Overcome with sorrow, Greg leaned forward, elbows on knees, and hid his face in his hands. When the pastor reminded them of the meaning of Christmas, he felt a tiny chink open in the armor around his heart.
Lynn whispered as they filed out of the pew, “I’ve got to talk to you.” Her tone was urgent.
Lynn parked her truck in front of the adobe school building, took a deep breath, and let her body adjust to the stillness. It was an odd sensation after jostling over miles of rutted roads in her attempt to find this place. She stared at the doorway for a moment, mustering the nerve to go inside. Since, she’d come this far, she might as well get out of the truck and find out how far over her head she had gotten herself in this time.