Grief is heavy. As surely as physical weight squeezes air from your lungs, so does grief. It takes the oxygen from the air and the color from the world. Thankfully the body has a built-in protection system, or surely grief would stop a heart's beating with the pain of it.

Instead, Bill felt numb. He saw things, heard things, but they didn't register. He couldn't comprehend them, couldn't find meaning in them. The only thing that had meaning was the woman in his arms. He held her protectively close and rocked her, even though, somewhere in his mind, he knew it wouldn't make a difference.

Joe knelt beside him and spoke to him, but Bill couldn't parse the words. The people around him seemed to be gliding across the floor in an odd dance without sound or words. Hushed whispers floated past him, but he ignored them. There was only Pepper.

A warm hand on his shoulder compelled him to look up into a dark, compassion-filled face. "I'm so sorry," the minister said.

Bill didn't answer immediately. Hinton. Wasn't there something important about him? He frowned trying to remember what it was. A slender man knelt on the reverend's left side, physically supporting him. His wife was on his right. Somewhere it registered in Bill's mind that Hinton's legs weren't supporting him. He must have just done a healing. That was why he hadn't come when….

He looked down at the still body in his arms then back at the minister.

"Help her," he said.

Confusion, then sadness crossed Hinton's face, and he shook his head. "I can't, Sergeant. She's in God's hands now." He squeezed Bill's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Bill looked at Pepper once more, then said, "Try."

Hinton's sad expression didn't change. "I can't, son. She's beyond my powers. I can't bring someone back from the dead."

Irrational fury rose in Bill. "Just try, damn it! Or give me the Gift and let me try!"

Hinton drew back, eyes wide. He shook his head. "No."

"If this is God's Plan…" Bill took a deep breath. "…I can accept it." He met Hinton's eyes without flinching. "But not without a fight. I will not let her go without a fight."

The two men stared at each other. Florence Hinton tugged on her husband's arm. "Give him the Gift," she encouraged. Tears flooded her eyes. "Let him have it. Albert, let's go home!"

Albert Hinton reached over and patted her hand, but he didn't look away from Bill. Bill could see the struggle within him. After a seemingly interminable period of time, he turned to his wife and drew her close. "I can't. It's time to make things right."

"No! You've done enough," she sobbed.

He lifted her chin, smiled, and then kissed her forehead. "It'll be all right," he promised. They gazed at each other for a long moment, and then she nodded and yielded to him. Hinton motioned to the young man at his side to help him kneel in front of Bill.

Hinton reached out and squeezed Bill's shoulder again. Then he placed his other hand on Pepper's forehead. "Tell me about her."

Bill's breath caught. Images flew into his mind but the words stuck in his throat. "She's the best cop I know," he finally blurted and then mentally kicked himself. That wasn't what he wanted to say. He stroked her hair, smoothing it from her face, took a deep breath, and tried again. "She's beautiful." He glanced up at Hinton who nodded encouragingly. "Inside I mean."

Around him the air changed. Electrical energy made the hair on his arms stand up. The sounds around him muted until only the three of them existed. The words came then, freely. "She has this look, you know? She can floor me without even saying a word. Just gives me that look.

"Her voice. It's got this purr. I call her sometimes just so I can hear her talk. And laugh. There's this chuckle that just makes me happy to hear it.

"She's funny. Bawdy. Tells a great dirty joke." He flushed but kept going. "Holds her own with cops, and that ain't easy." He grinned despite himself. "She never stopped being a woman though. She's not afraid to cry. Turns on the waterworks at the drop of a hat. But she's tough. Never seen her give up on anything - or anyone.

"She believes in people. Really believes in them, even when they can't believe in themselves. Especially then. Almost makes me believe…."

A faint smile crossed his lips. "I didn't like women cops before her. But she changed that. She changed me.

"She has this way of looking at things. Always sees the good. I need her so I can see that good." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I need her." The words were almost forced from him. "I love her."

Something began to happen. Hinton's eyes were closed, his lips moving in silent meditation. If Bill squinted he could almost see the energy swirling around them. It seemed to draw together, focus around the hand on Pepper's forehead. But then it dissipated, only to swirl together again.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't working.

No. He wasn't giving up. Something. There had to be something he could do. From somewhere in the recesses of his mind came words he hadn't spoken in thirty years. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." The words tumbled out unbidden. "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul."

Tears began to run down his cheeks. "He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of…" Understanding and an unbearable lightness flooded through him. He sobbed once and almost laughed. How could he not have known? "…Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

Bill squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. "Please, God. Please."

The scene exploded with a burst of energy. Bill opened his eyes and almost had to close them again to shield them from the tornado of white light that surrounded and enveloped them. Energy flooded through him, filling him, lifting him… and yet he didn't move. Across from him, Hinton sat up and extended his arms to the side, letting the powerful currents support and hold his body.

His eyes flew open, and a look of wonder infused his features. Bill wondered what he was seeing, what he was hearing. He must have been hearing something, because his brow wrinkled and his lips moved in earnest conversation. Then his brow smoothed and a beatific smile spread across his face. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes."

