A Season of Angels by Debbie Macomber Page A

recognized the opening bars from Phantom of the Opera and knew exactly where they’d come from.
    â€œD inner was lovely,” Jody said, slipping out of the rich velvet booth in the luxurious downtown restaurant. Glen had been a wonderful dinner companion. Although Jody had been nervous when he’d come to pick her up at the house, he’d quickly put her at ease.
    â€œIt’s still early,” Glen was saying as he helped her with her full-length wool coat. “I can take you back to the house, if you want, but I was hoping you’d consider taking a ferry ride with me.”
    It had been a year or more since Jody had last been on any of the Washington State ferries. After she’d received the word of Jeff’s death, she’d come down to the waterfront often. She found a peace, a solace here that escaped her otherwise. On more than one occasion she’d whiled away an hour or more riding the ferry, standing on the deck facing the wind, letting it batter her. She’d close her eyes and pretend Jeff was with her. She’d breathe in the scent of sea and salt while the birds screeched overhead. Each time she came away rejuvenated.
    â€œWhere do you want to go?” she asked, reluctant for reasons she didn’t care to explain. The ferry ride had been her own private haven, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to share this.
    â€œAnywhere you like. The Bainbridge run is a half hour each way. We could get a caffé latte and look at the city lights. The Bremerton run is an hour each way.”
    â€œAll right,” Jody surprised herself by saying. It was easy to be with Glen. He was friendly and undemanding, allowing her to set the course of their evening, deciding even if there was to be a relationship. Jody found the lack of pressure necessary and reassuring.
    He kept his hand at her elbow as they walked along the waterfront. The scent of Puget Sound mingled with that of fried fish from the takeout booths in the crisp night air. The cold nipped at Jody’s cheeks and she buried her hands deep within the silk lining of her coat pockets.
    â€œHere,” Glen said, wrapping the muffler her mother had knit for her around her face, covering her mouth and ears. “I can’t have you catching a chill.”
    How thoughtful he was, she noted. This was exactly the type of thing Jeff would have done. Jody forced all thoughts of her dead husband from her mind. It was time to let go, time to put the past behind her and look forward, not back.
    Remember Lot’s wife.
    Jody didn’t know where the thought came from, it was as if someone had whispered it into her ear. Lot’s wife? Why she would even think of the Biblical character was beyond her. All Jody could remember was that Lot’s wife had turned into a pillar of salt when she fled Sodom and Gomorrah. Against the angel’s command, she’d stopped and looked back.
    That was it, Jody realized with a sudden burst of insight. Instead of setting her course for the future, Lot’s wife had looked back over the life that she’d once had. In many ways Jody had been doing the same thing, and in the process she’d become frozen, unable to move forward to whatever awaited her.
    They arrived at the ferry terminal minutes before the ferry pulled away from the huge dock, headed toward Bainbridge Island. Holding hands and laughing, Jody and Glen raced through the terminal and onto the ferry, their steps echoing like ricocheting bullets in the stillness of the night.
    While Jody found them a table in the small cafeteria section, Glen ordered their caffé lattes. She was lucky enough to find a booth by the window. Surprisingly, there didn’t seem to be many passengers. The majority of the commuters remained in their cars for the short crossing.
    â€œHere we go,” Glen said, slipping into the seat across from her and handing her the thick paper cup.
    Jody trained her gaze out of the window,