Free With Love from the Inside by Angela Pisel

pressing pictures on the glass and sharing with me the moments that made you smile or caused you to cry.
    Passing time does nothing to heal our brokenness. It’s the work we put into our mending that makes us well.
    We shared 659 Saturdays together before I left our home. Only 26 of those included William. I want one more Saturday. I need time to fix us.
    I’m going to ask Ms. Liz if she can bring in a manger. Any old box will do. I feel the need to do something love-worthy. I hope your bed is warm and soft tonight.

SOPHIE
    â€œI’m looking forward to some cornbread stuffing and pecan pie,” Thomas said, pulling into the passing lane.
    Sophie pulled out the earbuds she’d put on an hour into the four-hour drive to Charleston, where Thomas’s parents lived. The last few lines of Miranda Lambert’s “Over You” trailed off faintly in her lap.
    â€œMe, too.” But after thinking about pencil-thin Eva, she decided she’d eat only turkey and a deviled egg.
    They hadn’t talked at all about her quick day-before exit or anything else of magnitude since Thomas had come home late last night. They’d both been tired and still had to pack. And weren’t some secrets better off left unsaid?
    â€œYou okay, baby?” Thomas asked after they had been in the car more than an hour. His eyes met hers, and his question seemed sincere. “You’re not saying much.”
    â€œI’m fine.” She looked away, not giving him the chance to explore her silence any further. She couldn’t remember the last time “fine” described her.
    The mature part of Sophie knew she should in turn ask him how he was doing, how he felt since his patient died. Had he figured anything out? However, in this moment, the hold-a-grudge fraction of her took over and she remained silent. She put the earbuds in her ears and scrolled through her playlists.
    Maybe she was being paranoid about Eva? She considered the possibility, then considered her state of mind. Her pink Prada purse, tucked between her feet, still hid the letter from her mother’s lawyer.
    She hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly when Eva stepped out of Thomas’s office. Drug reps visit doctors. That’s what they do. And Eva, no matter how much Sophie despised her, was a drug rep. All five-foot-ten thin inches of her.
    Sophie closed her eyes and attempted to “rise above” and “kill her with kindness,” all the things her dad tried to instill in her after he became her moral compass. But even the thought of Eva irritated her.
    â€œI’m still a little crazy about what happened at the hospital. You know, the little girl. I’ve never lost a patient before.”
    Sophie could hear him, but she wasn’t sure he knew that. She chose to think about Max, praying his fever had broke.
    Thomas stared straight ahead with both hands gripped tightly around the bottom of the steering wheel.
    â€œDo you know what happened?” she asked, letting go of her punishment and, for the moment, her grudge.
    â€œI’m not sure.” He took one hand off the wheel and ran it through his hair. “I’m not. The hospital is going to review the case pending her autopsy. I brought my notes and whatever hospital records I could copy without looking suspicious. I thought maybe Dad and Carter could give me some advice.”
    Sophie nodded. Thomas’s dad was a prominent cardiac surgeon who flew across the country and gave lectures to physicians on when to use a synthetic heart valve. Something he invented. Sophie wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but Thomas said it paid a whole lot better than nose jobs. Carter, Thomas’s older brother, worked as a prosecutor in the district attorney’s office.
    â€œAre you sure you want to talk to your dad?” A valid question, since Thomas always seemed to be on the defensive when he was around him.
    â€œI don’t want to talk to