That long-ago desire. Her studious little heart. “No. I never did.”

“Really? You were so excited about it. It seemed so perfect for you.”

It was.

“Something else came up.” She shrugged. “And kept coming up.”

“What about kids?” She waited for the next, and it finally came. “Husband?”

There had been other men, of course. Later. They came and went over the years, some just wanting company for a little while, some wanting more, but she could never make them a priority. Not with her real priority holed up in her home, creating beautiful artwork out of cast-off shells and bits of wood, writing her words on pieces of paper, hiding herself within a bubble of silence and solitude.

“Neither.”

He stared at her.

She laughed, a quick burst. “What?”

“I’m just . . . I’m shocked, honestly. I figured that was—” His mouth had started to form the next word—why—but he cut himself off.

What else would he have thought, Violet? Her words to herself were exasperated. You flat out told him there was someone else.

Everything in her wanted to set him straight, to assure him it hadn’t been another man who’d pulled her away from him. But explaining that to him now would only trigger more questions—questions she’d orchestrated her life around not answering.

“It just never happened,” was all she said.

He was quiet, waiting for an explanation she couldn’t give him. “I have to admit, I’m surprised. You were quite a woman, Violet.” He stole a glance at her, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little. “And still are, I imagine.”

She smiled. She couldn’t help herself, and neither could her heart, apparently. With the present and the past bumping up together, her heart raced just as it used to when she was with him.

Sandpipers coasted over the water and landed inches from the lapping waves. They dug their long, thin beaks into the soft sand.

Six sandpipers, four female, two male.

“What about you?” The thought of him loving another had once been unbearable to her, but years changed things. She thought she could take it now. “Did you marry?”

“I did. I married a woman named Alice. We have two sons.”

Violet’s heart stuttered, then resumed its pace. “And you live here in Sugar Bend?”

“I just moved back a few months ago. I’d been in Pensacola since . . . well, for a long time. But I wanted to be back closer to the grandkids.” He paused. “Alice lives in Abilene with her second husband.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. We divorced five years ago. It was very amicable.”

“Well then, I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

They’d turned around at the end of their one-mile route and were now headed back the other direction, quiet, the sun against their faces. Violet held up a hand to block the rays.

“How’s your sister?” he asked.

“My sister?”

Her response was too loud, too sharp, and he tilted his head. “I remember you telling me a little about her. You always seemed worried about her.”