Free Never Too Late by Robyn Carr Page B

the coffees out of the bag and handed her one. She leaned back on the lounger and carefully lifted her legs up. “That’s life, huh?” he said. “How one stupid, irresponsible mistake can somehow turn into the best thing that ever happened.”
    They talked a little about their kids; she asked how he managed to work full-time and raise a child. With a lot of help, was the answer—his mother, a Realtor, was pretty flexible. And he worked four ten-hour days, giving him three off each week. They had a dog, Spoof, and Molly’s best friend lived down the block—so they always had a safe place for her to go if Dad and Gram weren’t home.
    All the while he talked, the dispatcher sent messages by way of his radio, the receiver attached to his right shoulder, which was turned down, but she could see hiseyes dart now and then toward it, keeping tabs on what was going on. And in the back of Clare’s mind came this startling reality—in the past six months and in the previous times she’d been separated, she had never really been on her own. It was more of a respite before going back into that marriage.
    This young man was doing so much better by himself than she, so much older and with so much more experience, had done.
    â€œI have so much to figure out,” she finally said.
    â€œFigure out getting on your feet. There’s plenty of time for everything else.”
    â€œMy biggest problem is that my son, Jason, is furious with his father. I mean livid. He won’t even speak to him.”
    Sam whistled. “Ouch. Well, I hope they work that out. A young man needs a dad. Mine died when I was so young.”
    Just as she was about to offer her condolences, the front door to the house flew open with a bang and she heard Jason. “Mom! Mom!” And Dotty. “Clare! Oh, Clare!” The sound of running and shouting caused her to sit upright and Sam to stand by the time Jason and Dotty found them on the patio.
    â€œAre you all right?” Jason, red-faced, demanded.
    â€œJason. Yes,” she said, confused.
    â€œThe patrol car,” Sam said. He stuck out a hand. “You must be Jason. I just brought your mom some Starbucks.”
    â€œWho are you? ”
    â€œJason, this is Sam. He was the police officer at the accident.” Dotty came up behind Jason before the handshake could be completed. Her hand twisted her sweaterclosed over her ample chest and there was a look of terror on her face. “Dotty, this is Sam. He was the police officer at the accident.”
    â€œStarbucks,” he said, lifting his paper cup.
    â€œOh my Lord, I thought something had happened to you—and you called the police! ”
    â€œEverything is fine. Jason, it turns out I know your grandfather. Sort of. I go to his hardware store all the time.”
    Clare struggled up, getting to her feet slowly. “Sam has been kind enough to check on my progress since the accident. And today he surprised me with coffee.”
    He looked at his watch. “And my coffee break is more than over. Good thing we’re not having a crime wave around here—I’d better get going.”
    â€œLet me see you to the door,” Clare said.
    â€œYou don’t have to. I know the way and I hate to make you move around too much.”
    â€œI’m supposed to be walking. Good for me, they say.”
    As they went to the door, they could hear Dotty and Jason settling their nerves with exclamations and deep sighs.
    â€œYou didn’t tell them about me,” Sam said.
    â€œI guess I didn’t,” she said. “It never occurred to me that the police car would throw them into a panic. Sometimes I just don’t think ahead.”
    When they got to the door, Sam looked at her and said, “Look, I don’t want to throw any curves while you’re trying to recover—but are you absolutely sure I’m being kind? Or thoughtful and sensitive? And that