Chapter 59

The little book of poems rested in Lance’s hands. He had read it a hundred times, lingered over the precious words, traced the writing with his fingertips. If he didn’t stop, he’d wear the book out, and he didn’t want that. Forcing himself to put it aside, he got to his feet and closed the shutters against the night.

He was trying to move forward in life, digging deep for the strength he needed. But, he missed Brook's company when he was in his workroom, the sight of her head bent over her journal, her smile at the dinner table, and the conversations they’d had while working together in the kitchen. And he missed her warm body pressed against his in the dark of night, her sweet lips, her tender sighs, her soft words of love. He groaned in agony. My Brooklyn!

Every space in his home held a memory of her. There was no escape from the longing, which came especially strong at night. He wondered how long he would yearn for her. He thought perhaps forever.