Halfway between Cincinnati and Indianapolis, south of I-74, set God's country. Trish supposed many thousands of rural or dramatic landscapes had been referred to using those same words, but she hadn't known that when, at the age of seven, she'd sat perched on her Grandpa Henderson's knee and he'd told her she was looking out at God's country in all its splendor. All she'd seen was a wide cornfield, a line of trees, and the horizon, feeling?even then?the vague urge to somehow look beyond it all, to whatever was on the other side of the picture. And she never came home to Eden, Indiana without remembering the love of the place she'd seen in her grandfather's eyes on a day when she'd really been much more focused on the fact that she'd scuffed her new black patent leathers coming out of church. A girl had to be concerned about her shoes, after all.

She wondered now if Grandpa Henderson, God rest his soul, would see the irony or humor in the fact that she was driving toward a bar on the outskirts of God's country?the Last Chance Tavern. Last chance for a beer before entering God's country, she supposed. Or before leaving it.

"Here?turn here," Debbie said next to her.

Trish's stomach churned lightly as she angled her Lexus into the wide gravel parking lot dotted with cars and a few pickups. She really didn't want to be here. "And we're coming here, again, why?"

Debbie shoved a lock of thin brown hair from her face. "Kenny wants to see you, and it's pool night."

Trish nodded dryly, resisting the urge to point out that Kenny had the entire next week to see her. "Well, we wouldn't want Kenny to miss pool night."

Debbie blinked, looking miffed. "Kenny works hard and looks forward to Friday nights when Mom keeps the kids."

"Sorry." Trish sighed, feeling at once guilty and justified. She didn't want to be here because she simply didn't fit here anymore. She knew it to the marrow of her bones?but despite the fact that she regularly dealt with hardened criminals from all walks of life without flinching, she felt an absurd dread faced with strolling into the Last Chance. She scrunched up her nose. "I guess I just would have enjoyed ...dinner or something?more than this."

"You can come over and watch the boys hurl mashed potatoes at each other one night next week if you want. But Friday night is pool night."

Trish parked beneath a security light mounted on a large pole, choosing a spot a few car widths from a large pickup sporting mudflaps embellished with chrome silhouettes of naked women. She tried not to let Debbie see her grimace, but those mudflaps always gave her the creeps. It was as if they said women were just nameless, faceless sex objects. Bleck. Then she flinched slightly. Please don't let that be Kenny's truck.

As she got out, pushing the button on her keychain to lock the doors, Debbie made a face over the roof of the car. "This is home, Trish?not Indianapolis."

Trish raised her eyebrows. "No one steals things from cars here?"

Looking as smug as Trish felt, Debbie shook her head. "No?they don't."

Which was when it hit Trish?they probably didn't. Even now. Not in Eden. There might be bars and chrome women on mudflaps, but she supposed that, in a sense, it really was still God's country. "Oh. Guess I forgot that for a minute." But she still left the car locked.