ora stared up at her elder daughter in shock.

"Caroline?" she whispered, setting her tea down on the table beside her.

"I don't believe it!" Ruby ran across the porch and pulled her sister into a fierce hug.

Nora drank in the sight of it, her girls, back together on Summer Island. In the old days, she would have joined them, thrown her arms around both girls for a "family hug." But now a lifetime's worth of poor choices left her on the outside, looking at her own daughters through a pane of glass as thick as a child's broken heart.

Nora got awkwardly to her feet and limped forward. "Hey, Caro. It's good to see you. Caroline drew back from Ruby's embrace.

"Hello, Mother." Her smile seemed forced; it wasn't surprising. Even as a child, she'd been able to smile when her heart was breaking.

"This is great," Ruby said. "My big sis is home for a slumber party. We haven't done that since Miranda Moore's birthday party."

In the soft, orange light, Nora studied her elder daughter. Caroline was flawlessly dressed in a pair of creased white linen pants and a rose-colored silk blouse with ruffles that fell around her thin wrists. Not a strand of silvery-blond hair was out of place, not a fleck of mascara marred the pale flesh beneath her eyes. Nora had the feeling it wouldn't dare.

And yet, in all that perfection, there was a strange undercurrent of fragility. As if she were hiding some tiny, hairline crack. Her gray eyes seemed suffused with a silent sadness.

Nora wondered suddenly what had brought Caroline here. It was unlike her daughter to do anything spontaneously-she planned her grocery-shopping days and marked them down on a planner. An unannounced trip to the island was startlingly out of character. Ruby peered past her sister's shoulder. "Where are kids?"

"I left them with Jere's mom for the night." She glanced nervously at Nora. "It's just me. I hope that's okay. I know I should have called."

"Are you kidding? I begged you to come," Ruby said, laughing.

Ruby looped an arm around her sister's narrow shoulders. The two women moved into the house, their heads tilted together.

As she limped along behind them, Nora heard Ruby say softly, "Is everything okay at home?" but Caroline's answer was too hushed to be overheard.

Nora felt like a third wheel. She stopped at the kitchen table and cleared her throat. "Maybe I should leave you two alone for a while. You know, for a sisterly chat."

Caro and Ruby were almost to the living room. Together they turned around.

It was Ruby who spoke. "That's what got us into this pathetic mess, don't you think?"

"I just thought-"

"I know what you thought," Ruby said with a tenderness that squeezed Nora's heart.

Caroline moved forward, her left arm clamped tightly down on her designer overnight bag, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. Nora could see her daughter's fear; it was close to the surface now.

Poor Caro. She actually thought it was possible-it you were careful-to skate on ice too thin to hold your weight.

"So," Caro said, offering a quick smile that didn" reach her eyes, "would you like to see the newe photos of your grandchildren?"

"We could start there," Nora said, knowing it wasn't her line. She was supposed to be desperately thankful for even the pretense of normalcy. "But if we really want to get to know each other, it will take more pictures."

Caroline paled-if that were possible-then went on seamlessly. "Good." She unzipped her bag and took out two flat photo albums. "Let's go sit in the living room," she said, already moving. She went to the sofa and sat down, her knees pressed demurely together, her fingers splayed on top of the albums on her lap.

Ruby rushed over and sat beside her.

Nora ignored her crutches and hopped on one foot after her daughters. She sat down beside Caroline.

Caroline glanced down at the album. Her long, manicured fingers stroked the tooled leather.

Nora noticed that those hands, so perfectly cared for and heavy with gold and diamond jewelry, were trembling.

Slowly, Caroline opened the book. The first photograph was an eight-by-ten color shot of her wedding. In it, Caroline stood tall and stiffly erect (not nearly as thin as she was now), sheathed in an elegant, beaded si1k off-the-shoulder gown. Jere was beside her, breath tikingly handsome in a black Prada tuxedo.

'Sorry," Caro said quickly, "the new photos are in back." She started to turn the page.

Nora boldly laid her hand on top of Caroline's. “Wait.”

Who gives this woman to be married to this man.

When the priest had asked that special question, it had been Rand alone who'd answered. I do. Nora had been in the back of the church, doing her best not toweep. It should habe been: We do, her mother and I.

