Never Too Late

“Getting out much?” he asked.

“Not getting out at all—except for physical therapy. But the worst of it is, I have no privacy. I am so grateful to my family for their help—I’d be doomed without it, but you can’t imagine what it’s like living with your father and sister after you’ve been on your own for years.”

“Must be a little crowded there, huh?”

“The house is definitely shrinking. I’m having a brief reprieve. School’s finally out and Jason grows inches a day, so I sent him with Dotty to do some shopping. I gave her strict orders not to try to dress him—he gets to pick his own clothes, however crazy they seem.”

“He’s gotta appreciate that,” Sam said. Then, “Hang on one second, Clare.” Slightly muffled, she heard him order an iced latte with whipped cream. “Okay,” he said, coming back to her.

“That sounded good,” she said. And she thought, it would be nice to get out for a coffee. With Sam or anyone.

“But tell me—how are you really feeling? Physically? You sound better every time I talk to you.”

“I might be impatient with my progress—but the doctor says I’m doing great. And I have to admit, I feel just a little better every day. I get around without crutches most of the time and it’s only after being up all day and tiring out that I have to rely on them. Not only that—I’m not all that sorry that I’ve dropped a couple of pounds, even if I wouldn’t recommend the diet. And despite all my bitching, I think my housing situation is going to improve soon. It looks like by the middle of June I’ll get to go home. I’ll have to stay on the ground floor, of course. I still can’t manage the stairs.”

“Clare, how long have you been separated, if you don’t mind the question?”

“Not at all. Going on six months. I would have filed for divorce by now, but it’s a bad time to shake up all the health benefits, et cetera. And—should Roger be a pain in the butt about all the particulars, I have to be a bit stronger to deal with him.”

“Are you sure this is final for you?”

“Absolutely. Not only is it almost six months now—it’s the fourth time in ten years. I may be a slow learner, but I’m steady.”

“Is it…Was it for the reason you gave me when I caught you speeding?”

“Unfortunately. Roger is a tomcat. Can’t help himself. It’ll never change. And even if it does, I’m moving on. Are you married? Single? Divorced?”

He laughed softly. “Clare, if I were married, I doubt my wife would be happy about how often I’ve called you.”

“Oh, it’s nice of you to check on me,” she said. “Thoughtful. Sensitive.”

“Single,” he answered.

The doorbell rang. “Oh damn,” she said. “Someone’s here.”

“You don’t have to answer the door if you’re not feeling up to it. No excuses necessary.”

She groaned a little as she got to her feet. “No, I’m up to it. I’d just rather finish this conversation is all. Maybe I could call you back? I hear the radio in the background so I know you’re on duty. But you could let me see who this is and maybe you could call me back?” She opened the door and there stood Sam, squad car in the drive, Starbucks bag in his hand. She smiled and clicked off the phone. “Or you could come in and bring that coffee with you.”

“If you’re sure I’m not imposing.”

“You’re not. I know I don’t look very good. I haven’t even—”

“You look great,” he said, coming into the house.

“You knew where I lived? Where my dad lives?”

“Little things like that aren’t very difficult to find out. I hope you like iced latte.”

“Sam, you’re a very nice young man. Let’s go sit on the back patio. And don’t run.”

He let her slowly lead the way and from just a pace behind her said, “No crutches. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“Steady as she goes. Right out here.”

Sam stepped through the opened French doors onto the patio and whistled. The yard was lush and vine draped, a couple of chaise lounges beside a redwood table. There was a shallow, rock-filled stream that wound around the yard and opened into shallow pools in two different spots. A waterfall gurgled and at the far corner of the yard stood a ceramic birdbath and a gazebo.

“Clare, this is awesome!”

“My dad’s pride and joy. He says the climate and fertile valley get the credit, but he’s a master builder, and great with flowers. I’d take you out to the gazebo, but I’m afraid this is as far as I go today—I’m so sore. But go look around if you like.”

“Just a glance,” he said, leaving her to sit on one of the lounge chairs while he stepped off the patio and took the rock path along the man-made brook. “There are fish in here!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” she laughed. As he wandered back to where she sat, she said, “It’s a little paradise, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s the most beautiful yard I’ve ever seen. Is your dad in landscaping or something?”

“No. He owns a hardware store on Granger.”

“He’s that McCarthy? I know George. Helluva nice guy.”

“That’s George. So, in all the weeks you’ve been kind enough to call and check on my progress, I haven’t learned much about you. What’s your story, Sam? Always wanted to be a cop?”

He answered easily. “That was an accident, a fortuitous one. I needed a good job with decent benefits and they were testing. I wasn’t sure until I got into the academy. I have a daughter, Molly. My mom helps me raise her.”

“So you’re divorced?”

“No. Never married. I was going to college in Reno when my girlfriend got pregnant. Long story short, she wasn’t interested in marriage or in having a baby, for that matter. She’s from New Jersey and went home to her family and decided to have Molly adopted. That’s before we knew she was Molly. If she’d had the paperwork sent to me right away, I might have signed off—but some time passed and I brooded. I wasn’t ready to be a father, that’s for sure, but I was less ready to have someone else raise my child.”

“And how old is Molly?”

“She’s almost ten.”

Shock settled over Clare’s features as she did the math.

“That’s right—I was all of eighteen. Nineteen when she was born. And I had to fight to get her.”

“Your girlfriend’s family?”

He sat at the end of a chaise, facing Clare but not reclining. “This is just for you, okay? I haven’t exactly explained this part to Molly. Can’t figure out how. Her mother and grandparents didn’t want to keep her, they wanted her adopted. Gone. Out of the picture.”

“But you got her.”

“My mother cashed in everything she had to help me fight a legal battle out of state, but yes, I’ve had her since she was two months old.” He pulled the coffees out of the bag and handed her one. She leaned back on the lounger and carefully lifted her legs up. “That’s life, huh?” he said. “How one stupid, irresponsible mistake can somehow turn into the best thing that ever happened.”

They talked a little about their kids; she asked how he managed to work full-time and raise a child. With a lot of help, was the answer—his mother, a Realtor, was pretty flexible. And he worked four ten-hour days, giving him three off each week. They had a dog, Spoof, and Molly’s best friend lived down the block—so they always had a safe place for her to go if Dad and Gram weren’t home.

All the while he talked, the dispatcher sent messages by way of his radio, the receiver attached to his right shoulder, which was turned down, but she could see his eyes dart now and then toward it, keeping tabs on what was going on. And in the back of Clare’s mind came this startling reality—in the past six months and in the previous times she’d been separated, she had never really been on her own. It was more of a respite before going back into that marriage.