Karen sat at the kitchen table and propped her face in her hands. �I�d figured you�d say that. Dad thought you would, too.�

  Already Brian was trying to pit her daughter against her.

  �All he wanted to do was tell me what time he was picking me up. You don�t need to make a federal case out of it.�

  �I don�t mean to sound petty,� Maureen said stiffly, �but the terms of the divorce were set this way for a reason.�

  �Yes, so you could make Dad�s life miserable.� Karen leaped out of the chair with enough force to send it toppling backward. �You want to keep me away from him. You want to punish him because he�s got a good life and you don�t.�

  �Karen.� Maureen couldn�t believe what she was hearing. �That�s not true.�

  �Did you ever stop to think,� Karen said, her eyes bright with tears, �that you were punishing me, too? I love Dad. I miss him sometimes. I know he wasn�t a very good husband, and he may not be a very good father, but you seem to forget something, Mom. He�s the only dad I�ve got.�

  �But��

  �Do you have to spoil what little time I have with him? Do you?�

  �I didn�t mean��

  �Why do you think Dad hasn�t seen me in over a year? I know why�because you make it as difficult as you can for him to have visitation rights.�

  �Did he tell you that?� Maureen demanded.

  �No. He didn�t have to, I�ve seen it myself.� Karen�s face was tinged red. �I don�t want to talk to you anymore,� she insisted, and raced from the kitchen.

  The silence was like that after an atomic blast. Maureen braced her hands against the counter and waited for the feelings of guilt and anger to pass. An odd combination of emotions warred with each other, battling for dominance. What Karen said was basically true. She had made it as difficult as she could for Karen to visit her father, but it was for Karen�s own protection. She couldn�t expect a twelve-year-old to understand or appreciate that.

  Maureen set the two chicken breasts in the oven and then sank onto the chair. The conversation with Karen played itself back in her mind. Her daughter was almost a teenager, certainly old enough to form her own opinions.

  Karen had admitted Brian hadn�t been a very good husband. That was putting it mildly. She seemed to know where he ranked in the father department, too. Nevertheless, she looked forward to spending time with him. It went without saying that she was anxious to meet her half brother.

  It hurt to think of Brian with another child. The fact that he still had the power to wound her amazed Maureen. In some way she felt cheated; Karen was right about that, too. For to all outward appearances Brian, the liar, the cheat, the thief, had a better life than she had.

  Maureen waited until her nerves had settled down before she approached her daughter. She knocked politely on Karen�s bedroom door and waited.

  �Who is it?�

  Maureen played along. �Mom. Can we talk a moment?� She opened the door and looked inside the room.

  Her daughter was sprawled across her mattress with the portable phone pressed to her ear. She wore another one of those guilty looks, and Maureen guessed that she was talking long distance to Paula.

  �When you�re finished speaking to Paula, I�d like a word with you myself.�

  �All right.�

  No more than a couple of minutes later, Karen reappeared in the kitchen. Her face was marked with red smudges, and she held herself stiffly.

  �How�s Paula?�

  �Fine.�

  �Did she offer you any pearls of wisdom you care to pass along?� Maureen asked next. She was sinking lower than she thought. Here she was, well over thirty, seeking counsel from a pair of twelve-year-olds.

  �Not really.�

  Maureen sucked in her breath and decided the only way to get this over with was to say what needed to be said. �I�m sorry, sweetheart.�

  Karen regarded her suspiciously. �Then I can go to Dad�s on Christmas Eve without you making a big deal over it?�

  �Yes,� Maureen said, and added generously, �And I want you to enjoy yourself and to spoil your half brother with lots and lots of attention.�

  �You do?�

  Maureen discovered it was true. Karen deserved this time with her father and his new family. She�d been cheated enough already.

  Maureen�s feelings toward Brian hadn�t changed and wouldn�t. Her ex-husband was a two-timing bastard. It was the reason they were divorced.