But Nora had given up that precious moment.

"She had been there for Caroline's wedding, but she hadn't been there. Caroline had invited her, placed her a close-yet-distant table, one reserved for special guests, but not family. Nora had known that she was a detail to her daughter on that day, no more or less important than the floral arrangements. And Nora, lost in the desert of her own guilt, had thanked God for then that. She'd gone through the receiving line and kissed her elder daughter's cheek, whispered "Best wishes," and moved on. There were endless questions she hadn't allowed herself to even ask then, but now, as she stared at the beautiful photograph of her daughter, Nora couldn't remain detached.

Who had acted as Caroline's mother on that day? Who had sewn the last-minute beads on Caro's dress... or taken her shopping for ridiculously expensive lingerie that she would never wear again... who had held her, one last time, as an unmarried young woman and whispered, I love you?

Nora drew her hand back. She heard the sound of a turning page and forced her eyes open again.

Ruby laughed, pointing to a shot of the whole wedding party. "I want you to know, I never wore that dress again."

"Yeah, and you never came home again, either," Caroline shot back.

Ruby's smile faded. "I meant to."

Caroline smiled sadly. "Words that could be our family motto." She quickly turned another page. "This is our honey moon. We went to Kauai."

Nora noticed that Caroline's fingers were trembling again. She kept gently touching the photographs.

"You look so happy," Nora said softly.

Caroline turned, and Nora saw the sadness stamped on her daughter's face. "We were.

And Nora knew. "Oh, Car...."

"Enough honeymoon shots," Ruby said loudly.

"Where are the kids?"

Caroline turned back to the album, flipped through a few more sand-and-surf photographs, and came toa stop.

This one was in a hospital room festooned with balloons and flower bouquets. Caroline was in bed, wearing a frilly white nightgown and an exhausted smile. For once, her hair was a mess. She held a tiny baby in her arms; the red-faced infant was wrapped in a pink blanket.

Here, at last, was a genuine smile, the kind that shone like sunlight.

Nora should have seen that smile in person, but she hadn't. Oh, she'd visited Caroline in the hospital, of course. She had come, bearing an armload of expensive gifts. She'd talked to her daughter, commiserated about labor, then commented on how pretty the baby was... and then she'd left. Even then, with the miracle of a new generation between them, they hadn't really talked.

Nora hadn't been there when Caroline realized how terrifying motherhood was. Who had said to her, It's Okay Caro; God made you for this"

No one.

Nora clamped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. A small, noise escaped. She felt the tears burn her eyes and streak down her cheek. She tried to hold her breath but it broke into little gasps.

Mom?" Caroline said, looking at her.

Nora couldn't meet her daughter's gaze. "I'm sorry...” She meant to add for crying, but the apology cracked in half.

Caroline was quiet.

Nora didn't realize that her daughter was crying until a tear splashed onto the album, landed in a gray blotch beside a picture of Jenny in a bassinet.

Nora reached out, placed her hand on Caroline's cold, still fingers. "I'm so sorry," she whispered again.

Caroline bent her head. A curtain of hair fell forward, hid her face. "That was the day I missed you most." She laughed unevenly. "Jere's mom was a take-charge kind of gal. She whipped in and packed me up and sent me on my way with a list of instructions." Another tear fell. "I remember the first night. Jenny was in a bed beside me. I kept reaching out for her, touching her little fingers, stroking her little cheek. I dreamed you were standing beside my bed, telling me it would be okay, not to be afraid." She turned, looked at Nora through mascara-ruined eyes. "But I always woke up alone."

Nora swallowed hard. "Oh, Caroline... "

"I tried to remember that prayer you used to say when I was scared at night. I know it was stupid, but Ijust kept thinking that everything would be fine if I could only remember those words."

"Starlight, star bright, protect this baby girl against the night." Nora smiled uncertainly. "Caro, there aren't enough words in this galaxy to say how sorry I am for what I did to you and Ruby."

Caroline leaned toward her and let Nora take her in her arms.

Nora's heart cracked open like an egg. She was crying so hard she started to hiccup. When Nora drew back, she saw Ruby, sitting on Caroline's other side.

