Love Remains by Kaye Dacus Page A

auditorium through a side door unmanned by a church staffer or volunteer shaking hands.
    “Zarah—wait! Where are you going?”
    If it had been anyone but Flannery, Zarah would have pretended she hadn’t heard and gotten in her car. She set her Bible atop it, forced a smile, and turned. “Hey, Flan.”
    “What is going on with you today? I mean, I know it’s a shock to see him again after all that time, but since you already knew he was here—or was it because of the whole chair thing in Sunday school? I would have saved you a seat, but I know you prefer sitting at the desk instead of in the group—especially since you’ve been sick and have to get up and leave the room if you start coughing.”
    Zarah touched Flannery’s arm, and Flannery stopped talking. “I have never been so humiliated in my life. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone. I know everyone was laughing at me afterward.”
    Flannery’s pencil-darkened brows knitted together. “What are you talking about? Everyone felt guilty for not being the one to do it themselves. Zarah, Bobby saw what none of the rest of us did—that you made yourself into an outsider, and that we’ve all accepted it and let you stay outside the circle instead of being part of the group. A lotof that is my fault. I know you don’t like to be pushed, and I didn’t want to be the one to push you to change the status quo.”
    Zarah crossed her arms and leaned against her car. “I happen to like the status quo. I’m happy with it. I don’t want people making a fuss over me.”
    Flannery rolled her eyes. “Including you in the group in Sunday school isn’t making a fuss over you. Bobby did exactly what you would have done if it had been anyone else who didn’t have a place to sit in the circle.”
    Because she wanted to stay angry at Bobby, Zarah tried to ignore the logic and truth of Flannery’s statement. “I was happy where I was.”
    “Come to lunch with us. We’re walking over to Boscos.”
    Zarah’s mouth watered at the thought of her favorite Sunday brunch dish there—a prosciutto and artichoke omelet. “I can’t. I’m going to Pops and Kiki’s for lunch.”
    “Then how about you and I get together for coffee this afternoon. Portland Brew at three?”
    “Make it four, and I’ll be there.” Zarah let Flannery hug her before they parted. Funny how, when she couldn’t stand being touched by anyone, a hug from one of her closest friends did actually make her feel slightly better.
    At home, Zarah quickly changed into a pair of lightweight cotton capris and a T-shirt printed with a design that looked like a watercolor of a Paris cityscape. Someday, she might actually visit the City of Lights, but for now Music City would have to do.
    Leaving her subdivision, she drove south several minutes, past the small James Robertson University campus, and turned left into her grandparents’ neighborhood. One of the things she loved about this area was the canopy of trees shading the streets and the big old houses—something her neighborhood, almost equally old, lacked.
    She pulled up in front of a large, dark red, foursquare house andparked on the street in the shade of an old silverleaf maple tree rather than in the sunny driveway. She let herself in through the carport door and was greeted in the mudroom by the decadent smells of perfectly roasted beef and baking bread.
    As soon as Zarah stepped into the kitchen, Kiki handed her a glass of iced tea. Zarah thanked her and then crossed the large kitchen to the table, where she bent over and kissed the top of Pops’s head.
    “So, you haven’t keeled over and died on us, huh?” Pops snapped the funnies section of the paper to straighten the drooping corners.
    “I’ve decided to linger.” Zarah sank into the chair beside him. It didn’t matter how long she’d lived in Nashville or how many times she sat in this kitchen, she could never forget that her mother grew up here—that her mother had eaten at this