Free A Hero to Come Home To by Marilyn Pappano Page B

was located that she could navigate the room in the middle of the night with the lights off and her eyes puffy from crying. And she couldn’t begin to move that ridiculous TV by herself.
    Feeling as blah as the room, she got the phone, kicked off her shoes and curled up in the recliner. She’d slept there for the first month after Jeff’s death, convinced she could feel his presence: the curves where the leather had conformed to his body, the faint spicy scent of his cologne that seemed to have seeped into the cushions, the distant whisper of his voice trapped in the softness.
    Now she realized that the curves conformed to her body, and the only scent besides leather was her own cologne.
    She located Lisa’s number in the phone’s directory and pressed send, then snagged the fleece throw folded over the back of the chair and tucked it around her.
    “I swear to you, Isaac, if you don’t leave your sister alone—”
    From the other end of the phone came a deep inhalation, and Carly could picture her sister-in-law, eyes closed, mouth thinned, while she did a quick and silent count to ten in at least three of the languages she spoke fluently. The image made Carly smile.
    “Hello?”
    “Aw, poor baby,” Carly teased.
    “As he informs me every day and twice on Thursdays, he’s no longer a baby.”
    “I wasn’t referring to Isaac. I meant you.”
    After a moment, Lisa laughed. “In that case, thank you. I need all the sympathy I can get. How are you?”
    “Okay.” Quickly, before she could latch on to that unenthusiastic answer and run, Carly went on. “How are you and my brother and your adorable children?”
    “Isaac is picking on Eleanor because she just wants to play house while he wants to use her Chef Cathy model kitchen to whip up his latest experiment. He’s convinced he’s on the verge of a breakthrough.”
    “So much for that cowboy outfit I sent him for his birthday.” Carly laughed. “The fun of raising a five-year-old genius. Give them both hugs for me and tell them Aunt Carly misses them.”
    “I will. I’ll do the same with Roger when he comes up for breath. Do you know how hard it is to compete with the latest research in string theory for the attention of a theoretical physicist?”
    “Yeah, but you’ve got your secrets. Those kids weren’t conceived in a test tube.”
    “My secret is Victoria’s Secret, including a few skimpy strings of my own.”
    Memories of her own stash of sexy lingerie flitted through Carly’s mind. She hadn’t needed it to distract Jeff from work—simply breathing had been enough for that—but it had been fun to dress up from the skin out.
    Good thing she had no desire to wear it now, because it probably wouldn’t fit her.
    “How’s the rest of the family?”
    “They’re fine as usual. Your mom’s gone to a conference in China, where she’s presenting a paper. Your father actually mentioned the word retirement the other day, though apparently the concept struck him as so odd he lost his train of thought. Other brothers, wives, and kids are doing great.”
    “Great.” Everything and everyone was just great…except Carly. Oh, she was better than she’d been a month ago and would be even better next month. She was just tired of the months. She wanted to feel better right now .
    “How did your last adventure go?”
    Ah, see? Thinking of last weekend made her feel better. “I climbed into a cave about eighty feet above the ground and have the pictures to prove it.”
    Lisa let out an excited whoop. “Good for you! Geez, you’ve always wanted your feet planted solidly on the ground. Send me pictures so I can enjoy it vicariously.”
    “I will. So that’s the highlight of my week.” Absently Carly rubbed her thumb over a scrape on the chair arm, and without thought unbidden words popped out. “I’m thinking of painting the living room.”
    “No more dull, dreary white walls? Oh, thank God. No one should have to live with white walls. What