For This Life Only by Stacey Kade Page B

aspects of their lives, but being here made them feel better and offered reassurance.
    My eyes burning, I turned away from the sanctuary, focusing my attention on something—anything—else.
    The architectural drawings that I’d seen in the church office yesterday were now propped on discreetly placed easels. I pretended to study the drawings on the easel near the outside doors, though from where I stood I could make out little more than big squares that obviously indicated new buildings, and a couple of words here and there. “Community Center.” “Bookstore.” “Parking Structure.” “Coffeehouse.”
    â€œHey.” A hand touched mine.
    I turned to find Leah at my side. She was dressed in a black cardigan and skirt, similar to what my mom was wearing. I wondered if that was intentional.
    She was also standing too close to me.
    â€œLeah. Hey.” I took an awkward step back to put space between us, my cast catching on a grout line in the tile and causing me to stumble even farther from her.
    She frowned. “Are you—”
    â€œYes, fine,” I said, more sharply than I should have.
    Her gaze skated over my face, searching for truth and not finding it.
    â€œHow are you?” I asked, redirecting the conversation before she could push. And knowing Leah, whether the old one or the new one who was trying to be my friend, she would push.
    Her eyes watered, and I regretted the question. “I’m all right. Some moments are better than others.” She smiled bravely. “I mean, you know.”
    I did, but it wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with her. She wouldn’t understand my doubts and fears. When Leah had come over the other day and asked me to talk about Eli sometimes, I’d thought she meant things like his annoying tendency to eat food “in order”—chips from the most seasoning to the least, Skittles by color, and in clockwise sequence on his plate—or how he analyzed movies to death in search of a theme.
    But Leah had obviously interpreted our conversation differently.
    â€œI wondered if it would be okay if I sat with you guys tonight?” she asked, biting her lip.
    Automatically, I looked over my shoulder at my mom. She and Sarah were about to go into the sanctuary.
    My mom turned then, looking back for me to join them. But when she noticed Leah next to me, she caught my eye and nodded, unspoken permission to continue my conversation. She bent down and whispered something to Sarah, and the two of them crossed into the sanctuary.
    â€œUh, sure,” I said to Leah. Under my shirt, my back grew sticky with sweat. At this point, I was still trying to convince myself that I could walk in and take a seat. With Leah there, sad-faced and wanting to share, I wasn’t sure I could be in the building.
    â€œI know, it’s not the same.” Leah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But I feel so close to him here. I know he’s watching over us.” She looked up at the ceiling with a smile. “Don’t you feel him here?”
    It was hard to feel anything at the moment except the constriction in my chest.
    â€œUh-huh,” I managed.
    â€œI think he’ll like seeing us all together,” Leah continued. “Knowing that we have each other to get us through.”
    I looked away from Leah, staring blindly at the building drawings again.
    This time, through the sidelight window behind the easel, I caught the faintest hint of a blue glow. The blue neon palm had not been lit when we’d come in from the parking lot, but, with Psychic Mary’s usual timing, it was now.
    Thera.
    The thought of her, angry and snarling at me at first, and then saying all the things that no one else would, made the tightness in my lungs ease slightly.
    I moved away from Leah and toward the exit before I had time to think about it.
    â€œJace?” she asked with a confused frown.
    â€œYeah,