August 14th

It was a glorious morning, cool, sunny and bright. Sarah let her fingers trail the wind as Gene took Minnie Lou through the village, past the church (parking lot was about a quarter full—no surprise, since most people were on vacation) and on to Greg and Roz's place. They pulled into the driveway behind Barbarella. Gene shut off the engine and Sarah popped open the door, container of fruit salad in hand. She waited for Gene to come around, then started up the sidewalk. As they approached the screen door opened and Roz came out. She hurried down the steps and met them with a smile. "Good morning," she said, and gave them each a hug. "Come on in, the coffee's brewing and I steeped some tea." She took the fruit salad and put an arm around Sarah.

"Is Greg awake?" Sarah returned the hug and moved with Roz up the steps.

"More or less," Roz said. "He went for a walk a few hours back and came back tired out. I got him to come to bed and he slept hard until about a half hour ago."

"A walk?" Sarah glanced at the younger woman. "What had him up so early?"

"I'll let him tell you, he can describe it better than I can." Roz opened the door and ushered them inside.

The first thing Sarah saw was the piano. "Oh," she said. "Oh . . ." She came up to it, everyone else forgotten for the moment, and ran a reverent fingertip over the glossy dark lustre of the wood. "Hello beautiful," she said softly.

"That's my instrument you're making free with." Greg stood in the doorway. He glowered at her, but his gaze held amusement. "I suppose you'll want to play it."

"Could I?" She sent him a quelling look. "Play the piano, not you."

"Buzzkill." Greg gestured at the bench. "Have a seat. Give us your best version of 'Heart and Soul'."

"Come on," Gene said to Roz. "Let's get breakfast started or we won't eat till sundown."

Sarah ignored her husband as she settled on the bench. Gently she touched the keys, played a few chords to get a feel for the action. It was beautifully responsive, with a mellow, sweet tone she remembered from the time she'd played it in the apartment at Baker Street. An impulse to show off and also tease her audience a little tugged at her. Mentally she sorted through her church-day repertoire, chose a song and began. It had been some time since she'd been called on to play the old standards, but the sheer weight of years of repetition had graven the music deep in her mind and muscle memory. It took only a moment to fall into the rhythm. Memories flitted past, bits and pieces of the many services she'd attended, when only the chance to play had made them tolerable; she'd volunteered for every musical position in the church just to keep her sanity. That got her through high school and out of her grandmother's house at least. But now with distance between her and those days, she could appreciate the experience and what it had taught her about improvisation, and the use of expression to move her audience. It was a crash course, and it still gave her great results.

She finished with a flourish and folded her hands in her lap as she'd been instructed so long ago. Greg was silent a moment. "Who taught you to play stride?" he asked.

"My grandmother."

He snorted. "I'll bet she never would have put up with you laying that heathen beat on 'What A Friend We Have In Jesus' the way you just did now."

Sarah smiled. "The congregation loved it. They wouldn't have known it was the devil's music. Anyway, Grandma didn't object. She said we were supposed to make a joyful noise." She laughed softly. "I think she just liked the way it sounded."

"It's not too shabby." Greg nodded at the keys. "Play some more."

So she gave him 'I've Got A Mansion' and 'Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing' before she deliberately slipped into boogie-woogie mode and started the top hand chords and melody for 'Mess Around'. It didn't take Greg long to catch on. He added a rumbling menace of a left-hand riff. They had a good time, and ended on a laugh as they slid into the end more or less together.

"If you two are done with corrupting your revival meeting, breakfast is ready," Gene said from the kitchen door.

Sarah stroked the ivory keys in parting and shut the door firmly on the remembrance of Sundays past, to fill her plate with the glories of Sunday present: one of Roz's blueberry muffins still warm from the oven, an omelette filled with pepper jack cheese, onions and sautéed mushrooms, and some of her fruit salad. There was a cup of tea as well, hot and fresh. It was the best way to offer praise she'd found since she'd left the church for good, and she participated in the worship service with alacrity and enthusiasm.

