“We had some very good years,” he said. Cooper could hear the emotion in his voice. “This disease has been hell. Cooper, you have to come. She’s hanging on and I don’t think she’ll let go until she sees you. Please. She’s bad.”

“Can’t you tell me why?”

“She has some things to say to you,” he said. “She wants to talk to you before she dies. And she doesn’t have much time.”

“God,” Cooper said. “She’s not even forty! This isn’t about amends or anything, is it? Because we’re square, me and Bridget. It wasn’t meant to be, all right? There’s nothing to work out—I could tell her that on the phone if it would make things easier.”

“Cooper, I want her to have whatever she asks for. We’re staying in her parents’ house in San Antonio. All she wants is to talk to you. It might take a couple of hours, that’s all. Where are you? Are you in a foreign country? Can you come, even if it’s a quick trip? I’ll pay the—”

“I got it,” he said. “I just don’t like mysteries and secrets, that’s all.”

“I feel ya, pal. We’ve been living with cancer for almost three years now. Talk about mysteries and secrets. I’ll text you the address. You have my cell phone number—let me know when you can come. Hurry, please. And, Cooper? Bring a suit.”

Cooper just sat and looked at his phone. He hung his head. He felt Sarah’s hand on his back, gently soothing. He turned to look at her. “She’s dying. Apparently soon. She wants to see me.”

“Oh, Cooper,” Sarah said. “Maybe she wants to clear her conscience about your romantic falling out or something.”

“She doesn’t have to do that.”

“Well, apparently she thinks she does.”

“I have this place to run,” he complained.

“I’ll help. Rawley can open, I’ll come over after work. I have the weekend off. I’ll let Landon hang out and help—he’ll love that. It’ll be okay. But I can’t be here in the morning to explain things to Rawley—I’m flying tomorrow.”

Cooper gave a half smile and went through his phone directory. He hit the call button.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“I bought him a phone. Now let’s see if he’ll answer it.”

“What?” came Rawley’s gruff voice.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Cooper said. “You didn’t throw it in the ocean.”

“It’s late.”

“I can hear your TV,” Cooper said.

“That don’t mean I’m awake.”

“All right, sorry about the time. I just got a call from someone—an old friend is real sick. I have to go pay a visit. I’ll be gone a couple of days and Sarah says she can help out. Can you handle things around here?”

“Don’t I usually?”

“I’d like to think I contribute here and there,” Cooper said.

“Just go do it,” Rawley said.

“Listen, if there are complications or schedule problems, just hang a sign on the door—closed for family emergency. All right?”

“I’ll handle it,” Rawley said.

“Thanks, man. Hey, and you kept the phone!”

“It was inconvenient. But I got games, books and music on this phone. Decent contraption.” And he hung up.

* * *

It was only minutes after Cooper called Rawley that Sarah left, promising to be there to cover for him the next evening. She took the Razor across the beach, going slowly to avoid any people who might be walking or sitting on the sand. When she was leaving him, he was understandably quiet. Melancholy.

Timing was an interesting phenomenon. She had just been thinking that it was time to let Cooper in on her secret, to talk to him about her pending assignment. But she hadn’t, and then the phone call came. It was funny that Cooper had been anxious to clear the air about any lingering ties she might feel toward her ex-husband, Derek, but she had never considered that there might be relationships in his past that hadn’t been fully dealt with. This woman, this dying woman...was this something that haunted him? Had he, like Sarah, harbored a feeling of failure, of grief? And he had told her, there had been two engagements....

There were more things to talk about than just her past marriage.

Sarah didn’t fear having a rebound lover in Cooper, but she did fear leaving her career, putting all her eggs in his basket and then learning that despite all he said, he was the one who couldn’t commit, couldn’t make it last. Where would that leave her?

Suddenly her options shrank yet again. She tried to envision Cooper’s reaction to her dilemma. He would tell her not to worry, to stay here with him, to enjoy the town, the beach, the business and Landon’s senior year at Thunder Point High. And what if that didn’t work out the way he expected it to, as his two previous attempts had not? And if she had separated from her Coast Guard career and found herself a year later not only alone, but also unable to support herself? Unable to help Landon with college?

Yes, Cooper had always seemed the transparent one while Sarah thought of herself as complicated. Yet wasn’t it really the other way around? He’d been a loner, a wanderer and had twice tried to settle down with one woman. And had failed both times. Had there been more than two women he’d promised to love forever?

From the first time since she’d met him, since she’d fallen in love with him, she realized she was probably the better relationship risk. The truth of her situation was not exaggerated—the demise of her short marriage was not her failing. Her ex-husband was a serial cheater and she should have known, but turned a blind eye because she wanted a family life so much.

She would never do that again. And she would never close her eyes to reality again, either.

That woman in Texas, that woman who was dying and wanted to see him one last time. There was obviously some unfinished business there, something he had never thought to mention to her.