Her face was pale, her lips drawn into a thin line. Only her eyes revealed emotion; they were shimmering with unshed tears.

Ruby stood up. "We need to drink."

Caroline wiped her eyes self-consciously and frowned. "I don't drink."

"Since when? At the junior prom, you-"

"It's a dozen lovely memories like that one that keep me sober. In college, Jere used to call me E.d. for easy drunk. Two drinks and I start thinking strip-and go-naked is a perfect game.

"E.D? E.D.? Oh, this is too good. I'm twenty-seven years old and I haven't gotten drunk with my sister since before it was legal. Tonight we're changing all that."

Nora laughed. "The last time I drank, I drove into a tree."

"Don't worry-I won't let you drive," Ruby promised.

Caroline laughed. "Okay. One drink. One."

Ruby did a little cha-cha-cha toward the kitchen, then threw back her head and said, "Margaritas!" Before Nora had figured out how to start another conversation with Caroline, Ruby was back, dancing into the living room with glasses that could have doubled as Easter baskets.

Nora took her drink, then laughed out loud when Ruby went to the record player, picked an album, and put it on.

We will... we will... rock you blared through the old speakers. Ruby had the volume so high the windows rattled and knickknacks seemed to dance spasmodically across the mantel.

Ruby took a laughing gulp of her drink, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and slammed the drink down onto the coffee table. Then she snapped a hand toward Caroline. "Come on, Miss America, dance with Hollywood's worst comic."

Caroline frowned. "That's not true.

"Dance with me.

Shaking her head, Caroline grabbed Ruby's hand and let herself be pulled into a twirl.

Nora cautiously sipped her cocktail and leaned forward, mesmerized by the interplay between her daughters. They were standing side by side, both sweaty from dancing, and they looked so happy and carefree it actually hurt Nora's heart. These were the adult versions of the girls Nora had borne, the women she'd imagined her daughters would have become if their mother had never left.

The girls danced and drank and laughed together; bumping hips and holding hands, until Caroline held up her hands and said breathlessly, "No more, Ruby.

I'm getting dizzy."

"Ha! You're not dizzy enough, that's your problem," and with that proclamation, she handed her sister her margarita "Bottoms up."

Caroline wiped the damp hair off her face. It looked for a moment as if she were going to decline.

"Oh, what the hell." Caroline drank the rest of her margarita without stopping, then held out the empty glass. "Another one, please."

"Yee ha!" Ruby danced into the kitchen and started up the blender.

On the stereo, the next album dropped down, clicked on top of the first one. With a whining screech, the arm moved to the beginning and lowered.

It was an old album by the Eurythmics. Sweet dreams are made of these pulsed through the speakers.

Caroline stumbled unsteadily to one side and held her hand out. "Dance with me, Mom."

Mom. It was the first time Caroline had called her that in years.

"If I step on your foot, I'll break every bone."

Caroline laughed. "Don't worry, I'm anesthetized." The last word came out hopelessly mangled, and Caroline laughed again. "Drunk," she said sternly, drunk."

Nora grabbed her fallen crutch and limped over toCaroline. She slipped one arm around her daughter's tiny (too tiny; frighteningly tiny) waist and used the crutch for support.

Caroline pressed her hands against Nora's shoulders. Slowly, they began to sway from side to side.

"This is the last song they played at the senior prom. I had them play it at my wedding, remember?"

Nora nodded. She was going to say something impersonal, but then she noticed the way Caroline was looking at her. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently, tightening her hold on Caro's fragile waist.

"Talk about what?"

Nora couldn't help herself. She stopped dancing and released Caroline's hand, then touched her daughter's cheek. "Your marriage."

Caroline's beautiful face crumpled. Her mouth quavered as she released a heavy sigh. "Oh, Mom... I wouldn't know where to start."

"There's no-"

Ruby spun into the room, singing, "Margaritas for the senoras." She saw Nora and Caro standing there, and she stopped in her tracks. "Jesus, I leave you two for five minutes and the waterworks start again."

Nora shot her a pleading look. "Ruby, please."

Ruby frowned. "Caro? What is it?"