Once these dainties had been devoured and second helpings chosen, Sarah started the discussion for which they'd agreed to meet. "Everyone's ready to head down the shore next weekend, right?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mom," he said in a long-suffering tone.

"We all also know," Sarah ignored Greg's provocative tone, "that Wilson will be with us."

"How is he?" Gene finished off a third muffin and sipped his coffee.

"I can tell you he's been in outpatient therapy for a month now and doing well. Darryl confirmed that assessment. Jim says Cuddy's cleared him to return to work in October." Sarah paused. "This is going to be something of a trial run for him, to see where he needs to focus his attention—"

"Yeah, because it's that simple," Greg said. He rubbed his thigh, then took his hand away.

"I'm not saying it's a cut-and-dried procedure," Sarah said, keeping her tone mild. "I'm just saying he'll be paying attention to where he has difficulties." She raised her brows. "Are you on board with this or not?"

"Like I have a choice," he muttered, but it was a clear attempt at provocation. They'd discussed this situation in detail in her kitchen a few days previous.

"Crankypants," she said-Chelsea's favorite nickname for him. He glared at her and looked away without comment. "Seriously, if anyone has any doubts or reservations about this setup, speak now."

"How does he feel about Greg being married?" Roz asked.

"He's okay with it," Greg said before Sarah could speak. "If he'd had a problem he'd have broken out of the loony bin just to prevent me from making a terrible mistake."

"Have you talked with him recently?" Sarah sipped her tea, though it was cold now.

"You're saying I'm wrong?" The challenge in his words almost made her smile. He was anxious about the situation and took it out on her as a convenient target, because he knew she could handle it.

"I'm saying you know him well and you're probably right, but you should talk to him. It would also be a good idea to let him know about the protocol you're following." Sarah nibbled on a chunk of muffin. "Unless you want to spring it on him when we get there." Greg groaned and she hid a smile. "Anyway, we'll be in Cape May Court House. Gene tried to find a place in Ocean City but they've been booked solid since December, so he got us rooms at The Doctor's Inn. It's a nice old place on the north end of Main Street, about five miles from Stone Harbor. We can drive over to the shore and spend the day, I think you still get beach tags included with your stay." She ate the last of the muffin and shamelessly stole another one from the basket. "There's a good café down the street as well as a steakhouse and a tavern, so we won't have to cook every meal. The wifi and cable service suck though, so you might want to bring sufficient items to keep yourself entertained."

"I'm bringing my wife, does that count?" Greg wanted to know.

"I happen to be accompanying mine too," Gene said mildly. "Just remember, you'll be staying in a house, not a hotel. The walls are fairly thin."

"I take that as a challenge," Greg said. Roz clasped his hand and brought it to her lips for a kiss, gave him a little smile. Sarah hid her delight. She knows just how to handle him, she thought.

"From what the owner said, it looks like they're full up for the two weeks we'll be there, but any time we've stayed and it's a full house the other people have been pretty nice." She picked a blueberry out of the muffin and munched it.

"So we get weird people and Wilson too," Greg groused, but it was clear his heart wasn't in it.

"There's always Atlantic City," Sarah reminded him. "Roz and I are going to meet Kris in OC for the day on the second Thursday, so if you guys want to organize a trip be my guest."

The talk turned to other topics after that, but when Sarah went into the kitchen to make another cup of tea, Roz followed her. "Are you sure Doctor Wilson will be okay with my being there?" she said. "I had the impression he didn't think much of me when we sort of met that day at the park."

Sarah poured hot water over the teabag. "Would you like to meet with him before we go to Jersey? I can arrange a webcam conversation if you like."

Roz looked nervous. "Would-would you be there?"

"Sure," Sarah said. She stirred a little sugar into the cup. "What was your impression of Jim that day?"

"Angry," Roz said. "Upset. He kept giving me these looks as if he didn't like me."

"I don't think it was personal," Sarah said. "It's something you can ask him though."

Roz shook her head. "Maybe this isn't a good idea. Maybe I should just stay home."

