He began to shoot, missing more shots than he could remember missing since he was eight years old. His arm shook. His fingers were no longer nimble. Dared he speak to her? Dared he even look in her direction? After some time had passed, he said, “I’m sorry about your father.”

“Thank you,” she said. “My father was a troubled man who in the end thought the only way to protect his family was to kill himself.” She swallowed away the lump in her throat. “Nothing can hurt him anymore. I think he is finally at peace.”

He said nothing.

“Mark, can I ask you a question?”

He dribbled the ball away from her voice. “Yes.”

“What do you know about my husband’s death?”

Shrug. “Just what I read in the paper. He got caught up in some rough tides and drowned.”

She leaned forward in her chair. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. “Not exactly. That’s just what David wanted everyone to think.”

Mark continued to dribble, his eyes never leaving the floor.

“We were in Australia on our honeymoon when it happened,” she continued, her eyes staring off with the memory. “We were so in love, so goddamn happy. It was like the whole world had been created just for us. He could make me laugh. He could make me cry.” She stopped. “He could make me feel—you know what I mean?”

Mark turned his back toward her. “I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

She ignored his statement. “Before he died, David visited my mother at a hotel near the one where we were staying.”

With her words, Mark’s body spasmed. He still would not turn around.

“She told him some things he found very upsetting.”

“Why are you telling—?”

“But she was wrong.”

He hunched over as though in pain. His hand reached up toward his face and wiped his eyes, but he still refused to show her anything but his back. He began to dribble mindlessly. “Wrong about what?”

Laura’s leg began to shake. Waves of emotion kept crashing over her. Her breathing hitched. Her words came quickly. “She had an affair with your father—that part was true—and she did get pregnant—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“—but the baby was aborted.”

He stopped dribbling. His hand flew up to his mouth as though he were stifling a scream. “What?”

Laura moved toward him, his back still facing her. “We are not brother and sister.”

He spun around. His eyes flew open wide. His face crumpled into a mask of confusion. “But . . . ?” After all this time, after all this suffering . . . “Not brother and sister?”

“No, David,” she said. “That baby was aborted. I’m not your sister.”

He stared at her. His eyes filled with tears. “How . . . ?” He stopped. His mind felt like it was being torn apart. Reality spun out of control. He tried to steady himself, tried to comprehend what she was saying.

“Please,” he began in a soft voice, “please, tell me it’s not a dream.”

She shook her head, her tears flowing freely. “It’s not, David. I swear it’s not.”

He looked at her. His bleak eyes suddenly flickered with hope. She ran toward him and threw her arms around his body, clinging to him tightly. David held her, his eyes squeezed shut. So many torturous days, so many tears, so many times he dreamed about holding her again . . .

“Don’t you ever leave me again,” she whispered.

“Never,” he uttered. “I promise.”

They hugged fiercely, not letting go, not daring even to loosen their grips for fear that one of them would slip away and be gone forever. They stayed that way for a very long time, letting the past dissolve away and the healing begin.

David smiled through his tears. “Do you still want to have children?” he asked.

She laughed. “What about having rabbits?”

“Rabbits? Okay, we’ll have both. Rabbits and children.”

She nodded. “But first things first. Where did you get that awful curly blond hair?”

“You don’t like it?”

“You look like a character from Godspell. It has to go.”

“I’m kinda used to it.”

“T.C. must have picked it out. He has no taste. And your new face. You know how I hate pretty boys—”

He stopped her with a kiss. “That’s still the only way to keep you quiet, huh?”

“Then don’t just stand there, Baskin. Shut me up.”