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Instead, each clap of thunder reminded her of that night at the lake when she’d chosen to make her marriage real.

She threw the book on the bed and shrugged into her white cotton robe before making her way to the living room and turning off the music.

It seemed this night would be one of torment after all. Nothing could erase the memories of her soon to be ex husband.

When an unexpected knock sounded at her door, her heart dropped as it always did these days.

For a week, she’d waited to hear something from Donovan. For a week every knock, ring and message had left her reeling between relief and depression.

Chances were this was one more such knock.

Admit you are powerless. Accept the things you cannot change, change the things you can. Don’t let fear run your life.

Donovan stared at affirmations he’d written as part of his PTSD recovery program. He kept them in his wallet along with the 12 Steps paper his mother had given him and the first letter Kacie Jo had sent to him while he was embedded with troops in a combat zone.

He’d been hellbent on making the world see the truth of war, and then he’d lost himself in the truths of those wars. And then he’d started running instead of facing the truths.
 

His running days were over. He was fighting for the life he wanted, the woman he wanted. The first step had been seeking help from Ike. The second the sessions he attended up the road at the OKC VA.

He brushed his hands through his close cropped hair and prayed the opening lines of The Serenity Prayer then knocked on the door and waited.

 
When Kacie Jo opened the door his heart dropped. Dark circles marred her eyes. Wet tendrils of hair escaped her pony tail and she pulled the sash on a white terry cloth robe tight around her round stomach. She took his breath away.

He’d planned this, rehearsed what to say and how to say it. Now though all he could do was say her name.

“Kacie Jo.”

He’d taken out the earring. But his eyes were still the same icy blue and right now they met hers with such intensity she felt naked, exposed.

Close the door right now. Close it and lock it and never let him in again
.

“Can I come in?
 

She thought about telling him to go to hell, but her anger was buried somewhere under ten tons of tired.

She stepped back, opened the door. “Sure.”

His blue button down shirt was starched to perfection. His jeans looked new.

Someone had stolen her once upon a time rebel fantasy and replaced him with this conservative bad boy wanna be.

She hated it! She wanted the long hair and the diamond stud. She liked the t-shirts and old jeans.

“You cut your hair.”

He brushed his hand through the short locks. “It’ll grow back.”

She sat in the chair as far away from him as possible her heart pounding in her chest. “I shouldn’t have let you in here. Grady said our lawyers should take care of the talking from here on out.”

She definitely regretted letting him in when she was dressed in nothing but a bathrobe.

He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. “Are you okay? Really okay?”

She nodded and lied. “I’m fine.”

“And the baby?”

“The baby’s right on target. Everything’s great. I chose not to find out if she’s a girl or a boy.”

He laughed. “If she’s a boy, she’s going to be confused.”

“I can’t call her it. Not right now.”

The look he sent her was so tender, her breath caught. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t play nice. Not tonight.

She practically jumped out of the chair. “I think you should...”

“You are so incredibly beautiful.” His words interrupted her.

The unfairness of them awakened a bit of her anger. She knew what she looked like.

“Really, Donovan. Grady was right. We should’t talk....”

“Every time I see you I think you’re an example of God’s perfection, and then I think Damn, I lost that. I let you slip through my fingers.”

“No. You threw me away.” She hated the way her voice cracked on the words.

“I did a hell of a lot worse than throw you away, Kacie Jo. I can’t make up for that.”

“No, you can’t,” she said.
 

For a moment the words hung in the air between them and then he abruptly changed the subject.

“I’m looking at making a career transition.”

The topic change caught her off guard.

“Really?” If it didn’t involve deadly situations, she was all for it. Divorced or not, she wanted her child’s father alive.

“The Caldale Press offices are for sale,” he said handing her a folder of real estate information. “Have been for a while. The paper’s been shut down for over a year. A town this size needs a newspaper, and I can modernize. So I’m going to see about buying it. I figure the new look will help with the loan officers.”

He was staying in town. She forced herself to smile. “That sounds like a plan.”

He looked at his hands and then back into her eyes. This time he paused, fidgeting, before he spoke, looking for all the world like he was as nervous as she was.

“Listen, Kacie Jo, I know I don’t deserve to even be sitting in this house. But I have a favor to ask.”

She shook her head. She was not going to just sit there and let him think…

He interrupted her denial before she spoke. “Wait. Let me finish before you say no. It’s important.”

In her mind she could hear Sam’s voice. Could hear him describing this crazy reporter cheating death. Could hear Donovan’s nightmare moans that night before he left. “Go ahead.”

“I know I messed up. And I understand the divorce. But I think we both owe it to the baby to have some sort of relationship. I’m willing for that relationship to be as friends right now. That’s all I’m asking for here. Friendship.”

“Friendship?” Disbelief rang through her voice.

He nodded. “We tried that at the lake house, remember? But then sex got in the way. I'm not saying I didn't like the sex just fine, but it got in the way big time.”

She sat soaking up his words in silence. If there was one thing Donovan Nelson knew how to do, it was tell a pretty story, and he’d certainly done just that.

“I don’t know, Donovan.”

“I understand, and I don’t blame you a bit. Hell, I’m not sure I’d want to be my friend if I were in your shoes. I can't promise I won't ever be stupid again, but I'll try. I want us to be friends. Real friends."

At least he sounded like he understood. If only…

Donovan interrupted that path of thought with his next words.

