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until we have a handle on the situation. We’re having a private service for her Tuesday at 10 a.m. at Coombs Funeral Home. Family members and close friends. Of course, I hope you’ll be there.”  
    I turned as he started to leave and asked, “What are you going to do about Jacob?”  
    He paused, looked down at the floor, and said, “Nothing ... yet.”  
    Max’s handsome features seemed strained.  
    “ I’ll see you Tuesday, then,” I said softly.  
    “ Bye, Sarah.” He turned and walked out the door.  
     

 
    Chapter 8
     
     
     
    Leaving the café and the plate of cold pancakes, I drove to the movie theater and bought a ticket to “That’s the Way Love Goes.” A romantic comedy about two people who meet in a karaoke club and fall in love would be a welcome distraction, and preferable, in any case, to going home to face the music.  
    After the movie, I stopped at the supermarket and returned home with a trunk full of groceries. The weather having taken a turn for the worse, I was looking forward to slipping into my pajamas and cuddling in bed with a good book. Pulling up to a dark house, I made my way, in the rain, to the back door clutching bags of groceries, and noticed Daniel’s car was gone. Guess he was feeling better. He’d probably gone out for a beer and burger with his pal, Eddie, and Brian was probably still at Nick’s. I found myself pleased by the prospect of having the house to myself. Heaving the bags onto the kitchen table, my finger instinctively felt for and flipped the light switch. The thought that the bulb had burned out was dismissed when the light switch by the stove produced the same results. The power was out. Rummaging in the kitchen drawer for a stray candle and matches, my finger brushed something sharp.
    “ Damn it!” I muttered, soto voce, closing my lips around my finger, the salty taste of blood filling my mouth. I leaned against the counter. Perfect. The one and only night I happen to be in the house alone and there’s no electricity.
    As I walked across the kitchen towards the living room, I thought I heard a sound in the hall. I froze. I listened again. Was someone in my house? Panicked, I snatched a dirty knife from the counter and held on to the handle with both hands. I stood glued to the floor, the thumping of my heart hindering my ability to hear anything else. I was terrified, but told myself not to succumb to the fear. If someone meant to do me harm, I would be ready this time. My trepidation quickly turned to anger and my legs began to move as if of their own volition.  I started down the hall armed with a weapon that probably couldn’t cut through a bowl of Jell-o.
    “ Who’s there?” I called out, sweat beginning to trickle down my back. Noticing, as I peered into my bedroom, a flicker of light illuminating a person’s shadow, my fingers tightened around the knife handle. The shadow moved and I lunged into the bedroom, stumbling over something on the floor and landed hard on my knee right next to my bed. The knife slipped out of my hands and clattered across the hardwood floor. As I scrambled to my feet, I heard a familiar voice.
    “ Sarah! What in the world are you doing?” It was Daniel, standing at the end of the bed holding a candle. Looking around the bedroom, I saw four or five lighted candles and heard soft music playing in the background.  
    Daniel walked over and draped his arms around me. His wavy brown hair was wet and his skin smelled of soap.
    “Were you going to stab me with a butter knife?” he asked.
    “ Guess my emotions are rubbed raw,” I said, smiling up at him.
    “ Poor sweetheart,” he chuckled, obviously amused by the situation. If I hadn’t felt so relieved, I would have slapped him. But then his mood changed. He became quite serious as he looked down at me, an odd glimmer in his eye.  
    “ Since we have no electricity, why don’t we use this romantic candlelight to our advantage?” he suggested,