The server came over, asked if they’d like more coffee. “Just the check, thanks,” Sarah said, so that was the end of the evening, he guessed. It was strangely disappointing. He’d never enjoyed Sarah so much, this different, more honest side of her (and yes, hearing stories about Lauren).

“How are you doing with the letters?” Sarah asked when the server left.

He was silent a minute, considering his answer. “They’re . . . they’re good. They help.”

She waited for more, but he didn’t offer anything else. “Asmaa told me about the children’s garden, and how you’re volunteering there. Lauren would really like that.”

His throat tightened at her words. “Thanks,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“You made her so happy, Josh.”

He looked at the crisscrosses in the whipped cream, then smoothed them out and remade them, more carefully this time.

It’s okay to show how you feel, Lauren had told him on more than on occasion, especially after her diagnosis. You’ll be surprised at how kind most people are.

Easier said than done. But he forced himself to look at Sarah and gave a nod, abruptly glad that their dinner was over.

21

Joshua

Still damn month seven because time seemed frozen, letter number seven

September

IT WAS ONLY a few sentences, but those sentences made his joints zing with adrenaline and a little horror.

My sweet darling Josh, hello!

I have a wicked fun thing for you this month. You ready?

See a medium.

Oh, come on! Why not? It’ll be fun. You know you want to see if there’s a GB, my darling atheist. Give it a shot! You never know. Maybe I’ll appear and we can sneak off for a paranormal shag. Or maybe I’ll be busy doing angelic, miraculous things and you won’t hear from me. If that’s the case, know that I’m doing THE LORD’S WORK saving children from being hit by buses, rescuing kittens, etc.

But I know what I believe: I believe in you and me. Forever.

I love you.

Lauren

She had to be kidding.

She wasn’t kidding.

This . . . okay, he would need help for this one. His mother was out; being Lutheran, her religious focus had been on ideas such as Jesus died horribly for you, you wretch, and therefore you should make casseroles for potluck suppers. Mrs. Kim, though, was a hard-core Catholic and had saints for every occasion.

He picked up his phone and called their landline, since they were of the demographic who only turned their cell phones on if they wanted to make a call. “Ben? Hi, it’s Joshua.”

“Hello, son. What’s new?”

“Um . . . do you know any . . . uh . . . any mediums?”

There was a long pause. “I think you better talk to Sumi,” he said. “She loves that crazy woman on TV. The one with the hair?”