Page 10 of At Her Will

A perverse part of her wanted to do just what Ros had intimated. Shove Rev in the deep end and let him prove to her that she was wrong about that moment of deep connection.Which would give her an excuse to avoid going down what seemed like a new path, only to face the disappointment of it leading where she’d been before.

Was she really throwing down a gauntlet before Fate, just to shield herself from that kind of hurt? She knew better than that. What was it her mother used to say?

When you get to the gates of Heaven, you don’t want to say, “I took no risks.”

Life was full of ironies. That was before she told Vera she could never come home again, because Vera had chosen a path her mother abhorred.

“Skye is ass-deep in debugging that database for Birdwell and Sons,” Bastion said, “and Cyn is at their offices, testing the interface.”

“Anything I need to do?” Ros asked.

“Nope.” Bastion shook his head. “Skye said it’s just the typical bullshit involved in integrating current tech with a decade’s worth of crappy software. Or something like that. She was speaking geek. I got the important part—she and Cyn have it handled.”

“I’ll get started on Bullington’s paperwork,” Vera told Ros. “The sooner we shoot the contract over to him, the less time he has to reconsider.”

“Prioritize it, but wait until tomorrow to send,” Ros told her. “He needs to think we’re not all that eager to have his business. I told him we had a major client freeze right now to give our current roster our best efforts, but because we were bringing in a new experienced marketing rep, we had space for one more. I also heavily implied I was doing this as a favor for Matt, since they’re boxing buddies.”

“The hard-to-get plus exclusivity approach.”

“For a personality like his, it was the closer.” Ros had Abby precede her to the door, her hand brushing Abby’s hip. Roswasn’t the touchy-feely type, but not only was Abby her closest friend, they’d had some close calls at the beginning, when her diagnosis had threatened to take her away from them. Even now, managed as well as it could be, there were rough patches. With schizophrenia’s unpredictable effect on the brain and limited effectiveness of medications on Abby’s system, there always would be.

On top of that, the two women had once been a trinity. Their closest mutual friend, Laurel, had been killed by a drunken, abusive husband—hence the Laurel Grove shelter Ros and Abby had started. The impact on Ros had been deep and lasting.

So when she touched Abby, it was reinforcement their usually invincible boss needed. It also conveyed to Abby that Ros was there in every way she needed. She’d have her back, always.

Ros was like that with all of them. As she proved when she glanced over her shoulder at Vera. “Are you all right?”

Vera met her piercing gaze. Ros’s intuition made her a successful CEO, and a formidable Mistress. The latter role was only for Lawrence now, for the transformative reasons Ros had stated. The former SEAL had Ros’s heart cupped in his strong hands like a bird’s egg. No force in the world could make him crush it.

That ache in Vera’s heart was back.

How a chance meeting with a school janitor had her emotions kicked up this way, raising issues from her past, as well as goading her longings in the present, was a mystery. Maybe she was having an off day. Maybe it was mere chance, nothing significant about any of it.

Sure.He’d caught her in his arms at just the right moment, and he’d written that message, which seemed to be just for her.

For her.

“Yes. Thanks for asking. An interesting man isn’t a bad thing.” She managed a half smile. “I just don’t want to go to the same old theme park.”

“The theme park is always the same. It’s about someone who can make you see it through new eyes.” Ros paused. “Youtold me that, too. Not long before I met Lawrence.”

“Damn, I sound crazy smart.”

“It’s why I hired you. Do you have plans this weekend?”

Vera took a breath. “I think I’m going to church.”

CHAPTER THREE

God’s Light and Voice Church was a long rectangular building with beige vinyl siding, and a few tall narrow windows edged with white trim. It was the type of structure that could be erected with limited funds.

The marquee by the road, with the usual interchangeable messages one saw in front of many churches, said “Find God Here.” Behind it were three tall and rough-hewn wooden crosses. The purple sash draped on the middle one fluttered in the breeze. Two big apple trees near them had benches to enjoy their shade and contemplate the crosses.

Vera found a space in a mostly full parking lot. The landscaping that flanked either side of the wide front walkway made up for the plainness of the building. The lush flowers and ornamental grasses said the church had an accomplished garden club. The concrete pedestals of two bird baths, one on either side, were angels with lifted hands and arched wings.

At the door another angel held up a boat. Inside the boat were multi-colored smooth stones shaped like tiny fish. When she touched them, she detected an energy that suggested they were prayed over, as she often did to her own talismans, like her pentacle. She expected the congregation could take and usethem like worry stones. Choosing a blue one, she slipped it into her coat pocket.

Someone inside was speaking in a muffled but sonorous voice, backed by trills of organ music. She’d changed her mind about coming, then changed it again, so it was thirty minutes after the service had started. Even so, as she stepped into the foyer, an usher met her, a middle-aged black man in a gray suit, a purple flower in the lapel. “Welcome to God’s house,” he murmured and opened the nave door. “May He be with you, sister.”

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