Family Tree by Susan Wiggs Page B

probably stagnate in his blue-collar job at the garage, drink beer, and play the lottery, eventually turning soft and directionless in middle age.
    Looking at him now, she felt shame and regret. She wished she had looked deeper and seen an extraordinary young man. The fact was, she hadn’t looked at all. Her problem with Fletcher Wyndham had nothing to do with Fletcher Wyndham. Or with Annie, for that matter. It was Caroline who was the problem.
    Enough with this Fletcher kid, Caroline had said to Annie, when herdaughter was teetering on the verge of changing her mind about college. Now Caroline had to admit to herself that what she was really saying was Enough with this Ethan Lickenfelt.
    Oh, she had loved that boy in his boxy white grocery truck. She’d been naive enough to believe that loving him would be enough to create a life of blissful perfection, no matter what. At eighteen, she hadn’t understood that frustration and hardship had the power to corrode even the deepest love and thwart the most yearned-for dreams.
    The divide between the life Ethan wanted and the one he’d found on Rush Mountain had ruined their marriage. They were both committed to their kids and their family, but ultimately, the strain took its toll. There were only so many lies a person could tell herself before she had to let in the truth.
    â€œMrs. Rush?” Fletcher’s voice broke into her thoughts.
    She wasn’t Mrs. Rush. She wasn’t Mrs. anything. “Please call me Caroline.”
    â€œCaroline. I was just wondering what you thought.”
    â€œSorry, I wasn’t listening,” she confessed.
    â€œThis must be really stressful for you,” he said.
    â€œYes . . . but it’s not just that. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
    He frowned. “For what?”
    She sighed and pushed the plate of cookies toward him. “It’s a long-overdue apology. Really long, Fletcher, and it’s awful that I haven’t said anything until now. But I want you to know, I was wrong about you, back when you first moved to Switchback. A lot of people were wrong about you.”
    He gave a quick, slightly crooked smile. One thing Caroline had not been wrong about—the boy was stunningly good-looking. But that had been part of her problem with Fletcher. How could a guy that gorgeous possibly be trusted?
    â€œDon’t feel bad,” he said to her. “Now that I have a kid of my own, I get how protective a parent feels.”
    â€œThank you, but that’s no excuse. I never bothered to know you, and that wasn’t fair.”
    â€œI imagine you were more concerned with Annie. Besides, I was probably a little shit, anyway. The longer I work at court, the more I’m convinced that most guys are at that age.”
    â€œWhen I think of the role I played in keeping you apart, I feel ashamed. None of this would have happened if I’d left the two of you alone.”
    â€œBelieve me, you weren’t the cause of our breakup—not the first time, or the second. Annie and I managed to screw things up on our own.”
    â€œGood of you to say. But that Martin Harlow. He ought to be strung up by the balls.”
    â€œI can’t help you with that,” he said.
    â€œHe brought her here from L.A. via medical transport, as if she were a piece of defective merchandise, can you imagine?”
    â€œI . . . no. I can’t.”
    â€œI’m grateful she’s here, though. She needs her family. Now more than ever. Her care team says it could be weeks or months before she can come home, but you know Annie. When she sets her mind to something, nothing can stop her.”
    He nodded. “That’s the Annie I knew.”
    They were quiet, sipping the last of their coffee. Caroline offered a refill, but he shook his head.
    â€œI heard about your divorce,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œThis might be stating the obvious, but I’ll say it