Everyday Blessings. Jillian Hart

she could get this ordeal out of all of their lives. She hated dealing with this constant sorrow and sadness. She liked to look at the positive side of life. She hated the heartbreak and woe that had permeated their family and stolen Jonas from his wife and children.

      “Are you all right?” Danielle asked in concern; Danielle who always thought of others even when her world was unraveling at the seams.

      “Don’t worry about me. I’m just overwhelmed.” Aubrey shrugged. “You know me. I hate that things like this ever happen. I would want there to be no hurt and loss in the world. Just goodness and sunshine for everyone.”

      “Sounds like a good deal to me. If only that were true.” Tears brimmed in her dark blue eyes. “What I’d give if we could make that true, but life is a mixed bag of blessings. Some days it’s more than I want to face, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have to.”

      A faint bell dinged at the end of the hallway, echoing against the long empty corridor. The light above one of the elevators came on and William Corey moved toward it.

      Sympathy tugged at her heart. William looked deeply alone. She watched him wait while a few passengers in the elevator disembarked—Dorrie was among them. She carried a drink carrier and a covered plate, tapping quickly in their direction. But it was the man, lost in shadows, who kept Aubrey’s attention as he entered the elevator and disappeared from her sight.

      The impression he’d made on her heart remained.

      William listened to the echo of his step in the hospital’s chapel and wondered why he was here. It was as if he had followed his feet. He couldn’t remember making the conscious decision. The chapel had been noted on the main-floor directory and he’d followed the arrows without thought. Now that he was here, he didn’t know what he could possibly do. There was no prayer on earth that could comfort him.

      Candles flickered in the front of the nondenominational sanctuary, candles that had been lit in hope and prayer. The stillness of the simple place felt as if it still held the memory of decades of deepest prayers whispered in sorrow. Maybe his were still here, earthbound and unheard, from that dark, desperate night long ago.

      I shouldn’t have come here.

      He’d thought he was doing the right thing, but now he wasn’t so sure. The online article about Jonas’s shooting was sparse, and he’d come thinking there was some difference he could make. Sure, Aubrey had told him enough of Jonas’s current medical situation to prepare him, but hearing it was another reality entirely. Seeing the look of it on Jonas’s wife’s face was too bleak a reminder.

      William knew that look too well, the appearance of exhaustion and desperation. Of what it took to put life on hold to stay at a loved one’s side. There wasn’t enough sleep, not enough hope, not enough love, no matter how hard you tried, to will that loved one well.

      The day’s blazing sunshine spilled through two arched stained-glass windows, and the colorful spill of light might be a sign to some who sought comfort in this solemn place. But that comfort and hope had been elusive for him. William’s hand felt empty, as empty as his soul, and coming here had been a mistake. He’d been unable to make any sense of life, or reason behind it. It wasn’t what he wanted to believe. It was simply all he was left with.

      The scent of flowers placed on the altar became cloying, a scent-related memory of when he’d knelt here, praying for mercy to save his wife.

      It hadn’t happened.

      He turned his back to the altar and the cross on the wall, feeling devoid of faith, like a pitcher empty of water, but the pad of approaching footsteps made him hesitate. It was as if the light slanting in thick, nebulous rays through the stained glass brightened when she stepped through the threshold and into the sanctuary.

      Aubrey. She recognized him, and their gazes locked. With the way she was haloed by the jeweled light, a hopeful man might think this was a sign that heaven was listening after all.