And when Logan finally told me what had happened on our elderly neighbor’s porch, I understood why he’d been disappearing on Tuesday evenings for months.
The truth was nothing like what I’d feared.
My name is Rachel.
I’m forty-one years old, and I’ve been a nurse for nineteen years.
At work, I know how to handle difficult situations.
I’ve assisted doctors during emergencies, comforted frightened patients, and learned to remain calm when everyone around me is worried.
But when it comes to my children, I’m just another mother who fears losing the people she loves.
Two years earlier, my husband, Daniel, passed away unexpectedly at forty-two.
He was a contractor who repaired kitchens, built decks, and seemed to know everyone in our small town.
He was always laughing.
Always humming.
Always finding ways to make ordinary days feel special.
One afternoon, while driving home from a job, Daniel experienced a sudden medical emergency.
