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S arah shifted on the leather lounge, taking a moment to savor the apartment’s quiet, and the warmth this pool of sunlight bathed her in.

Some of the agitation from past days eased.

She glanced at the clock, counting down the minutes until she could expect to see Dan again.

Not that she had any certainty that he’d be rushing home to see her.

Her heart ached, as she wished she knew what to do.

She hated this distance that seemed to be growing between them.

What time they spent seemed to consist of silence, shortness, and unspoken words.

She hadn’t talked to him about what the doctor had said.

She hadn’t mentioned she’d emailed Tisha and the other Heartsong head honchos about the possibility of joining the upcoming tour.

She hadn’t admitted how much she wanted to return to see her family in Australia.

Those conversations felt too big, and hard, and raw, with potential for explosions she didn’t have the capacity to face.

Once upon a time she’d reveled in the fact that she and Dan could tell each other anything.

Now, the unspoken weighed between them, and her heart seemed to be collecting new aches by the day, a speckled place of damaged hopes and dreams.

How could she have ever thought she was getting better? It didn’t take much for something to trigger her back to grief. A teddy bear. A mother pushing a baby pram. A TV advertisement that showed a happy family.

Her heart clenched. “God, I know You’re faithful.” Even when her own faith felt feeble. “Lord, have Your way.”

The tension eased a fraction, as it did each time she tried to combat her pain by speaking out God’s truths, the words about God’s love cocooning her, wrapping her in reassurance like strips of linen around a mummy.

A mummy. The words lingered in her mind, flicking her thoughts from Egyptian tombs to those words recalled from her childhood. Oh, how she longed to be a mum, to hear the word “Mummy” spoken to her.

“Lord, help me trust You. Help Dan trust You.”

Her gaze fell to the huge black and white photograph that Sam’s photographer girlfriend—or former girlfriend, she no longer knew—had taken at their wedding.

Back at their reception at the resort at Muskoka Shores, when Dan had kissed her hand and looked at her with eyes filled with intense love.

Sorrow clanged. He hadn’t looked at her like that in weeks.

“Lord, bless him. Bless us. Help us find our way.”

Her prayer sparked more for his family, her family, for healing and reconciliation, at least on Dan’s side.

Her own mum had called, and she’d finally managed some more conversations with her and Bek.

But tiredness still swamped her. She’d used weariness as her excuse to miss Dan’s last two games of the season.

He was clearing out his locker today, having been excused from end-of-season media availability, then they were heading back to Muskoka.

And while she was relieved to go—hopefully, Jackie and her baby would stay here—part of her wished she could return to Sydney. To be with her family at her real home.

She blinked. Really? She still thought that way?

Dan was her family now. And home was where he was.

It’d been a while since she’d returned to Australia, but she shouldn’t be missing it like this.

It felt disloyal, a betrayal of their marriage vows to wish to be with her parents.

But he’d been so distant lately, like he blamed her for the miscarriage.

He might say he didn’t, but she couldn’t help but feel like he thought he’d made the wrong choice, in choosing someone who’d said she likely couldn’t have children.

That was the reason why after dating for six months she’d broken up with him briefly and returned to Sydney on New Years’ Day.

She’d been sure he could find someone who could give him what he truly wanted in life—a second chance at fatherhood.

Until she’d finally believed he meant what he’d said in his emails and messages, and they’d reconciled—long distance—before he’d made his feelings obvious in April of that year.

And here they were, another April in, and she was feeling a sense of loss again. Except this time Dan was hardly speaking to her.

He was a quiet man. She knew that. Hers was a personality and temperament more inclined to big feelings and talking things through.

But he had withdrawn, become even more introverted.

And now with all these things she needed to say but somehow couldn’t, she didn’t know what to do.

Some moments it felt like sadness had worn down their marriage until it was hanging by a thread.

The front door opened. She pasted a smile on her face and stood. “You’re back!”

His lips tweaked up, and he accepted her hug and kiss perfunctorily.

“How was your day?”

He shrugged, the movement dropping her hands from around his neck. Okay.

“That good, huh?” she teased.

“I’m glad it’s over.”

“That bad, eh?”

He shot her a glance. “Matt was still hassling me about my absence.”

“He doesn’t know, does he?”

