When Light Breaks by Patti Callahan Henry

industry like a breath of fresh air.
    “Trouble, yeah, right,” I mumbled underneath my breath. “Helping orphanages and writing songs is very, very big trouble, Daddy.” I leaned back in my seat and released a long breath. A quick flash of something that resembled nostalgia, of being thirteen and full of hope, washed over me, attempted to open a place behind my heart.
    I shut my eyes and ignored the memory of Jack’s good-bye in the predawn light of that summer morning so long ago. There was a time when I’d known every detail of the scene—reliving it over and over until vividness faded, emotion drained. I’d called upon the memory until it was all used up, until it was poured out, emptied.
    There were two events in my life that produced an emotion so specific, so whole that I could not duplicate it with anyone or anything else. One was the loss of my mama. The other was Jack’s first touch. Seeing Jack’s face, I felt it—a sudden yearning for something unnamed that no one else brought to me.
    I closed my eyes. “Jack,” I whispered.
    “Kara?” Peyton’s voice startled me.
    I jumped to my feet, tripped on the edge of the Oriental carpet, and kept from falling by grabbing on to the corner of the desk. “Hi, honey . . . hey. What’re doing?” I hugged him.
    “Umm . . . picking you up. I rang the doorbell four times. You asleep in here?”
    “I must’ve been . . . it’s been a very long day. Sorry.” I screwed my face up into a pout, then kissed him on the lips.
    Peyton kissed me back. “You know, if you make that face and say sorry, I can never stay mad. I have a feeling you’ll be using that on me for all time.”
    The way he said “for all time” sounded so sweet and full of forever—the opposite of loss and leaving and abandonment—that I smiled.
    Then he glanced down at the screen. “What’re looking at?”
    My fingers fumbled to exit the Internet. “Nothing. . . .”
    He squinted at the screen. “The Unknown Souls. I heard them a couple years ago in Atlanta. They were awesome.”
    “Really?” I tilted my head.
    “Yeah, but I doubt you can get them now . . . they’ve gotten too big for that kind of stuff.”
    “What do you mean?” I looked into Peyton’s eyes.
    “Well, aren’t you looking for a band for the tournament benefit?”
    “Yes,” I said, my voice sounding more like a question than a statement.
    “Don’t get mad . . . you know I don’t intrude on your job. Rick just told me what a mess it all was at the meeting today.”
    “I’m so thrilled that you have spies who can tell you how I’m doing at my job.”
    “Now don’t get all huffy. If it weren’t for your job, I would never have met you. Then where would I be?”
    “Not going to this shower.” I slouched against the desk, supported myself with my palms.
    Peyton threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t you dare let my mother hear you say that. She thinks this is an absolute stroke of genius on her part. With her child an only son, she never thought she’d get to do any of this wedding stuff. A bar shower in the room she had designed to look just like an English pub—brilliant, huh?”
    “Absolutely brilliant.” I grabbed Peyton’s hand. “Oh, by the way—how was the birthday party last night?” I poked him in the ribs.
    “Boring and stupid. Truly. Those guys act like they’re still eighteen and just got their first fake ID.” He nuzzled my neck and kissed me. “I would have much rather been with you.”
    “Me too.”
    “I’m sure we have plenty of family dinners ahead of us.” The words sounded synonymous with “forever,” and they soothed me.
    “Come on, let’s get this over with.” I pulled him to the front door.
    “You’re ready?”
    “Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked.
    “Because you don’t have shoes on and your sweater is inside out . . . babe.”
    I groaned. “Give me a minute.” I turned and ran up the front stairs to my bedroom.
    I stood in front of the full-length