Love Shadows. Catherine Lanigan

but he didn’t respond.

      “This rejection you feel is a place for us to start, Luke,” Margot offered.

      Sarah sat up straight when she heard Margot talking about rejection. As she repeated the word in her mind, it was as if a blaring alarm had gone off.

      Rejection.

      Was that what she was experiencing? Sarah had always had a problem with rejection—or so her mother had told her. Ann Marie often warned her that she was getting overly anxious about her schoolwork, to the point of being a perfectionist. Sarah had been terrified of getting a bad grade. She didn’t want to be rejected.

      When she broke up with James, she did the breaking up part so she wouldn’t be rejected by him. Yet James had rejected her many times—all in subtle ways, tiny snippets of rejection and dismissal telling her she wasn’t good enough for him or his wealthy friends.

      Sarah had been dealt a double blow of rejection. Her mother was dead and she’d been left to fend for herself. And she’d just been suspended from her job.

      Rejection number two.

      Sarah sank a bit lower in her chair, wondering if she should extend herself to these strangers. Would this emotional gamble be worth it? She wished she could hide.

      Isn’t that what I’ve been doing? Hiding my fears and probably a good amount of my own anger?

      No, Sarah thought. I can’t bail. I came here to get better. I came here to make my life the best it can be and not live in the past. I want my future to be a good one. I want so much for myself. I’ll stay.

      Sarah watched Margot as she struggled to pry information out of Luke, but he wasn’t having it. He was in bad shape, Sarah thought. She was grieving for her parent. Her loss was a normal part of life that most people knew they’d have to confront one day. But Luke’s situation was very different. He couldn’t have been much older than her, and yet he had already lost the love of his life. They’d barely had a chance to start their life together, and his wife was gone. Sarah hadn’t even thought about a family of her own until just recently, and she wasn’t even close to finding her soul mate. Her world had been all about her mother. Yet here was Luke, nearly paralyzed by his emotions. Sarah almost wished she was the counselor with all that training behind her so that she could say the right thing to him. All she could do was remain silent and listen.

      Margot was urging Luke to tell her about his children, but he looked flustered and tongue-tied. Sarah couldn’t tell if he was still angry or just upset with this dreadful process of spilling his guts.

      “Tell me about them,” Margot asked politely.

      “Nah, I don’t think so,” Luke said flatly as if he’d finally controlled his rage. He nodded his head and pursed his lips as if he’d been in conversation with himself. “I was right about what I said before. My coming here was a mistake.”

      Luke stood suddenly, spun on the heel of his work boots and stalked out of the room in four long strides. The door slammed hard behind him, the sound echoing against the walls, rattling the windows.

      No one said a word for a very long moment.

      Sarah sat up straight. “Do you think he’ll come back, Margot?”

      Margot turned around and faced her. “I don’t know.”

      Sarah looked past Margot at the closed door. Of all the things she remembered about Luke that evening, the soft, grateful smile he’d given her stood out the most. She’d seen past his anger at that instant, and she felt as if she had helped him, even if it had been in a very slight, tenuous way. “I hope he does. He needs us.”

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      SARAH TOOK BEAU out for his morning constitutional down Maple Avenue, where they both enjoyed the last of the spring tulips. Sarah noticed the spikes of peonies shooting up through the ground. The walk took an extra-long time, as Sarah allowed Beau to sniff all he wanted.

      Sarah hadn’t been able to get Luke Bosworth out of her mind. She’d never met anyone so tortured. Her heart went out to him because he seemed to be clueless as to how to react to those around him. He was deeply within himself, yet when he spoke about Jenny, he allowed everyone in session access to his innermost fears. Sarah was drawn to his tenderness and depth of compassion. He was an enigma of anger and gentleness. She was already looking forward to the next meeting, when she would hopefully see Luke again and learn more about him.

      She was almost embarrassed to be asking for any help at all from Margot, when Luke clearly needed all her guidance and then some. Sarah guessed, from his worn work boots and his jeans and faded shirt, that he hadn’t bought any new clothes for himself since his wife died. She remembered him making an offhand comment about medical bills and she could well understand his situation.

      Her mother and father had purchased expensive but excellent health insurance a decade ago when Sarah had left for college. Sarah thought it was ridiculous, but Ann Marie had insisted, saying they weren’t interested in trips to foreign countries or expensive jewelry or things anymore. They wanted to provide Sarah with the education she needed to pursue her dreams, and they wanted to cover themselves in case of disaster. They did precisely that. Ann Marie left only a few thousand dollars in medical bills, and in addition, her mother had prepaid her own funeral and cremation. Sarah had none of the financial problems that she was now realizing a great many people were forced to deal with along with loss and grief.

      Sarah hadn’t realized that she and Beau had been walking for nearly an hour. When they walked past Mrs. Beabots’s house, Sarah could hear her television was turned up, and she could smell the apples, cinnamon and butter that told her Mrs. Beabots had been baking...again.

      As Sarah came up the sidewalk to her house, she noticed someone was sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs on her front porch.

      As she approached, the person stood up.

      “Miss Milse!” Sarah said with a smile.

      The woman, in her mid-sixties, stood nearly six feet tall and was over two hundred pounds of pure-bred German muscle. She wore a very dated, cotton floral house dress with a blindingly white, ruffled apron. The short sleeves revealed upper arms the size of Virginia hams that looked as if she could rip up each floorboard for cleaning and easily pound them back into place.

      Her steel-gray hair was pulled so tightly on her scalp and twisted into such a severe topknot that Sarah worried the woman would get a headache.

      “I come to clean,” Miss Milse announced in her accented, guttural voice as Sarah mounted the porch steps.