When Darkness Ends (Moments in Boston #3) - Marni Mann Page 0,97

attorney to help build the case against Ronald Little. Then, there was the media to deal with, the interviews that were offered, the television programs they wanted her to appear on, the magazines that wanted features.

Everyone wanted Pearl’s story, and she wasn’t ready to tell it yet.

But after four weeks, I had used up all my vacation, and it was time for me to return to work. With Pearl being by herself a lot more, we developed a new schedule. One where I popped in at least twice a shift to check on her and where I called every few hours.

Not only because it helped her, but it helped me too.

Even when she showed progress, I still worried. I just wanted to make sure she was getting everything she needed, and I constantly consulted with her therapist to make sure I was giving her that. Marlene trained me on how to assist with Pearl’s growth.

And each day, I noticed a change.

Gradually, she was finding her footing, taking on new challenges, and I was there to admire each one, like the evening she cooked for the first time.

She’d been living with me for about nine weeks when it happened, and I could smell the tomato sauce as I returned from work and unlocked the front door. Once I had it open, she was standing at the stovetop, a wooden spoon in her hand, dipping it into several different pots. A dish towel hung over her shoulder, her wet hair twisted in a long braid.

I watched from the doorway, frozen.

A million memories hitting me at once.

She looked over her shoulder, catching me staring. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.” I dropped my bag by the door and took a seat across from her on one of the barstools. “What are you making?”

Maybe it was the way she was moving through my kitchen, or maybe it was just the bright lighting in here, but I noticed the weight she had gained and how healthy she was starting to look. The color was coming back to her cheeks, her eyes not so sunken and hollow.

“Some pasta and garlic bread. Nothing too fancy.”

I smiled, knowing the answer before I asked, “Did I have that food in the pantry?”

She was stirring onions and peppers into the sauce. “Marlene and I went to the grocery store today.”

“How did that go?”

She moved to the counter in front of me, cutting a large loaf of French bread. “It was really loud in there, and the options were overwhelming.” She glanced up. “I chose something I was comfortable with—or at least, I used to be since pasta was one of Gran’s favorites.” Her hands paused from cutting, and she took a deep breath.

Gran was a topic she hadn’t begun discussing in therapy. She just wasn’t ready to tackle that pain. There were still so many other heavy items to get through.

“Hey …”

Her eyes met mine.

“You’re doing great, and pasta is one of my favorites too.”

She didn’t smile back, but there was light in her eyes. “Aside from the stage, the kitchen used to be one of my happy places. Marlene wants to see if I can get that feeling back.”

“It smells incredible in here. I’d say you’re doing something right. How’s it feeling?”

She finished cutting the bread and began swiping butter over each piece. “I think I’ve missed it.” She turned her head to cough. “And I’m surprised how quickly it all came back to me.”

“Tell me about your day.”

She set down the knife to sprinkle garlic on top of the spread. “Therapy, grocery store. I used your laptop and did this meditation video that I’d found online. I took a nap and journaled while I sat on your balcony to get a little sun. I got out of the shower and only started cooking about fifteen minutes before you got home.”

There was a warmth across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks, showing me she’d been outside.

The tan looked beautiful on her.

“You took control of a meal.”

Up until this point, I’d been making all the food decisions. This was another huge step and a moment that needed to be recognized.

She nodded. “I hope that’s okay.”

I reached forward, my hand surrounding hers. “It’s more than okay.” We didn’t move for several seconds. Our fingers stayed linked, our stares fixed. “I’m extremely proud of you,” I said softly.

Her thumb swiped the side of my hand, back and forth.

And then she returned to the pot and stirred. “I didn’t grab anything