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“Mrs. Donovan?”
    Circling around, she faced him. “Yes?”
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Of course.”
    “There’s somethin’ different about your relationship with the boy. I can tell you’re as mad as a hornet at him. But there’s no animosity there. It’s as if you understand him.”
    She smiled serenely. “I do understand him. I know exactly where he’s coming from.”
    “How?”
    “Because, Mr. Quaid, by the time I was Ronny’s age, I’d done a lot worse things than steal some boots or slash up a car.”
    o0o
    AS if performing a sacred rite, Beth poured the whole milk into the pan, turned on the gas and watched it flicker. When she was young, she and her best friends Annie and Margo used to make hot chocolate to soothe themselves if things got really bad. All three of them still kept up the ritual.
    Willing her hands not to shake, she told herself that this, too, would be all right, that God would watch over them once again. He’d certainly carried them through scrapes before.
    This is more than a scrape.
    She swallowed hard. Her baby boy was in trouble. That little dark-haired infant with the brown eyes and dimples in his cheeks was in for it this time. Beth knew just how long it took to make the law throw up their hands.
    “Hi.”
    She glanced up. He filled the doorway, looking so much like his father in jeans, socked feet and one of his blasphemous T-shirts; Danny had loved sacrilegious T-shirts, too. Usually she found them entertaining. Not tonight. She cringed at its message. I feel much better now that I’ve lost all hope.
    “Hi, buddy.”
    His grin was the little-boy expression he’d donned when he had frogs in his pockets or a stray cat stashed away in his room. “That for me?”
    “Of course.”
    When the milk began to boil, she stood on tiptoes to get the chocolate—the expensive Swiss kind Ronny loved. She couldn’t reach the shelf. He must have put it there himself.
    “I’ll get it.”
    She poured the milk in mugs and took them to the table. He joined her and dropped into a seat adjacent to hers. When she added the chocolate, its rich smell soothed her. The crowning touch was tiny marshmallows. She remembered when Ronny couldn’t say the word clearly.
    And, as always, when it was ready, they clanked cups. “I love you, buddy,” she said hoarsely.
    Tears formed in his eyes. “I love you too, Mom.”
    “We’ll get through this, Ron.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “I know you are.”
    “I’ll do better this time, if I have the chance.”
    “God will give you the chance, honey. I know it.”
    “Then I’ll do better.”
    “I believe you.” Behind him, a picture of his father grinned out at her from a silver frame. She swallowed back the emotion. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.” When I can do it without crying . It was important not to cry.
    “All right.”
    He seemed relieved as he finished his drink, kissed her on the cheek and headed upstairs.
    Beth sat alone in the kitchen, thinking about her son. At least he had a mother to stand by him when he did stupid things. And she’d be there forever, no matter what, because she loved him and because she’d gone through this kind of thing alone.
    That would never happen to her child.
    She picked up Danny’s picture and stared at it. God, she just wished she had someone to share this with.
     

 
    Chapter 2
    IT was almost one A.M. by the time Linc returned to his apartment. As he traipsed up the rickety steps to three small rooms over the church’s garage, weariness accompanied him like an old familiar friend. He’d been up since six in the morning, grappling with his sermon for Sunday, visiting Mrs. Temple in the hospital, and taking care of the hundreds of other details that were his sole responsibility in the congregation.
    They were blessings, he reminded himself, not burdens. And he had a gift for being a minister here in Glen Oaks. His ability to handle the odd church, with its interesting and sometimes