Janine shakes her head in wonderment. “You see? So many blessings. I’m reminded all the time that God has a plan for every trial He puts in front of us.”

“It was definitely a trial, wasn’t it?” Marianne hopes she is opening up a place for Janine to let her have it.

“Look,” Janine says, reaching into her bag. She brings out Davonte’s book, Shelter from da Storm, and slides it toward Marianne. “I went to a reading at our Barnes & Noble and got it autographed for you. Did you know there’s a whole character inspired by me? I think you’re in it too.”

“Thank you.” Marianne already has a copy, sent by Eric, whose name is prominently featured in the acknowledgments pages. She has yet to read it.

“Did you know he actually wrote most of it himself?” Janine asks. “He decided, halfway through, that he actually liked writing. Plus he told me he didn’t think Eric had a very good handle on the redemption part.”

Marianne laughs. “That’s probably accurate,” she says, running her fingers over the glossy book jacket. “I’m glad he did it on his own. Eric didn’t tell me that.”

“Do you still talk to him?”

“Not much.”

Janine tells her how if she just lived in Panama City, she’d have so many single men to introduce her to—good men from church, and a couple of guys in a writing group she found online. They’ve started meeting once a month, reading their work aloud. Marianne feels a little stab of jealousy over the fact that Janine has a writing group without her.

“Do you talk about school—the Ranch? Do they know about it?”

“That’s behind me,” Janine says firmly. “It wasn’t what I expected, or maybe even what I hoped, but it wasn’t all bad. I think that it was God’s plan. I hope you believe me.”

Marianne nods.

“I took your advice,” Janine says. “I sent those poems to Terri Schiavo’s parents, telling them I wouldn’t publish another one or even keep writing about their daughter if they didn’t want me to. I was so worried, waiting to hear back—maybe I wouldn’t hear anything, I thought, and that would be the worst. But they wrote back, a really nice note. They thanked me. So I wanted to thank you. Because I’ve been writing more.”

Janine reaches across the table, takes Marianne’s hand in hers, squeezes. “You know, you deserve good things too. You deserve to finish your book and call it anything you like. That’s what Terri’s parents told me. And it’s what I wanted to tell you.”