LACEY PASSED THROUGH security at the Tampa airport and found her departure gate. She wanted to pace up and down the terminal to release her tension, but she still had pneumonia and the doctor had warned her to rest. So she sat there, frustrated and numb with shock. Thoughts tumbled through her head.

Roger Brock, you cad! I loved you so and did everything I could to make you happy. What was wrong with me, anyway? What was wrong with you? She wondered where he was now. She hoped he was dead because it wouldn't be fair if he were still alive while her beloved Jake was gone. Wonderful Jake, my beautiful man. You loved me, admired me, took care of me. Oh, Jake, why aren't you here to fold me in your embrace and tell me that everything will be all right? Lacey, gripping the sides of her seat, did not realize that tears were flowing down her cheeks.

"Are you okay? Is there anything we can do to help?" A woman was leaning over her.

"Oh, so sorry. Didn't realize," Lacey stuttered. "I'm all right, really. Just reliving old times." She accepted the tissue the woman offered and dabbed at her face.

"Well, okay then. But we're right here if you need us." The woman returned to sit beside her husband and gave a little wave.

Lacey fumbled in her bag to find a book that she could use as a shield. She sighed, thinking of all the books she had read, and the ones she had written. Now, she had no desire, no ability, to even look at a page.