Homecoming at Hickory Ridge. Dana Corbit

a lot of the materials at home because the contents looked a little sparse. Still, he pulled out a manila folder and tucked the container under his arm. He could do Internet searches from his own desk PC upstairs.

      Trying to balance the file with his free arm while opening the folder in his hands, he crossed back through the office and out the door.

      “Find some interesting reading?”

      Kyle glanced up toward the voice he recognized, somehow managing to avoid scattering the file over the floor. Julia grinned at him.

      “It’s not The Grapes of Wrath, but it’ll do.”

      Their gazes connected the way they had before, but this time Julia was the first to look away.

      She looked back at him, or, more specifically, at the labeled file under his arm. “Hey, we’re working on the same committee.”

      “For a few weeks, anyway. Who else will be working with us?”

      “Reverend Bob and Andrew oversee all the committees, but I’m doing most of the search work myself.”

      “No wonder they thought you needed some backup.”

      “It’s not that bad. Just doing Internet searches for past members in whatever city or state they were thought last to have lived. Members keep e-mailing, too, with updated info.”

      “Sounds like a lot of work to me, but whatever you say. I’ll let Reverend Bob know you’ve got it handled.”

      She appeared to consider that for a few seconds and then shook her head. “I don’t mind the help. The searches haven’t all been as easy as I expected, especially for families with names like Smith.”

      “OrWoods,” he observed, supplying the minister’s surname.

      “And I’ve discovered that a few of our former members have moved more than once.”

      “What happens if you can’t find them? Have you accepted that you might not locate some of them? That some might not even want to be found?”

      “Want to?” Her eyebrows drew together. “Why wouldn’t they want to? We don’t have big battles in this church.”

      Kyle shook his head. “You’re right. Forget I said anything.”

      Good thing she seemed satisfied with his answer because he wasn’t sure how he would explain what he’d said. Just because there were people in his life who would prefer to stay hidden didn’t mean everyone was like that.

      “How about we divide the list and work individually on the easy searches?” she said. “We’ll tackle the tougher ones together.”

      “Sounds good. But no lists were in the file.”

      She grinned sheepishly. “Right. I took the list home to work on in the evenings. I’ll get your half to you.”

      He was marveling again that Julia didn’t have more dates to fill her evenings when she snapped her fingers.

      “I know. I’m going to a picnic at Central Park with my sister, Charity, and her family. Why don’t you join us? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. I could give you the list then.”

      “I don’t know.” He wasn’t even sure why he hesitated when he had to admit he’d been looking forward to seeing her.

      Still, as tempting as spending an afternoon with Julia sounded, there was something about her invitation that appealed to him more. Julia had mentioned the word that had meant little to him in the past but had become so critical now: family. He wasn’t ready to face his judgmental brother again, and he hadn’t gotten up the guts up to visit his parents since his release, but he still liked the idea of sharing time with somebody’s family.

      “I guess that sounds all right,” he answered.

      “Oh, good. It’s going to be fun.”

      “Your sister’s family? Does that include her mother?”

      At first she looked surprised, but then she must have remembered that she’d shared the story because she shook her head. “I’m sure she was invited, but she tends to decline when I’m invited, too.”

      “Her loss.”

      She smiled at that, but sadness lingered in her eyes until she perked up again. “I hope you like cold fried chicken, German potato salad and apple pie. Charity’s an amazing cook.”

      “What about you?”

      “If you like boiled water, I’m your cook, but otherwise you might want to consider takeout. I usually survive on frozen dinners and canned soup.”

      “Nobody can be everything, I guess.” He said it as a joke, but he was serious. A Julia Sims who was also a twenty-first-century Julia Child in the kitchen might be too much for Milford, Michigan, to handle—in his part of town, anyway. He didn’t mention that or the fact that once upon a time he’d been more than competent with a sauté pan and spatula.

      Fidgeting, she tilted her head to the side. “So, we’ll meet you there tomorrow at about noon?”

      “Need me to bring anything?”

      “Just yourself.”

      “I’ll be there. I’m looking forward to it.”

      He smiled at her, and she smiled back for several seconds before looking away shyly.

      “I’d better get going. See you tomorrow.” With a wave, she started for the door.

      Kyle studied her as she left. Why had Julia come to the church in the first place? If she’d come for her committee work, she hadn’t brought anything, and she hadn’t taken anything with her. He didn’t mind the idea that she might have come just to invite him to the picnic. It was a kind, Christian gesture for her to include him. It also beat a Saturday afternoon of him sitting around his apartment wishing he had cable.

      Anyway, there was something to be said for fun, food and family on a sunny afternoon. Though he realized it was unwise, he couldn’t resist imagining himself slipping away with Julia for a romantic walk along the river. And maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for him to become involved with a woman right now. He was looking forward to tomorrow, all right. He couldn’t wait.

      “Would you stop fidgeting?”

      At her sister’s voice, Julia looked up from her hands that were indeed fidgeting. In fact, the wrestling match of her wringing hands had become downright painful.

      “What do you mean?” Julia asked, but couldn’t keep a straight face.

      Charity frowned at her, but her expression didn’t stick, either. She slipped onto the picnic table bench across from her younger sister. “Don’t worry. He’ll be here. Nobody skips my fried chicken.”

      “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

      Nodding, Charity glanced over Julia’s shoulder to the parking lot. “I wondered about your plan. It’ll probably be fine, though. He’ll appreciate the effort.”

      Charity’s uncomfortable expression suggested she wasn’t as confident as her words. Julia tried not to let her sister’s unease shake her confidence, not when she knew she was doing the right thing.

      Rick called out to his wife from the blanket just outside the park shelter. “Hey, Charity, take a look at this.”

      Both women looked up in time to see ten-month-old Grace take an unsteady step toward her daddy. The tiny golden ponytail on top of her head bounced with the effort of this new skill, but her eyes shone with excitement. The next three steps came in a rush before she landed on her diaper-padded behind. With a wail, the baby held out her arms for her mother.

      “When it’s playtime, she wants Daddy, but when something hurts, it’s all Mommy,” Charity said, already off the bench and gathering her child in her arms.

      “She