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fragile as the naked branches on the trees in her front yard. She didn’t care if Greg followed her in or not. She had to get inside the house, then she wouldn’t feel like this anymore.
    Once she unlocked the front door and got inside, Charlotte ripped off her coat and hat, tossing them across the living room to the couch. She stood completely still for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Suddenly, she was able to recognize the one emotion she felt the strongest; rage.
    She was so angry she could barely see. Intent on venting the volcano ready to erupt inside her body, Charlotte swooped down and grabbed an empty vase off a side table. With a short scream, she flung it against the wall and took dark pleasure in watching it shatter. The tiny pieces rained down onto the floor, broken to bits just like her heart.
    It felt so good to release the anger that Charlotte looked for something else to destroy. She stormed through the house, grabbing a small figurine off a shelve and smashing it onto the hard wood floor. In almost every room of the house she found something to break. If she couldn’t have Adam, what was left? All these things were truly nothing without him.
    Sobbing and shrieking, Charlotte sprinted down the hall and came to a halt in the open door of Adam’s room. Everything was still perfect and in its place. It stopped her in her tracks. She couldn’t break anything in this room, couldn’t break the sweetness of the memories attached to each item.
    Her chest heaving, Charlotte fell to her knees in the doorway, a low sound coming from her throat. The frenzy of rage drained out of her, leaving her once again empty, but now she understood that the emotion was bubbling just under the surface of her heart, waiting for the right moment to be released. It terrified her, the intensity of her anger.
    As she collapsed, arms encircled her, holding her against a large body as though she were a child. Mindlessly, she burrowed into the warmth and the cradle of a wide shoulder.
    “I can’t take this,” she sobbed. “I don’t know what to do with everything inside of me. I just want him back so badly. I just want my baby back.”
    Greg murmured nonsense in her ear, patting her back gently, as the storm of her tears overtook Charlotte. He seemed to understand that there was nothing he could do or say to comfort her. Instead he held her and let her cry out a portion of her anger and pain.
    When she finished, he merely picked her up and carried her to her bed. He removed her boots, washed her face with a warm cloth, and tucked her in. Charlotte let him care for her as though she were a child and, finally, exhaustion overtook her and she slept.

Chapter Five

    “H ave you called the grief counselor I told you about?” Brandy asked.
    Charlotte ducked her head. She hadn’t.
    Brandy didn’t say anything in response, she merely continued to scratch out a grocery list, but Charlotte could tell that she was disappointed. She wanted to explain to her why she couldn’t bring herself to call the counselor, but Charlotte didn’t even understand it herself. It seemed strange, but her pain just felt private. She wanted to hold it close to her because letting it go would feel too much like abandoning Adam’s memory.
    Brandy glanced at her, her eyes full of understanding and concern. Charlotte realized that, even though Brandy had never experienced what she was feeling, she was trying to ease the burden.
    “When was the last time you left the house?”
    Again, Charlotte couldn’t meet her eyes. It had been two weeks since Greg took her to the cemetery, and she barely made it out of bed each day. She never left the house.
    Brandy sighed softly. “Okay, we’re going to the grocery store. Go put some clothes on.”
    “I don’t feel like going to the store,” Charlotte complained.
    “I know, sweetie, but you’re going to have to get back to the business of living. I love you and I’m here for you, but I can’t be here every