He held open my car door, and I slipped in the car next to him.

"Potty train a dog?" I said. "I know they can potty train cats, but I'm too old to share a bathroom with anyone."

We got to Jonathan's house and pulled up in the yard. I could hear Miss Jo yipping on the other side of the door. She was excited, and when we opened the door, she literally jumped with joy.

"Come here, you darling little girl!" I said, and she flew into my arms, licking my face in a frenzy of dog kisses. "My goodness!"

"Can you imagine what she's going to do when she sees Harlan?"

"She'll pass out cold!" We laughed. Miss Jo was now on the floor, on her back, tongue hanging out with happiness while I rubbed her tummy.

"Feel like a glass of wine?"

"Are you kidding? You cannot believe the week I've just had."

He poured me a goblet of wine, and he had one for himself.

"I'll bet. Come on outside and let's catch the breeze."

We walked out to the porch, and the breeze blew my hair all around. It felt like a baptism then, as though the damp salty air cleansed me of all my sins. It was telling me I was home and I was safe. I inhaled, exhaled, took a sip of my wine, and looked at Jonathan with the sparkling ocean and the white dunes and the crazy sky shot with so many colors, all behind him in a panorama of what heaven must look like.

"I love the way you look," I said. "I love the way your eyebrows grow and the shape of your nose and how you listen with your eyes and ears. You're just wonderful. Do you know that?"

"Where have you been all my life?"

"Darlin'? I've been in the wrong church, in the wrong pew, at the wrong service. The air smells so good out here."

"Yes, it does. So tell me how it went."

"Where to start? Wes's surgery was textbook and he's fine, still waiting for the lab report but we're pretty sure he's rid of the cancer, but that doesn't mean it wasn't high drama. My daughter and son? They're another story. They almost drove me insane, and for the first time in forever, I gave them both a piece of my mind."

"What's the matter with them?"

"My daughter just has this awful attitude. She thinks I live to wait on her like a personal maid. And she's pushy. And she's lazy. My God, she's lazy! She can't even wash a spoon! Can't support her child. And she drinks too much. Only to be outdone by her brother, who looks like a shepherd from the days of Moses. He can't earn a living either. And he smells."

"Look, my kids gave me a run for my money too, but you can never give up on them. Ever hear the old saying, every flower blooms in its own time? They just haven't bloomed yet."

"Well, my two are sure taking their sweet time."

"Hmmm. Listen, just remember; don't give up on them. How old are they?"

"Old enough to act like adults."

"Maybe now they will. You put the fear of God in them and walked out? I'm sure you gave them a lot to think about."

"Honestly? I think they were more insulted than put in their place. I hope you're right. I guess a lot remains to be seen."

"Always. Be thankful that life's long. You hungry? I've got a bowl of steamed shrimp in the refrigerator. And some kind of avocado, tomato, mozzarella salad they were selling at Whole Foods."

"That sounds like exactly what I want."

He had set the table in his dining room, but in the end we decided to eat at the table on the porch. The air was too delicious to ignore and peeling shrimp was a messy business anyway. We talked and ate until the island was covered in darkness, and then we lit some hurricane-covered candles and talked some more.

"So I promised him I'd go to this therapy with him, which I'm sure will be a complete waste of time and money."

"Most therapy is a narcissistic exercise," Jonathan said.

"Honey? You think Wes Carter is in this to justify his exemplary behavior and have a professional agree with him? Heck, no. He's trying to keep control of every single asset. It's all about control. He thinks a therapist can make me see the error of my ways, as though this will help me calm down and spend the rest of my life making Wes's breakfast. Ain't happening. You should've heard him. He said he set this all up for me so I wouldn't have any regrets."

"Good grief. The subtle manipulation. I hate head games."

"Me too. The only regret I have is that I agreed to go back."

"Well, a few sessions with a shrink are one thing. But I can't imagine you going back to that life. I mean, it's your decision. You have to do what you think is the best thing for you."

"Don't worry. I'm never going back. This visit convinced me of that more than ever."

"You're not stringing me along, are you, Leslie?"

"Why in the world would you say that?"

"Therapy makes me nervous. A clever therapist can make you believe a lot of things."

"I'll be on guard."

In the morning, Jonathan dropped me and Miss Jo off at Harlan's and then went on to work. It was so easy to be with him. As much as I proclaimed that I wasn't going to get into a serious relationship with anyone, I could slide right into Jonathan's life like a hand slips into the perfect-fitting kid glove. We both knew it. The truth was that Jonathan was as much a friend as he was a lover and maybe at this point in my life, that was what I needed. Maybe as you aged, what you wanted from a relationship changed too. Yes, I could see that. It wasn't so terrible to get older if you could be with someone who had a good sense of how much you wanted and if how much you were willing to give was enough for them. No, Jonathan and I were in a comfortable groove.

I thought about this as I rushed around, tidying up all the rooms, putting fresh flowers in the dining room and a small vase of roses right from the garden next to Harlan's bed, but there was already one there. This house was making me a wreck. I lifted the vase and inhaled. They smelled delicious enough to eat. His e-mail said he was arriving at three, and I still had tons to do to prepare for his homecoming. I fluffed his pillows and changed his towels, which were probably dusty from sitting there for a month, and I checked the liquor cabinet, making a list of what to replenish. Then I shopped, deciding to make rack of lamb for dinner with mashed potatoes and those little French string beans. Comfort food. And I made an apple tart. Harlan loved apples. Okay, I used a premade crust, but the house smelled fantastic and I knew Harlan would be so happy.

All the while I flitted from room to room, Miss Jo was on my heels, following me everywhere. Every time I said, Daddy's coming home, she wagged her tail and barked. It was as though she knew Harlan was on his way back to her. Finally, at around three, she sat in front of her wardrobe closet and barked like mad. She wanted a new outfit. I didn't blame her. She'd most likely been wearing the same dress all week.

