No apology, no “I love you,” nothing. Remember him with pleasure? Her throat felt as if a rake had been dragged across it. She pounded her chest with her fist. Cry. Scream. It had been like this when her grandmother died. She had adored her and had been devastated by her death, and had not cried while the entire household wept and wailed.

“You’re a freak,” her youngest sister shrieked. “Why don’t you cry like the rest of us?”

Her mother understood and gave her space. When she finally exploded, she wondered if the tears and sadness would ever end. By all the gods, she needed her mother now.

“Cry,” she yelled. “Cry.” Unconcerned that insects bit her arms or that a sharp rock jabbed the side of her leg, Sarina rocked back and forth, back and forth. After a time, she struggled to her feet and stumbled down the hillside. In the house, she called to Anna. “Please, watch Sarah. I must find Hannah and Max.”

“Sí, señora. I watch la niña.”

Sarina ran from the house and out onto the grass along Cove Road. She heard and saw nothing until she collided with Denny Ledbetter, who had just closed the door of the church and started down the walk. They tumbled to the grass in a tangle of arms and legs.

“Goodness me, Sarina. Are you all right?” Denny rolled away from her, pushed to his feet, and offered her his hand. “What has happened?”

Unable to speak or to accept his outstretched hand, she sat where she had fallen, head bent, shoulders hunched. Finally, she managed, “I am so sorry.” She shoved the letter at him.

Denny dropped to his knees beside her. Without thinking, he put his arms about her, held her, and rocked her gently. “Bad news?”

She nodded.

“Do you want me to read it?”

Again she nodded, and buried her face in his chest.

Across the road, Alma and her daughter-in-law exited their house and started for Alma’s station wagon. They stopped and stared.

“Well, I declare. Our pastor’s hugging that Indian woman,” Alma said.

The younger woman hurried her to the vehicle. “Come along now, Mother Craine, or we’ll be late for your doctor’s appointment.” Moments later they drove away, but Alma had come upon grist for the gossip mill, and she went on and on about how shocking it was, that Indian woman and the pastor, and how unseemly.

The thin paper made a crinkling sound as Denny slipped it from its envelope. He read slowly, digesting the words, struggling for words of his own with which to comfort Sarina. As he finished the letter and was about to return it to its envelope, he noticed the thumbprint smears and the faint unpleasant odor of fish. His first impulse was to castigate this man who had caused her so much pain. How would that help Sarina?