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“I’d like to talk to you,” he said.

She nodded, still unreadable. She was going to make him sweat, and the thought almost made him smile.

“I am sorry about the other night—”

She yanked her hand back. “I’m not interested in apologies. Or guilt. We kissed, Walter. It’s not the end of the world.”

“No. I’m not sorry I kissed you. Lord, never…never that. I’m sorry I ended things the way I did…I…I don’t have much practice.”

“Me neither.” Her smile was shy, sweet, and it sent a lightning bolt into his heart, getting the old thing kick-started. “Perhaps we can practice together.”

He wiped his sweaty hand over his pants, hoping it was worth turning away this second chance. “I…I would like that Sandra, more than you know. But I’ve joined AA. That meeting you told me about down at the church.”

Her mouth fell open, a shock that he utterly understood. But then she shook her head and that gape-faced shock changed into a transcendent smile. “I’m proud of you Walter.”

He smiled in return, “Thank you. So…ah…so is Jack. He gave me a ride. They have another group at the same time, for the family members of alcoholics. He went…said it was interesting.”

“I’m so glad,” she whispered. “For the two of you.”

She wrapped her arms around him and embraced him with her whole body. And it was like hugging sunlight, like stepping into warm water. It was perfect, just what he wanted, but he had to step away.

With his hands at her elbows he stepped back. “You…ah…you know how I feel about you. And that hasn’t changed. But the thing with AA, I want to do it right. I want to keep making you proud, and Jack proud. I can’t have a relationship like that. Like…the way I want…with you. Not right now. Not for a while.”

She brushed hair off his forehead, her fingers cool. “Can we be friends?”

“Please.”

“Then the rest can wait.” She pressed one tender kiss to his cheek, a brand that would linger, marking him as hers for future use, and then she stepped back.

“But,” she said, her tone bright and friendly, the Sandra of old. “We’re going to have to stay busy. And I have the perfect thing.”

He glanced at the wallpaper books and paint chips. She was going to get rid of the ghosts. She was going to brand this house as hers.

A fresh start all the way around.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said.

“Me too. Now, let’s get to work.”

Ben led them out of Dr. Gilman’s. Jeremiah brought up the rear, feeling wrung out. Drained.

“That was good work today,” Dr. Gilman told him at the door. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“Because I cried like a baby?”

She smiled indulgently, letting him tell his jokes as a balm to his pride.

“Thank you,” he whispered, wondering if it would be weird to hug her and then deciding he didn’t care. He crushed the good doctor in his arms.

“Oh!” she cried, and then laughed, patting his shoulder. “You’re going to break me.”

He let her go, waved goodbye to Jennifer and ran to catch up with the boys.

“What did you think?” he asked, once they were all inside the truck.

“I liked her.” Casey, the most easily impressed of the three, quickly gave his stamp of approval.

“She’s nice,” Aaron said.

“Do you want to go back?” Jeremiah asked.

“Yes,” Ben said quickly from the back. Jeremiah turned in the seat to look at him, somehow not surprised. Ben’s eyes were red, too, from crying. And for the first time since Annie’s funeral, the two of them had hugged. Jeremiah and Ben needed help with this stuff. Somehow, while Casey and Aaron could process their grief and confusion, he and Ben got stuck in places. Lost.

“Okay.” Jeremiah smiled, and his heart soared when Ben’s lips curved in response. He turned back around and started the truck.

Lucy was going to love this, he thought. He could see her face when he told her what happened, how—the thought sputtered out and he stared blindly through the windshield.

“Uncle J?” Aaron asked. “You gonna cry again?”

Jeremiah smirked at Aaron’s teasing but the boy just laughed.

“I think…” He stopped, started again. “I want to date Lucy.”

“I thought you already were,” Aaron said.

“Yeah, well, I might have blown that last night.”

“You should apologize,” Ben said.

“I don’t think that will be enough,” he said.

“Draw her a picture,” Casey suggested.

“Flowers.” Aaron nodded wisely. “Girls love that.”

“How in the world do you know that?”

Aaron shrugged. The sage eleven-year-old Casanova.

“Let’s just go see her,” Casey said, and then he whispered to Ben, “They have banana bread over there.”

“Good idea, Casey,” Jeremiah said and pulled away from the curb in front of Gilman’s office. He’d start with some groveling and go from there.

“What do you mean she’s not here?” he asked Sandra a half hour later, his guts in knots. “Where did she go?”

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