Mom wants them to come inside, but the man is shaking his head no. I think he’s saying something about the police car, because he’s started walking backward toward it. Dr. O’Neal is pulling on his hand, like she doesn’t want him to leave. But he keeps shaking his head.

Mom hugs him. Daddy shakes his hand again, using both hands, and then they come back inside.

Dr. O’Neal and the man just stand there looking at each other, and then they sorta crash together, and hug each other tight, and start kissing like people do in the TV movies that are inappropriate for young audiences. Seriously? I know grown-ups kiss and make babies.

Dr. O’Neal scoots closer to the tall man until they’re touching all up and down. Maybe she wants to marry him. But if they do get married, I hope their kids don’t get cancer.

When they quit kissing, he gives Dr. O’Neal a little push toward the porch.

He starts walking toward the police car. Dr. O’Neal turns and runs up the walk.

I hear the front door open and close. She’s talking in a hurry to Mom and Daddy. Now they’re all coming to my room really quick. Dr. O’Neal is the first one in. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s breathing fast like she’s been running. There’s a big tear in her coat. You can see the stuffing. Her boots have mud on them. Her hair needs brushing.

But I don’t care. I’m so happy to see her.

But she looks even more happy to see me.

Epilogue

Six weeks later

Using the familiar old-fashioned room key, Rye let himself into the cabin, but stopped short on the threshold when he saw Brynn sitting on the end of the bed.

This first sight of her since he’d told her goodbye at the Griffins’ house sent his heart into arrhythmia, making it difficult to appear cool. But he tried to act nonchalant as he stepped inside and shut the door.

“Do you come with the cabin now?” He took in the familiar burlap lampshades, paint-by-number artwork, the striped bedspread. “Must say, you spruce up the decor.”

“Thank you. I wasn’t sure you would recognize me.”

His brows went up as he shrugged off his jacket. “I recognize that biting tone.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to start right in.”

“Hmm. You were going to work up to telling me what a bastard I am?”

“Oh, I’ll get there.”

He came even to where she sat and propped his butt against the dresser. “I’ve only seen you in one set of clothes, so you do look different.”

She laughed softly. “I have cleaned up a bit since I last saw you.”

He would have bet his bomber jacket that he remembered how much he liked her face, but the wager would have lost him his prized possession. Even his most vivid memories of her paled in comparison to the living, breathing version.

She was wearing a slender black skirt and high-heeled boots. Her pale gray sweater was thin, not bulky. It clung to her breasts, which he knew were a perfect fit in his palms.

He gave a soft cough. “Marlene tell you I was coming today?”

“She called to inform me a few days ago. Said she hoped I was free. I think she’s matchmaking.”

As though the idea of Marlene White playing Cupid was amusing, he made an effort to smile. It didn’t quite work. “She didn’t know where I was staying.”

“No. I played a hunch.”

“You talked a key out of the pothead?”

“I played him, too.”

“I bet.” He looked her over. “That getup. He’d have to be a monk to hold out, and probably not even then.”

She blushed over the compliment but didn’t acknowledge it. “How was Brady’s flight?”

This time his smile was automatic. “He was like a kid at Christmas. I gave him control a couple of times. I swear, it was so much fun to watch him having so much fun. We flew over this wide-open pasture in a valley. I banked, came around for a second pass, went in real low, almost like I was going to do a touch-and-go, then climbed out steep. Brady—” Catching himself, he stopped.

Her expression was knowing, a trifle smug. “How nice that you can give him such a treat, but remain detached and uninvolved.”

He looked down and studied the toe of his boot. When he raised his head, he met her steady gaze head-on. “It was great.”

She didn’t gloat over his admission. Her victory lap came in the form of a soft smile. “I know today meant a lot to both of them.”

“It meant a lot to me.”

After a brief but weighty silence, she asked if he and Dash were on speaking terms again.

“Yeah. He was in a tight spot. I forgave him.”

