Making a mental note to probe a little deeper, James put the truck in gear and drove the rest of the way to Mary’s house. He didn’t want to think on that little flicker of hope in his heart in case he did something stupid to squash the tiny spark that rose from the ashes of desolation.

He pulled the truck to a stop outside his sister’s house. Toys littered the front yard, and the mobile home had visibly weathered since James was home last. He wondered if Mary was really doing as well after her divorce as she claimed. The property might not be high-maintenance compared to some, but she was a middle-aged single mother of two who now worked a full-time job. How did she manage to keep up? Especially since her husband had traded her in for the proverbial younger model. In a town as small as Kipling, that had to smart even more than if Mary’d been able to remain anonymous in a sea of city dwellers.

Guilt swamped him again. While he was gone, his family had deteriorated. While he’d been off tending to other people’s needs, his own family had slipped into this cold landscape of the heart. He’d known it would take effort to seamlessly slip back into his family, but he’d not expected them to be so…reserved.

No, that wasn’t the right word. James faced it straight on. Unhappy. His entire family was smothered with unhappiness, as if life no longer held hope.

Mary smiled, but behind that was pain. Ian retreated from everyone before he could be pushed away. James recognized that from his years of counseling teens. His father was…James had never understood his father’s visage. Only Abigail acted happy, and James suspected that was because the little girl didn’t notice or feel the seething tide of emotions that swirled above her understanding.

Mary muscled open the rusty blue door and reminded James of happier times. She’d never been able to open that door easily. A hundred years ago, it was because she was slight, and the door heavy. Now that Mary was capable, the ancient, rusted hinges didn’t have the wherewithal to cooperate. James smiled easily as he watched her slide out of the truck.

Abigail and Ian followed. Ian jogged across the lawn and disappeared into the house. His sister hung back and looked up at their mother with expectant eyes.

“Run inside, sweetie. Get to your homework. I’ll be right there.”

Without answering her mother, Abigail hopped back inside the truck and threw her arms around James for a quick hug; then she slid back out and headed for the house.

Mary closed the truck door and rested a hand on the open window.

“She’s got good spirit,” James said.

“Oh, I’ve got a few other names for it.” Mary grinned at him. Her pride in Abigail shone on her face. There was the Mary he knew and loved. The one who had nothing more than delight on her face.