By the time Beth arrived at the church, the parking lot was almost full. She hoped her mother had saved her a place.
Joyce was lying in wait just inside the church vestibule, which meant she had something on her mind—and Beth could easily guess what it was.
“You’re late and it’s time for Mass,” her mother said, slipping her arm around Beth, as if she was afraid her daughter might make a run for it at the last minute. “Your father saved us two places, but I don’t think he’ll be able to hold on to them much longer.”
“Sorry, Mom, I got a slow start.”
“I want to hear every detail about Leavenworth.” Joyce narrowed her eyes. “Every detail,” she repeated ominously.
“Yes, well…I’ll explain later.” She wouldn’t tell her family everything, though. She felt overwhelmed by the events of the day before. Heidi’s arrangement with Peter—John—on her behalf was a further complication, one she didn’t need. But the immediate problem was how much to say to her parents.
As soon as Mass began, Beth’s problems seemed to lift from her shoulders. The beauty of the church, with its decorations of poinsettia and evergreen boughs, the joyful music and the sermon’s message—about forgiving yourself and not allowing past mistakes to hold you back—seemed to be just for her. The Christmas pageant was delightful and when she joined in the carol-singing, her heart felt free.
That morning, her entire life had felt like a disaster. By the end of Mass, Beth had begun to feel a new sense of hope. Maybe this bizarre coincidence involving John was meant to be. Maybe…maybe they’d have a second chance, despite all the bitterness and grief.
The family brunch at her parents’ home was her only remaining hurdle today. Everyone wanted to know about Peter.
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” her mother said as she passed the platter of scrambled eggs to Beth.
“Mom, please.” Foolishly she’d hoped to avoid lengthy explanations and at first she’d thought that might actually happen, since everyone’s attention was focused on her niece and nephew, who’d played minor roles in today’s program. But she should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. At Joyce’s comment, everyone stopped eating and stared at Beth.
“We’re just curious,” her sister added. “If you tell us to mind our own business, we will.”
“Angela,” their mother said. “Don’t even suggest Marybeth keep this to herself!”
Groaning, Beth could see that it was useless to resist. Her mother felt entitled to an answer—and it had better be the right answer, too. Joyce had lit a candle, after all.
“Yesterday I—” Beth thought about telling the truth. The direct approach had its benefits. But the thought of explaining that Peter wasn’t Peter but John Nicodemus, her ex-husband, was more than she could handle. As her mental debate continued, Beth hesitated, leaving her sentence unfinished.
“Marybeth, please,” her mother implored.
“We didn’t meet,” she blurted out.
“You didn’t meet?” The question echoed around the table.
“Don’t tell me you chickened out,” her mother cried. The horrified look was back, as if Beth had, once again, been a disappointment to the family.
She couldn’t tell them the real reason she hadn’t met Peter, so she just sat and gazed blankly at the wall.
After a moment, her parents’ eyes met. Her father cleared his throat. “Actually, your mother and I suspected this might happen. We feel it’s time, Beth, for you to consider counseling.”
“What?” Beth couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Your father and I are willing to pay for it,” her mother put in.
There was no point in arguing. Beth could see they weren’t going to budge from their decision. “I don’t object to counseling,” she murmured. “In theory, that is. I just don’t think I need it.”
“You need it,” her mother said grimly.
“Can we talk about this after Christmas?” Beth asked, wanting to delay any further discussion until she’d had time to analyze her own reactions to the Peter/John confusion.
“Of course we can,” her sister assured her sympathetically.
So her sister was in on this, as well. That loving, compassionate look was a dead giveaway.
Beth left her parents’ home shortly after the brunch dishes had been washed and put away. As she drove back to her own place, she deliberated on what to say to Peter. Despite the fact that he was really John, she’d come to think of him as Peter—a new man. A different man.
Once home, she shed her coat and purse and logged on to the Internet. The moment she did, Peter sent her an instant message.
I wondered when you’d get here.
His comment indicated that he’d been waiting for her to come online.
I’m here now, she typed back. I want to talk to you about meeting later this week.
Are you having second thoughts?
She mulled over her answer. Yes. You see, I’ve already made one disastrous mistake in my life when it comes to relationships and I’m not eager to make another.
In other words, you’re gun-shy.
Frankly, yes.
This might surprise you, Peter wrote back, but I am, too.
Really? Then because she couldn’t resist, she asked, Was your marriage that horrible?
I guess not. We were both young and immature.
Beth couldn’t leave it at that. This was a perfect opportunity to discover exactly what Peter thought of her. Do you have any regrets?
He didn’t reply right away. Some.
Me, too, she told him. More than I realized.
Has your ex remarried? Peter typed.
This was a tricky question. I heard he did.