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I didn’t know if she was dead or alive. I didn’t know if they had hurt her…if she was crying in pain….”
    Tears filled her throat and she couldn’t speak.
    Arms enclosed her. His hands stroked her hair, and he spoke in a low soothing murmur. “I know.”
    For a second, she let the warmth flow around her, almost let it reach her heart. But this was fantasy and she had learned, oh, yes, she had learned, to deal with reality. She jerked away.
    â€œYou don’t,” she accused, her eyes burning, her chest hurting. “You weren’t there. You didn’t know. You didn’t care—”
    In one stride, he was in her face. “I cared,” he uttered in a menacing snarl. “Don’t ever say I didn’t care. Because you don’t know about that. You don’t know what I had to give up—” He stopped abruptly.
    She didn’t flinch from the harsh stare. “What? What? Tell me. Did you spend scary nights in a strange town where you didn’t know a soul? Did days go by while you waited for some word, for a call, a postcard, anything, that says the person you love is alive and remembers he has a family? And did worry give way to despair as you tried to answer a little girl’s questions about her father and finally hear the child quit asking God to bless her daddy?”
    â€œDani,” he whispered hoarsely.
    She shook her head, the tears close, so close. “Didyou place frantic calls, only to be told nothing, except the person you needed with your whole heart and soul couldn’t be reached, not even for an emergency? Let’s compare notes. We can talk about the loneliness that tears the nights to shreds. We can discuss the fears that eat a person alive from the inside out. Then we’ll consider what was given up and what was lost and what was thrown away—”
    She choked on the words, unable to go on.
    Not a muscle moved as he stared into her eyes. They stood as if frozen for all time.
    Finally, a ripple passed over his face. “I can’t,” he said softly, sadly. “Talk is pointless. There’s no going back, is there?” He walked out of the kitchen, put on his coat and boots in the mudroom and left the house.
    Part of her wanted to apologize. She wanted to wipe out the blackness that had permeated his gaze while he listened to the torrent of accusations. She wanted him to explain the sadness she had seen for a terrible second before he turned from her. She wanted to know if he really had suffered or if he’d just forgotten about them until it was convenient to come back.
    She placed a hand against her chest and wondered if she was having a heart attack and if she wasn’t, then how could the pain be so great. She thought again of the sad expression in his eyes. She sniffed twice and pulled herself together with an effort.
    Maybe someone needed to invent a Richter scale to measure who suffered the most in marriage.
    She couldn’t find a laugh, not even a cynical one, anywhere inside her at the thought. Sighing shakily,she wondered why he hadn’t explained or at least tried to defend himself during her tirade.
    Because there was no defense for abandoning your family. It was a thing beyond understanding, beyond forgiving. But there was an answer: Because he hadn’t cared enough to stay. If he had loved her…
    She pressed both hands to her chest and waited for the ache to subside.

Chapter Three
    D anielle frowned at the racket coming from the attic when she returned to the house after walking Sara to school the next day. What the heck was Kyle doing up there? She kicked off her boots in the mudroom and went to investigate.
    She found him in the attic bedroom, dismantling the old brass bedstead in there. “What are you doing?”
    â€œTaking the bed apart.”
    â€œI can see that,” she stated impatiently. “Why?”
    â€œI’m moving it downstairs to the