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take chances, but now I think I get it. So, you’ll go back to school?”
    “Well, like you, I have to make a decision—I don’t know if I want to go back to med school. The second I said ‘doctor’ when I was about sixteen my parents were on the case—going over my classes, my major and my transcripts, my med school applications. I missed a lot of life being the perfect student. While I was recovering, I had some great docs but there was one I was close to. Dr. Temple was never in a hurry. He talked to me. It’s possible he was simply studying me, looking for signs of brain damage, but still…” She gave a shrug, then shook her head. “I’ve been fighting with my mother a lot. She wants me back in med school before too much time passes, and I’m not sure I’m ever going back. Next for me, Paddy, is a little more balance in my life. If I’ve learned anything from what happened, it’s that you shouldn’t miss opportunities to live life. It could always be your last chance. And not just if you’re a Navy pilot. It could be your last chance even if you’re just making a grocery store run.”
    “No one can make you go to medical school.”
    “I so hate to disappoint them. But I might be looking for something more.”
    “Going to become an adventurer?” he asked.
    “That’s not really what I mean. I think watching the snow fall in candlelight and cuddling a baby—those can be watershed moments, too.”
    She stood up from the bar. He stood, as well. “For today, I chased down an interesting guy—something I’ve never done before. I’ve had a nice cup of coffee, and now I’m going back outside to watch the decorating of the tree. I’m also going to try to talk my way into one of those cherry pickers, but I might have to get my uncle Jack drunk first.” Then she laughed.
    “I gave you a hard time, Angie,” he said. “Sorry.”
    “It’s okay, Paddy. You have stuff to work out, too. Big stuff, and again, I’m sorry for your loss. And,” she added with a shrug, “I’ve been told I can be a lot to take. Especially lately…”
    He grabbed her hand before she could leave. “No, you’re not,” he said. “Maybe you should have another cup of coffee.”
    She shook her head, but the look in her eyes said she was tempted.
    “You started it,” he accused.
    “Aw, I think you did, with your green eyes and that look.”
    He put his right hand against the side of her head in an affectionate gesture and suddenly time stopped. He had a strange look on his face. His fingers rubbed against a raised, hairless spot behind her ear. She had long, thick, pretty brown hair streaked with blond but there was no mistaking a scar. He pulled away from her to look into her eyes.
    “A shunt,” she said. “I don’t know why the hair doesn’t grow there, but I guess it’ll grow back someday. I think.”
    “Shunt?” The word was not completely alien to him, but he wasn’t making all the connections.
    “My brain swelled while I was in a coma. They fixed it with the shunt to drain the edema but then they leave it in. It’s not working anymore but they don’t remove the shunt unless it creates a problem. We don’t do brain surgery unless we have to.”
    He watched her eyes. “Coma,” he said, still gently touching that lump. “Brain swelling. You had a head injury. A serious head injury.”
    “But really, I’m fine. Completely recovered. I mean, I think I am. Even given my chasing dangerous men into bars…”
    “It was a bad accident,” he confirmed. “Very bad.”
    She nodded. “Which explains why my mother thinks I have a personality disorder and wants me in a padded suit for the rest of my life. And maybe it also explains my resistance to that idea.”
    He smiled gently and said, “I like your personality.”
    “Thanks,” she said, some confidence restored. “That actually means a lot to me.” She gave him another smile, then turned and headed out to join the festivities.

Three
    O nce Angie