“I can’t explain it,” he added finally. “I stood there across the graveyard, and I looked at you, but you were crying. The expression on your face…I don’t know. I thought you’d rather be alone.”

“It was a hard day for me,” I said. “It was the first funeral I’ve been to since—”

“Yes, I know,” he answered. “That’s why I didn’t speak, in the end. I realized it wasn’t the time and place for us to finally meet in person.”

I thought about it, and I had to admit he was right, in a way. The longer we went without meeting, the more significance the event seemed to have taken on. When we finally did get together, it was bound to be an important time, with lots of laughing and talking. I could see why he had hesitated at the funeral of one of his best friends, particularly with me looking so distraught.

I blinked, sending the tears coursing sideways over my face and onto the pillow under my head. Why had I been doing so much crying lately? It seemed like that’s all I had done since this case had begun.

“So what now?” I asked, the question seeming to pop out of nowhere. “For us, I mean. Will you and I ever meet, Tom?”

“Ah, Callie,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “Of course we will. I’m looking forward to that day more than you know.”

I smiled, knowing that I also looked forward to it, much, much more than I had ever admitted to myself before.

“Trust me,” he said. “It will happen, eventually. When it’s right.”

“When it’s right,” I echoed.

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion. I told him that I was meeting Harriet early in the morning and that for now I ought to get to sleep.

“Okay, Callie,” he said, his voice growing serious again. “I really am sorry about today.”

“You are?”

“It was tough for me, with Wendell gone. I thought you and I might’ve comforted each other.”

“I’m sure you were comforted just fine by Congresswoman Brown.”

He hesitated, and I mentally kicked myself for letting that slip out.

“She offered me a ride in her helicopter, Callie. It saved me a lot of time and trouble.”

“Of course.”

“She has nothing to do with this.”

“Okay.”

“It was you, Callie. Besides the crying, there was something in your face today…I don’t know. An utter sorrow. I knew you were probably thinking of your late husband. I didn’t want to intrude.”

I was surprised by his comment. Tom knew about Bryan, of course, but he rarely brought him up in conversation.

“I think of Bryan all the time,” I said, trying to make my voice light. “But thinking about him doesn’t bring him back. My life has gone on.”

“So it has,” he said. “You are a very brave woman.”