What good, if any, could possibly come of Jonathan’s death and her estrangement from Steve was impossible to fathom. But perhaps it was time to put such futile ponderings aside, give her anger and resentment and despair to God, and begin living in the present instead of dwelling on the past.

Outside, a delivery van rumbled by—and all at once her stomach joined in the chorus.

She checked her watch. No wonder. It was lunchtime. And for once, she was hungry rather than merely empty. Her recovery must be progressing—from more than a physical standpoint, considering the little surge of hope lifting her spirits.

So why not leave this confining apartment behind for an hour or two? Her doctor had given his blessing for driving and a return to work on Monday—a mere two days away. A dry run would be reasonable, as would a change of scene.

And she knew just where she wanted to go.

The wharf.

If Charley was cooking today, his tacos would be a perfect lunch. She could sit on a bench near his stand and enjoy the fresh air and sea view.

After running a finger over the embossed cross on the front of the Bible, she stood and maneuvered herself over to the counter to get her purse.

Outside, the finch continued to sing, trying to convince the female who’d become the center of his world to give him a chance.

Sort of like Steve had done with his letters and notes, plus his recent visit and bouquet.

And maybe, while she enjoyed her lunch, she’d find the courage to put aside the protective anger that had kept grief—and Steve—at arm’s length. To accept the truth of what the medical examiner had told them after the tragedy—that while the majority of deaths like Jonathan’s occurred during extreme exertion, the condition he’d had could also have taken him even in sleep. To admit that putting all the blame on Steve had been wrong.

Perhaps it was time to reach deep inside and open the door to an in-person dialogue. Not today. But soon.

Fifteen minutes later, Charley lifted a hand in greeting as she approached his stand after managing the drive to town without any glitches.

“Now this is a pleasant surprise. You must be on the mend if you ventured into town alone.”

“I am. As a matter of fact, I’m going back to work part-time on Monday.” She stopped in front of the serving window and sniffed. “Those smell like heaven.”

“Not quite—but close. One order?”

“Please.”

He set to work, pulling out fish fillets, corn tortillas, and a handful of chopped red onion that he tossed on the griddle. “You picked a beautiful day for your foray back into the world. Are you planning to enjoy your lunch here on the wharf, or take it home?”