Epilogue

Sheila had her favourite lawn chair, a pile of good books, and a thermos full of tea. What else could I want for? she thought, as she looked out to sea where she could see Toby riding the waves, in his element. He would no doubt be next to her dripping wet and waxing poetic about the thrill of the water in a few minutes. So much like his father, and yet so different. Toby seemed to operate on impulse unlike Evan, who could think even the simplest decision to death. Sheila wondered where that came from. She had only known Evan's father for three weeks, but he had seemed more the impulsive type than an over-thinker. Suddenly a shadow fell across her book and Sheila looked up.

“Sorry about that. Dover . . . Heel,” the tall man said to the Irish wolf hound that had been nosing around the cooler where Sheila and Toby's lunch was residing. Sheila squinted up, something stirring in her chest.

“Sheila . . .?” the man said, uncertainly. “Is that you?”

“Theo?” she breathed, feeling suddenly bewildered.

Just then Toby came bounding up soaked, “Holy crap Grandma, did you see that!” he yelled, and then looked speculatively at the tall auburn haired man who stood there gaping slightly. “Who's he Grandma?”

Sheila looked up at her one time lover and she could see that it was obvious to him just exactly who the tall fifteen year old boy standing there, dripping wet with his surfboard, was. Theo too looked bewildered, but he smiled.

“Toby, this is your Grandfather,” Sheila said.

And here she'd been thinking that life would quiet down.