  �What about you, Mom? Will you be all right by yourself?�

  �Of course,� Maureen said automatically. It was then that she realized what Karen being with Brian and his family meant.

  She was going to be alone on Christmas Eve.

  Catherine checked her compact living room a second time to be sure everything was in its proper place. She hadn�t done much decorating for Christmas. A tiny artificial tree with shiny red bulbs served as a centerpiece on her small table. The Christmas cards she�d received, she�d hung on the wall in a festive display. She tried to look at the apartment through Blythe�s young eyes and hoped it passed muster.

  Catherine had phoned Ted�s fianc�e that morning to ask her to tea. Blythe had seemed surprised, first to hear from Catherine and then by the invitation. She�d been a tad hesitant but eventually had agreed to come.

  Catherine was grateful. Since this was to be her grandson�s wife, it was important that the two of them understand and appreciate each other.

  They�d started off on the wrong foot. Catherine blamed herself for that. She�d been extra critical. The woman who�d sat next to Ted when he�d announced their engagement was even more subdued from the one she�d first met. Catherine imagined the pregnancy had something to do with that.

  A baby.

  So she was to be a great-grandmother. The thought excited her, although she already was a grandmother and great-grandmother many times over. But this unborn child shared part of her love for Earl.

  Blythe arrived right on time.

  �Welcome,� Catherine greeted the young woman with a wide grin. �Please come in. I�ve already got the tea brewing.�

  Blythe stepped into the small apartment and looked around as if she expected someone else would be there as well. It seemed to Catherine that she looked mildly relieved to find it was just the two of them.

  They sat next to each other, and Catherine poured the tea and handed Blythe the delicate china cup, her finest. �I imagine you�re curious why I asked you here on such short notice.�

  �Frankly, I am,� Blythe admitted.

  Catherine noted that the other woman seemed a bit peaked. Apparently Blythe wasn�t having an easy time with the pregnancy. First ones were often difficult. Her own, so many years in the past, certainly had been.

  �I have a gift for you.� Catherine reached for the small wrapped package on the corner of the end table. �I�ve cherished this for over fifty years. To be honest, I never intended to part with it, but after giving the matter some thought, I�ve decided I want you to have it.�

  Blythe frowned as she tore away the bow and the ribbon. She lifted the lid and stared into the bed of black velvet. �This is the cameo you wore the day we first met.�

  �Yes.� Catherine was pleased she remembered it.

  �It�s lovely,� Blythe whispered, and raised wide questioning eyes to Catherine.

  �It was a gift from my first husband, Earl Standish.� She settled back on the sofa and relaxed, holding the teacup and saucer in her hands. �We met shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor and were married several months later. That was many years ago now.�

  �You said Earl Standish was your first husband? I didn�t realize�Ted told me you were married for forty years to Frank Goodwin.�

  �Forty-three very good years,� she elaborated. �Frank was a dear, sweet man and he loved me, and I loved him. I bore Frank two sons, and we had a wonderful life together, but all those years, Frank knew that I never stopped loving Earl. I couldn�t stop loving him.�

  �But why were you married to Frank�� Blythe hesitated, clearly confused.

  �Earl died in the war.� Even now, fifty years after having received that horrible telegram from the War Department, Catherine could barely speak the words without her heart twisting with pain.

  �I�m sorry.�

  Catherine nodded instead of speaking. She needed a few moments to compose herself before explaining. �He was an Airborne Ranger. He parachuted into France on June 6, 1944. You probably don�t know the significance of that day, do you?�

  Blythe shook her head.

  �It was D-Day, the day the Allied troops invaded France�the turning point of the Second World War. A little less than a year later, and the Axis powers surrendered. The war was over.� Except for Catherine. A war waged within her for years following the news of Earl�s death. It was as if her very heart had been ripped from her that fateful morning in June. As if her own life were over as a single bullet stole her beloved husband from her.

