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taken a left turn and destroyed his ability to bear anything other than grief, sorrow, and guilt.
    AS THE ROAR of Aiden’s truck faded in the distance, Paige flopped down on the quilt that still bore his scent. The heat from his body. The sensation of being held in his arms. She looked up at the dark, cloudless sky and watched the stars twinkle as her heart shriveled into a crumpled mass. Her breathing came faster, harder, heavier, until, finally, a sob tore from her chest.
    Cricket crawled onto the quilt and laid her head on Paige’s stomach. Her big brown worried doggie eyes watched while Paige’s tears fell.
    Crying for herself was not a possibility, not when the man she loved was so completely torn up inside. Crying for him came easily. But her tears didn’t accomplish anything other than a red nose and stinging eyes. So how could she help? How could she make a difference—a change—that would help him find his way back?
    She couldn’t change history. Somehow she had to find a way to help him move forward. To realize that the man he was is the same as the man he is now. Paige personally knew there were times that tasks seemed too great, too unreachable to see the brighter side.
    She had learned that lesson too well when it had come time to pick the apples in her orchard. She finally figured out how to look at the orchard one tree at a time. One branch at a time. It often took her days or even weeks to put every tasty fruit into her basket, but she managed because she knew the end result–the accomplishment–would feel good.
    Aiden needed to learn to feel good again. He needed to know it was okay to live, breathe, and enjoy life. She knew Bobby and Billy as well as she knew Aiden, and they wouldn’t want their friend to be so unhappy. They’d enlisted together and fought side by side with the same code of honor, the same goal. But neither of those boys would have wanted Aiden to die too. They’d want him to live well and be happy. He just needed to realize that it was okay for him to do so.
    So no matter what it took, branch by branch, she’d help him understand.
    Pulling Cricket into her arms, Paige buried her face in her loyal friend’s fur and completely opened her heart and imagination for the man she’d loved for as long as she could remember. Because living without him or not loving him wasn’t an option or even imaginable.

Chapter Seven
    IF YOU WANTED to get the word out in Sweet, one method worked faster than picking up the phone. Luckily for Paige, today the Digging Divas Garden Club held its monthly meeting at Bud’s Diner. In two shakes of a can of whipped cream, the message would go out faster than a speedboat on smooth water.
    Paige grabbed her keys up off Aunt Bertie’s oak dresser and jogged down the stairs. Just like when she’d gone for her college degree or made the purchase of Honey Hill, she had a plan. Before Aiden had come back home, she’d batted a hundred. She wouldn’t allow this goal to be any different. It simply meant too much.
    Ten minutes later, her red F-150 slid to a gravel-spewing stop in the lot beside Bud’s. She grabbed her work apron from the seat and jumped down from the truck. The lot was still half-full with late-morning coffee slurpers. In another hour, the lunch crowd would converge, and there would be standing room only. A perfect audience for when she sounded the alarm.
    “I STAYED UP half the night doing Internet research,” Paige said, searching the focused expressions around the crowded tables. Her heart trembled with how much they cared about the situation and how eager they seemed to want to help.
    “Early this morning, I made a few calls to the organization, and they said they would look into it. Well, they work fast. Before I left for work, they called me back with the news that they can make it happen. They don’t require a fee, but they do ask for donations to keep them afloat and able to help others in the same situation. I figure we need to come in around four