“I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“Let me introduce you.” Sabin turned to the group. “Creighton was a good friend of Abby’s in Dallas.”

“Yes, she spoke of you,” one of the women said. Then she added, “You meant a lot to her.”

I swallowed hard. The wound was still too fresh. Nevertheless, it pleased me to hear that. I don’t know why. Perhaps I had always secretly wondered if Abby compartmentalized me in a nonreligious sphere of her life. Apparently Abby didn’t think that way after all.

Sabin walked over to his dining table. “Here’s the journal. I guess Abby won’t mind if someone reads it now.”

He handed it to me. I ran my thumbs over the cover. “Sabin, do you mind—this is going to sound silly perhaps—but do you mind if I take a look at the room she stayed in?”

“No, not at all.” He pointed to a staircase. “Up the stairs, first door on your left.”

“I’ll just be a few moments.”

I walked up the stairs. The door on the left was shut. I turned the knob and slowly opened it. A queen-size bed with a dark green, patterned comforter filled the left side of the room. In front of me stood a small wood desk and chair; to the right, a tall white dresser. On the walls were photos of mountain scenes—taken by Sabin, I guessed.

A much smaller frame rested on the desk. I walked over and picked it up. It was a picture of Sabin and Abby, arms over each other’s shoulders, standing on what appeared to be the top of a peak. A peak she never mentioned having conquered.

I placed it back on the desk. I sat down in the chair and opened the journal. I flipped slowly through the pages, feeling the paper between my fingers as I did. I stopped on the page where Abby had made her final entry.

July 10

Jesus,

I am about to leave the man I have grown to love. Our paths diverge, but my heart will always be with him.

Creighton has moved toward faith in you. And though he may no longer have a human spirit for you to join yourself to, I know your grace is bigger than that, and the door to you is not closed.

Keep him in your love. Draw him by your grace. May you and he be one forever.

I raised my eyes from the page and stared at the window next to the bed. Wooden blinds were drawn closed across it. I walked over, parted the blinds, and looked outside at Sabin’s backyard. And behind it, a small woods. A solitary path disappeared into the thicket. Abby had walked that path, I knew.

I wiped the moisture from my eyes and went back downstairs.

Sabin rose from his seat in the living room. “Are you doing okay?”