“That sounds amazing,” he responds, taking out his résumé again.
“It might take some time to get funding. I’ll have to pass it by the board and the rest of the executives. And we’ll need to come up with a strong proposal.”
“I have time, and I have mad PowerPoint skills,” Patrick says, his face lighting up. I laugh.
“I’m not even going to ask how you honed those skills in your last job,” I say as I text Oscar and Ciara to come back into the room. They’ll be the first ones we’ll need to pitch the idea to.
“Let’s just say my liturgy was audio and visual,” he clarifies.
I’ve missed this. Him. All of it.
“Sounds like all we need to do now is shake on it,” I say, standing up and offering my right hand, the one with Nonna’s ring. It looks small and white in the space between us. He gets up from his seat and we shake, my fingertips dragging across his palm. And though it’s been two years since I first felt it, his touch has not lost its charge. The sensation is so intense, I instinctively draw away, and so does Patrick.
The boardroom door swings open, and Ciara and Oscar take their assigned seats. Patrick clenches and unclenches his fist like he’s checking for damage.
Unless my board sees something I don’t, I’m positive there’s a place here for Patrick Kelly. And I think it’s clear neither of us is ready to dive into this connection without looking. I know one thing for certain—Patrick Kelly, this man with the electric touch, is back in my life, this time without the barrier of religious office and clerical collar. And I am without the specter of fame and the expectations that accompany it. It’s possible we’ll get used to the electricity between us or that it’ll go away entirely, but there’s also the chance that we’ll discover a new power source that’ll change lives, including our own.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to the people of Edinburgh and the Edinburgh-Indiana Memories Facebook group. Your pride in your town and its rich history is beautiful, and I loved every minute of my visit. I hope you enjoy a fictionalized story based on the true history of your community and Camp Atterbury.
Thank you to Camp Atterbury and the Camp Atterbury Museum for preserving and sharing the dynamic history of this facility. As I researched the camp’s background as a military training facility, WWII POW camp, and the very real Chapel in the Meadow—I also learned of Atterbury’s ongoing legacy of military and humanitarian service. I was impressed and inspired. Thank you to all who have walked those grounds and given their service. I write stories based on fact and colored with fiction, but the truth is many lives have been dedicated to or lost in the service of their country, and I bow my head in gratitude to each and every sacrifice.
To Dave Hunter of GreenRoom Video—thank you for letting me tag along and learn the art and science of documentary filmmaking. You were generous with your time and expertise. I appreciate your support and enthusiasm and feel lucky to have such a willing resource and friend. PS—Sorry I dramatically choked on my water in the background of a take and ruined it. Just know that I think about that exact moment at least once a week with great embarrassment and shame so . . . that’s fun.
Thank you to my beta readers—in particular Agnes Orth and Beverly Barbaro. Thank you for your insightful thoughts and well-researched notes. You have great eyes and brilliant minds, and this story is better because of you.
Thank you to my adopted family at Improv Playhouse. My life is richer and definitely far more hilarious with all of you in it. You keep me sane by letting me be slightly insane onstage with all of you.
Thank you to my developmental editor, Jodi Warshaw. You opened my mind and helped me continue to learn to trust my creative process. Thank you for your guidance and trust. You were a joy to work with. I love how your brain works. I hope I get to see it in action up close again soon.
Thank you to the team at Lake Union Publishing, including Kyra Wojdyla and the production team. You make this process a joy, and I appreciate all your hard work and effort.
Thank you as well to the Lake Union author community—you are such a wonderful and supportive group of pseudosiblings. I cheer for you each individually, even if you don’t hear it from behind your computer screen, and I appreciate every minute you invest in me as well.
And my editor, Melissa Valentine, I truly believe we were meant to work together. Thank you for taking on this story and believing in it wholeheartedly. I’ve enjoyed our journey together, and I know we have more greatness ahead of us.
Marlene Stringer, my amazing agent and guide—thank you for literally everything. You’ve been by my side since the beginning. I know for a fact that I am where I am today because of your belief in me. Thank you, Marlene. Thank you, always.
To my family—I adore you. You continue to come through for me and my little crew, and I love you for it. Thank you for accepting us for who we are. We love you.
To my sister Elizabeth—I’d never be able to do this without you. Thank you for being so many things in my life—my best friend, my confidant, my maid of honor and officiant, my beta reader, and my cheerleader. I love you more than I can explain and love watching you continue to succeed in life, love, and motherhood. Let’s keep taking those less traveled roads, okay? Deal.
To my Bleeker kids—my brave, strong, beautiful humans—I’m humbled every day to be your mother. Motherhood is my greatest joy and teaches me more than any other class, book, or life experience. I promise to keep learning and cheering and supporting for the rest of my livelong days. Thank you for your endless patience and love. You are the reason I do this.
And to my two newest kids, Anthony and Michael Barbaro—thank you for accepting me and showing me so much love and warmth. You are bright, funny, and intelligent men. I’m grateful your parents have shared you with me. I look forward to including you both in all this book stuff . . . endlessly . . . for the rest of your lives. Be warned—it’s gonna get annoying. Sorry.
My very own Italian lover （and loving husband）， Sam. They say write what you know, but I wrote about love for a long time without ever having fully experienced it. For some time in my life, I wondered if I’d ever know what it was like to be loved without reservation and to give that love in return. Now, I get to have both experiences because of you. Thank you, my love, for being my person. Thank you for loving me and the unique family we’ve created together. Marrying another creative person and finding ways to support our individual pursuits brings such richness to my life and creative experience. Thank you for listening to me read out phrases over and over again, assisting and correcting me on my Italian translations, and making me the best egg sandwiches a girl could ask for. We make a great team, and I look forward to celebrating all our successes and comforting each other through all our inevitable sorrows as we go through life together.
And to my readers new and old alike—thank you for giving me a shot. Thank you for getting lost in the worlds I hold inside my head. I love, love, love sharing them with you. I hope you keep coming back because without you, I’d just be a lady making up people on my computer. These stories are for you. Thank you for reading them.