Free Wishes by Jude Deveraux

once. Nellie’s heart leapt to her throat; her blood pounded in her temples.
    “Let’s go,” Jace said, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward.
    The pretty little white church stood out against the dark sky. The double doors were open, and golden lantern light spilled out into the cool night air. Jace put his arm around Nellie, and when she shivered he led her inside the church. They stood at the back and watched and listened as the choir leader took the men and women through Christmas carol after carol. Some of the choir members smiled at Nellie and looked in question at Jace, who stood protectively near her.
    Nellie leaned against the back wall of the church and knew she’d never felt so good in her life. Her clothes brushed against his and, behind the cover of her skirt, he slipped his fingers into hers and squeezed.
    They listened to the lovely music for some time, content just to be near each other, fingers entwined, and to do no more than listen.
    It was when the choir leader directed the singers to change from carols to hymns that Nellie felt Jace stiffen.
    “What is it?” she whispered.
    “We have to go,” he said urgently.
    Some instinct told her that under no circumstances should they leave the church. She tightened her grip on his hand and said, as though to an unruly child, “We must stay.”
    Jace didn’t move but stayed where he was, and Nellie tried to figure out what had upset him so. The choir began to sing “Amazing Grace,” and at the first notes she felt Jace’s hand in hers begin to tremble.
    The choir had just begun to sing when Jace dropped Nellie’s hand and stepped forward into the center of the church aisle. Nellie watched as he closed his eyes and began to sing the hymn. He had a beautiful, rich tenor voice, and the perfection of his tone showed his years of training. One by one the choir members stopped singing and listened.
    Jace didn’t hear the words he sang; he felt them.
    The last time he’d sung the song was at Julie’s funeral. He’d stood over her grave, dry-eyed, bareheaded in the frigid cold of Maine in February, and felt nothing. He felt neither the cold nor his deep sorrow. He imagined his pretty little wife in her coffin, their tiny son wrapped in her arms, and he’d felt nothing.
    He had sung the song, and while others had wept he had shed not a tear. For four years now he had felt nothing, had moved, had eaten, had slept, but he had felt nothing. For four years he had not laughed or cried or even been angry.
    Now, as he sang the old, mournful words of the hymn, he remembered Julie, remembered her laughing, remembered her as she struggled to give birth to their child.
    It was time to say goodbye to the woman he had loved so much. At long, long last tears came to his eyes. Goodbye, my Julie, he thought. Goodbye.
    When Jace stopped singing, the stillness inside the church was profound. No one even breathed—and there was not a dry eye in the building. They had felt the emotion in Jace’s words and responded to it.
    At last someone blew his nose, and the spell was broken.
    “Sir,” the choir leader said, “we’d like you to sing in our choir. We’d—”
    Nellie hurried forward. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said with finality, and she half pushed Jace out the door. Outside he leaned against the church wall, and Nellie took his handkerchief from his pocket (hers was dirty) and gave it to him.
    Jace blew his nose loudly, then gave a weak smile to Nellie. “Not much of a way for a man to act in front of his girl, is it?” he mumbled.
    His words made Nellie’s heart flutter, but she controlled herself. “Your wife?”
    He nodded. “I sang that at her funeral”
    “You loved her very much?”
    He was recovering himself and realized that for the first time since her death Julie wasn’t quite as clear to him as she had been. He looked at Nellie, and it was her features he saw instead of Julie’s. “Loved,” he said, emphasizing the past tense.