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bacon and eggs. Home-cooked. Whatever he’d been up to last night, she could find out later. She would be the kind of wife he wanted her to be.
    The sliding door of their bedroom closet upstairs thumped. Scott was getting dressed for work.
    The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. Scott would smell it upstairs too, and maybe it would put him in a better mood. She took his travel cup from the kitchen sink and filled it with hot water, warming it for him before he filled it with coffee. Then she set out a plate and napkin on the dining room table, just the way he liked.
    Was she only going through the motions of marriage? She shook off the feeling, then imagined herself working outside in the flower garden, never lifting her head, oblivious to the heavy, dark clouds overwhelming the horizon. If a storm was coming, she was doing her best to imagine it away.
    Ugh, how did she look? She ran a hand through her hair. What would Scott think when he saw her?
    She sneaked into the downstairs bathroom, glad Scott had not seen her this morning. Standing before the mirror, she brushed the tangles and snarls out. She turned, imagining what she must look like to Scott as the very first person he saw in the morning.
    Not a pretty sight. She wasn’t pretty. She dropped her hands to her sides and looked down toward where her toes should be. She couldn’t see them, not yet. She needed to lose thirty-five more pounds, but it was so hard to get them off.
    Twelve weeks in the Hugest Loser group and only an eight-pound weight loss. She turned to her side and ran her handsover the robe where it covered her stomach. She had looked like this since she was pregnant with Angela. Actually, she looked like this when she was pregnant with Angela. She had never lost the weight she had picked up during her pregnancy. Maybe she never would. Did Scott think she didn’t care how she looked, didn’t try?
    Scott came downstairs, his shoes klumping on the steps.
    Rachel splashed water on her face, tried to rub the sleepiness out of her eyes. She may not be able to look pretty for Scott, but she didn’t want to look like she had just fallen out of bed either. She straightened the robe as best she could, and went out to the kitchen to greet her husband.
    The familiar whirring of the garage door . . . she searched the kitchen counter. The travel cup was gone. Scott was gone. He had left for work without even telling her good-bye.
    She was surprised at the words that came in a rush. “That’s how you want it? Fine. Maybe I’ll find someone else to talk to.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    Jane
    T he painful memory of Scott’s departure was still on Rachel’s mind when she got home from taking four-year-old Scotty to preschool. She put Angela down for a nap, came quietly back downstairs, and stood by a window.
    She had to get it together. No matter how it felt, it wasn’t abandonment. He was just upset. They were still husband and wife.
    Marriage . From the time she was a little girl, getting married, having her own family, had been the dream of her life.
    Supporting it with one hand as if it were fragile, she picked up her wedding album and placed it carefully on the coffee table. This beautiful book, with its embroidered cover, encapsulated all the hopes and dreams of her life. Her family, husband, and friends were all there.
    Suzanne .
    She bit back the pain before she opened the book. The hoarse, faraway voice of Suzanne’s husband, Rick, echoed in her ears. “The cancer finally got her, Rachel. She wanted me to tell you she loved you and she’d always be your friend.”
    On that awful night two years ago, her best friend and maid of honor had finally lost her yearlong battle with epithelial ovarian cancer. Only 18 percent of those who reached stage four would survive. Suzanne had not been one of them.
    Rachel carefully lifted the cover and looked at the first page. There was the wedding