Chapter 12.3 (Part 1)

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   An hour later, the children had been bathed, Amy was tucked into bed for a nap and Tom was parked in front of the TV with a bowl of sliced fruit and his favorite hour-long cartoon video. Jane has showered and dressed in shorts and an I-Love-New-York T-shirt. Tyler liked the shorts. Hated the T-shirt. It reminded him of his fears that neither he nor Honoria would ever be exciting enough to hold her.

   He had coffee ready when Jane came out of the shower. "I really should go," she said. "I'm sure you can handle things here now."

   "Just a cup of coffee before you go," he urged. "You can catch me up on everything I missed."

   She nodded with a visible hesitation. So, before she could change her mind, he handed her a mug and waved her toward the kitchen table.

   "I see your clothes have dried," she commented stiffly taking a seat.

   He glanced down ruefully as he sank into his own chair. "They look as though I've slept in them for a few days, but they're dry."

   "I've always liked seeing you rumpled," she murmured, gazing into her coffee.

   It was the kind of remark she might have made to him before their breakup. But she'd said it with such an inscrutable expression that he had no idea what to make of it. And then she immediately changed the subject. "Tell me about Brent. We haven't been able to talk much during the past few days. What's going to happen with him now?"

   He rubbed a hand over his face. "He'll be in the hospital for several more weeks. Our parents are going to stay with him until he's released, and they'll bring him home to recuperate as soon as he's able to travel."

   "Your family has had to endure so much during the past year."

   He knew she was indirectly including Stephanie's death in the statement. "We've has our blessings, too," he said, thinking of the babies born, the holidays celebrated, the medical scare his father had survived. "We're all very grateful that we didn't lose Brent."

   "What about his air force career?"

   "It's over, Tyler said flatly. "All he's ever wanted to do was fly, and now, because of his own recklessness, he'll never be able to do it again."

   "His own recklessness?" she repeated with a frown. "The accident was his fault?"

   "He was hotdogging. Showing off. Yeah, it was his fault. And he's paid for it by losing his dream. I just hope he can learn to forgive himself for that eventually. He's so bitter about it now that he'd hardly even speaking to anyone."

   "He'll have to find a new dream," Jane said, the prosaic words softened by the sympathy in her eyes.

   Tyler thought bleakly of lost aspirations, and of the emptiness they left in their wake. "That's easier said than done."

   "Trust me. No one knows that better than I do."

   "You're referring to acting?"

   Her expression distant again, she said, "I've learned to let go of several dreams." Abruptly, she pushed her coffee mug away and stood. "I really should go. I have things to do at home."

   He wouldn't—he couldn't—let her go. Not yet. Not without trying to entice her to stay.

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