Morgan Joyce helped Hannah Hale put on her overcoat. He reached around behind her head and, a bit clumsily, tied back her messy long hair. "Don't cry. I know how much you're hurting, but the doctor said you're very weak right now. You can't handle any more stress."
Hannah Hale looked up at Morgan Joyce, her eyes red-rimmed as tears streamed down her face. "Let's go now. I want to see him a little longer."
'My chances to see that man are running out.'
Laura Lowell and Aiden Shaw, who had just stepped out to pay the bill, walked back in. "Where are you two headed?"
"I'm going to his... funeral."
As she said that last word, Hannah Hale's body ached as if it had been thrown into a meat grinder.
But Nathan Redgrave's death was a fact. She had to face it and try to accept it.
'Don't cry, my love, I'm right here beside you... Look at me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...'
