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to his feet. Sidney didn’t consider herself weak by any means, but even though he had lost some weight since the stroke, her father was still pretty darn heavy, and not having the full use of his right side only made matters all the more difficult.
    The first try was a failure, with her slipping to one side and him falling to the floor for a second time.
    â€œLeave me here,” she heard her father say. The anger was gone now, replaced by something that sounded an awful lot like disgust.
    â€œYeah, right.” She tried again, getting a better hold beneath his arms, and managed to at least get him upright. “A little help here,” she said, chiding him. “That’s it. You got it.”
    He was helping now, though she could tell that he was tired. This only made her think of the man that he used to be. The guy who would be out of the house and off to one of his contracting jobs at five in the morning, only to return later that day to do even more work around their own house. She hated to see him this way probably as much as he despised being it, but what choice was there? The alternative was not an option she cared to consider.
    Though she was certain there were nights that her father had considered it.
    The idea of him being gone— being dead —nearly took her strength away, and she was afraid that she would drop him again. Snowy, ball still clutched in her mouth, stood across the kitchen, watching cautiously, tail wagging ever so slightly, the look in her icy blue eyes asking if everything was all right.
    Then, at that very moment, Sidney wanted the answer to be yes, yes, everything was going to be fine. Pushing all the sadness and concern aside, she managed to pull her father up to his feet and, balancing him against her shoulder, dragged one of the kitchen chairs over close enough that she was able to assist him in sitting down.
    â€œNo gym for me this morning,” she joked, feeling out of breath from the struggle. She could tell he was exhausted as well, sitting slumped, head back. Snowy had come to him with her ball, checking the situation out, making sure that everything was as it should be. He petted her silently, the action helping to calm him.
    â€œYou good?” she asked, rubbing his back.
    He didn’t answer as she picked up his cane, leaning it up against the kitchen table. She then reached over and slid the mug of coffee closer to his reach.
    â€œHere’s your refill.”
    He just nodded, letting the good hand that was petting Snowy reach for the coffee.
    Sidney had been planning on having a cup of tea and maybe something to eat before getting ready for work, but glancing at the clock on the microwave told her that wasn’t going to be possible if she didn’t want to be late.
    â€œIf you’re okay, I’ve got to get ready,” she told him.
    He was mid-sip but finished and carefully brought the coffee mug down to the table. “I’m good,” he said as the mug landed without spilling a drop, and then he looked at her.
    But in his eyes she could see how sad he was, and how tired.
    And that he was lying.

CHAPTER TWO
    Janice Berthold savored mornings like this.
    They’d been coming to their home on Benediction Island during the summer months for as long as she’d been married, but there was still nothing better than when all was entirely quiet, and she was alone.
    When he was gone.
    It wouldn’t last for long, and she knew it but tried not to remind herself. She wanted to savor each and every minute—every second—of these precious moments of solitude.
    Imagining how wonderful it would be without him . How every day would be just like this if he was no longer around.
    She felt the muscles around her mouth contract and a smile begin to form. It felt strange.
    Janice couldn’t remember the last time she had genuinely smiled, the misery of her days with him blocking any recollection of past joy.
    And as quickly as it