Kiara had friends.
We sometimes stayed afterward for lunch.
Brian and I started talking more in the car because the weekly messages gave us something besides logistics to discuss.
Once, after a sermon about honesty, Brian reached across the center console and squeezed my hand.
“I’m glad you came with me.”
I smiled.
“So am I.”
I wish I could say there was some part of me that knew.
There wasn’t.
That is one of the details I struggled with most afterward.
People always say they sensed something.
A woman knows.
A spouse can tell.
Maybe some can.
I could not.
I thought my husband was reconnecting with me.
He was building a bridge to another part of his life.
And I was helping him do it.
The Sunday everything changed was April 2.
I know the date because Kiara’s school spring break started the next morning, and she had spent the entire service whispering about how she planned to sleep until noon every day.
After the closing song, we collected her from the children’s room and walked toward the parking lot.
Owen ran after Kiara because she had forgotten a notebook.
Brian ruffled his hair when he handed it over.
Not unusual.
Except Owen looked up at him with an expression I had never noticed before.
Familiar.
Hopeful.
Almost nervous.
Brian crouched slightly.
“You keep beating everybody at trivia?”
Owen grinned.
“Kiara says I cheat.”
“You do.”
“I study.”
“Exactly what a cheater would say.”
Owen laughed.
Maren appeared a few seconds later.
She looked at Brian.
Then at me.
There was something tired in her face.
Brian immediately straightened.
“We should get going.”
In the parking lot he handed me the car keys.
“You drive.”
“Why?”
“I need to run back in.”
“For what?”
“Bathroom.”
“You couldn’t have gone thirty seconds ago?”
He smiled too quickly.
“Apparently my bladder didn’t consult the schedule.”
Kiara climbed into the back seat.
Brian leaned through my open window.
“Wait here. Two minutes.”
He walked away.
Two minutes became five.
Then eight.
At ten minutes, I called him.
No answer.
I texted:
Kiara is melting into the upholstery. Are you alive?
Nothing.
Kiara leaned forward.
“Did Dad fall in?”
“Apparently.”
She laughed.
I didn’t.
Something had started moving inside my stomach.
Not certainty.
Not suspicion exactly.
Just discomfort.
Brian was never without his phone.
He would answer during dinner if work called.
He answered while brushing his teeth.
Yet suddenly he had disappeared inside a building where, by then, he knew nearly everyone.
I waited two more minutes.
Then I saw Sister June, one of the older church volunteers, crossing the parking lot.
“June?”
She came over.
“Everything okay?”
“Can you stand near the car for a couple minutes? Brian went back inside and isn’t answering.”
“Of course.”
Kiara protested.
“I can come.”
“No. Stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m finding your father, not exploring ruins.”
I went inside.
The lobby was almost empty.
Two volunteers were wiping counters.
A man carried folded chairs toward storage.
I checked the men’s hallway from a distance and asked one of the volunteers whether Brian had gone in.
She shook her head.
“Brian? No, I saw him head through the fellowship doors.”
“Where does that go?”
“The garden.”
My stomach tightened.
I walked down the side hallway.
