Will touched her arm. “How about we take both dogs out to the play yard with the kids and see how they get along?”

A few minutes later, Flick and Addie were in heaven. They petted the dogs and tossed balls and toys for them, the kids wriggling and wagging every bit as excitedly as the dogs. Caroline stood watching with Will, and her heart swelled with affection.

“You’re having a moment.” Will touched her shoulder.

She let herself lean into him, just for a second. “I love seeing them like this.”

“I bet it feels great. What’s better than making a child happy?”

“That’s the question that keeps me awake at night. How can I make them happy? How can I keep them that way? I’m so scared of screwing this up.”

“It’s called being human, Caroline. Parenting’s not an exact science. You’re good with them, and they’re crazy about you. Sure, you’ll make mistakes. You’ll also get it right a lot of the time.” He gestured at the happy tangle of kids and dogs in the yard. “Like now.”

“Thanks. God, I hope you’re right.” She paused, sent him a quick glance. “I’ve been thinking of adopting them. Making it legal and official. Am I nuts?”

He bumped against her, a teasing nudge. “Yeah, I’ve always liked that about you.”

“Seriously, am I?”

“No, you’re awesome. You took in these kids and made them your own and gave them a life after the worst possible thing happened to them. And that makes you awesome, not nuts.”

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until it came out as a sigh of relief. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that. These kids . . . God. They’re the best, hardest thing I’ve ever done. I wake up every day, scared I’m going to screw up, but somehow we seem to be making it.”

They stood together in silence. Kids and dogs at play were the embodiment of pure joy. Sure, they got rashes and fainted at the doctor. They made messes and noise all day, every day, it seemed. But the rewards of seeing them grow were beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

“So how are you doing?” Caroline eyed Will. “And you know what I’m asking.”

“I’m good. Getting used to my new reality.”

“I wish I knew how I could be a better friend.”

“We’ve always been friends,” he said quietly.

Usually after a breakup, the couple’s friends went their separate ways, staying loyal to one or the other of the riven pair. Caroline felt torn between both of them. Sierra had relocated to the city. She was constantly on the move in her new job. Caroline had called her many times. Sent text messages and emails. The responses were brief, almost dismissive. Then she sent a note that summed it up: I’m reinventing my life and I’m doing great. For the time being, it’s easier for me if I don’t bring along anything from the past. Hope you understand.

Caroline stopped calling her.

Will was a different story. She saw him often, since the rainwear workshop was on his property. A couple of times, she’d been working when a woman came to see him. A date. He was dating. He was back on the market. And that of course made her think about the way things had been when they were young.

She remembered a time when she’d had feelings so powerful she thought she would explode, but she had kept them hidden.

Was she doing that now?

“I can listen,” she stated.

He held a long silence. “Hell, don’t I know it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sierra ended a pregnancy. She said she told you.”

Caroline looked away, seared by a sense of guilt. “It’s none of my business. I wish she hadn’t said anything.”

“She told you before she told me.”

“She knew it would hurt you.”

“It’s a huge thing to keep from your spouse,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t know what to say.”

“Most people don’t. Hell, half the time, I don’t.”

There were so many other things Caroline wanted to talk to him about. She hesitated, though, uncertain about who they were to each other after all that had happened. Their friendship was different in ways she couldn’t quite get her head around. She wished . . .

“Have you made a decision?” The shelter manager came out and watched the kids and dogs playing together. The brown one fetched a stick tirelessly. The black-and-white one nestled sweetly in Flick’s lap.

“Oh, boy.” Caroline glanced at Will. “This is going to be hard.”

“Blackie is really nice,” Addie said. “But so is Brownie.”

Flick nodded. “We can’t choose.”

Shit, thought Caroline. Two dogs?

“We have to pick one,” she said. She, too, was completely torn. Both dogs were lovely and either one would make the kids happy.

“I have an idea,” Will said. He hunkered down and the chocolate lab mix scurried over, trying to climb his chest and lick his face. “I need a dog, too,” Will continued. “Suppose I take this one home and you guys take the other.”

“Yay!” Addie jumped in the air. “We can visit him, right?”

“Sure you can. Any time you want.”

“Will, that’s incredible,” Caroline said. She felt the sweetest sense of relief. “Are you sure?”

“It’s fine.” He rubbed the ecstatic dog behind the ears. “I’ve been wanting a dog for a long time. Sierra never did, though. So I figure there’s no reason to put it off any longer.”

Chapter 24

“Why’s it called ‘homecoming’ if we’re already home?” asked Flick, craning his neck to check out the scene.

“Everybody comes together to welcome back people who went to high school here.”

“Is Sierra coming back?”

The town always went all out for homecoming. Corsages of giant mums, a special performance with alumni band members, and of course the all-important homecoming court—king, queen, and courtiers. Sierra had been homecoming queen their senior year. She’d been paired with Bucky O’Malley, the head cheerleader, because he was the only one who came close to her in good looks. Caroline had never been a member of the court, but she’d made Sierra’s faux-ermine cloak for the halftime show.

“Sierra won’t be back this year. You’ve probably never gone to a homecoming game,” Caroline said. “It’s like a regular football game, only with lots more people.”

There was a rally in the parking lot of the stadium, crowded with people in letterman jackets and school colors. The smell of rain was heavy in the air, but everyone seemed to be ignoring it. Star of the Sea had a booth, and they stopped by for a snack—gourmet corn dogs and cookies with the Peninsula Mariners team logo. The sounds and smells stirred waves of nostalgia—the rivalries, the romances, the regrets. The ridiculously big dreams that too often came crashing down with the onset of adulthood. Caroline spotted people she hadn’t seen since high school, greeting several of them and garnering raised eyebrows of inquiry as they noticed her kids.

One of the inquisitive looks came from Zane Hardy, her onetime lab partner. He looked the same—cool glasses, shaggy hair parted on the side, skinny jeans, vintage tee layered under a buffalo plaid shirt. Only now he had a little boy in tow who looked so much like Zane it was almost comical. She smiled at him but kept going. Sometimes the best part of nostalgia was wondering what if . . .

She and the children found seats in the bleachers, and they were soon swept up in the excitement, stomping their feet as the alumni band blared an opening number and watching the cheerleaders in utter fascination. “Caroline, they do cartwheels almost as good as you,” Addie said.

Caroline gave her a hug. “Right, kiddo.”

With much fanfare, the players burst through the paper banner at the locker-room tunnel.

“I see Will!” Flick jumped up and down, pointing. “Hey, Will! Can we go say hi?”

“Not right now,” Caroline said, although privately, she had the same thought. It was great seeing him in his element, in charge of a team bent on winning. He was an energetic presence, talking earnestly to his assistant and players. After the kickoff, he seemed wound tight as a drum as he paced the sidelines, clipboard in hand. He was chewing gum, which caused his jaw to bulge rhythmically.

“. . . still dating half the town,” said a woman’s voice a couple of rows back.

Caroline whipped a glance behind her. She recognized Lanie Cannon, an attractive, available single mom. Lanie worked at the local grocery. Single women seemed to be everywhere these days. And they were all after Will Jensen.

“. . . should just ask him out.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Didn’t he help your older boy get into college last year?”

Caroline leaned back to eavesdrop.

“Totally,” said Lanie. “Beau got an athletic scholarship to UW thanks to Will. I won’t have to go to the poorhouse paying for tuition. A couple of years ago, I couldn’t afford Beau’s athletic fees, and someone mysteriously paid them. I think it was Will.”

Of course it was Will, Caroline thought.

“Well, there you have it. Tell him you want to make him dinner as a proper thank-you.”

“So obvious.”