The sound of the squeaking hinges stopped Colleen’s statement and Gavin emerged. He propped open the back door with his foot and in his free hand he held a garbage bag. He took a few steps toward the dumpster and threw the bag in before turning to his children. “Is something wrong and I don’t know about it? You look so serious.”

Twilight filtered through the Spanish moss, spilling light like strained honey onto their dad’s face. He squinted at his children. Shane took two steps toward him. “Dad, we were just talking about your doctor’s appointment today.”

“My doctor’s appointment?”

Shane and Colleen exchanged glances. “Yes, Dad. We went to Jacksonville today.”

Gavin rubbed at his face, wiping away a film of forgetfulness. “I’m sick, aren’t I?”

“Not sick.” Shane came to Gavin’s side. “Remember? It’s Alzheimer’s.”

Those two words next to each other hit Colleen: Remember plus Alzheimer’s equals Irony.

Gavin’s face broke into sadness. “Ah, yes. Well, that’s a hell of a thing to have, isn’t it?”

Shane’s voice shook. “We’re here, Dad. We are here for you.”

Colleen looped her arm through her dad’s and, together, they walked inside. Colleen cut through the back room and into the main area to sidle to the edge of the bar, with Shane on the other side. Gavin joined a group of friends at the dartboard and his boisterous laughter could soon be heard across the room. Colleen spoke to Shane in almost a whisper. “One thing the doc told me is that ritual and familiarity are two of the most calming forces for Dad. So having him here is good for him.”

“We have to talk to Hallie and make plans,” Shane said. “We have to . . .”

He abruptly quit speaking and Colleen followed his gaze to the front door, where a man entered the pub. Backlit in the setting sun he appeared as a silhouette, a cutout. As the door shut, he walked toward the middle of the room and his form became clear, the sunlight a spotlight: Walter.

He caught Colleen’s gaze.

She wanted to tear her eyes from his, to run, to at least move, but none of that happened. She froze.

She realized now that in her memory he’d been taller. How could that be? Damned unreliable memory. He, too, stopped still, standing halfway across the room.

“Oh, shit,” Shane said softly enough for only Colleen to hear. “Just what we need.”

His blue eyes. She could see them from where she stood. His wavy dark hair. His mouth was open in surprise, and her gaze was drawn to his lips. Those lips that had kissed her everywhere.