  �I thought Ted was related to you through his mother.�

  �Emma was Earl�s and my daughter,� Catherine explained. Emma was the reason Catherine had gone on living. The reason she�d gotten out of bed in the morning and struggled through each new day. In the beginning she�d dragged the pain of the last one with her until the load became so heavy, the grief so burdensome, she couldn�t continue. That was when she�d made her peace, such as it was.

  �I don�t know to this day if I ever recovered emotionally from losing Earl. I think sometimes we love so deeply, so profoundly, that anything else pales by comparison. It was that way with Earl and me.�

  �Do you still think about him, after all this time?� Blythe asked with surprise.

  �Fifty years later and not a day passes that some memory of Earl doesn�t come to mind. We were together so short a time. Too short.�

  �It must have been so difficult for you alone with Emma.�

  �The difficult part was that Earl was no longer with us. Anything else I could deal with or reason out, but not that Earl should die.

  �He never knew the beautiful daughter we created, and I ached for Emma to remember her father. He would have been so proud of her, as proud as she is of him. Unfortunately she has no memory of him.�

  �But you got on with your life, you married again.�

  �Yes, in time,� Catherine admitted, but it had taken nearly five years. She might never have remarried if it hadn�t been for Frank�s gentle persistence. He�d wooed her for three of those years.

  Like Earl, he�d been a soldier, but the fates had been kinder to him, and he�d returned home from the campaign in the South Pacific to a hero�s welcome. He�d been gentle with her, cajoling her for weeks before she�d agreed to go out with him.

  Catherine never fully understood why Frank fell in love with her. She wasn�t interested in remarrying, wasn�t even interested in another relationship. Yet there he was, loving, gentle, eager to be a part of her and Emma�s life.

  By then she�d accepted Earl�s death and made her peace with God. The battle had been hard won. Catherine had told God that if this was the way he treated his friends, it was little wonder he had so few.

  She smiled at the memory.

  �I loved Frank,� she said, �not with the same intensity that I did Earl, but I did love him. A woman doesn�t spend forty-three years married to a man without strong feelings.�

  �I don�t understand why you�re giving me this pin,� Blythe whispered brokenly. �You said yourself you never intended to part with it.�

  �That�s because it�s the only piece of jewelry I have that Earl gave me, other than a plain gold wedding band. To this day, whenever I put on that cameo, I can feel Earl�s love for me, as strong now as it was all those years ago.�

  Blythe tensed, and her shoulders went stiff. �I�m sorry, I can�t accept this gift.�

  �Of course you can, child. I want you to have it. It�s fitting that Ted�s wife would wear it. You see, Ted was an Airborne Ranger himself for a time, like his grandfather.�

  �Yes, I know, but I still can�t accept it.� She tried to push the box into Catherine�s hands.

  �Blythe, it would do me a great honor if you were to take the cameo. Please. Accept it with my love and with Earl�s. You�re soon to be a part of this family, a very important part. This baby is Earl�s first great-grandchild.�

  Blythe stilled, as if she weren�t sure what to do.

  �Recently I asked God to send the woman of his choice into Ted�s life,� Catherine went on to say, �and Ted chose to ask you to be his wife.�

  �That�s because of the baby.�

  �I know, dear, but the baby is his responsibility.�

  Blythe didn�t say anything for a long time and seemed to be struggling within herself. �He�s in love with someone else,� she admitted candidly. Her face hardened, her features went sharp and tight. �He didn�t think I knew, but I�m not as stupid as everyone seems to believe.�

  �No one thinks anything of the sort,� Catherine said sternly.

  Blythe folded her hands and briefly closed her eyes. �I asked him about her. Joy, isn�t it?�

  Catherine nodded.

  �You know what he said? He said that it didn�t matter, that I was the woman he was going to marry. You know the crazy part�he�s actually excited about the baby.�

  That didn�t surprise Catherine. Ted was a wonderful uncle. Many times she�d watched him with his cousins and marveled at his patience with small children.