“ I didn’t tell him.”

Oh. “But someone else has?”

He sighed. “Brendan. I told him the other day.”

He had? A spike of resentment flared. “I thought you didn’t want anyone to know.”

“He kept at me, so I had no choice. He was asking if you had cancer.”

In that case… “Well, I’m glad you could set him straight.”

“Yeah, except he’s now blabbed things.”

“He’s your friend.”

“Not if he’s telling people like Matt.”

“Oh, I’m sure he was just trying to shut him up.”

He grunted.

“He cares about you, Dan.”

He exhaled heavily. “Brendan did say he’d pray for us.”

“He did? I thought you said he wasn’t a believer.”

“He’s not.”

“Oh. Well, still, isn’t that good? If nothing else, then it’s good that this has caused him to talk to God, don’t you think?”

He leveled a gaze at her.

“You don’t think that?”

“Are you packed?”

His ignoring her earlier question meant it took a moment to catch up. “For Muskoka?”

He nodded.

“Yes. I packed your stuff too.”

“So we can go now?”

“Yes. Well, almost. I was just going to get the perishables from the fridge.”

“I’ll dump this then we’ll go, okay?”

“Um, sure.”

They had to stop by the clinic on the way, Dan needing to give a blood sample to test for those irregularities that Dr. McKinnon was concerned about.

A short time later they were heading north on the 400.

This trip usually took two hours, but the minutes seemed to stretch, no doubt thanks to the tension she could feel emanating off Dan.

She wasn’t used to this. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him look so tense.

One of the things that made him so good as a defenseman was his ability to stay relaxed, cool, and calm under pressure.

And while this was a different pressure to what he experienced on the ice, he was not carrying it well.

She hoped Muskoka would help him find some peace again.

She peeked across at him.

“What?”

She flinched.

He appeared to notice, as his shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“It’s okay.” Not really. But she had to keep the peace.

“Then why do you keep looking at me?”

“Because you’re my sexy husband?”

He huffed.

“It’s true.”

“You sound like you want something.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“Happy?” He glanced at her. “It’s a little too soon for happiness, Princess.”

She pressed her lips together. She didn’t mean happiness exactly. Oh, she might write songs sung by people around the world, but sometimes she was so bad at saying what she really meant.

He sighed again. “Sorry I’m so grouchy.”

“It’s okay.” Her voice was small.

He reached across, tangled her fingers in his. “I just feel like I’m getting everything wrong all the time. I hate feeling like I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not.”

He shook his head. “I wish I hadn’t told Brendan about what happened.”

“Why?”

“He asked us if we wanted to join him and Candice on a cruise this summer.”

“That was nice.” And unexpected. And could be fun.

“I said no.”

Oh. But how did that relate to him knowing about the miscarriage? “You think he asked because…?”

“Because he felt sorry for us, yeah.”

She winced. “I think he might’ve asked because he thought it might help, and be a distraction.”

“I don’t want to be on a cruise surrounded by people, especially lots of kids and babies everywhere. I get that you’re stronger than me—”

What?

“—but being around babies and kids is not good for my mental health right now.”

Wow. A real conversation at last. She concentrated on the latter comment, which was a heck of a lot easier to address than the first. “I don’t want to be around babies either,” she confessed. “I find I get so envious all the time.”

His grip tightened. “See? And that’s why I don’t want people to know. Because they keep making suggestions on what we can do. They don’t know what we’re going through.”

True. “But they won’t know unless we tell them, and if we’re honest about how it feels.”

He scoffed. “Don’t tell me. You want to tell the world.”

“No.”

“You do. I bet you want to tell your podcast listeners.”

What? She studied him, but he kept his face averted.

He didn’t mean it to sound like that, surely.

Guilt grew. She’d always tried to be encouraging on her podcasts, sharing snippets about real life and revelations she’d had about God.

People liked to know she didn’t find life always easy.

But this past week or so had knocked the stuffing out of her, which meant comments about this week’s episode had gone unanswered, when usually she would’ve replied by now.

The fact she hadn’t was probably already worrying them.

“I would like to tell them sometime,” she murmured.

“Are you serious? I can’t believe you would want to tell people. This is our private business, Sarah. Not anyone else’s. Why does anyone else need to know?”