Time and Again

William patted her head. "I've always been fascinated with space, you see." This time his smile was cautiously friendly. "So I'm interested."
    If this was the game, Jacob decided, he could play it. "I got my law degree from Princeton."
    "Law?" Sunny said. "You never told me-"
    "You didn't ask." His eyes dipped to her, then zeroed in on her father again. "Physics started out as a hobby."
    "An unusual one," William mused.
    "Yes." Jacob smiled. "Like growing herbs."
    William had to laugh. "About time travel-"
    "Take a break, Will," Caroline advised him. "You can grill the man more later. Your son needs to be changed."
    "And it's my turn." William unfolded his long legs. He crossed to Jacob, his heart turning to mush as Sam lifted up his chubby arms. "There's my boy. Have some more tea," he told Jacob. "We'll talk about those experiments of yours later."
    "I'll come with you." Sunny pushed herself up off the floor. "You can show me all the toys you bought him since last month."
    "Wait till you see this train-" he said as they walked out.
    "Will likes to pretend the toys are for Sam." Caroline smiled as she rose to fill Jacob's cup again. "I hope you're not too annoyed."
    "By what?"
    "The Spanish Inquisition." She moved back to sit on the arm of her chair. She reminded him of Sunny.
    "Actually, it was pretty mild, compared to what he put Cal through."
    "Apparently Cal passed."
    "We love him very much. Nothing would have made Will happier than to bring him into the business. But Cal has to fly, as I'm sure you know."
    "He never wanted anything else."
    "It shows. It was the same with Libby. She always knew what she wanted. It's more difficult for Sunny. I wonder sometimes if all that energy and intelligence hasn't given her too many choices. You'd understand that." At his questioning look, she continued. "From a law degree from Princeton to astrophysics. That's quite a leap."
    With a brief turn at professional boxing in between.
    He shrugged. "It takes some of us longer to make up our minds."
    "And those kind of people usually jump in with both feet. Sunny does."
    She was subtler than her husband, Jacob thought, and more difficult to put off. "She's the most fascinating woman I've ever met."
    And he is in love with her, Caroline reflected. Not happy about it, but in love. "Sunny's like a tapestry, woven in bold colors. Some of the threads are incredibly strong and durable. Others are impossibly delicate. The result is admirable. But a work of art needs love, as well as admiration." She lifted her hands. "She'd hate to know I described her that way."
    His gaze shifted to the vivid, blending colors of the wall hanging. "She wouldn't care for the delicate."
    "No." Caroline felt a tug of regret, and of relief. So he knew her younger daughter, and he understood her. "It's old-fashioned, I suppose, but all Will and I really want is to know that she's happy."
    "It's not old-fashioned." His mother had said almost the same words to him about Cal before he'd left home.
    With a sigh, Caroline turned to glance at the wall hanging he was studying. "That's one of my older pieces. I made that while I was pregnant with Sunny. I sold most of my work back then, but for some reason I held on to this one."
    "It's beautiful."
    On impulse she rose to take it down from the wall. Her fingers slid over it. She remembered sitting at her handmade loom, watching the sunlight play on the colors as she chose them, blended them. With Will in the garden, Libby sleeping on a blanket spread on the grass and a child moving in her womb. The image was all the sweeter for the time that had passed between.
    "I'd like you to have it."
    If she had offered him a Rembrandt or an O'Keeffe, he would have been no more stunned. "I couldn't."
    "Why not?"
    "It's priceless."
    She laughed at that. "Oh, my agent puts prices on my work. Ridiculous prices, for the most part. I'd hate to think that my pieces will only end up in art galleries or museums." She folded it. "It would mean a lot more if I knew some of them were being enjoyed by my family." When he said nothing, she held it out.
    "My daughter took your brother's name. That makes us family."
    He didn't want to feel like family. He needed to hold on to his resentment, to go on thinking of Caroline, and William Stone as names in history. But he found himself reaching out and taking the soft cloth.
    "Thank you."
    The nursery was painted a soft green. An antique iron crib in white was draped with a blanket Caroline had