Mad About You

the words out.
    "Have you tried saying you're sorry?"
    "Yeah. I wrote her a letter a couple of years ago and told her what a jerk I was."
    "And?"
    "And nothing. She didn't respond—not that I expected her to. She has every right to hate me." Although she did keep the letter...
    Rita unwound her arms and moved to face him. "You're right," she said, angling her head. "She should hate you. So you've got some serious making up to do."
    He pursed his lips, nodding slowly. "I know... but how?"
    She smiled and reached forward to squeeze his shoulders with her little hands. "Bailey, there are things more important than being the life of every party. You might even have to give up your reputation of being the biggest lady-killer in town. It's time to grow up, little brother."
    Bailey bit the inside of his cheek to allow the flash of anger to subside. Slowly, the warmth of acceptance seeped into his heart. "You're right, sis," he said finally, inhaling deeply. "I've been given a second chance, and I'll try to make the most of it."
    A few minutes later Bailey left to drive back to his apartment, still vibrating with nervous energy. On impulse, he turned the car onto the dirt road that led to the north meadow overlooking the pond. He stopped the car and retrieved a flashlight from the glove compartment before climbing out, but when he walked to the top of the hill, the moon shone so bright across the meadow, he switched off the beam. For a long time he simply stood and stared across the lush field, listening to the tall grass whisper in the wind. Silver light gilded the huge old white oak tree that loomed enormous in the exaggeration of shadows, drawing him, as always.
    Insects fell silent, then resumed their chirping in rounds as he waded through the dew-laden grass to stand in the silhouette of the Kallihan heirloom tree—his tree. His father had planted it the day Bailey was born, and thirty-three years later, its branches spread wide and inviting, begging to be climbed. At first it had been hard to reconcile the sentimental act with his hard-nosed father, whom he missed dearly, but Bailey had come to realize his father had possessed a soft center. Out of respect and love, Bailey had taken a single acorn from the immense tree and planted it the day his own son came into the world.
    He turned slowly and walked toward the smaller tree growing several yards away. Bailey, Jr., had already been snatched from their lives by the time the tiny sprout had emerged from the ground. His heart had nearly broken each time he visited the tree, but he'd nursed it determinedly. Despite a fragile beginning, it now stood tall and straight as a sword, casting a fifteen-foot shadow, its leaves rustling in the night breeze. Decades from now its branches would spread to meet those of the older tree. Long after he left this earth, his and his son's trees would live and touch and breathe. The thought filled his veins with deep satisfaction.
    He crouched and lowered himself to the ground to sit beneath the canopy of the smaller tree, then leaned back against the rough bark. He and Ginny had planned to build a home in the meadow and raise their son here. Instead, they'd all been scattered in separate directions.
    From what he could gather of Ginny's current tastes, he doubted if she would've been happy for long with the simple home design they'd chosen years earlier. He probably still had the dog-eared blueprints somewhere. Lot of good they would do, except remind him of what he'd had, of what he'd thrown away. Even if he did manage to get his life back on track, Ginny was probably lost to him forever.
    Or was she?
    Sitting amid the sweet-smelling grass under his son's tree, he suddenly realized he'd been given a miracle today and right now anything seemed possible, even a notion as remote as having Virginia Catron's love again.
    Bailey felt a boulder of grief and guilt slide from his chest. His shoulders drooped in relief, and his cheeks felt wet. He tilted his head and gazed up through the branches into the star-winking heavens.
    "Thanks," he whispered.

Chapter Three

    "I KNEW HE’D BE LATE," Virginia's father said, a deep frown creasing his weathered face.
    "Edward," Virginia's mother chided, laying a hand on his arm.
    Virginia ground her teeth and silently agreed with her father—Bailey was nothing if not unreliable. When the gate attendant announced the final boarding, she gripped the handle of her tapestry carry-on bag and reluctantly rose