“That hurts, doesn't it?” He laughed. “Dana took exactly half of everything we owned. One out of every pair of lamps we owned, half the kitchen chairs, half the pots and pans, half the silverware. Now nothing I own matches, and every time I go to cook an omelet or have guests to dinner I swear, because whatever it is I'm looking for is in England.”
“I know.” She grinned painfully. “In the beginning he said he didn't want anything. Now it turns out Stephanie must not be as well equipped as he first thought. Every few days I come home and find something gone, and a note explaining that he's taken this or that 'against his share.' I don't know when he comes to the house, but I'm never there. And yesterday he took half the silver flatware my mother gave me.”
“You'd better watch out. Those things get nasty.”
“I guess so …pot holders …cooking pots …skis …it's weird the stuff that it boils down to in the end, isn't it? It's all so petty. Kind of like a garage sale for the emotions.”
He smiled at the comparison, but it was true. And then he asked her something he hadn't dared to. “What are you and Andy doing this summer?”
“Summer? Oh God …that's right, it's June this week … I don't know. I don't suppose we can leave Allie.”
“What if there's no change? Don't you suppose you could get away, as long as it's not too far?” He was looking hopeful, and she smiled at him. He had brought up an interesting question. What if there was no change? Could she go away for a few days? Did she dare? Would she have to begin to lead a life that assumed Allie might stay in a coma?
“What did you have in mind?” she asked cautiously, still thinking of her daughter.
“A couple of weeks at Lake Tahoe. We go there every year, and Bjorn would love to have Andy with him,” he looked away and then back at her again “…and I'd love to have you there with me …”
“I'd like that,” she said softly. “We'll see. Let's see how Allie is by the time you go. When do you go?”
“August.”
“That's two months away. A lot could change by then.” Either she would have made some progress, or she'd be locked in her coma forever.
“Just keep it in mind,” he said, looking at her with eyes full of meaning.
“I will.” She smiled as their hands met and touched for a moment. All the electricity they'd shared briefly was there. But during the trauma of the separation, he'd backed off so as not to pressure her or confuse her. But he had missed her.
They left late, and Andy fell asleep in the car on the way home. It had been a nice weekend.
Trygve called her after she had put Andy to bed, and she was lying in her own bed, feeling lonely.
“I miss you,” he said, and she smiled. Now that Chloe was home from the hospital, they would see less of each other unless he came to the hospital specifically to see her. He knew her routine now. “I always miss you,” he said, sounding husky and sexy. Most of the time she tried not to let herself think about him right now. She had wanted some time to mourn Brad and their marriage, but she missed Trygve's company too. He was a good friend, an attractive man, and fun to be with. “When am I going to see you again?” he asked. “I'm not sure we can carry on in the ICU waiting room for the rest of our lives.” They both remembered the endless hours and the recent kisses they had shared there.
“I hope we won't have to meet there forever,” she said sadly.
“So do I. But in the meantime, how about a real date one of these days, without kids, without nurses, with real food, and no pepperoni pizza.” She laughed at the thought, it was an appealing idea. No one had asked her out in years. The thought of it made her feel young and attractive.
“It sounds incredible.” She had only been out once, with her mother, since the accident six weeks before, but maybe now she was ready. “You mean I don't have to cook?”
“No,” he said emphatically, “and no Norwegian stew, and no Swedish meatballs. No peanut butter sandwiches. No S'Mores. Real food. Grown-up stuff. How about the Silver Dove on Thursday?” It was a romantic spot in Marin, and if anything happened, they would be close by if they were needed.
“It sounds wonderful,” she said, feeling happier than she had in weeks. He always managed to make her feel special, even in her gardening sweater and worst shoes, he made her feel like a beauty.
“Pll pick you up at seven-thirty.”
“Perfect.” She could either leave Andy with Jane, or get a sitter. And then suddenly she laughed, thinking of something.
“What's up?”
“I was just thinking it was my first real date in seventeen years. I'm not sure I remember how you do that.”