“You were the one in the tight spot. How’d it go with the FAA, the NTSB?”

“Good. Wilson and Rawlins helped.”

“They met you when you got back that night?”

“At the hangar when I returned Jake’s plane. They delivered me to the detectives who were investigating the crime scene at the Hunts’. I was questioned.”

“I was deposed in Knoxville the next day.”

“I owned up to ‘subduing’ Timmy in order to protect you. Wilson and Rawlins vouched that neither of us was there to witness the shootings, so we didn’t know how it played out after we left.

“They also explained the medical emergency that you and I were responding to. Lambert confirmed it. The police were much more focused on Senator Hunt, who kept changing his story. Still, it was hours before they freed me to go.

“Rawlins, Wilson, and I barely made the nine o’clock meeting up here, but we did. We trooped out to the crash site. I talked the agents through what happened. You, me, Lambert all attested to Timmy’s confession about trying to crash the plane. I was cleared. Investigation closed.”

Her face lit up with her smile. He found himself looking at her mouth. He longed to dab the corner of her lips with his thumb. His tongue.

He dragged his gaze back up to hers. “How’s Violet? Is the drug working?”

“No negative side effects. Her latest blood test shows a marked increase in healthy blood cells. The cancer hasn’t spread. We’re holding our breath, but it looks good.”

“That’s great news, Brynn.”

“You can drop the surprised act,” she said dryly. “Nate told me you’ve called him three times to ask about her.”

“I wanted to know.”

“No need to get defensive, Rye. I didn’t accuse you of anything except being a kind and caring human being. I appreciate your concern, and so do the Griffins. You certainly had a vested interest in Violet’s prognosis. It would be nice if she could thank you personally.”

Dodging that, he said, “To hear Lambert tell it, Violet’s turnaround was due to him and his genius.”

“Nate is obnoxious and unlikable—”

“That doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“—but he also did the research along with me. He put in the long hours, too. He’s entitled to take credit.”

“No more than half.”

She gave a modest shrug and became reflective. Voice quiet, she said, “You nailed it, you know.”

“What?”

“To some extent, I was doing it for me. Not for acclaim. Not to become famous, but to—”

“Live down being a convict’s kid.”

“You saw that.”

He shrugged. “Little bit. Anyway, it’s not a sin.”

“No doubt my mother’s death contributed to my ambition. But when I was most ashamed of my last name, the loftiest goal I could conceive of was to become Dr. O’Neal.”

“Doesn’t matter why you did it, Brynn. Matters that you did.”

Her saw her throat work with emotion. “Well, the important thing is that Violet’s improvement will open up clinical trials for other patients.”

He gave her a thumbs-up. “Way to go, Dr. O’Neal.”

God, he loved when she blushed.

“Did Nate tell you the irony?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“The morning following the infusion, I called my answering service for the first time since I’d checked out on Thanksgiving eve. They’d been unable to call me because…well, you know.

“Anyway, there were three calls designated as urgent. I didn’t recognize the name or number. It turned out to be a member of the FDA review board who was considering the compassionate use of GX-42 for Violet.

“The board member had seen the news story about her and recognized the name. She spent hours Thanksgiving night calling other members of the board. By morning she had a consensus. They approved the application for Violet and gave it emergency status.”

He laughed. “No shit?”

“No shit. I’d been given leave to use the drug immediately. I didn’t breach ethics after all.”

“I’ll be damned. Shining the spotlight on Violet actually worked against the Hunts.”

“That’s the irony. And Richard Hunt is in the worst kind of spotlight. He’s got so many spin doctors spinning, he still can’t keep his stories straight. The latest is that Goliad was jealous of Timmy and obsessed with Delores. It’s a muddle.”

She leaned back, propping herself up on her hands. When she crossed her legs, a split on the side of her skirt opened. It took a moment for her words to register.

He said, “I doubt anyone will ever know the whole of it. Hunt will continue to lie and maneuver. Postpone. ”