  �This baby may not have been planned,� Catherine said evenly, �but that doesn�t mean he or she isn�t loved or welcome. Emma wasn�t planned, either. I didn�t intend to get pregnant on our honeymoon, but these things happen.�

  Blythe lowered her gaze. �I think you should know something. In the beginning, I didn�t want this baby. When I first learned I was pregnant, I seriously considered an abortion. It was so tempting, an easy way out, but when I went to make the appointment, I couldn�t do it. I just couldn�t make myself do it.�

  Catherine was forever grateful that Blythe hadn�t resorted to anything so drastic. �But you didn�t, and that�s the important thing. That took courage, Blythe.�

  �Not really.� She briefly covered her face with her hands. �I can�t believe I did anything so stupid as to get pregnant. I know better than to let something like this happen. My stupidity isn�t the baby�s fault.�

  Catherine wished she could say or do something to ease Blythe�s discomfort. Blythe was restless and seemed to be on the verge of tears.

  �I�m really sorry, but I can�t accept your beautiful pin,� Blythe said finally, and set the box back on the end table.

  Catherine winced at the sharp edge of her words. �If you won�t accept it for yourself, then take it for the child. Someday when he is older you can tell the child about his great-grandfather who died in the Second World War, and perhaps you could put in a kind word about me.�

  �Ah.� Blythe shook her head from side to side in a wild motion. �No, I�m afraid I can�t do that, either.�

  �Blythe, my dear, what is it?�

  �He�s in love with Joy.�

  �Yes, I know, but Ted�s committed to you.�

  �You don�t understand.�

  �What is it?� Catherine asked softly. �Tell me.� Gently she took the younger woman in her arms. Blythe buried her face in her shoulder and broke into huge sobs.

  �Whatever it is will take care of itself,� Catherine whispered soothingly. �Now, now, it can�t be so bad.�

  �But it is,� Blythe insisted, rubbing the moisture from her face. �I can�t take the cameo. I can�t give it to this baby.�

  �Of course you can.�

  �No,� she cried with such strength, she startled Catherine. �I can�t.� She stiffened as if she expected to be struck or attacked. �Ted isn�t the baby�s father. He�s married, you see, and he doesn�t want anything to do with me.�

  Paul drove directly from the campground to the hospital. On the two-hour drive back into the city, he tried to compose his thoughts, decide what he could possibly say that would help the Bartelli family deal with Madge�s impending death.

  Paul knew Bernard and the Bartelli children were emotionally prepared. As emotionally prepared as one could expect.

  By the time Barbara had reached the point of death, Paul was of two minds. He�d wanted more than anything that her suffering end. Yet at the same time, he�d mentally clung to her, unwilling and unable to release her from life. He hadn�t thought he could go on without her. In retrospect, his fears had been well founded.

  Paul had forever changed the day Barbara died. He�d nursed the pain of that wound for so long, he didn�t remember what it was like to feel anything other than a pressing sadness.

  He didn�t want the Bartelli family to make the same mistakes he had, so he mulled over what he could say, what he might do, that would make a difference.

  As he reviewed his own response to death, Paul recognized how angry he�d been. Still was. For two long years he�d submerged the anger, unaware of what it was doing to him. Only recently, when he�d stood in the middle of the church and screamed out at the unfairness of death, had he touched upon his fury. Only when he�d cried out in frustration and from a deep well of pain had Paul become aware of how outrage had subtly impacted both his life and his ministry.

  He�d tried to deal with his anger intellectually, reason it out. He�d tried to convince himself that as a man of the cloth he wasn�t like everyone else. Why he should feel exempt from the most crushing of life�s disappointments, he didn�t know.

  What he�d failed to do was deal with Barbara�s loss in his heart. In his gut.

  His faith should have been strong enough to carry his doubts, strong enough to answer the unanswerable. He was a man of God. He was a man who�d dedicated his life to the ministry. A man who eased others� pain, but not his own.

  The conflict came when his mind declared war on his emotions. Faith merged with doubt, and, like water and oil, the two refused to blend, and soon Paul couldn�t tell the difference between hope and despair. Both felt the same to him.