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filled with children. Mothers sat on the benches nearby, reading books or crocheting, looking up often to check on their offspring.
    Claire chose the picnic site farthest away from the playground and Joshua wondered if she’d done it on purpose. As he carried Sarge’s wheelchair to a spot beneath a shady oak tree, he thought of Sammy.
    If an undetected heart defect hadn’t taken him when he’d been almost two, he would have been nearly seven now. Joshua and Claire would have come here often to watch him climb the jungle gym or slip down the slide.
    He unfolded the chair, then went back to the car for Sarge, shoving away the thoughts of what might have been. As Joshua carried Sarge, Claire grabbed the blanket and the picnic basket and followed just behind him.
    â€œIt will be good for Cookie to get out and spend a little time relaxing,” Sarge said, as Joshua set him in his chair. “I’m afraid I’m a terrible burden on her.”
    â€œShe doesn’t look too much the worse for the wear,” Joshua replied.
    â€œWould you two stop talking about me as if I’m not here?” Claire exclaimed as she flopped down in the center of the blanket she’d spread out.
    â€œShe might not look stressed, but listen to her, she’s stressed,” Sarge exclaimed and winked one sightless eye in Joshua’s direction.
    â€œHa-ha, you’re very funny,” Claire replied dryly. “And now, the big question of the day is, do we want to eat, then brainstorm on where the treasure might be, or brainstorm, then eat?”
    â€œDefinitely eat first,” Joshua said as he joined her on the blanket. “I always think better on a full stomach.”
    â€œMe, too,” Sarge quipped. He raised his face upward and sighed in what appeared to be peaceful contentment.
    Joshua turned his attention to Claire, who was busy pulling items from the picnic basket. She had changed clothes for their outing and was now clad in a yellow tank top and shorts.
    She’d been wearing yellow the first time he’d seen her, when they’d both been fifteen years old. And she’d been wearing yellow on the day he’d left her, a canary-yellow sweater and slacks that were in stark contrast to the darkness in her eyes.
    As they ate lunch, Sarge chatted about the changes the past five years had brought to the small town. He seemed to know who had married whom, who had divorced, who got liquored up on Saturday nights and the issues that were facing the town council.
    Joshua’s attention was torn between trying to concentrate on what Sarge was saying and watching Claire eat. He’d noted that she had eaten hardly any of the breakfast she’d cooked that morning, her attention focused on making sure Sarge had what he needed. She looked as if she’d missed far too many meals in recent weeks.
    She attacked the picnic fare with abandon, smiling sheepishly as he caught her licking her fingers. “Fresh air definitely does something wicked to my appetite,” she exclaimed.
    â€œIt’s good to see you enjoying yourself,” he replied. “A few extra pounds certainly wouldn’t hurt you.”
    â€œIf that’s the case, then how about you split the extra sandwich with me.”
    He smiled. “You go ahead. I’m stuffed.”
    When they’d finished with the meal and had re-packed the basket, Sarge moved his wheelchair out of the shade and into the sun and promptly fell asleep.
    â€œThank you for getting him out today,” Claire said, her gray eyes filled with a grudging gratitude. “He needs to get out more, work at getting his strength back, but he’s so darned stubborn with me.”
    â€œHe’s probably angry, depressed…afraid.”
    She nodded and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “All of the above, but he won’t listen to me and he refuses to do anything to help himself. Of course,