Caroline took an unsteady step backward. She looked from Nora to Ruby and back to Nora. She was weeping silently, and it was a heart-wrenching sight. It was the way a woman wept in the middle of a dark night with her husband beside her in bed and her children sleeping down the hall.

"I wasn't going to tell you," Caro said to both them in a breathy, broken voice.

Ruby stepped toward her, hand outstretched.

"Don't touch me!" Caro said. At the shrill desperation in her voice, she laughed. "I'll fall apart if you touch me, and I'm so goddamn sick of falling apart I could scream."

Caroline sank slowly to her knees on the floor. Ruby sat down beside her, and Nora followed awkwardly, landing on her fallen crutch.

Caroline took a big gulp of her margarita, then looked up. Her eyes were dry now, but somehow that only made her look more wounded. A little girl looking out through a woman's disillusioned eyes, wondering how she'd stumbled into such heartache.

"Are you sleeping?" Nora asked.

Caroline looked shocked. "No."

"Eating?"

"Medications?"

"No.

Nora nodded. "Well, that's a good thing." She heldCaroline's hand. "Have you and Jere talked about this?"

Caroline shook her head. "I can't tell him. We're always going in different directions. I feel like a single parent most of the time. And I'm lonely. God, I'm so damned lonely sometimes I can't stand it."

"You haven't even talked to him about it?" Ruby said, leaning toward her sister.

Caroline turned to her. "You don't know what it's like, Ruby. You can say anything to anyone. It's harder for me."

"Yeah, but-"

Nora touched Ruby's thigh. "She doesn't need that now, Ruby. There's a time for the real world and consequences, Caroline knows that. This is a time for letting her know that whatever happens, we'll always be there for her." Nora gazed lovingly at Caroline. "I know what you're going through, believe me. You're at that place where your own life overwhelms you and you can't see a way to break free. And you're suffocating."

Caroline drew in a gulping, hiccuping breath. Her eyes rounded. "How did you know that?"

Nora touched her cheek. "I know" was all she said for now. There would be more to come, she knew, but now they had to lay all the cards on the table.

"Is Jere seeing another woman?"

Caroline made a desperate, moaning sound. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Everyone always said Jere was just like Daddy. I guess I should have been afraid." She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I'm going to leave him, though."

"Do you love him?" Nora asked gently.

Caroline went pale. Her lower lip trembled; hands in her lap tightened into a bloodless knot. "So much... "

Nora's heart felt as if it were breaking. Here was another legacy of her motherhood: she'd taught her children that marriages were disposable.

"Let me tell you what it's like, this decision you think you've made," she said to Caroline. "When you leave a man you love, you feel like your heart is splitting in half. You lie in your lonely bed and you miss him, you drink your coffee in the morning and you miss him, you get a haircut and all you can think is that no one will notice but you. And you go on with a broken heart, you go on." She took a deep, unsteady breath. "But that's not the worst of it. The worst Is what you do to your children. You tell yourself it's okay; divorces happen all the time and your children will get over it. Maybe that's true if the love is really gone from your marriage. But if you still love him, and you leave him without trying to save your family, you will... break. You don't just cry in the middle of the night, you cry forever, all the time, until your insides are so dry there are no tears left, and then you learn what real pain is."

Nora knew that what she was saying wasn't true for all marriages, all divorces. But she was certain that Caroline hadn't tried hard enough, not yet, not if she loved Jere. She closed her eyes, trying to think of Caroline... but then she was thinking about her own life, her own mistakes, and before she knew it, she was talking again. "You walk around and get dressed and maybe you even find a career that makes you rich and famous. You think that was what you wanted all along, but you find out it doesn't matter. You don't know how to feel anymore. You're dead. Somewhere, your daughters are growing up without you.... You know that somewhere they're out there, holding someone else's hand, crying on someone" else's shoulder. And every single day, you live with what you did to them. Don't make my mistake," Nora said fiercely. "Fight. Fight for your love and your family. In the end, it's all there is, Caroline. All there is."

Caroline didn't look up as she whispered, "What if I lose him anyway?"

"Ah, Caro," Nora said, stroking her daughter's hair; "what if you find him again?"