Free Chasing the Wind by Pamela Binnings Ewen Page B

strong hands on the wheel, his straight back, the thoughtful way he answered her questions. A frisson ran through her, a thrill of emotion so deep and strong that it caught her off guard.
    She loved Jude, she suddenly realized. In that instant, all the years they'd spent together and all the memories they'd created seemed to coalesce at this one point in time, inside this car with Jude just inches away. The subliminal feelings she'd been experiencing in the past few months took form. They had substance and a word.
    Love.
    She loved him! Almost holding her breath, she gave him a sideways look. He seemed like the same old Jude—and yet not. As they drove, she let her thoughts linger on this discovery. She wondered how it would feel to have him slip his arms around her. Wondered what she'd do if he stopped the car right now, turned to her, and kissed her.
    And then Rebecca came to mind. Amalise turned her gaze out the passenger window and watched the trees fly by. The truth was, she had no idea where she stood in Jude's mind and heart. Or, for that matter, how he felt about Rebecca.
    But you have a fair idea, said the observer, that little voice inside her, inside us all. Perhaps it was the Spirit of God, or maybe it was just the voice of human frailty. You know how Jude feels about Rebecca, the voice said, if you can face the fact.
    But she didn't have to face that fact right now, she argued in response. She'd just returned to work after a long recuperation. After the death of her husband. There was plenty of time ahead to sort things out.
    Yet she longed to turn to Jude and just say the words and let them hang there in the air between them. Only pride kept her from doing so.
    And Rebecca.

    They drove down Broadway until Amalise said "There!" and pointed to his left, across the street. Jude slowed the car in front of a house with a For Sale sign standing in the yard. A car was parked on the street, with a woman sitting at the wheel, waiting. The real estate agent, he supposed.
    After making a U-turn, he looked at the small green clapboard cottage with a porch across the front, half-hidden by a neat sidewalk hedge, and his heart sank because he knew she would buy it. The yard was small, and there was a driveway on the right, leading to a garage in the back. He parked on the street behind the agent's car.
    Inside, sunshine streamed in through a row of windows on the left of a long narrow hallway. Green morning glory vines crept around the edges of the windows. Amalise walked slowly down the hall in silence, stopping to examine the rooms to her right. The living room had a fireplace and ceiling-to-floor windows that opened onto the front porch. The bedroom had a set of built-in bookcases that looked like they'd been custom built for her.
    The old Amalise would have spun around, eyes shining, Jude thought. She'd have been eager, would have spilled the beans to the real estate agent about how she loved the house, how she would buy it immediately and pay the asking price.
    But the widow of Phillip Sharp was cooler now. Her eyes swept everything at random as they walked through the house. She strolled, finger to her lips, inspecting everything with élan, and only Jude knew that already she was imagining her furniture in this place, her books on the shelves, measuring for pictures on the walls.
    At the end of the hallway they entered an octangular dining room, and beyond that was a second bedroom on the right and an outdated kitchen to the left. Another porch crossed the back of the house, the right side enclosed by a wooden lattice covered in vines.
    "Good shade on a hot summer day," the agent said.
    "Yes, it can get hot all right," Amalise replied in her new, distant tone.
    Jude stood back as she walked casually down the steps into the back yard, a square of lush green grass enclosed by a wooden fence. She said she liked the yard without cracking a smile, and the agent gave her a nervous look. Jude watched, astounded by Amalise's