"Mommy!"

The plea whispered in her mind. Not a voice exactly, but a feeling.

Joanne Fuller spun around, overwhelmed by the sensation. "Mandy?" A chill rolled down her back and prickled on her arms.

Her legs gave way, and she sank to the floor, flinging her face into her hands. Her three-year old’s image hung in her thoughts like a star, once shining but now dimmed.

"Mommy!"

The fear-filled voice resounded in her head again.

Joanne’s pulse raced, and she pressed her hand against her heart to steady the beat. Why now after three years? She knew it couldn’t be real. Yet lately, the same cry had come to her in the night more than once.

Steadying herself against a chair, Joanne pushed herself from the floor and waited for the dizziness to pass. Was she losing her mind? She’d gone through counseling, and the horrifying nightmares had passed. She’d become stronger, but now she’d begun to wonder since the night her daughter’s cry had come to her in a dream.

The telephone’s ring pierced the silence, and Joanne’s heart rose to her throat. She darted across the room and grasped the receiver, and when she said hello, her voice sounded breathless and strained to her.

"Joanne?"

Her pulse skipped, hearing her name. Like echoes across a canyon, the familiar voice reverberated through the line. "Benjamin?"

"It’s me. What in the world is wrong?"

She crumpled into a chair, clutched her chest to calm the thudding that felt as if it would break her ribs. "It’s a long story. I can’t talk about it now." Tears filled her eyes-—tears of relief and anxiety.

"It’s okay," he said, his voice as reassuring as a morning cup of coffee.

"Where are you?" she asked, trying to get her thoughts together.

"Here in Detroit. I’m back."

"Will you be here for the holidays?" Christmas. The vision rose in Joanne’s mind, and she felt overcome by the feeling of loneliness.

"I sure will. I’m here for good, I hope."

The news settled over her, and she relaxed her shoulders. "That’s wonderful news. Will I see you soon?" His warm chuckle met her ear.

"That’s why I’m calling. How about dinner? Tonight."

Her stomach churned at the thought of food. Stress always affected her that way, but to see her old friend, she would force herself to eat. "Tonight’s good. I need company."

"It sounds like it," he said. Tenderness radiated in his voice. "I’ll pick you up in an hour."

When she hung up, Joanne sat without moving, amazed at the joy that filled her. Benjamin Drake. She hadn’t seen him since the funeral. Gooseflesh rolled down her arms at the memory. She, Greg, and Mandy. Such joy. She’d expected it to last a life time. A perfect husband, a perfect child-—both taken one cold November night. She’d begged God to tell her why, but she’d never heard His answer.

Joanne’s gaze shifted to the calendar stuck to the side of the refrigerator next to the curled, yellowed page of crayon scribbles. Tears pressed against her eyes again, and she tugged her focus from her three-year old daughter’s drawing to the November dates. They’d died nearly three-years to the day.

Drawing back her shoulders, Joanne hoisted herself from the chair, suddenly feeling tired, but thoughts of Benjamin returned, and so did a smile. She hurried into her bedroom and pulled off her business suit, then rummaged through her closet and slipped on a skirt and sweater. She replaced her pumps with casual slip-ons, and her knotted calves eased as she settled into the soft suede shoes.

Joanne moved to the vanity and eyed her once neat hair. She pulled out the clasps and brushed the long strands, ready to capture the wispy ends, but taking another look, she let it fall around her shoulders. Thinking of her old friend, she felt younger than she had in years.

As she turned toward the door, Joanne’s gaze fell on a small photo on her dresser of Mandy playing in a pile of autumn leaves. She’d taken the picture a month before she had died. Joanne picked up the photo and studied it. She could see Greg’s rake at the edge of the picture. Now she wished she’d stepped back to capture them both, but in those days, she and Greg only had eyes for Mandy. Joanne’s heart felt heavy again as she set the frame on the dresser top and left the room.

While she searched for her handbag, the doorbell rang, and Joanne hurried to answer. She opened the door and caught her breath. "Benjamin." A rush of admiration washed over her—-his dark wavy hair, chocolate brown eyes, his familiar easy smile. "You look wonderful."

His gaze drifted over her as he grinned. "You look beautiful as always." He grasped her shoulders and pressed his wind-cooled lips against her cheek. "Ready?"

"I am," she said, lifting a hand to capture his chin. "It’s so good to see you."

She opened the closet and pulled out her jacket. Benjamin held it while she pushed her arms into the sleeves, then shrugged it on. She tossed her purse over her shoulder and checked the doorlock, then pulled the door closed.

Benjamin clasped her elbow as she moved down the snowy steps to the ground. He opened the passenger door, for Joanne, then rounded the car to the driver side. "What are you in the mood for? Italian? Mexican? American?"

"I’m in the mood to visit," she said, patting his arm. "Whatever you’d like is fine."

"Let’s try Jimmy’s," he said, backing out of the driveway. "They have fish and Black Angus. Even Pasta if you prefer it."

As he drove through Grosse Pointe, they caught up on the past couples of years.

"Are you still at Solutions, Incorporated?"

"What else?" She smiled, realizing her job had become her life. "I just got a promotion. I’m heading the think tank. It’s exciting, and I have my own office with a window."

"Good for you, and a window. Now that’s really something." He paused a moment, and his smile faded. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The question surprised her. "You mean dating?"

He nodded.

"No. I’m not ready for that."

"It’s been three years. I thought maybe."

"No, I--" Dating hadn’t entered her mind. Ever.

The conversation quieted, and Joanne didn’t mention the disturbing sensations she’d been feeling, and Benjamin didn’t ask why she’d sounded stressed on the phone. She knew he would sometime before the evening ended, but she was very willing to wait.

They’d made their selections from the restaurant menu before Benjamin slid his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. "So what’s all this about?"

For a moment, she didn’t understand his question, but when she studied his face, she knew. "It’s difficult to explain."

"Give me a try," he said, releasing her hand to pick up his water glass.

Joanne lowered her head, trying to put into words what she’d been experiencing. She formed the words in her mind though they made little sense. "I hear Mandy’s voice calling to me."

A frown pulled at his mouth, and his eyes darkened. "I’m so sorry, Joanne. I’d hoped--"

"I know," she said. "I have been doing well until the past couple of weeks." Her pulse skipped. "Greg and Mandy have been gone for three years. . .almost to the day."

He slid his hand over hers again with a comforting touch. "I know. It’s tomorrow. It hit me this morning."

A feeling of desperation washed over her. "Sometimes I’m drowned by the loss, Benjamin. I awake disbelieving, praying it was only a bad dream, but the bed is empty beside me, no dent in the pillow. Mandy’s room is silent, and I know it’s true."