“After the accident—”

“What accident?” asked Caroline. “Oh, his eye, you mean.”

“It happened while he was stationed overseas. He lost his eye and had to take a medical retirement. His grandparents had moved to assisted living, and Will started a new career as a teacher.”

“I have about a hundred questions,” Caroline admitted. “About everything. The accident?”

“He’s never talked about the mission in detail, because you know the number one rule of Navy SEALs. Total secrecy. He was stationed in Diego Garcia, and it was a hostage rescue near Somalia. Some American aid workers were being held for ransom. Will was the only casualty—a shooting. He never said who shot him, just that it was too dark to see. And that’s pretty much all I know.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” Caroline said, wincing as she imagined him being shot, injuring an eye.

“He was devastated, and the recovery was hard. When his grandparents gave him the house in a living will, he latched onto it. He’s always loved this place, and now he’s on a mission to fix it up. It’s all part of his grand dream of a white picket fence, a family, small-town life . . .”

After the chaos in New York, that didn’t sound so bad to Caroline. “What about your dream?”

Sierra shaded her eyes and looked out across the bay. “It’s kind of hard to make myself a priority when my husband is the perfect one.”

“What? Come on.”

“You know I’m right. He’s perfect. Spotless military record, local hero, teacher and coach, wonderful husband. And look at him.” She gestured at the dock, where he was completely absorbed in the kids. “My dream?” She picked at a dry bit of wood on the chair arm. “I make a lot of trips to Seattle and Portland for work.”

A loud wail erupted from Addie. Caroline was on her feet immediately, running to the dock. Since having the kids in her life, she had quickly learned the meaning of different cries. She was now keenly familiar with the uncomprehending-sadness cry. The I’m-bored whine. The pathetic bleats of hunger. This was none of the above. This was the grand mal pain cry.

By the time she reached Addie, Will had scooped the little girl into his arms and was striding toward Caroline. “She got a splinter in her knee,” he said.

“Oh, that’s a big one,” Caroline said, inspecting the damage. Yikes. A full inch of the weathered gray wood from the old dock was embedded in Addie’s tender flesh.

“It hurts,” Addie howled, elongating each word. “Get it out!”

“I’ll bet it does hurt.” Will seemed unruffled as he carried her toward the house. Caroline took Flick’s hand in hers and followed them inside. “When I was in the navy,” Will said, “I learned how to deal with injuries like this. I’m pretty good at it.”

“He’s going to dig it out with a needle,” Flick said.

“No!” Addie clung to Will’s neck.

He placed her on the kitchen counter by the sink. “We won’t use a needle. I have a better way.”

“I’m scared of needles,” Addie said.

“Pay attention, both of you. I’ll show you how to make a proper field dressing.” Will washed his hands at the sink and took a first aid kit from the cupboard.

Addie sniffled and whispered, “Still hurts.”

“Yeah, I know,” Will said. “Splinters are the worst. See this?” He held up a bottle. “It’s cleansing solution and it doesn’t hurt. I’ll let you squirt some right on the sliver.”

She took the bottle and dribbled the saline onto her knee. “Still hurts,” she mumbled.

“Go ahead and use a lot,” Will said. Then he helped her dry the area. “I have a secret splinter weapon,” he said. “Duct tape. It’ll feel like taking off an old Band-Aid.” He kept up a stream of friendly patter as he covered the splinter with tape and then peeled it quickly away.

“Ouch!” Addie burst out.

“Here you go,” he said, showing her the splinter stuck to the back of the tape. “You were brave.”

“I wasn’t brave. I cried.” She gazed forlornly at the blood oozing from her knee.

“You let me fix you up even though you cried. I would call that brave.” He finished up with antibiotic ointment and a Band-Aid. “All set,” he said, lowering her down to the floor.

“Thank you,” Caroline said. “Very impressive, Mr. Jensen.” He was so self-assured with the kids. Where did that come from? And when would she ever feel even a fraction of his confidence?

Flick looked around the mudroom off the kitchen. “What are you building?” he asked, taking in the power tools and half-finished shelves.

“All kinds of stuff,” Will said. “I’m always building, because we’re remodeling. I’m putting shelves and cabinets in this room.”

“I like tools,” Flick said.

“You never told me that,” Caroline said.

“You never asked.”

“I like tools, too, buddy,” Will said. “I bet I know something else you like. Otter Pops.”

“Yeah!”

He went to the freezer and took out two of them, expertly snipping the tops and handing them over. Then he offered one to Caroline.

“No, thanks. You’re good with kids of any age,” she told him.

“That’s because kids are awesome.” He cut a glance at Sierra. “Right?”

He looked away quickly, so he missed Sierra’s reaction—a physical shudder.

Really? Caroline wondered. Did that mean trouble in paradise?

Addie gave her treat a squeeze, and half of the frozen pop landed on the floor. “Oh, man,” she said.

“It happens.” Will got another one for her. He glanced again at Sierra, who was mopping up with a paper towel.

“How about you take them outside,” she suggested.

“Keep your life jackets on if you go near the water,” Caroline called as they scampered out the door.

“Hey, Mr. Will,” Flick called from the yard. “Can we go have a look in the barn?”

“Sure,” Will said. “Okay?” he asked Caroline.

She nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll go with them.” He headed outside. “Come on, you two.”

Sierra crossed her arms and turned to Caroline, who was looking out the window at the kids following Will to the barn. “Right now, it’s just a big empty space. He upgraded the electrical system to the barn because he had some idea about making it an indoor play area one day. See what I mean? He’s perfect.”

“Come on. Nobody’s perfect.”

“He wants to save the family home and have kids. Perfect, right?”

“I suppose that depends.”

“On what?” Sierra paced back and forth as if caged. “If it’s so perfect, why can’t I want what he wants? Why can’t I be happy with all this?”

Because maybe it’s someone else’s perfect, thought Caroline. “I’m not even going to try to answer that one,” she said. Her goal in coming here with the kids today had been to try to normalize relations with Sierra and Will. She hoped they were making progress in that direction. Still, they were all different people now. Will was missing an eye. Sierra was missing her city life. And Caroline . . . She had been out of touch with her friends, but the palpable weight of their tension pressed hard. And she had no idea what to say.