Heaven's Touch
exchanged words with Harriet, who was good to go as she slipped on her swimming cap and made her way to her favorite lane.
    This was the rhythm to Cadence’s morning routine, a comforting sameness that seemed to start a day out right. Above the splashes and quiet talk of the swimmers, she slipped her shorts over her wet suit, climbed up on her chair and let the warm spicy tea soothe her.
    There had been times in her past when she’d never believed she could be this content. The little girl with big dreams and ambition hadn’t grown up to live an important life in sports broadcasting. That little girl she’d been had nearly lost every dream.
    But Ben McKaslin? What about the rebellious renegade boy with long hair and a mile-wide self-destructive bent? What had become of his dreams?
    There he was, coming from the locker rooms on his crutches, his skin bronzed as if he’d spent most of the year in the sun. He appeared so well muscledshe thought that he must put in serious workout time every day.
    Wearing long navy blue trunks that looked like military issue, he leaned his crutches against the wall, out of the way. He limped to one of the nearby benches and sat, then ripped off the Velcro tabs of the cast as if there was nothing wrong with his leg whatsoever. Intent on his task, he didn’t look her way.
    He’s the past, she reminded herself, and continued to scan the diligent swimmers. They were already hard at work, with their heads down and skimming through the water. Ben slipped into the pool, choosing an empty lane, reached out with his strong arms and took off, favoring his injured leg as he swam a perfect, fast, efficient crawl stroke.
    She couldn’t watch him and not remember the too-fierce, too-energetic and larger-than-life McKaslin boy who had made chaos out of nothing.
    Trouble still followed him like a shadow, if last night was a clue. He seemed so remote. He seemed so bitter. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind through the night, making sleep nearly impossible. And now here he was in her pool, more distant and silent than he’d been at the gas station.
    Why does seeing him make me hurt, Lord? It was as if she saw her past when she looked at him. Not just the sweet way she’d loved him, in the most idealistic sense, but more. Seeing him made her assess her life and the years gone by.
    She was no longer the girl who believed in gold medals and honorable people and that if she worked hard, lived faithfully and did the right thing, then only good things would come her way.
    For a long while she’d been disillusioned. She’d felt as if God had betrayed her by letting her chase dreams that would only bring her sorrow. But then she saw it was simply part of growing up. Of putting away childish things, and a child’s dreamy view of the world. Of a world that was not fair, not kind and not safe, and learning to do right in that world.
    I’m no longer in love with you, Ben McKaslin. When she should have felt relieved, she felt only more jumbled inside. More confused—and how could that be possible? Because the old Ben, the young boy, was gone, too.
    He’d always had a noble spirit, and as a young idealistic girl she’d seen the best in him—when he had been trying to find the worst in himself. Had he succeeded in that sad endeavor? Or, instead, had he found the best?
    She took another sip of tea and put away the questions. Ben McKaslin’s life wasn’t her business, and maybe that was for the best.
    She closed the door to the past and concentrated on the moment. On the contented splish and rush ofthe swimmers in the water, of the gurgle of the pump sucking water through the filter, and of the bobbins on the rope slapping against the tile on the far end of the pool.
    This moment. This is what mattered. She purposely kept herself from noticing how he soared through the water like a dolphin.
    He’s not special to me

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