Free Where Love Finds You (The Unspoken Series) by Marilyn Grey

I couldn’t believe it. This beautiful, young wife already a widow and soon-to-be single mother, genuinely concerned about the drunk guy that crashed into the man she married. It’s not every day you meet someone like her. 
    “I was on the phone with him when it happened,” she said, eyes blurry.
    I nodded, realizing my own mortality. 
    “The last sound I remember is that deathly car crash sound. You know, screeching tires against asphalt, the bang of a collision, and glass shattering everywhere. Then the phone died. I immediately left the house, running barefoot. We only had one car at the time and I work from home.” She shook her head. “I ran and ran until I finally found him, only a mile from the house. When I finally reached the car the sirens were getting closer. I didn’t see him anywhere. Nowhere in the car or anywhere around it. We had an old car. The driver’s side seatbelt stopped worked shortly before our emissions test. It was one of those shoulder belts that slides along the car door with a separate lap belt. I begged him to get it fixed.
    “Anyway, I screamed at the top of my lungs. I just screamed his name over and over and over again. Then I ran to the other car. No one there either. That’s when I saw him. My heart literally felt numb. Across the street I could see his arms twisted behind his head. His femur sticking out of his thigh. Clothes stained red. With more red pouring out and making a puddle around him. I ran to him. Knelt beside him and forced his eyes open. I’ve seen a lot of expressions on his face, but there’s nothing like seeing someone lifeless. His eyes looked straight ahead. Face relaxed. Jaw dropped and drool mixed with blood pouring onto his collar.”
    I took a deep breath. 
    “Anyway.” She wiped her eyes. “I said too much. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you with my tragic story. You’ve only been here five minutes. I’m so sorry.”
    “No, no.” I shook my head. “I understand. I’m glad you could get some of that out again. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”
    “It’s hard,” she said. “My family lives in Virginia and I have no friends here. I moved here for him. His parents don’t like me, never have. They even blame me for his death and refuse to talk to me, save the occasional email to ask how the prenatal appointments are going. They want me to name the child Andrea or Andrew after him. They told me I’d be a horrible mother not to, but Andy hated that. He never wanted a child named after him. He wanted them to have their own unique name. But I know there is good in this. There’s always good in every circumstance. Just depends on how we look at things.” 
    “I guess that’s true.”
    “And no, I didn’t mention all of this to get free paint.”
    We both hid our pain and confusion with a laugh. I couldn’t help but cringe when I imagined this young, pregnant newlywed holding her mangled husband’s body in a ditch. The pain she must have been enduring seemed unbearable to me. And I thought I had problems.
    I spent the next three hours at her house. Neither of us could believe it. We walked through each room and as we talked about colors she told me more of her story. She had a personal reason for every color she chose. I didn’t mind hearing her talk. Something about her I enjoyed. She brought me peace. And it wasn’t that she was so beautiful I had to consciously tell myself not to be attracted to her. It wasn’t that at all. It was the beauty inside of her that affected me so much. How many women lose their husband, paint an entire house all sorts of meaningful colors from their relationship, and talk to the paint guy without a single hint of flirtation?
    I liked her, in a completely non-romantic way. Part of me couldn’t wait to come back and paint the house. It wasn’t a small house. Not big either, but enough rooms to keep me busy for a few weeks. Most of my clients aren’t home when I paint, but she worked from