“I waited for you today because I agree that it’s important to have someone with me if I’m going to drive a student. For many reasons. One being that I’ll have a corroborating witness should a student try to accuse me of doing something I didn’t do.”

“Right. The bottom line here, though, is that Claire’s dad has a temper and a gun. Please promise me that you won’t go to Claire’s house alone.”

“I promise.”

They were five minutes late to the show. An usher had to scurry them to their seats with a penlight. The predicament with Claire had disturbed Sebastian. But as the musical progressed, she sensed his stress level lowering.

By the time they exited the theater, the storm front had tugged away the rain. They strolled Misty River’s quaint downtown on sidewalks glimmering with puddles. They passed the central park, numerous shops, a smattering of office spaces, The Grind coffee shop, the Doughnut Hut. Sitting together at a table with a view of the steel blue river below, they ate an early dinner at Cork and Knife.

She liked him so foolishly much that she experienced a twist of delight each time she remembered that he’d be in town all week, and she’d get to see him every day.

Leah! she said to herself when he gave her a heated look that sent a warm pulse to the backs of her knees. It’s nice to hang out with him, but it’s fine to be apart, too. It’s not like he’s the most important person in your life. It’s not as if you suddenly have to see him every day or die.

Only the words fell like stones plunking into a hollow barrel. While they might have merit, they possessed no power.

I’ve been thinking about what you said to me,” Leah told Dylan the following day. “About how I’m too strict because I’m trying to control you.”

“Yeah?”

They traveled to church in her car every Sunday, so her brother was, effectively, her hostage until she returned him home and he had access to his bedroom or car keys. After the worship service, she’d brought him here, to a dive called The Junction, in hopes that his desire to fill his belly with fried chicken would make him more amenable to talking with her.

“You made some good points,” she continued. “Perhaps I have been trying to control you in an effort to gain control over my life in general.”

He watched her as he chewed.

She stacked her hands on the booth’s laminate tabletop. “When Doves Cry” played on the jukebox. “I know that God’s the one in control and not me. But it really is easy to labor under the misapprehension—”

“Huh?”