Never Say Goodbye. Irene Hannon

work. And the pay’s not great.”

      “I’m not afraid of hard work. Or dirt. And I don’t need much money.”

      Seth considered that answer for a moment. “You have any family?”

      A spasm of pain ricocheted through Scott’s eyes. “I have a sister and brother-in-law in Chicago. And three nephews.”

      Seth glanced pointedly at the wedding ring on Scott’s left hand. “That it?”

      Scott drew an unsteady breath. “I also have a wife. In name, at least. She doesn’t believe in divorce. But she never wants to see me again.”

      “Too bad. It helps to have family and friends around when you get out. But a lot of people can’t handle the stigma of being associated with an ex-con.”

      “Jess isn’t like that.”

      Seth’s eyebrows rose. “But she never wants to see you again.”

      Scott swallowed past the lump in his throat. “For good reason. I made some bad mistakes.”

      “You also paid for them.”

      “In the eyes of society, maybe. I’m not sure about in the eyes of God.”

      Seth considered that for a moment. “How long were you in?”

      “Three years.”

      “What did you do before?”

      “I was in marketing.”

      When he named the company, Seth’s eyebrows rose. “Were you in for one of those white-collar crimes?”

      Scott frowned. “Didn’t Reverend Young tell you?”

      Seth shrugged. “Didn’t ask. Doesn’t matter. I judge people by who they are now, not what they did years ago. I was just curious. Don’t get too many guys in here with your polish.”

      Scott took a sip of the scalding liquid, which suddenly tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’m surprised there’s any polish left,” he said quietly.

      Seth looked at him shrewdly. “It’s rough in there, all right. Takes a lot out of a man.”

      “Yeah.”

      “You have any money?”

      Scott frowned again. The conversation was all over the place and he was having a hard time keeping up. “No.”

      “You’re still married. Anything still in your name?”

      “No. I signed it all over to Jess when I was convicted.”

      “Think she might give you a loan to get you started?”

      “I don’t plan to ask.”

      Seth folded his arms across his chest. “Be pretty hard to live on the salary I’m offering.”

      “I’ll manage. I don’t need much. Just a chance.”

      Seth nodded shortly. “That I can give you.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew a wallet and laid several fifty-dollar bills on the table. “Consider this an advance on your salary. Get yourself a warm coat and some sturdy shoes. Be here tomorrow at seven.”

      Scott looked at the money. There was a time when he would drop twice that amount on a business dinner with several colleagues. In those days, money had meant prestige and power. Now it just meant survival. Funny how dramatically things had changed, he reflected. Slowly he reached for the bills and carefully folded them over. “Thank you,” he said. “For the loan. And for taking me on.”

      Seth shrugged and stood up. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s hard, dirty work. You might not last a week.”

      “I’ll last.” The statement was made quietly—but with absolute conviction.

      Seth looked at him speculatively, but made no comment. Instead he turned and led the way to the door. “Tomorrow morning. Seven sharp.”

      “I’ll be here.” Scott extended his hand, and Seth took it in a firm grip. The older man’s probing gaze seemed to go right to Scott’s heart.

      “I was in your shoes once,” he said evenly. “I know how hard it is to lose everything. And society doesn’t make it easy to start over. Some guys make it. Some don’t. The bitter ones never do. Neither do the ones who can’t admit their mistakes. I figure you’re gonna make it.”

      Scott felt a prickling behind his eyelids. For some reason this stranger’s words of encouragement touched him deeply. “I figure I am, too.”

      “Reverend Young tells me you’re a churchgoing man. That gives you a leg up right there.”

      “It also gives me hope.”

      “Hope is a good thing to have.”

      “It’s the only thing I have right now.”

      “Maybe that’s enough. For right now,” Seth said sagely. “One thing you learn in this business. Patience. Things happen in their own time.” He nodded toward a pot where new green leaves were just beginning to push their way through the dirt. “You take care of plants, give them light and warmth and water, and in time they’ll flower. You can help the process along, but you can’t make them bloom until they’re ready. Same with a lot of things in life. Especially people.”

      Scott thought of Jess, and the slow, daunting task of trying to win back her love. “Yeah,” he said heavily.

      “But remember one thing. Spring always comes.”

      Scott looked at Seth, taken aback by the man’s philosophical—and poetic—insight. No wonder Reverend Young had spoken so highly of him. “I like that thought.”

      Seth shrugged, the philosophical moment clearly over. “Good. Now go buy that coat. You’ll need it tomorrow,” he said briskly. A movement on the far side of the greenhouse suddenly caught his attention, and he turned. “Jason? Wait up!” he called. He looked back at Scott. “Gotta talk to him about the spring shipment of dogwood trees. See you tomorrow.”

      Scott watched the older man stride down the length of the greenhouse, impressed and encouraged by their encounter. This job was going to work out fine. He could sense it.

      He turned up his collar and moved toward the door, bracing himself for the blast of cold air waiting for him on the other side. Seth was right, he thought wryly. The first order of business was a warm coat.

      He was right about something else, too, Scott acknowledged as he stepped into the frigid February air and began the long, chilling trek to the bus stop.

      No matter how cold, how inhospitable, how merciless the winter is, spring always comes.

      It was a good thought, Scott reflected. An uplifting thought. And he resolved to hold on to it—no matter what lay ahead in the weeks to come.

      Chapter Two

      “Scott? Is everything all right?”

      Scott smiled as his sister’s voice came over the line. “Everything’s fine. It just took me a couple of days to get settled.”

      “I can’t believe Joe got appendicitis the day before you got out! We wanted to pick you up and help you get settled,” she fretted. “Do you have a place to stay? Are you eating?”

      His smile deepened. Karen had always been a mother hen, even more so since their own mother had died five years before. And her mothering instincts had intensified since he’d been in prison—for which he was deeply grateful. Other than Reverend Young, she’d been his lifeline, his only contact with the outside world for three long years. He would never forget her steadfast support and her willingness to stand by him despite the tragic mistakes he’d made—nor her long monthly trek to visit him. “Yes to both. How’s Joe?”

      “He’ll live. It’s