Page 19 of The Summer House

“He’s been avoiding me.” Her mouth twisted. “You would be amazed how fast men can run when someone mentions the phrase ‘special-needs child.’”

“Why?” he asked, knowing the situation would create challenges, but not clear on why they would be a deal breaker. “Are you saying with Eva you wouldn’t want children of your own?”

“Of course not. I think both would be great, but so far I haven’t had a lot of offers. Most of the men I’ve met are only interested in ‘perfect’ children. Those who don’t qualify need not apply.”

She sounded bitter, and he couldn’t blame her. While adopting Eva sounded like what she wanted to do, it wouldn’t be easy, whether or not she was alone.

He tried to reconcile the thoughtful adult sitting in his bed with the volatile young woman he’d married.

“I’m impressed with all that you’ve done,” he said lightly. “Next you’ll be telling me that you’ve taken up a hobby or two yourself.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulders. “I’ll have you know that I not only crochet, I hike. I even camp on occasion.”

“You? Camp? Where do you plug in your electric curlers?”

She grabbed the free pillow and threw it at him. “I do without for those days.”

“I’m even more impressed.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been horseback riding, too. I’ve taken Eva a few times and she loves it.”

The longing was back in her eyes. He wanted to tell her to just go for it—that everything would work out fine. But time and experience had taught him that saying the words didn’t make anyone a believer. Nor did they change the situation. Mandy would have to figure out what to do on her own.

If only he’d known this much about life and people eight years ago, he thought, things might not have ended so badly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out his hand and capturing her fingers.

“For what?”

“Before. How it ended. My part in that. I know back then I made a big case about not technically doing anything wrong. I’ve learned since then. The problem wasn’t with what I did or didn’t do, it was about disconnecting from the marriage.”

Mandy squeezed Rick’s fingers, then released them. So they were going to talk aboutthat,she thought, not sure if she wanted to.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go there,” she whispered, but it was too late.

The memories returned in vivid detail and blinding color. Of the silence in the hallway of their apartment building. Of the melting snow dampening the hem of her jeans. She had hated winter in Boston, hated the snow and the cold. She’d walked into their tiny apartment to find coats on the sofa. Not just Rick’s coat, but another one…an unfamiliar one.

Her heart had stopped. She remembered that distinctly. The sensation of a steady beating in her chest, followed by nothing. Not even a flutter.

Knowing she shouldn’t, yet unable to stop herself, she’d entered the small bedroom. The room was so tiny that the bed took up most of the floor space. Their battered dresser was in the living room by the bookcase.

Mandy told herself to breathe slowly, that the past didn’t matter. But suddenly she was there again. Staring at Rick, a younger Rick, kissing another woman. Touching her. They were both still dressed, but with their lips locked and his hand on her breast, it was pretty clear where things were going.

“Mandy?”

She tried to shake off the memories. “It was a long time ago,” she said.

“Not long enough.” He stared at her face. “Does it still bother you?”

“Not in the way that you mean. I’m not hurt or anything.”

How could she explain there were lingering shards of her shattered life stabbing her soul? The ghosts weren’t as much about him or her but about what should have been and what was.

Suddenly she was very aware of being naked. She hated to get out from under the protection of the covers, but there didn’t seem to be any other way to reach her clothes. She sucked in a breath and stood, then circled around the bed, picking up panties and her bra as she went.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It’s getting late.”

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