“I let life happen, but I didn’t live. And then I let the monsters out there invade my soul. I owe you so much, Kacie Jo. You made me face my demons. I don’t want to sit around all day talking about what I saw, how everything unraveled, how my skin fit too tight one day. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I’ll always have it. But I can live with it, manage it."

Kacie Jo listened to his words. To the truth. But what if….

He held out his hand as if he could read her mind. “Don’t decide now. It’s just something to think about.” He stood. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving?” She tried to keep the incredulity out of her voice, but her words had a mind of their own. How could he leave after a speech like that? “I mean, if you’re going to be a friend…” She let the words trail off as he stood there looking at her, making her feel even more naked than usual.

He handed her a large brown envelope and walked to the door before finally answering. “Your favorite color is purple. You wore it to church every Sunday your freshman year. Now you still usually wear it every day, but sometimes it’s not visible. Like the great purple bra and panties you wore the second day we were at the lake.”

She stood there in awe.

He wasn’t finished.

“And you like frosted mini-wheats for breakfast, but only if you eat them within a few minutes of pouring the milk. If you wait too long, they’re soggy and you toss them down the garbage disposal and settle for toast. But you do like to impress with your incredible omelet skill, which I, for one, am incredibly thankful. And this thing I have…” he shook his head as if he were searching for the right words. “It’s a living nightmare when you’re trying to hide from it. I’m not hiding anymore. Good night, Kacie Jo.”

With those words, Donovan let himself out the door. He wasn’t hiding anymore. He had turned the tables. He was seducing her. Not with flashy clothes and invitations for one hot night, but with words that showed he knew her, that he’d known her for a long time. That the honeymoon hadn’t been a waste of time.

Kacie Jo looked down at the envelope he’d handed her at the same time she settled her hands over her stomach. Lately the flutters had grown stronger. They left her awed and afraid. Kind of like Donovan just had.

Sitting, she slowly broke the seal on the envelope and dumped its contents out on her coffee table.

Suddenly she was staring into the black laughing eyes of a girl she’d seen on the news. Anaj Sahrain. The princess. One of the reasons Donovan’s life shattered.

She didn’t bother to look at the white paper beside her pictures, just sat there staring at the beautiful woman who seemed so vibrant.

Not for the first time, Kacie Jo wished pictures could talk. Wished she could ask this beautiful woman about her life, about her time with Donovan. Much the same way she looked at her mother’s photos and wished she could ask her a question about pregnancy or love or heartbreak.

But neither woman could speak from their photos. Both were dead, and both had taken their life’s secrets with them.

Finally, she picked up and slowly unfolded the thick paper’s edges. The writing surprised her, the signature did so even more.

This wasn’t a letter of explanation from Donovan. It was from Ali and it was dated three weeks before.

Dear Kacie Jo,

If you’re reading this, you’ve seen Anaj’s pictures. Let me introduce you. This is Anaj Sarina Sahrain, fourth child of King Abdullah Sahrain of B’en Ai. She was my baby sister, and she is now dead.

If you’re reading this, you and Donovan have reached an understanding of sorts if not more. For that, I am grateful. Anaj would have also been pleased.

When you graduated from college, Donovan spent an entire night telling us of your childhood exploits. When he went in search of your gift, Anaj and I helped him find the veil I understand he gave you.

Anaj would have been pleased with your marriage. She would have liked to know she was right in this as in many of her other premonitions. But she would be hurt by Donovan’s illness.

I don’t know if Donovan has told you the truth of Anaj’s death yet, the parts they didn’t share on the news, but I believe he will. I want you to understand that to us Donovan is a warrior. A true hero.

He saved many men, women and children over the years even though he was supposed to simply cover stories for the American news. He has been embraced by my family for his courage and determination. He is a good man and he will be a good father.

Anaj always believed this about him and I do also.

Anaj loved your husband. But it was a love of respect and honor for a man who refused to separate himself from our society, a man who refused to look at the people of B’en Ai as sources to exploit for his stories.

His refusal to do so hurt him in the end. I hope you can help heal that pain.

Ali Benjamin Sahrain

Kacie Jo let the letter fall to the coffee table next to the glossy photo. Had Donovan asked Ali to do this? Somehow she didn’t think so. She couldn’t see the man she’d met exploiting his sister’s death even to help a friend.

She’d known Donovan lived for his job and that he loved B’en Ai. She hadn’t realized what he’d done and been. She picked up the picture of Anaj and wondered what the girl had seen for Donovan’s future. Had she seen him married to her forever, or had she imagined the divorce? Had she known her own death was so close?

She set the photo on the table and moved to the window. Donovan was long gone, but she could imagine him out on the street, walking, hurting over what had happened to the girl in the photos.

But tonight when she’d met in his eyes, she hadn’t seen hurt or pain. For the first time since they’d returned to Caldale from the lake, no secrets lurked in their depths.

Maybe… She let the thought trail off. She couldn’t live life on maybes.

Chapter Sixteen

The next morning Kacie Jo changed into her sweats and tried eating, but Ali’s letter and Anaj’s pictures kept distracting her.

She slipped on her tennis shoes, thankful she didn’t have to bend and tie them and then opened her door to find Donovan standing there, ready to knock.

His short hair still floored her. “Don’t you have an appointment with a loan officer?” She couldn’t believe her rudeness. She hadn’t even bothered to say hello. But the last thing in the world she needed right then was to see him.