The Pieces We Keep(131)

The most wonderful type of love, she had learned, was the kind built with care and over time, through forgiveness and understanding, compromise and compassion, trust and acceptance. It was hidden in the minutiae of everyday life; it was in the traded smiles during a radio show or the peaceful lulls on an evening stroll.

Pain and fear would not be erased like the marks on a blackboard. Nothing real ever disappears that simply. But over days, weeks, months, the good outweighed all, until the initial impetus of their wedding dissolved into the background.

Never did that hold truer than on the morning when the nurse summoned Gene. “Would you like to meet your daughter?” she asked.

The moisture welling in his eyes supplied the answer. As if handling fine crystal, he cradled the small bundle in his arms, and Vivian knew right then, with certainty beyond measure, that Gene-her beloved husband-would never treat their darling Judith as less than his own, that together they were a family sealed by a bond. A bond that nothing, and no one, could break.





61


It was the start of a family reunified. From the turn of events with Meredith, Audra’s mind was still reeling when she arrived at the coffee shop.

At a far table by the window, Sean raised his hand.

The mere sight of him placed all other thoughts on hold. In a flurry of images, their encounter in the barn came rushing back. She fended off the memory. There was no room for complications with just three weeks until the move. She was only here to say good-bye.

She walked steadily past the line of customers that stretched from the entrance. Patrons filled most of the tables in the room, chatting with friends, shuffling through newspapers, typing on laptops. The scents of espresso and warm muffins led a path to Sean’s table.

“Morning,” he said.

“Hi.” She glanced at his mouth, remembered how it had felt on hers, and wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

“Oh, here. This for you.” He slid a paper cup across the table. The string from a tea bag dangled from the lid. “I got here a little early and the line was getting long. If you want something else, I’d be happy to grab it for you.”

She recognized the flavor printed on the tag, a decaf favorite named “Calm.” After the morning she’d had—make that the entire month—nothing sounded better.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a seat. “It’s perfect.”

He nodded. As she settled in, he drank from the slot of his lidded cup. He looked freshly showered and shaven in a collared, short-sleeved shirt. The bronze fabric complemented his eyes, which had notably relaxed since she’d last seen him.

“You look better,” she observed. “Not that you looked bad before. You just—never mind.”

A slanted smile crossed his lips. “It’s okay. I am doing better.”

“Good. Good, I’m glad.” She saved herself from tripping over her next words by focusing on her tea. It needed to be stirred and the temperature was just above comfort level, but she drank it regardless. She felt his gaze on her all the while.

“Audra,” he said finally, “about last week.”

She set down the cup, preparing herself for how he might phrase it.

“I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you. You’ve got enough to worry about, and ... I hope you didn’t . . . that is, I’m sorry if . . .”

“Sean, please. Don’t.” Clearly he saw her participation as a merciful act. And he couldn’t have been more wrong. “I think it’s safe to say, we were both there for each other at a time when we needed it. Simple as that.”

He accepted her reasoning with a close-lipped smile. When their eyes connected, she had to prod herself to look away.

“So,” he said after a moment. “How’s Jack doing?”

It was the question she asked herself daily.

She pictured him building cyber igloos with Grace, zooming around on his scooter, welcoming his grandparents’ affection.

“We’ll have to see, but I think he’ll be all right,” Audra said.

True, Jack wasn’t the same child from two years ago—the boy with an easy laugh who drummed on Cool Whip tubs and played with potato bugs—but perhaps he wasn’t supposed to be. He was growing up and changing. They all were. Maybe it was time to acknowledge this, to stop forcing each other into a mold that didn’t fit.

“That reminds me,” Sean said, “I got a message from that sergeant’s wife I told you about. I haven’t called her back yet, but if she has any info—”

“Actually, she got ahold of me.”

“Oh, she did? Great,” he said. But when Audra didn’t expound, he asked, “Did she find anything that might help?”