Sarah set her tea aside. "You're Greg's wife," she said quietly. "Whether Jim approves or not, nothing will change that. He needs to accept the fact that you're in Greg's life now. I think if you give him enough time and a chance to get to know you, he will." She put a hand on Roz's shoulder. "I'll set up a visit in the next couple of days, okay? I'll supervise the whole thing if you want me to."

After a moment Roz nodded, but it was plain she still had reservations. Sarah patted her gently. "I know Jim pretty well. You've seen one facet of his personality, but he does have others. He can be good company, and a good friend too. Give him a chance, sis."

"I will if he does the same for me," she said, but she relaxed a little.

At the end of the day, as long shadows filled the house, Sarah made good on her promise and called Jim.

"Just what I need, another shrink checking up on me," he said when he answered, but there was a teasing tone in his warm voice that hadn't been there for a long time.

"How are you? How's it going?"

"Fine and fine. Talked to Cuddy yesterday. I can go back to work on a limited schedule starting in September." He sounded a little defensive.

"That's excellent," Sarah said, genuinely pleased. Darryl would never have okayed it if he wasn't sure Jim was ready.

"You didn't call just to ask me about something you could have found out later this week," Jim said. "What do you want?"

Using the direct approach right away was new to him. She liked it. "Roz has requested a meeting before we go to the shore this coming weekend. She wants to get to know you a little better."

Jim laughed. "Smart woman. After the way I treated her during our first meeting, I don't blame her."

"So you'll do it?" Sarah held her breath a bit.

"I owe it to her," Jim said. "How do you want to set this up? Conference phone call? I'm assuming you'll be listening in, in case I trample her or something."

"We thought a webcam meeting would be a good idea," Sarah said. "I don't expect you to trample anyone, but I think you'll both be more comfortable if someone you both know and trust is in the room with you, so to speak."

"Yeah, okay." Jim was silent a moment. "What's she like? She was pretty quiet, but then she'd been injured and was in quite a bit of pain."

"You'll see when you meet her."

"Aw come on," he wheedled. "Just a hint or two?"

Sarah smiled. Some things hadn't changed. "She's an electrician. Practical and rational to a fault, but she likes to read all kinds of things including poetry." She paused, struck by a new thought. "Her sense of humor is a bit like yours, very dry. I think you'll get along pretty well."

"An electrician?" Jim said, bemused. "House married a blue-collar babe."

"Yeah he did," Sarah said, amused. "I don't think he has any regrets."

"No one does in the beginning," Jim said. "Okay, just let me know when you'd like us to meet and I'm there."

"I think Tuesday would be good. I'll clear it with Roz and get back to you." Sarah paused. "Everyone has regrets," she said. "Even if you've been happily married for years."

Jim didn't say anything at first. "I'd like to find that out for myself someday."

"I hope you do," Sarah said, and swallowed on the lump in her throat. "I'd like to see you find some joy."

"Thanks. I'll—I'll wait to hear back from you then." Jim cleared his throat. "It's great to talk to you, Sare. And I just wanted to say . . . thanks for all your help when I was at Mayfield. You made a huge difference just by listening."

"You're welcome. I'm glad I could help. Talk to you soon."

When the call was ended Sarah went out into the garden. She sat in the old windsor chair, and enjoyed the sweet smell of ripe melons and herbs, the heady pungency of tomatoes. She'd already begun to can salsa and sauce this past week; on the way home from Jersey she'd snag a couple of bushels of peaches and the first apples of the season. Everything in its time, she thought, and looked up as Gene took the seat next to hers, beer in hand.

"Nice work today," he said, as he settled in. "Greg let me examine his thigh. I can't be completely sure, but it feels like there's some muscle growth—not much," he warned on her indrawn breath, "it could just be wishful thinking. But he told me he's feeling an odd sensation at the site of the surgery, a bit like when you have a healing bone break." He tipped the bottle back for a long swallow of beer.

"So it's working," Sarah said. The lump in her throat was back. "It's working."

"Yeah, I think so." Gene took her hand. "I'm not a church-goin' man but I'd say that counts as a blessing."

She nodded. "It is."