“And that’s not all, either.”

“My father had a heart attack,” she said indignantly.

“I know, but there’s something else. Something that made you run home, run to your father, who is a remarkable man, by the way. There’s at least one more thing...”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded.

“That little shadow behind your eyes. Something personal hurt you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“A man,” he said. “I bet there was a man. You had a falling out or fight or something. Or he cheated. Or you did.”

“There was no cheating! We just parted company!”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said, grinning at her.

“That’s just plain rude, prying like that. I didn’t do that to you. I was only curious and I asked but if you’d said it was none of my business, I wouldn’t have pushed. And I wouldn’t have given you some bullshit about something behind your eyes.”

“I think I’m getting a name,” he said, rolling his eyes upward as if seeking the answer in the heavens. “Arthur? Adam? Andrew, that’s it.”

She got to her feet, a disgusted smirk marring her pretty face. “Oh, that was good, Calhoun,” she said.

“Frank told me,” he said. “You weren’t thinking of keeping a secret around here, were you?” He laughed, very amused with himself. “And it’s not Calhoun.”

She brushed off the butt of her jeans. “You’re going to pay for that. I don’t know how yet, but trust me...”

“Someone has to teach you how to have a little fun, Maggie,” he said.

“Well, it’s not going to be you, Carlisle.”

He just shook his head and laughed. Then he worked on tilling the garden plot.

To find yourself, think for yourself.

—Socrates

Chapter 4

The days were getting just a little longer, a little warmer. Flowers were starting to sprout along roadsides and trails. It was turning beautiful in and around Sullivan’s Crossing. Sully wasn’t able to plant his bulbs around the house but Maggie did it for him, with his relentless supervision.

Maggie and Sully had been back for five days and she’d driven to Timberlake as many times. First for some fresh vegetables and salmon, then for seedlings for Sully’s garden along with fertilizer, then for some fish and chicken breasts. She went ahead and stocked up on frozen shrimp and ground turkey and she spent a lot of time on her laptop looking up heart-healthy meals.

This was not how Maggie envisioned her escape from reality. She’d been hoping to relax and empty her brain of all those disappointments and worries. But this? She was working her tail off. She was not used to cooking, for one thing. When she was working she typically ate hospital food which, paradoxically, was not the healthiest. It was so starchy, cafeteria quality. It wasn’t the food they served patients, either. If not eating at the hospital, she’d grab something on the way home, something light—there was a conveniently located grocer and deli that sold prepared meals for one. And then there were the times she went out with friends or some of the staff for a meal and they were partial to either sushi or Italian.

But now she was working hard at feeding Sully delicious things to at least intrigue him rather than bore him to death. Before, when Maggie was at the campground, they’d decide what they were having for dinner and meet at about seven, throw a steak, burgers or maybe some chicken breasts on the grill. And they’d eat their meat with fries or potato chips.

She was already tired of this new routine.