I parked three blocks away so Mark wouldn’t see my car in the lot. I walked up the stone steps. The air was crisp, smelling of wet asphalt and early autumn leaves. My heart was pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird, but I kept my chin up.

I slipped into the back of the church just as the organ started to play.

The sanctuary was half-full. Mostly older couples in nice wool coats and polished shoes. I looked toward the front. It didn’t take me long to find him.

He was sitting in the fifth pew from the altar, on the left side. He was sitting next to Diane. She was wearing a beige cashmere sweater and her hair was perfectly styled. She had a small gold cross necklace resting against her collarbone.

Mark had his arm resting on the back of the wooden pew behind her. It was the exact same way he used to sit next to me when we were thirty years younger and still held hands during the hymns.

I walked down the side aisle. My heels made a soft clicking sound on the red carpet. Nobody looked at me. They were all looking at their hymnals.

I reached the fifth pew. There was an empty spot right next to Mark on the aisle side.

I didn’t hesitate. I slid into the pew, smoothing my blue dress beneath me.

Mark didn’t look over immediately. He was holding the hymnbook, sharing it with Diane.

Then he went to reach for a pen from the rack in front of him to write on a tithing card. His shoulder brushed against mine. He turned his head to apologize.

The change in his face was almost comical. All the color drained from his skin in a single second. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

“Brenda,” he whispered. His voice was cracked, like dry wood.

Diane looked over then. Her eyes went from Mark’s pale face to my blue dress, and then to my face. She looked confused, then her eyes went wide. She knew exactly who I was.

“Good morning,” I said. My voice was very quiet, but it was perfectly clear.

The organ was playing a loud, booming prelude, so the people around us couldn’t hear our whispers.

“What are you doing here?” Mark stammered. He tried to stand up, but I put my hand firmly on his forearm.

“Sit down, Mark,” I said. “We are here to worship.”

He sat. His body was completely rigid. He looked like he was about to have a medical emergency.

Diane had gone completely still. She was staring straight ahead at the altar, her knuckles white where she was gripping her purse.

The usher came down the aisle a few minutes later, carrying the heavy brass offering plates.

When the plate reached our pew, Diane took it and passed it to Mark.