"I'm with you, girl. Jonathan's a great guy but all that seersucker? It doesn't scream fashionista, does it? I think it's time to resurrect the martini dress and the Barbara Bush pearls. What do you think?"

Soon, I was pulling into the Charleston Airport with a coiffed Miss Jo. Now, I'm not saying she knew exactly what was going on, but she recognized the airport as a place where people came and went. We parked, went inside, checked the arrivals board, and waited in the baggage claim. His plane had just touched down.

Minutes later, here he came. Miss Jo was so excited she wiggled her way out of my arms, jumped to the floor, and strained against her leash until he reached her.

"Yes, yes! My sweet! Daddy's home! Hey, Les!"

"Hey, Harlan."

I couldn't stop laughing. It was the sweetest thing I ever saw. Miss Jo was wild with enthusiasm. Wild! She sat, she held out her paw, she walked on her hind legs, she rolled over, and she sat up to beg. She performed all her tricks to show Harlan how happy she was that he was back. Finally, he picked her up and cuddled her, and only then did she begin to calm down.

"Thank the Lord I only have one dog!" he said, and we laughed.

"Let's get your bags," I said. "Are you exhausted?"

"Beyond! All the trustees came home yesterday with our travel person, but I stayed an extra day. At least I didn't have to be the tour guide and lead all our folks through customs and all of that."

I nodded my head. "So it was great, huh?"

"What can I say? Italy? It's incredible. Just boggles the mind. Even the dirt is more beautiful than ours. Plus, it's porcini mushroom season. Grilled, with a little olive oil and coarse salt? I ate them for lunch and dinner every day until my tongue turned black. Then I gave them a rest."

"That was probably for the best. Are those your bags?"

"Yep. Adesso! Andiamo! Let's blow this pizza parlor."

"Am I going to be subjected to Italian metaphors for the foreseeable future?"

"S, signora."

"Good! I'm so happy you're home. I really am, Harlan. I missed you like mad."

We threw his bags in the trunk of my Audi and slammed the lid closed.

"There's nothing in the world like a great sister!" he said.

"I'm assuming that means me," I said and gave him another sisterly hug.

Over dinner, I told Harlan the whole Atlanta story about Wes, his surgery, the kids, and the proposed therapy, and he was as attentive as he could be given how tired he was.

"Sounds like insanity. So, by the way, how are things with Jonathan?"

"Comfortable. Wonderful. But you know, I'm not divorced, and I haven't even decided if I'm going to go through with a divorce. And he's talking about moving to California to be near his kids."

"Plans change." Harlan paused and then said, "Well, sugar, if you don't know what you want to do, therapy is an excellent idea."

"You don't think it's a waste of time?"

"Maybe, but look. Thirty years is a long time, and I wouldn't throw that away until I'd satisfied myself that it was truly over."

"I think this is about the money. He knows I know."

"How did he handle that revelation?"

"Ballistic on the level of a Chinese New Year's firework display? In Beijing? At the Olympics?"

"I bet. Well, look, I think you have to go back. Then you can tell yourself you gave your marriage every chance you could."

"Harlan? Do you think it's possible to sell my Audi and lease a new little red Benz before I go to Atlanta? I brought some checks with me."

Harlan nearly spit his mashed potatoes across the table, and then he began to laugh this uproariously crazy laugh. I hadn't heard him thunder like that in twenty years. Then I began to laugh with him. This went on for what seemed to be a very long time. We got up from the table, and Harlan hugged me with all his might.

"She's saved!" he cried. "Oh, Leslie Greene Carter! You're alive! It would be my greatest pleasure to handle that for you myself!"

"Can we get one that comes with diamond stud earrings?"

"I'm certain that we can."

PART THREE.

THERAPY CONTINUES.

CHAPTER 20.

Wes-The Joint Session "So the way this is going to work," said my leggy therapist, Dr. Jane Saunders, "is that I'm going to lead this two-hour session with Wes for almost half the time, and then we'll have a break for ten minutes. After the break, Dr. Katz is going to take over and we'll hear from Les. If at any time the other party wants to make a comment, please feel free to do so. I know that the two of you are not terribly hostile toward each other, but I want to remind you that the more civil you are with each other, the more success will be had. All right?"

"Sure," I said.

"So, Wes?" Dr. Saunders said. "I believe you've had some news from your company, is that right?"

"I've been offered an early retirement package, and I think I should take it."

Les said, "Really? Are you ready to retire, Wes?"

"Well, it came as kind of a surprise, but it made me think. I have to retire eventually, and I don't want to wait until I'm too old to enjoy it."

"I know how you feel," Les said.

Both doctors made a note of Les's remark. Did Les mean that she wanted out of our marriage as though she was retiring from a corporate job and with that she could take her retirement package and just go do what she wanted?

"What's that supposed to mean, Leslie?" I said it nicely, but her remark certainly did sound insulting.

"Look, Wes, what have your retirement plans always been?" she asked.

"To play the top one hundred golf courses in the United States. I've said it a million times. They're located in some very lovely places that even you might enjoy."

"Such as?"

"Well, all up and down the California coast, but there's also a great one in Ardmore, Pennsylvania, and there's another one in Frankfort, Michigan, and one in Roland, Arkansas. Don't forget Ooltewah, Tennessee."

"Wesley? Do you really think I have any interest whatsoever in seeing those golf courses? I mean, I'm sure those are perfectly nice places populated with lovely people, but I wouldn't get excited to have dinner with even the likes of Tiger Woods unless he came to my house. Even then I'm not so sure. I don't care about golf. You care about golf."