Karen closed the door of her office. She usually offered her clients coffee and directed them to the sofa. Now she treated herself to the same amenities and kicked off her shoes.

Bobbie had talked “common sense.” Didn’t that usually turn out to be the best way? She put her analytical powers to work and itemized the elements of her present situation:

One. The case against the hospital was solid.

Two. Alan, for reasons partly revealed and partly hidden, did not want to be involved.

Three. She, too, was driven by mixed motives.

Four. As things stood, their positions were irreconcilable.

Five. Between them stood a wall, behind which each hid their secret from the other. It had to come down. Otherwise, every conceivable outcome would be a victory for one at the expense of the other, and the rift in their marriage would widen.

Drinking her coffee in solitude, she remembered another time almost nineteen years ago when she had also grappled with a life-defining decision. The same demon she barely held at bay then now possessed her again. She marveled at the irony that placed Bobbie, herself both beneficiary and victim of a selfish choice, in the position of advisor. Bobbie’s caring and counsel had indeed opened her eyes. Karen had lost her vision of legal stardom and then her daughter, and she was now rushing headlong to destroy her marriage too.

She knew she had to change their collision course. But her other experience could not guide her in the present predicament. Alan had surely been right about the pregnancy, but he was not right about the lawsuit. Abandoning it was out of the question. What Karen needed to abandon was the ambiguity of her motive for pressing it.

Her mind was now clear. She finished her coffee. The first task was to accept Alan’s reluctance and help him overcome it. Thanks to Bobbie, Karen recognized that helping was the key. Threats would not do. By the time she left the office that afternoon, she had laid out her plan. Alan had called to say a patient had been admitted to his service just before five o’clock. The delay gave her time to consult a directory and make a couple of telephone calls.

By seven-thirty they were eating dinner, making the usual small talk. Dessert consisted of vanilla ice cream with sliced strawberries. On a calculated impulse, she said, “You know, a dash of brandy would really liven this up.”

He went for the decanter. “Bring a couple of glasses,” she called after him, “just in case.”

“I have an idea,” she said two drinks later, her nose poised over her snifter. “We haven’t talked about New Year’s. I guess we’re not up to partying. But it is a long weekend, and I was thinking we could do something quiet. You know, just get away.”

“Hmm. I do have New Year’s Eve, starting at noon, and New Year’s Day. But I have to cover the next day. . . . Come to think of it, you’re right. A change would be nice. Did you have something particular in mind?”

“There’s a nice bed and breakfast in Newfoundland—”

“What?!”

“No, no! Newfoundland, Pennsylvania. It’s in the Poconos. People go up there for cross-country skiing, although that isn’t what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Just relaxing, talking, not being distracted.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “Is the lawsuit getting to you?”

“There are aspects of it that bother me. But I’d rather not talk about it now.”

“Isn’t it late to make reservations in the mountains?”

“New Year’s must not be much in demand as a ski weekend. Anyway, I lucked out. We already have reservations.”

He looked at her again, this time grinning. “What if I’d said no?”

“I took a chance.” She shrugged offhandedly.

~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived in Newfoundland after dark. There was no snow. “Oh dear!” Karen exclaimed. “I never thought to ask. I took it for granted there’d be snow in the mountains.”

Peggy and Mike, seasoned hosts, gave them an open bar to allay their disappointment.

“Any good hiking up here?” Alan asked.

“Enough for a week. And you’ll have the trails to yourself ― especially the next couple of days.”

“We lost our daughter last summer,” Karen said, “and we’re not up to celebrating. We just want a quiet evening and a walk in the country tomorrow.”

Mike suggested a family restaurant where business would be light. Alan and Karen opted for a twenty-minute walk instead of a five-minute drive and arrived refreshed and hungry. They were seated at a window table. Noticing only a dozen other patrons, Alan asked the waitress jokingly, “You’re not going to rush us out of here, are you?”

“At eleven-thirty we lock the doors and start partying,” the waitress said with a grin. “Think you can manage in two hours? The rest rooms are in the far right-hand corner.”

“Then let’s flush away the old year,” Alan answered.

They ordered old-fashioneds. Over the first one they sat back, stretched, and agreed that the trip was a great idea. Then, turning their attention to the map Mike had given them, they chose a trail that seemed the right length for walking between breakfast and lunch.

“Ready to order?” the waitress asked. They did, and took a second cocktail while waiting.

“Do you know, Alan, this is the first time we’ve done anything for ourselves since July?”

“We needed it. I’m glad you thought of it.”