When he sat up and looked at Bill, the eyes Bill saw weren't Hinton's. Or, rather, they were, but not the eyes that Bill remembered. Gone was the pervasive sadness and in its place was a deep contentment and peace. He smiled at Bill and nodded, and then he reached down and laid his hand on Pepper's forehead.

Later Bill wouldn't be able to put words to what happened next. He remembered light, light so bright that he had to shut his eyes to its brilliance. Energy so powerful it should have incinerated him enveloped him, yet he felt no pain. It lasted only an instant. He tried to open his eyes, wanting desperately to see the miracle, but he couldn't.

A moment later it was over. Bill opened his eyes to see Hinton's gentle smile. The minister touched his shoulder, nodded, and then to Bill's horror, he crumpled to the floor.

Florence Hinton screamed and threw herself upon him, wailing.

Bill froze, not able to comprehend the scene in front of him. No. No, this wasn't right.

The young man who had helped Hinton before rolled him to his back. The minister gazed upwards, the peaceful smile still in place. He moved his lips, and his wife leaned forward to hear him. Through her tears she laughed and nodded. The minister gazed at his wife one last time, and then with a final gasping breath, he died.

Bill stared, horrified.

Florence Hinton touched her husband's cheek and then carefully closed his eyes. When she looked at Bill, the peace in her face mirrored that he had seen on Hinton's. "He was singing," she said.

The woman in Bill's arms shuddered and took a deep breath. Her fingers knotted in his shirt and clung to him. Hinton was forgotten then; there was only Pepper. Bill pulled her close until he could feel her heart beating against his chest. Thank you.

Had his head not been near hers, he might have missed her whisper, so soft it was barely more than air.

"I love you too," she said.

.

"What was it like?" Bill asked. He lit a taper, and then, with a silent prayer, lit one of the vigil candles on the altar. A dozen of the tiny flames added their light to the other candles burning in the church. Light and cloud shadows played in patterns cast across the pews through the stained glass windows.

Pepper lit her own candle, and then snuffed out the taper in a bowl of sand. "It was warm. And safe. And beautiful."

"What did you see?" His voice was low, even though they were the only ones kneeling here by the altar. A priest had welcomed them when they'd arrived, but he'd since disappeared into the rectory.

"I don't know," she said. "After I woke up, I remembered everything so clearly, and I remember wanting so desperately to tell you something."

"What?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Every day it gets more jumbled and faded. It's like it was a dream. All I know now is that I was safe, and I wasn't alone." She frowned with concentration. "My parents. I remember my parents. There was someone else too." She sighed. "I can't remember. Maybe it was just a dream."

"You don't have to remember," Bill said. "You're here. That's proof enough that it wasn't just a dream."

Her eyes grew sad. "But at what cost? Hinton's life? The loss of the Gift?"

"God gave the Gift once; He can give it again," Bill said.

She nodded and half shrugged. "I guess Hinton got what he was looking for."

"I think," Bill said, his brow furrowed, "that in the end he got more than he was looking for. He wanted absolution, and he found redemption."

Her fingers squeezed his. "So did you."

He nodded and thought of his grandmother, his Nonna, with her flashing dark eyes and infectious laugh. For the first time in thirty years, it didn't hurt to think of her. Instead of the old woman dying in her bed, the image of her in the photo in his album, the one of her as a young woman, sitting on her patio, looking out at the vineyards, her entire life ahead of her, flashed through his mind. "Yeah. So did I," he agreed.

He looked at Pepper. An entire world of new possibilities lay in front of them. He thought of the picture of her he carried in his wallet, the one that hinted at the secret between them. They'd almost squandered it. He touched her face, and then gave her a wry smile. "I want to kiss you," he said, "but I'm not sure it would be appropriate."

Pepper tilted her head and then looked up at the crucifix above them. "I think," she said, after considering the matter very seriously, "that God would approve just this once." And she smiled.

Her smile made his heart beat faster. He cupped her cheek, and then dropped his hands to her shoulders and pulled her closer. His first kiss was a pressure so light it felt as if angels' wings fluttered against their mouths - a faint brush, no more. Pepper closed her eyes in ecstasy - a taste of heaven.

"Non resterai solo," she said suddenly, pulling away.

"What?" Bill stared at her.

She frowned. "It just popped into my head. I remember hearing it - or something like that - when I was… you know. It doesn't make sense. Non resta… non restera…"

"Non aver paura. Non resterai solo," Bill filled in.

Pepper's eyes opened wide. "That's it! How did you know?"

Emotion rose in him, and he was reminded of the lightness he felt during Hinton's miracle. "It's the last thing my Nonna said to me before she died." Non aver paura, piccolino. Non resterai solo. Don't be afraid, little one. You won't be alone.

And he wasn't.

He squeezed Pepper's shoulders and lowered his forehead to hers. So many miracles. Outside the sun broke through the clouds, and golden light streamed through the stained glass and enveloped and warmed them. She lifted her face to his, and their lips met again and that, he decided, was the most beautiful miracle of all.

The End