture was new, the last ten months had been good to him.

A woman stopped beside her. "I'd buy that just to have him on my coffee table. Mmm-mmm."

Jill smiled, but inside the ache opened up. What had she expected? Letters, flowers, cards for her birthday? But not one word. And each time she checked, Consuela, Denise, and Celia continued to insist they were not at liberty to give his whereabouts, nor did he wish to receive messages. It couldn't be clearer.

Jill set the book down. On her table it would bring nothing but pain. She passed on in the direction she had intended and found what she needed for school. Amazing how that had worked out-Pam not only resigning the directorship but quitting altogether. Jill refused to listen to the gossip of a failed relationship between Pam and Ed Fogarty. Given that he was married, it would not be fair to make any assumptions, though others had no qualms. She knew what it was like to be castigated for poor choices and would have reached out to Pam if she'd had the chance.

As it was, her days were full again with her kids and their troubles. Don Daley was a good partner, and together with the paraprofessional aides, they had the program rolling well. If people looked at her differently now that they knew about Kelsey, she didn't care. She was just as glad it was out in the open. And her witness was not diminished, because now her faith had been refined. She'd passed through the fire.

She was sorry for Mom and Dad's humiliation. But the worst of that was for their having lied about it in the first place. Their church friends were hurt that they'd been misled and not trusted with the truth. Jill only hoped someday they'd realize what really mattered.

She paid for the books and went home, collected her mail from the mailbox, and with the book bag dangling from her wrist, perused the envelopes. The return address on one personal letter caught her short. Juniper Falls, Colorado. She hurried inside, deposited the rest on the table, and tore that letter open. Rascal came and rubbed her legs as she slipped the paper out and unfolded it.

Dear Jill, I don't know if you remember, but we met briefly a year ago last June when you came to tell Morgan about Kelsey.

Jill glanced down at the signature and confirmed her guess.

I'm so sorry for your loss. I know it must be terrible by what I've seen in Morgan these past months that he's been with us. He is healing from the accident, but there are wounds deeper than those which threatened his life.

Accident? What accident had threatened his life? Jill frowned at the page.

I see those scars healing, but he is changed. Some are changes for the better. He has found his faith, though it is a quiet and, I think, painful return. He no longer drinks nor spends long nights in town. Though he smiles and laughs and is wonderful with my small son, there is something raw beneath it. He is too quiet, and I'm afraid his spirit has been crushed.

I'm not sure what I hope for by writing to you, but I believe I am led to do it. Morgan knows nothing about this letter. He has shut himself away up here as I once tried to do, but I hope to help him as he helped me. I believe he loves and misses you very much.

Sincerely, Noelle.

Jill held the letter, and everything in her stilled. First the book, then this. Both in the same day. But what on earth was she to do with it? Her eyes darted to the phone on the wall, but she had tried that avenue before. I'm afraid his spirit has been crushed. It never occurred to her that he had left like that because the pain was too great. Only that he didn't want to be with her, to grieve with her, to heal with her. And now he wasn't healing.

He had looked on top of the world on his book cover. But that was not what Noelle described. He has shut himself away. And everyone guarded him zealously as her attempts to reach him attested. Oh, Morgan. Even when you're wrong they love you. He was wrong to close everyone out and lock himself away. Did he think it was his fault Kelsey died? Hadn't he apologized as they stood outside her window and the curtains were drawn?

She should have seen it then. But her own grief blinded her. And she'd spent this year putting her life back together and trying not to think or wonder about him. She closed her eyes and sighed. Lord. But hadn't her focus been to want the Lord's will? Hadn't she prayed repeatedly for wholehearted acceptance? Jesus should have let her know if there was something more for her to do.

Or was He? Her heart skipped a beat. Kelsey had asked her to help Morgan know the Lord's love. If he knew it, his spirit could not be crushed. She pressed the letter to her heart. Lord, show me what to do.

Morgan reached down and lifted little Will out of the rut beside his cabin. "You don't want to go that way little guy." He set him back on solid ground, but the baby immediately toddled back to the rut, lost his balance and sat hard on his bottom. Will turned up a pouty face looking for sympathy, but Morgan laughed. "I warned you."

He scoobed up the baby and dusted the dirt from his pants. Little Will automatically tucked his head into Morgan's neck, knowing he was due a hug. Morgan complied, glancing up at Rick. "We've created a monster."

Rick smiled and took his son. "He knows we can't resist him." He swung Will onto his shoulders, producing a gleeful baby gurgle. With Will patting his head, Rick strode off across the yard. He and Noelle had created something incredible. Morgan watched father and son and knew he had to stop waiting for doom to fall.

It had been almost a year now. Though there was a permanent pin in his collarbone, the rest of the injuries were healed, and he had no excuse to keep on at Rick's ranch. He had a house and business in Santa Barbara, people depending on him. He ought to kick himself back to work and practice the magic he'd preached. He leaned a shoulder to the porch post and considered leaving.

It was past time. The seasons had nearly run their course. Noelle was strong and happy, Rick as confident and steady as always. Marta would spend another summer with them to cook up her magic, then go back to her grandkids. Todd had come up for spring break and actually learned to ride. Morgan smiled at the memory of the kid's first time astride-not too different from his first time in the waves. But Rick had been patient and determined, and Todd had not only survived but enjoyed it, gaining a measure of proficiency by the time he went back to Stan.

Morgan breathed the mountain air and actually missed the scent of salt and seaweed, citrus and flowers-not for the first time, but this time the strongest. He wanted the sound of the waves through his window while he slept. Maybe there he'd actually sleep. He would miss little Will. No help for that. But he would come see him. No way he'd let that baby forget his Uncle Morgan.

But he had never intended this hiatus to be so prolonged. Writing the book had cleared his mind for other information, knowledge of things beyond commercial problems and solutions. Interesting how many of those concepts he had already incorporated into his life before he knew why, before he stopped resisting the purpose behind everything. With the early June sunshine bringing life to the mountain, he could no longer ignore the purpose in his own life. Yet the thought of returning to everything the way it had been before ...

He turned at the sound of tires as a car pulled into the yard. His heart hammered when Jill stepped out, looking first at the big house, then catching sight of him. Her hair was still short, with soft flutters about her face, as she closed the door and walked toward him.

The clamor of his heart awakened the ghost of injuries he all but ignored these days. Or maybe this particular ache would never really pass. Here she was crashing in once again to his sanctuary. A lucky guess? Actually more people knew where to find him than the magazine article let on. His parents, every one of his noisy sisters, Rick and Noelle, Denise and Consuela, though he hadn't thought they would tell. It wasn't that he was hiding from Jill. He just had hoped she could put all of it behind her. A hope that at this moment seemed ludicrous and destructive.

How could he have thought it was the answer? As she came close, he breathed her fresh apple scent and noticed a bruise on her cheek.

Without thinking, he raised his hand and touched it with his thumb.

"What happened?"

"Restraining Joey. He got me with his head."

So she was back to school and functioning in her position. It must all have worked out. "Thought maybe someone had tackled you."

"I play tag football."

He smiled, wanting nothing more than to pull her into his arms and hold her. "What are you doing here?" Besides charging his heart and flooding his mind with thoughts and memories.

"I brought you something." She held out an envelope. "I would have gotten it to you sooner, but you made that difficult by not taking my calls or messages."

He wished now that he had. Even though it hurt like crazy to see her, he drank it in as a drowning man sucks water into his lungs. He tore his eyes from her face and took the envelope. "What is it?"

"A letter from Kelsey."

He jolted, unprepared for that reply. From Kelsey?

Jill touched his arm. "I tried to reach you with funeral information, but Consuela said she hadn't heard from you."

"She hadn't. I was in a coma and not communicating well."

"A coma?"

He looked up from the letter and met her eyes. "Remember your dream?"

"You crashed your Vette?"

He nodded. "Pretty much the way you envisioned it. Only I survived. Minus a kidney and plus a few metal parts that make airport security interesting."

She shook her head. "You were determined to give up that kidney."

He gripped the letter, remembering. "It was a useless waste of a good organ. Not what I intended."

"I know." Her hand on his arm was warm and gentle. He supposed she did know, if anyone did. He'd wanted so much and accomplished so little. But he wasn't in control. He fingered the envelope. The letter looked innocuous, but how could it be? "Do you know what's in here?"

"Can you see where I steamed it?"

He glanced up, but the minx was kidding. She tossed her hair back with one hand. "Well, I have thought of opening it every time Consuela said, 'No, Senor Morgan is not home.'"

Morgan smiled. He'd missed her humor, her voice, her eyes. His glance dropped to her lips. Do not go there. She'll only say no. She had come to deliver Kelsey's letter. "Will you sit with me while I read it?"

"I should. Kelsey asked me to deliver it in person."

"Must've been hard when you couldn't reach me."

Her eyes settled on him like doves. "That wasn't the only thing that was hard. I had so many questions. Where were you? Why didn't you call? Why did you leave?" She searched him with her eyes.

He hadn't meant to make it worse. He wasn't sure now what he'd meant. He'd been trying to make sense of it all, and maybe that wasn't even possible.

She said, "After a while I stopped asking. But there was Kelsey's letter. I couldn't forget that."

He wished he'd known. Or did he? He took her hand and drew her down beside him on the stoop. Then he opened the letter. His pulse raced as he unfolded the typed sheet and read: Hi, Morgan, As I told Jill, you'll only be reading this if I've gone to be with Jesus.

His throat suddenly felt as though they'd just removed the ventilator.

I would have liked to meet you. You sounded really nice on the phone and I'm glad we got to talk. And thank you for the painting. It's really cool. Dad said you're the guy all the women faint over.

