A Different Light by Mariah Stewart

day?”
    “I spend a few hours in the library.” He motioned with his head toward the redbrick building at the other side of the field. “Doing a little research for a book I’ve been working on over the past few months, checking into some local connections with the Underground Railroad.”
    “Ah, Ms. Evelyn.”
    “She’s a prime source,” he agreed. “Did you know that when she was a teenager she wrote down the stories she heard from the old folks up on the hill? She interviewed her grandmother—she lived to be over a hundred— her mother had made her way north with her two sisters. It’s all there, in the old woman’s own words. Ms. Evelyn wrote down every word just as she’d heard it. A few years back she typed it all up and gave a copy to the library. It’s wonderful material.”
    “You came here just to do research for a book?”
    “Not exactly. I sort of stumbled onto that when I got out here.”
    “From …?”
    “St. Louis. That’s where my family is from, originally. I grew up there, only left to go to college, but I went back after graduation. Worked there. Married there.”
    “Where’s your wife?” she couldn’t help but ask.
    “Well, I guess right now she’s in Central Europe someplace.”
    “Don’t you know where she is?”
    “Cynthia works for American Perspective …”
    “The magazine?” Athen was unavoidably impressed. American Perspective was big-time.
    He nodded. “She’s a photographer. A very good one, I might add. Maybe too good. A year ago they offered herthe European desk and she took it.”
    “And you and Timmy couldn’t go?”
    “Go where? She lives out of hotels. She goes where the news is. Follows the big events.” There was more than a trace of bitterness in his explanation. “That’s no life for a child. Even if she had time for him, which she admits she doesn’t.”
    “Doesn’t she miss Timmy?”
    “If she does, she’s doing a fine job of hiding it. She’s only been back once, to sign the divorce papers. You can probably imagine how that makes my son feel.” He crushed the empty soda can easily with his left hand.
    “I’m sorry.” She could think of nothing more appropriate to say.
    “So was I.” He tossed the can at the trash bin and missed.
    The conversation had taken a bleak turn. Witnessing his pain had disturbed her. She leaned back and peered through the trees. She was grateful to find the blue car nowhere to be seen.
    “I guess I should get going and see my father before it gets too late.”
    “I’ll walk you to the bridge.”
    He cleaned up the trash and her empty soda can and tossed them into the garbage.
    “Why’d you come to Woodside Heights?” she asked.
    “My mother remarried last year and moved here. Her husband lives in town. Tim and I stayed in St. Louis for a while after Cynthia left, but, well, I guess there were too many memories there. I thought it would be a good time for Timmy to get to know my mother and my stepfather a little better.”
    “What about work?”
    “Well, as of next week I’ll be working for my stepfather.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Don’t know exactly yet. There are several options open,” he said vaguely. “What about you? Do you work?”
    “I work for the city.”
    “And in your spare time you’re a seasoned gardener,” he concluded.
    “Oh … well. About that …” She wondered how to admit she didn’t know a hollyhock from a ham hock without making herself look silly.
    He laughed, and the light mood returned as quickly as it had earlier fled.
    “It’s okay, Athen,” he whispered. “Your secret is safe with me.”
    “You knew it all along.” She laughed. “How did you know? I thought I’d done a pretty good job covering up my ignorance.”
    “Well, let’s start with the fact that you were using a six-inch trowel designed for transplanting little seedlings to dig up a plant three feet wide.” His eyes were merry again, making her smile when they met hers. “And these”—he