Karen was nervous. She didn’t know when or how to start on what she’d brought them to the mountains to accomplish. Make small talk, ease slowly into the most serious discussion in years? Or follow Josh’s example and come right to the point? In her rush to seize the moment, she’d done a masterful job setting up their retreat and neglected to lay out the agenda. As they worked their way through the meal, she felt the burden of initiative. She suspected that he was waiting for her to say what was on her mind. And so she did.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking lately. You asked the other night whether the suit was getting to me, and I said some aspects bothered me.”

“I remember,” Alan said, putting the last piece of steak in his mouth.

“The part that bothers me is what it’s doing to us. And it’s my fault.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. We just have a difference of opinion.”

She sat up straight. “It’s not just a difference of opinion. I’m being pigheaded, refusing to acknowledge that there’s another side. I’ve been bulldozing ahead as if you had no right to your reservations. That’s not the way it should be.”

“Well, we are going ahead. Let’s say we’ve agreed to disagree on some of the details.”

Karen didn’t know whether the sarcasm she heard was real or imagined. But she was determined not to quarrel. “I’ve been talking with Bobbie. Not as lawyer, but as friend. She picked me apart pretty well. I knew she was seeing right through me because everything she said clicked. She made me realize what I was doing to the two of us.”

Alan looked at her warily. “She’s not the ideal marriage counselor, is she?”

“No. . . . But then, maybe she is, just because of her own experience. She knows choice has its price. She forced me to be honest with myself, and now I want to be honest with you. What’s been driving me isn’t just the malpractice. It isn’t even losing our child. It’s the idea of giving up a promising future in law because I had to raise that child. When Edie died, I felt I had nothing ― like losing my life savings on a hand I never wanted to play. And I was so consumed with anger that I didn’t want to hear about your concerns. I’m so ashamed of myself!”

“But—”

“I wanted revenge. I wanted someone to pay. When you didn’t want to go along, it was as if you were denying me my last hope. I got so mad, I didn’t give a damn about your reasons. Never stopped to think how much more damage I was doing.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Seeing her cry, the waitress came over and asked whether there was anything she could do. They ordered another drink. Alan took advantage of the diversion and spoke.

“You had a perfect right to insist on suing, no matter what was driving you. I know a bit of psychology too. Maybe not as much as Bobbie, but enough to get by. ― Sorry! ― People do things for all kinds of reasons. If what you’re doing is right, you needn’t question your motives.”

“What I was doing was not right,” she answered, more quietly. “The way I behaved was destructive. We only have each other now.” She stared out the window into the darkness.

“What we went through was bound to cause strain,” he said. “How could it not? But we’re pulling through. And I’ll go along with the suit. They’ll offer a settlement we can live with; they don’t have a choice.”

Breaking the brief silence that followed, he said: “Let’s pay our bill before we get locked in. We can talk more outside.”

The frigid air took away their breath, discouraging further conversation. In the silence Karen felt self-conscious. She didn’t know whether she’d taken a step forward or backward. She’d aired her guilt, and he’d forgiven her. On top of that, he’d said, for the first time, that he supported her in the suit. Surely she had reason to be elated, yet she felt let down. Maybe her mood knew something her intellect didn’t. Tomorrow she’d put her finger on it.

“What time is it?” she asked.

He stopped under a streetlight. “Eleven-forty-five, it looks like. Getting late.”

“If we hadn’t got out of there, the waitress would have made us toast the New Year,” she replied with a laugh, “but I couldn’t take another drop tonight. I just want to fall into bed.”

“You’re right. The new year’ll come in whether or not we drink to it.”

They were at the door of their B & B when they heard the cheering from inside. In the distance fireworks went off. “Come, help us welcome the New Year,” Peggy said as they came in, waving a glass toward them. They declined as gracefully as they could and went up to bed.

“The new year has to be better than the old,” Karen said softly, as she lay in the darkness.

A few seconds passed. “I want to tell you something. Are you awake enough to listen?”

She turned to him. “Yes.”

“What you said in the restaurant took a lot of courage. It must’ve been hard to say it even to yourself. But to me, of all people—”

“I couldn’t have done it without a few drinks.”

“Now that you’re sober, do you want to take any of it back?”

“I meant every word, and I thank you for not being judgmental. You could have despised me for getting my priorities backward. Maybe you do, but you’re nice enough not to say so.”

“It seemed so totally authentic and spontaneous. You didn’t have to explain yourself. Even if I’d wanted to be judgmental, I couldn’t after you made yourself so vulnerable. Besides, what right do I have to judge you? I’ve been so self-centered, I never gave you credit for your sacrifice. All I thought about was that you had an obligation—”

“I did.”

“I should have asked myself why you’d even consider reneging on something so basic. Sure, you wanted to establish yourself. I understood the words, but the real meaning ― that this was your life, as much as medicine was mine ― never penetrated. Even when Bobbie got her partnership, my reaction was, you were better off with your family than she with her career.”

“I was, