Organ music, deep and somber, filled the church. Mike's mother and a handful of other relatives arrived. Together they walked down the center aisle. Louise Glasser's shoulders were bent under the weight of her grief. She appeared to be leaning heavily on the girl walking beside her. The two clung to each other. It didn't take Brynn long to realize the one with Mike's mother was Suzie Chang. They needed each other.

Brynn had met with them both, separately. They'd come together as strangers with a common bond. Both had loved Mike. Both deeply grieved his death.

Organ music surged through the church as a man's voice, hauntingly melodic, rang loud and clear from the choir loft. The voice, a baritone, reached out and consoled with music those who'd gathered to mourn Mike's death. Brynn recognized the singer's voice immediately.

Roberto.

Even from this distance his voice filled her with a bitter sadness. It settled in the pit of her stomach, and a chill came over her as she closed her eyes and soaked in the comfort of the song. She pretended it was Roberto's arms around her.

Since her last meeting with Roberto, Brynn had tried to push all thoughts of him from her mind. By the sheer force of her determination, she'd partially succeeded. Despite her efforts to purge him from her thoughts, she couldn't keep from feeling that something important, something vital, was missing.

Once, a year or so before, Brynn had lost her purse. A knot had formed in her stomach that refused to go away until she was able to replace everything that had been lost. A similar sensation had been with her since her last meeting with Roberto. She was lost, and the way she felt just then, nothing would ever be right again. She supposed her thinking was melodramatic. In time she'd be able to put these weeks in New York behind her.

As Roberto had encouraged her from the beginning, she would return to where she belonged. But she wouldn't go back to Rhode Island the same as when she'd left. No, when she headed home, she'd be bringing a lot of emotional baggage with her.

Father Grady said the mass. A wake was scheduled in the parish hall immediately following the service. Brynn knew she was expected to show. It was as good a time as any to tell her students that she wouldn't be back in class following winter vacation. Already they'd been assigned another teacher, one with more experience than she.

Most of Brynn's apartment was packed. Depending on road conditions, she should be ready to leave in another day, two at the most.

When the service was over, Mike's family filed out first, then each row followed in turn.

Brynn stayed behind. She wanted a few moments alone before she headed over to the parish hall. With her head bowed, she tried to pray. Lately it had been a losing battle. Every concern she gave to God had claw marks all over it.

Not only had her abilities as a teacher been questioned, but her faith, once so stable and sure, had been badly shaken. She recognized that in time it would right itself again, but just then even that looked doubtful.

Footsteps sounded on the tile floor behind her. Brynn kept her head lowered, resenting the intrusion. She needed this time alone. She wasn't ready to join the others.

To her surprise it was Roberto who slipped into the pew and sat next to her. He didn't say anything, simply sat at her side, his head bowed in prayer.

After a while he touched her forearm. "The others are waiting."

"I know," she whispered back. "Tell them I'll be there in a few minutes."

He didn't leave.

"I'm fine, Roberto. I appreciate your concern, but there's nothing to worry about." She hoped her weak smile would convince him she was telling the truth.

He didn't budge. "I know you too well to believe that."

She stiffened. His words set fire under her. "You don't know me at all, you never did."

Seeing that he wasn't going to leave her, she stood abruptly and made her way out of the pew and down the side aisle. Her crisp steps echoed in the empty church.

She must have risen too quickly, because she hadn't gone more than a few feet when her head started to swim and the room began to spin. Reaching out to the end of the wooden row, she caught herself in time to keep from collapsing.

Roberto was at her side in an instant. He murmured something impatient in Spanish and led her to the back of the church.

"Stay here," he insisted, and disappeared. No more than a minute passed before he returned with a glass of water.

"There's nothing wrong with me," she insisted. She didn't want him to touch her. Didn't want him close to her. He was the one who wanted her out of his life. She'd go. Kicking and screaming, she'd abided by his wishes. However difficult, however painful. He had no reason to complain.

"When was the last time you had anything to eat?"

Brynn couldn't remember, but she wasn't about to let Roberto know that. "I'm fine," she insisted stiffly. "I'd appreciate it if you'd kindly leave me alone."

"Brynn, please listen."

"If I understood you correctly, you don't want anything more to do with me. All I ask is that you respect my wishes, as I have yours."

He hesitated, and Brynn felt a small sense of satisfaction, knowing her words had hit their mark.

"Allow me to escort you to the wake. Please." She knew that the "please" had cost him a great deal.

"Why?" She didn't understand the necessity of this.

"It's a little thing, isn't it?"

It would be petty to refuse him, so she agreed. His arm came around her shoulder. She meant to shake it off, but the moment he brought her close to his side, the tears that had refused to come broke free in a surging dam of grief.

Brynn sank into the pew at the back of the vestibule and wept as though her very soul had been ripped from her body.

"It's all right," Roberto whispered, cradling her in his arms, pressing her head to his chest.

She didn't mean to cling to him, but her pride be damned, she needed him as she'd never needed anyone.

He spoke again in Spanish, his voice low and soothing. Tucking her head against his shoulder, he rocked back and forth gently.

"You were right," she admitted when the shoulder-shaking sobs had abated. "You tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. Now Mike's dead and-"

"You can't blame yourself."

On a conscious level Brynn agreed with him, but deep inside she felt she carried a portion of the blame. Mike had trusted her enough to write her. She was the one person in all the world to whom he felt comfortable enough communicating his last wishes. Yet she'd been oblivious of his pain, deaf to his needs. The boy had been desperate, and she had been blind.

In retrospect Brynn realized that Mike had been trying to tell her in subtle ways of the hopelessness he experienced. His essays had been full of it. The dark side. Despondent words from a despondent youth.

Abruptly, Brynn pulled away from Roberto. In addition to his comfort, his embrace was a painful reminder that he wanted nothing more to do with her. If this was a contest, she was declaring him the winner.

"I won't be coming back," she announced firmly, surprised at the strength of her voice. "I've already given Mr. Whalen my letter of resignation. In January the kids will have a new teacher."

"Do Emilio and the others know?" Roberto asked.

"Not yet."

"When do you plan to tell them?"

"Now."

Something flashed in his eyes. "It's for the best."