“I’m sorry, Cal. Sorry you didn’t have a fifty-year marriage.”

“I have no regrets, that’s the only important thing now. Right?”

“You’ll never get over her,” she said.

“I’m not supposed to get over her, Maggie. I’m supposed to treasure what was good and move on. That’s a tall enough order.” He took a breath, doubting his own wisdom, yet knowing what he had to do. “There’s one more thing. It’ll be obvious to you why I’ve never talked about it before, why it’s a closely guarded piece of information. It’s hard to tell you, of all people. You might find it unforgivable, dedicated as you are to saving lives. See, I made the ultimate commitment to my wife. She was dying of a painful disease. She asked me to give my word I wouldn’t let her suffer, to promise that I would help her let go. She asked me to help her die. And I did.”

Time stood still. Not even the water moved. It was actual minutes before Maggie moved, turning around in the little boat and kneeling to face him. She had tears on her cheeks. She put the palms of her hands against his cheeks. “Of course you did,” she whispered. “Of course.”

* * *

One way to move on, Cal discovered, was to have a heart-to-heart talk about both personal and professional things, leaving nothing unsaid. He unburdened all of it. And then they made out like long-lost lovers reunited for an hour or so, rocking the little boat until they were wet and laughing. When they got to the point where they either had to try to find a way to make love or at least get satisfied somehow, they gave it up. Cal took her back to the dock at the crossing and motored across the lake to return the boat. Although he told her he’d be happy with a long walk home, she drove over to the camp and picked him up.

They didn’t have any more of those serious, deep conversations again, at least through the following week. In fact, Maggie grew very quiet. Cal suspected she was worried about the hearing.

There were questions he could taste on her tongue that she didn’t ask and it could only be because she was afraid of the answers. Questions like, Can you ever love like that again? And How long will you stay here? And How do I fit into your life, your plans?

He hoped that was what was causing her silence and not anything else. He did have some answers stowed away in the privacy of his heart. Yes, I can love again but like that? Maybe it will be a different kind of love but equal. And he wanted to stay there as long as staying there worked for everyone, including Maggie. And how did Maggie fit? He wasn’t sure, except that he couldn’t imagine letting her go. The caveat was—could she truly accept him as he was? Because he already knew he wouldn’t be going back to that other life, a partner in a big firm in a big city.

He had no regrets about leaving all that, either.

It was almost the middle of July when Maggie’s court date came around. Cal was sitting out on the porch of the store in the morning having coffee with Tom Canaday and listening to his tales of the weekend with his family—he had a complicated list of activities from work to chores to commitments the kids had that required juggling schedules and transportation.

“At least with Jackson and Nikki driving now, I get a little help with chauffeuring,” he said. “Problem is, not enough cars.”

“How you manage all your jobs and still get those kids to everything they signed on for must take some interesting logistics.”

“I start with one workable solution—if I’m available to them from four to seven, we can manage almost anything else. They’re old enough to get themselves up in the morning and get their own breakfast—I start my jobs early most days. The bus comes for the younger three, Jackson can drive himself to school and jobs. But from after school through dinner if I’m not around homework doesn’t get done and games, plays, dances, all that goes missed. And that stuff is just about as important if they’re going to be balanced. Right?”