The anguish that had entered him then had been more cutting than the broken ribs and horrific nights spent listening to cockroaches crawl around in his bed. Right there, in the dank jail cell, he’d turned the grief and longing into rage and decided he would never speak to or think about Amy Malone again. He would hate her for the rest of his life for betraying him when he needed her most.

The day he’d walked out into the blazing sun, into the heat of freedom, Eliza had been standing under a banana tree, her blond hair reflecting the light. She’d been a mirage of the American beach girl. She was waiting only for him.

Eliza’s joy at seeing him was so complete that she had cried the minute he touched her. He had only seen her once in the year he was in jail: the morning of his so-called arraignment. Yet he knew she’d been working behind the scenes all along, that she was the reason he now stood free. The school had left him to what they considered his due. His mother was too damaged by his drunken father to tolerate even the slightest problem. Over his years of drinking and verbal abuse, always followed by repentance, his father had robbed her of all her inner strength. Despite her love for Nick, she could never have helped him.

His mother was as grateful to Eliza and her family as he was. Remembering now what Eliza had done for him, what she had sacrificed, sent a tendril of tenderness through him.

He leaned against the closet door and stared at their bedroom, painted bland oatmeal and decorated with pastel accents, as if nothing could be allowed to break into color, into anything inappropriate. Eliza leaned closer to the mirror and applied liner to her lips. Focused on this task, she still hadn’t noticed him watching her. She looked no different than the woman who’d once leaned against the tree, her arms, mouth and body waiting for him. She looked up now and saw him; she smiled.

“What?” she asked. “Don’t you like the gown?”

She was dressed for the Reynoldses Christmas party. They’d been invited through the children, and since they only lived an hour and a half away, Eliza hadn’t thought it proper to decline. Somehow in the last few months they’d been able to avoid all contact with the couple, yet this time Lisbeth had formed tears in her eyes, which always made Nick and Eliza say yes. Lisbeth said it was important, very important that they come. So here they were getting ready to go to the Reynoldses—as a family. Nick couldn’t get over the small thrill of being able to see where Amy lived, how she lived, what her house looked like, the part of her that had become a mother and wife.