"Matt?" Mike tilted his head. "I find that hard to believe. What happened to Brad?"

The weight suddenly seemed heavier. "I don't know." Steven's shoulders sagged. "I don't know what to do, Mike. Brad changed… overnight."

"People rarely change overnight," Mike observed.

"Brad did," Steven insisted. "And I don't know what I or anybody did to trigger it. I thought it would pass, but…"

"But it's gotten worse."

"I guess you hear this all the time."

"Unfortunately, yes. Sit down, Steven. Please." Mike leaned forward and patted the pew in front of him. "You're making me nervous. You're wound tighter than a spring."

Steven dropped into the pew, sitting sideways and resting his arm along the wooden back. "I met one of Brad's teachers today. He's failing chemistry."

"Ouch."

Steven nodded. "I asked him about it when I got home and he acted like he… hated me," he finished in a shaky whisper. "I don't know what to do." He flinched when Mike covered his hand with his own, but didn't back away. It was so like… old times. Emotion welled up in his throat and Steven swallowed hard to force it down before it became overwhelming. He drew a deep breath and waited until he could speak normally. "Like I said, Matt is the normal one now and Nicky's improving every day." He made himself smile. "Helen's the same as ever."

Mike was quiet for a long time, then squeezed his hand. "So Brad is troubled, Matt is maturing, Nicky is improving, and Helen is the same old Helen. But how are you, my friend?" he asked softly. "How is your life?"

Again emotion pushed up his throat and again Steven shoved it back. "My life is… what it is."

"You can do better than that, Steven," Mike said dryly.

Steven smiled in spite of himself. "It was a bit theatric, wasn't it?"

"A bit." Mike waited, and when Steven said nothing, trudged forward. "And your personal life? Have you changed your mind about taking another wife?"

The corner of Steven's mouth quirked up. "Taking another wife. It sounds so archaic when you say it that way."

"You didn't answer my question, Steven."

"No, I didn't, did I?" Steven squared his shoulders, preparing for the argument he knew was just ahead. "No, I haven't changed my mind. I won't be marrying again. At least not until the boys are grown."

"Nicky won't be grown for ten more years, Steven," Mike said quietly. "That's too long for you to be alone."

Steven narrowed his eyes. "You're alone."

Mike smiled. "That's different and you know it. Besides, I have the Church." Mike lifted a wry brow. "I'd bet it's safe to say you don't even have that."

Steven looked away. "Below the belt, Mike." But he was right. Of course.

"Wherever it does the most good. Ten more years is a long time for you to be alone."

Steven stared at the Madonna and Child, knowing where this conversation was headed. "You said that already."

"And I was right both times. Hasn't Helen found anyone you like?"

Steven jerked his gaze back to where Mike still sat patiently. "What do you know about Helen's matchmaking?"

Mike shrugged. "She and I chat from time to time."

Steven rolled his eyes. "I bet she's confessing all the lies she's told to set me up with every Tania, Dorothy, and Henrietta this side of the Mississippi."

"That would be privileged," Mike informed him archly.

"Yeah, yeah," Steven muttered and Mike grinned, then sobered.

"So tell me, Steven. You haven't met anyone? In four years?"

A face flashed before his eyes. Black hair, violet eyes, kind smile. "No. Yes." Steven closed his eyes. "I don't know," he said miserably.

"I like the 'yes' answer the best."

"You would," Steven muttered.

"What's her name?"

Steven stood up. "This is ridicu-"

"Sit down, Steven." It was a soft roar, a command meant to be obeyed.

Steven sat.

Mike nodded and tilted his head. "So… Her name is…?"

"Jenna." Steven glared over the pew. "If Helen gets a word of this, I swear I'll…"

"It's privileged," Mike said and leaned forward. "And you met her when?"

"Today," Steven snapped and watched Mike's eyes grow round. Looking at his watch Steven added, "Seven and a half hours ago, to be most accurate."

Mike sat back in the pew. "Well, now your visit makes sense. So what do you plan to do about this woman? This… Jenna?"

Steven clenched his jaw. "Nothing."

Mike pursed one side of his mouth. "Oh, please, Steven. You're here. You're troubled." Mike folded his arms across his chest. "Not all women are Melissa, you know."

"I know. But I refuse to expose my kids to any woman until I'm sure she's not."

Mike waved his hand. "And because you can't afford time away from the boys, you don't have the time it would take to get to know a woman well enough to bring her home to the boys. I seem to recall having heard this argument before."

Steven shook his head stubbornly. "I can't… no, I won't put the boys through that again."

"You didn't put them through it the first time, Steven," Mike reminded him. As if he could forget. "You brushed the truth under the rug and let the world believe what you wanted them to believe." Mike frowned, his voice growing stern. "You lied to your children."

Steven squeezed his eyes closed, clenched his fist tight. "1 know. Dammit, don't you think I know?" Then Mike covered Steven's clenched fist with his steady hand and just held it there.

"I know you know, Steven," he said softly. "And I know you believe you did the right thing by the boys by not telling them the truth about Melissa's death."

"I did do the right thing," Steven hissed, feeling it all come back. Four years of hurt he'd so successfully buried came rushing back. Now he remembered why it had been so long since he'd been to church. "What good would it have done them to know she was deserting us? To tell them her lover smashed up her car because he was too drunk to walk, much less drive? That she was hurrying to the airport with her married lover?" He spat the word, knowing no other way to make it sound as bad as it really was. "What good would it have done to tell them she didn't even intend to say good-bye to her own children, that she just left me a note?" He squeezed his eyes tighter and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "What good would it possibly have done, Mike?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "Tell me. Please, tell me."

Mike sighed heavily. "I don't know, Steven," he murmured. "But I do know that in spite of all you've done to protect your family, it hasn't made any of you any happier."

There was nothing to say to dispute that so Steven said nothing and Mike removed his steadying hand and leaned back in the pew.

"I take it I'm still the only one who knows," Mike said after another minute of quiet.

Steven opened his eyes, then narrowed them. "You are."

"Hmm. So I'm the only person you could come to when you finally realized you've painted yourself in a corner with this ridiculous ban you've put on marriage."

"It's not ridic-"

"Hush, Steven. Save it for yourself because I'm not buying. So tell me about this Jenna."

"There is nothing to tell," Steven insisted through clenched teeth.

"I sincerely doubt that. What's her last name?"

Steven twisted in the pew so he faced forward, his arms pulled tightly across his body. "Marshall," he answered.

"And what does she do?"

"She's a teacher." He threw a sour look over his shoulder. "She's Brad's teacher."

"Oh. Well, now the picture's a bit clearer. I bet she's kind."

"Yes."

"Pretty?"

Steven drew a breath, irritated. "Yes." Let it out. "She's kind and pretty." Anger started to simmer deep inside him. "You want to know the truth, Father Leone? You want to know it all? Every last dark thought in my soul? Okay, fine. I want her. I haven't had sex in four years and I want her."