Sarah had a feeling she wasn’t going to sleep soundly tonight....

* * *

There were a lot of beautiful cities in Texas, and San Antonio was definitely one of them. Cooper flew into San Antonio, which required two plane changes from Eugene. He put the address Spencer had given him into the GPS on the rental car and drove through the lush rolling hills to the suburb where Bridget’s parents lived. He’d been to their house before, but he’d never have been able to find it on his own this many years later. He retired his torn jeans, T-shirt, leather jacket and boots and wore a white dress shirt, khakis and suede shoes. He felt as if he was going for a job interview.

He’d met Bridge when he was about twenty-five. Or was that twenty-six? He was at a lake party and, in typical Cooper fashion, he picked out the prettiest girl in sight. Cooper liked beach or lake parties because the girls didn’t wear much. Bridge was blonde, stacked, green-eyed and sexy as all hell.

He was working for a civilian contractor who supplied helicopters to UN missions and private sectors abroad. They were “wet lease” copters, which meant they came with a crew. He had a high-level security clearance and when he was sent out on a mission, it could be for weeks at a time. At that time he was living near Fort Sam Houston because he liked the San Antonio area. He’d always loved the river walk, the Alamo, in fact the whole city was something special.

He asked Bridget out. He took her home from the party. And he fell hard and fast. So did she, as far as he could tell. Until he got another assignment a couple of weeks later they spent every minute together at her apartment. For a while it worked. She even asked him if they could get married and he said yes. Why not?

He bought her a ring on one of his trips home and she loved it. She took him to meet the family—a brother and a sister, parents, grandparents. And then she said, “If we’re going to get married, you have to find something to do for work that doesn’t take you away six months of the year—especially away to scary places you can’t talk about.”

And then the arguing commenced. He was young; he wasn’t ready to have lead in his shoes, and to put down roots. He was also selfish—he wanted it all. He was still hooked on adventure, but he didn’t want to give up a woman like Bridget. He thought he might be ready for a nice suburban life in a few years. Eventually he came back from a trip to Somalia and she informed him, this just wouldn’t work for her. She wanted a more stable family life. She was the first woman to tell him he had trouble with commitment, with real intimacy. She gave him back the ring, but they got together a few more times when he wasn’t traveling.

In fact, that was the crux of it—they couldn’t agree on anything out of bed. In the sack, everything worked. All he wanted was for Bridget to put up with his job, his traveling, welcome him home like the hot mama she was. All she wanted was someone she could depend on all the time. And it made her furious that she couldn’t resist him.

It made him feel just fine, however.

Eventually, maybe six or eight months after the engagement was off and the back-and-forth had gone on too long she said she’d met someone. He remembered, he tried to cajole her into once more for old time’s sake and she told him he was a pig.

Well, she was probably right. He was less piggish these days. He was a lot more conscious of the feelings of others. It was something he assumed came with maturity. He hoped so, anyway.

A few minutes later Cooper pulled up to the well-groomed, large ranch-style home. It was painted light green with white shutters and a dark green front door—the kind of house Bridge had wanted to live in, to raise a family in. There were a lot of cars and he felt his heart clutch. He hoped she hadn’t died. He hoped she wasn’t too near death to say whatever it was she had to say. He hadn’t been a very good boyfriend or fiancé; maybe she just wanted to ream him out one more time before she crossed over. Who was he to deny her that pleasure?

He knocked on the front door. He was afraid to ring the bell—what if there was grieving. Mrs. Cunningham answered and God bless her, she had aged far more than ten years. Cooper couldn’t even imagine losing a family member like this—dying by inches. He put out his hand. “Mrs. Cunningham, do you remember me?” he asked.

“Of course, Coop. Thank you for coming. I realize it’s a lot to ask of you.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” he said.

“Is that him?” he heard someone ask. Then the man who must be Spencer came into the foyer. “Cooper?”

“Yes,” he said, putting out his hand again. “Spencer?”

“Nice to meet you, Cooper. Can I get you a drink or something?”

In fact, Spencer looked as if he could use a drink. So did Mrs. Cunningham.

“No, thanks. How’s she doing?”

“She’s hanging in there. Hospice does a good job of keeping her comfortable. I don’t know how to prepare you, Cooper—she’s not the same girl you dated. Her appearance is—” Then he ran a hand around his sweaty neck. “We converted the sun porch into a hospital room so she could be here with the family. Our house is smaller and less accessible—two-story and all. I’m sure you want to get on with this. Follow me.”

In fact, Cooper didn’t want to get on with it. He wanted to bolt. But that ship had sailed and here he was. He walked through a family room. Mr. Cunningham and a couple of younger men were watching TV but the volume was turned low. There were three kids and a teenager playing a board game at the dining room table and two women puttered around the kitchen, whispering. The house had a pall of death over it—all subdued and respectfully quiet.

He had a sudden and profound understanding of wounded animals sneaking off into the forest to die alone and without an audience.