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FATIGUE WEIGHING DOWN on Francesca, she wrapped herself in a thick throw and with Bear in tow, walked onto the terrace. The familiar, comforting scents of her youth came at her through the crisp fall day. Francesca breathed them in, let them soothe her. This was precisely where she needed to be.
Taking a seat at the patio table, she and cast eyes to the grove. Trees were crowned in the golds and russets, scarlets and bronzes, of fall their leaves fluttering in a crisp wind laced with the scent of the incoming winter. The cool breeze caressing her face, Francesca closed her eyes and let the memories she’d pushed to the back of her mind come.
Love ran over Francesca’s battered face when the memories came to her as vividly as if it happened seconds ago. Francesca reached deeper for memories of Tommy’s smile, the feel of his arms around her, his mouth on hers. A smile came to Francesca’s face when she thought of their first date, sitting on the hood of Tommy’s old, dusty truck watching the stars. It was the best night of her life. It was the night she’d fallen in love with Tommy.
Tommy would never hurt her. Never.
“Missy told me you were out here.” Peter startled Francesca out of her thoughts. “I didn’t think you and James were stopping by until tomorrow.”
“I’m here alone. James’s at work.” Francesca took the offered wine glass. “I’m playing hooky from work today. I needed some me-time. I thought you and Tiffani were in the Bahamas.” She steered the conversation away from her.
“We came back early. Tiffani got severe sunburn—everywhere.” Peter’s playful grin made Francesca smile when she did, she winced. “Are you all right, Frankie?”
Raising fingers to caress her heavily powdered cheek, she said, “I’m fine. I just felt a chill for a moment.”
Peter slid a glance over his daughter. “I heard you took on the Mulligan case.”
Francesca bent down to pick up Bear, set him on her lap. “Yes, I did.”
“Were you aware that James was the prosecuting counselor when you did?”
“Yes.” Francesca hugged Bear tightly.
Peter took a long sip of his drink as he studied his daughter’s face. “Does James know you’re the defending counsel?”
Francesca thought of the bruises on her cheek, arms, and back. She felt the tight-fisted punch he’d driven to her ribs. She envisaged James’ dark, piercing gaze, which had shot her heart to her throat and made her fear for her life. Absently, she rubbed a hand there, left it to rest as if guarding herself against James’ choking grasp.
“Yes, we talked it out, and he’s good with it.” Francesca drank wine to wash the nasty taste of lie from her mouth. “I’m sorry. I know this puts a wrench in your plans. Now you’ll have to wait until we finish working the case to offer him a seat on the board of directors.”
“Don’t worry about that. This will be the case of the century. Husband and wife, Templeton versus Templeton who come to oppose each other in court while living under the same roof. Do you know the publicity this will garner our firm? I hope you never forget that you’re a Thompson, and you kick Templeton ass.” James raised his glass to Francesca, drank deep.
Her father, always spinning everything to his benefit, Francesca thought. “I’ll do what I can,” Francesca said because how could she tell him that for her safety, she was mulling the idea of throwing the case.
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THE MOMENT PETER SET OFF TO his downtown apartment, Francesca got into her car and went for a drive. She needed to clear her muddled head. She needed to put last night’s attack out of her mind. For an hour, Francesca drove.
Tires crunching over rural roads, the splattering rain had turned slick, and muddy Francesca drove past cozy homes painted in pastel colors with white shutters and wraparound porches. Francesca rolled by apple orchards heavy with fruit, fields layered in cabbage and pumpkins, dotted with golden hay bales. Cows grazed over green grass mist over with dew, and horses lazed.
When the road twisted ahead, Francesca caught sight of the St. Elizabeth’s cross rising heavenward. Feeling the unexpected tug, she veered toward it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to church. Father Albert wasn’t going to be pleased by that, Francesca thought, and he wasn’t one to hold back on sharing his feelings. Although he’d lecture her about neglecting her spiritual obligation to herself and her God, he’d welcome her with open arms, and right now, she needed was someone to talk to. Father Albert would give her a listening ear and the comfort she needed.
Walking into St. Elizabeth’s, the scent of burning candles and incense came at Francesca. Colorful stained windows, which on a sunny day, were a beacon of light and brought the church to life looked just as she remembered. The stream of music from the organ filled the peaceful silence and the smell the fresh flowers hung in the air. Crossing herself, Francesca proceeded to walk down the aisle to the back, past the narrow hallway to the vestry where she hoped to find Father Albert.
The door to his office was wide opened as she expected it to be. Father Albert insisted on it because, according to him, his church and heart were always open to everyone. Francesca gave a light wrap on the door before walking in. The room was empty, the sign on the desk read: SIT YOURSELF DOWN. BE BACK IN FIVE.
Francesca sat down and waited.
At the sound of the approaching footsteps, Francesca rose, swirled toward the door. Her eyes fixed on the man arched at the doorway in the long-sleeved, black robe with the clerical collar. For a long while, speechless, dazed, and shocked Francesca stare.
His lips curved into a friendly smile. “May I help you?”
Hearing the voice, Francesca felt herself sway, and her vision went gray and hazy. For a long moment, Francesca found herself unable to speak. “You’re not Father Albert,” she said when she found her voice.
“No, I’m his replacement, Father...”
The sound of his voice drove Francesca’s pulse to gallop so fast she could barely breathe. Her knees didn’t buckle they evaporated, and she fell to the floor.
