Brayton’s jaw tightened harder. First time he’d seen Rachel from afar, a couple of lessons ago, he’d ached to meet her. After a decade mourning Marianne and eating guilt every day for breakfast, he was ready to move on. Finding out Rachel was single had been great inducement, and today’s switching places with her brother had to be proof of God’s providence. Gram Adelaide had raised him in faith. Raised him that you might lose sight. And indeed he had, the ship of his faith having sailed off with Marianne’s death. But as Gram said, you only stayed blind if you kept your heart shut. And he’d been swimming toward the heavenly high ground for some time now. The mixed metaphors didn’t faze him. “It was an accident,” he said. “Well, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.” Rachel ended the weird moment as she shrugged, and shook her head. Gold-streaked brownish hair bounced on her shoulders from underneath a wide western brim. “Scott…mentioned you were a widower. Bad things happen to good people.”
