They'd been working inside the cabin when the rain started. It came all at once, pounding loudly on the old roof. Things had been bone dry for weeks (it was Austin afterall) so they went out on the porch to watch it come down. Teresa sat in her folding camp chair she kept there. Most of the time when she came with him she read, or worked on cases while he tackled his passion project. They just liked to be together. She made sure she was situated back far enough to avoid any raindrops. Patrick of course sat on the top step, just under the porch roof, and got thoroughly misted.
"I believe they call this and old fashioned gully washer!" He said in his best over the top Texas accent. He was right. It didn't last more than ten minutes. They sat in silence, just listening and watching. When it stopped raining, the drops continued to fall unevenly from the trees. Bird voices reemerged and the ducks rose out of the water to shake off their feathers.
Teresa's hands moved across her growing midsection. It made her smile and her eyes fell on the back of her husband's blond curly head. He was still staring out across the pond, and had clearly become lost in thought. The hypnotic rythmn of the heavy rainfall had carried him away. Teresa, always a little resistant to his insistence on being in nature, had begun to really love this peaceful place.
"You know that old saying about the definition of insanity?" His suddenly asked over the drippy quiet. "About doing the same thing and expecting a different result."
"Sure." she said easily.
"Do you think... I'm insane?"
She gave a half laugh. "Pff!" Then his silence told her he was serious. "Jane?"
"I'm doing the same thing again. With you, with the baby. ...Expecting a different result."
She considered him for a moment. He didn't turned around. She sighed. He was asking her to tell him what he already knew.
"If you were doing the same thing again, yeah. But you're not."
His head turned slightly so she could see that familiar sad smile.
She rose and went to sit beside him. The step was damp, but she ignored it. Taking his hand, she searched for his eye contact. When he gave it, she spoke to him.
"Nothing, about this is the same as last time. You're not the same." He had failed Angela and Charlotte with his arrogance and selfishness. That could never change. Vengeance, his growth, and all the starting over could never make that scar stop itching. And that was ok. Teresa knew who he had become and would remind him when he needed it.
"Thank you." He whispered and leaned his head down against her shoulder. His other hand reached across to touch her belly, fingers splaying out to feel for their baby's movement.
"Do you believe me?" Teresa asked him quietly.
The smallest of smiles played across his mouth. "I do."
"Good. Because it's true."
They stayed like that for a long time, just admiring the newly soaked afternoon. The baby eventually kicked against Patrick's fingers. Both he and Teresa smiled about it, but said nothing.