Free Conviction of the Heart by Alana Lorens Page A

constellation Orion in the southwest. As he watched, a spot of light streaked across the sky. He made his wish, like his mother had always taught him to do.
    The phone rang several times, leaving him scrambling for something to say should the call go to voicemail. His words seemed to duck into the nooks and crannies of his brain, impossible to find, daring to play hide and seek with his tongue. He was actually grateful when she picked up.
    “Suzanne Taylor,” she said, all business.
    “Suzanne, it’s Nick Sansone. Do you, ah, have a minute?”
    A hesitation. “Has something happened to Maddie?”
    “What?” Not what he had expected. “No. No, that’s not why I’m calling.”
    “Oh. What is it, then?”
    “I..ah.” He cleared a throat strangled by nerves. Come on, Sansone. Just tell her what you want. “I wondered if we could get together this weekend.”
    Another hesitation, longer this time, then her reply, laced with wry amusement. “Really, Lieutenant, haven’t you gotten tired of my company over the last week?”
    He considered the correct response. Something serious? A zinger? She didn’t seem the kind who wanted hearts and flowers. What answer would get him past the doorstep? “It’s either this or hope they play tackle at the next Bar-Badge charity football game.” Nick held his breath, waiting to see if he’d chosen the right course. To his relief, she laughed.
    “It’s kind of you, but I’ve got serious plans this weekend. Me and a garden rake.”
    A light breeze riffled through the hair on the back of his neck. “Hey, I love garden rakes,” he said, packing enthusiasm into his tone.
    “Really.”
    “Really! I have one. Here. Somewhere.” Must be one in the garage. He wasn’t sure what all was out there, between what he’d bought and what his father had dropped off from time to time once he had his own house. But a rake, that was pretty standard. People had shovels, hoes, rakes. Sure, he had one.
    “Do you know how to use it?”
    The biting note both stung him and made him smile. “I’m pretty sure which end to hold. Look, you tell me where and when and I’ll be there, fully armed.”
    “I’m serious about the gardening. The yard’s full of leaves and I’ve got to tuck everything in for winter. I’m tempted to call your bluff, just to make you sorry.”
    “I dare you.”
    A soft chuckle came across the phone. “You’re on, Lieutenant. Nine a.m., I’ll make the coffee, and you’d better be holding your equipment.”
    He chuckled at the double entendre. “I’ll be there. With my Housebuilders belt on.”
    She gave him her address, and general directions. Worried he might say something to jinx the miracle he’d somehow managed to pull off, he told her goodbye and clicked the button.
    When you wish upon a star…
    He laughed at himself. “Yeah, pal, look what you’ve done. Congratulations, you get to spend half a day at manual labor.”
    But with a companion like that, it wouldn’t be so bad. Not bad at all.
    ****
    Since she’d offered coffee, he drove his big silver Chevy pickup truck across town to Moio’s in Monroeville for fresh Roman cannolis, a specialty ladylock shell stuffed with fresh vanilla custard and a cherry in the middle. By the time he found a place to park, got in the crowded shop and back out, he’d wasted over an hour. He knew he was trying too hard, but something in his gut insisted he had to set the bar fairly high to impress this woman.
    Her house was north of the city in Indiana Township, on a road best categorized as rural. A long stone driveway led up to a white two-story with a side porch and a yard. A huge yard. His heart sank as he saw it. He’d really gotten himself in deep this time.
    Grabbing the string-tied box with the cannolis and his rake, as promised, Nick strolled up to the door. She opened it before he could knock.
    A lazy smile settled on his lips, taking much more effort than he allowed her to see. “You needed cheap labor,