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security blanket pressed up against his cheek.  
    “When are you going to let me wash Wooby, Jason? That thing’s pretty gross.”
    “Nuh uh,” he protested, clutching the ratty scrap of cloth tighter to his body.
    “I promise it won’t hurt it at all,” she wheedled, although she wasn’t entirely sure it was the truth. The piece of fabric that once used to be baby blue chenille but was now a smooth piece of gray nastiness was over thirty years old.  
    He emphatically shook his head. No dice.  
    “Why, baby? Why can’t I wash it?”
    “Mshwashibmady,” he mumbled around his thumb.
    “One more time without the thumb, please.”
    “You’ll wash him out.”
    Smiling at his inventive imagination, she asked, “Who?” He’d probably decided the man in the moon’s vacation home was in his Wooby.
    “Daddy.”  
    The smiled dropped from her lips. That was not the answer she was expecting. “What do you mean, Jace?” The quaver in her voice surprised her.
    “Can’t you smell him, Momma?” He shoved the filthy thing into her face, forcing her to take a whiff.  
    It hit her like a ton of bricks. Keith’s scent was still in this stupid piece of fabric. How could she have missed that?  
    Her heart tugged at the memory of Keith’s mom giving the already-worn blanket to her as she lay in her bed with two newborn babies suckling at her. Still overcome with the grief of losing her only child, Gretchen gave it with an open heart and tear-stained face.  
    “What’s this?” Veronica was still in shock and her synapses weren’t firing too quickly. Keith had died just days before the boys were born, so not only was she suffering from grief, but hormones were wreaking havoc on the rest of her emotions. The babies were getting almost as many of her tears as they were her milk.  
    “It’s Keith’s baby blanket.” Gretchen could barely get the words out before dropping it on the bed and running out of the room.
    It was faint, even then, but his scent drifted up to her nose, opening the wound that was so fresh. Sobs wracked her frame. Tears soaked the collar of her nightgown unchecked as she struggled to hold both babies at once.  
    Thank God the sharpest edge of her grief had finally dulled, but there was no telling when it would stab her again — like right now.
    Jason sensed her sadness and snuggled deeper into her body, tucking Wooby under his chin for a moment before taking it out and regarding it. He carefully laid the scrap on her lap and resumed his position.  
    “You can borrow it, if you want,” he murmured quietly into her side, quickly adding, “but only for tonight.”
    Her son’s capacity for unwavering love and devotion never failed to astound her, even after being hurt. If only she could follow his example and love completely, honestly.  
    What’s stopping you? She often heard Keith’s voice in her head, but this one was different. This was her own voice. Fear of what her clan might think shouldn’t be a factor in how deeply she loved someone. And she was tired of fear getting in the way of her life. It seemed she’d been afraid forever. It was time to swallow that fear and turn it into courage.
    A single tear trickled down her cheek and onto her beloved son’s head. Grace was right. She needed to do the right thing and now she understood what that was.

“S o, what? He just left?” Paul dunked a chamomile tea bag into a steaming mug of water and set it in front of Bethany before sitting across the table from her.
    She nodded, sniffling. “He said it was an important job for him because he was already on thin ice with his superiors because of us.”  
    She blew her nose into an already soggy tissue, drawing a look of revulsion from Paul. He pulled a few from the box and handed them across to her.  
    “Thanks,” she muttered.
    “And tell me again why you couldn’t tag along?”
    Bethany sighed, remembering the conversation — scratch that…fight — she and Max had just a