He could tell when Jill got to that line, reading beside him. He nudged her ribs with an elbow.

What I'm really thankful for is that you cared enough to help me. I know it didn't work out (if you're reading this) but that isn't your fault. It was all according to a plan more perfect than we can understand. Just like I didn't understand praying for you to get sick.

His raised his eyebrows and flicked a sidelong glance at Jill, which she avoided. Interesting. Kelsey prayed for him to get sick? He suddenly recalled the times his stomach had revolted against the booze, what he now considered an allergy or aversion. Way beyond anything to do with volume. It had seemed diabolical. Now he suspected the opposite.

I only knew that was what God wanted because something kept you from knowing His love. Sorry if you were miserable. I did feel bad for it but not if it worked. Do you know Jesus loves you?

The same words as in his vision of her after the accident. Did he believe it yet?

I hope you do. He loves you no matter what you've done or haven't done. He's always loved you. And no matter how bad things get, His love sees you through it. I know.

Better than anyone. Morgan lowered the letter, pressed his eyes closed at the thought of her suffering. He'd finally understood the tourist's words. Kelsey had been pure and good enough to cooperate in God's redemptive work when he'd been stiff-necked and rebellious. He'd spent these last months trying to be everything God had called him to be. He'd done it as much for Kelsey as for the Lord himself.

But now she reached back from the grave to assure him of Christ's love, love that had been there before he turned his life around, that had always been there. The least he could do was believe her. He raised the letter again.

Now for my last request. Will you marry Jill?

They reacted together, but Morgan didn't look at her. He couldn't. What impish trick was this? Of course, she would have no idea Jill sat beside him as he read. Then again, she had asked Jill to hand-deliver it. He could almost picture Kelsey peeking down from the clouds, laughing at his discomfort. He read on.

I hope so, and I've prayed hard that you will be together when I'm gone. You're supposed to be. Thank you for everything.

Jesus loves you and so do I!

Kelsey.

Morgan stared at the letter, afraid to take his eyes from it, knowing they would go directly for Jill. He folded it slowly and slid it back into the envelope, then stared at that, dazed by the request that so crazily caught hold.

"I swear I didn't know that was in there." Jill's voice was low. "She didn't say it in my letter."

His throat closed on the tight breaths, and his heart and lungs were reminiscently bruised. "It was her last request."

Jill's face shot up toward his. "Morgan, it doesn't mean ..."

He set the letter down and turned to her. "Are you happy, Jill? Do you have everything you want?" The same questions she had thrown at him in frustration. Do you ever just want?

The calm she had approached him with wavered. "I don't want you to think you have to-"

He cupped her face and kissed her soundly. The taste of her lips would never really leave him, nor the softness of her skin and the shape of her jaw. "What if I want to?" Wanted it so much he opened the chasm inside and let her see.

She pressed her palm to his cheek. "You don't have to do this. I only came because-"

He kissed her again. He would kiss her until she realized he meant it. The need and hurt still trapped inside was the longing for her love, for days of companionship and nights sanctified by covenant. Not just any companion, but this woman he knew so well, needed so deeply.

His life was God's, but He was the one who said it wasn't right for man to be alone. Morgan pressed his lips to her eyelids. "If you don't want me, say so. I've been down roads you knew better than to travel."

She caught his face with her own hands. "I love you, Morgan."

Looking into her face, he drew the first unencumbered breath he'd enjoyed in a year. "Kelsey's right. If you can love me, Jesus surely must."

Jill's eyes teared. "She'd be so glad to hear that."

His own eyes stung as he held her face and the immensity of the moment sank in. Years of loss, the last one more acute than he could stand. He turned his face aside, battling the tears jerking his chest. He clenched his hand. "I did not intend to cry."

"You need to."

"Not in proposal mode." But his voice broke with every word.

She circled his neck and kissed him softly. "Yes."

"Yes?" Heart beating his ribs, he returned her kiss, fiercely gripping her arms and shoulders and waist, heart pounding and desire erupting like a volcano inside.

"Morgan," she gasped.

"I know." He pressed his forehead to hers and held her shoulders, clamping down the want inside. There was no way he'd mess it up again. But that didn't make it easy. "So ..." He cleared his throat.

"How do we do this? Do I ask your father's permission?"

She wilted and shook her head slowly. "Maybe someday they'll take the blinders off. I hope so." She sighed. "But I don't see it happening."

"This won't help. Can you live with that separation?"

"If I'm with you?" Her expression made it a no-brainer.

His hands cupped her face again. I won't allow any back-door wedding. We're going to have the best-"

She put a finger to his lips. "I already do."

He swallowed a fresh tightening in his throat and a new onslaught of desire. Back off. Calm down. Think of something else. "Tell me the truth. Did you know Kelsey was praying for me to chuck the liquor every time?"

Jill's cheeks dimpled, and there was a silver glimmer in her eyes.

He nodded. "Uh-huh. I'll have you know I was stone sober when I wrecked my Vette."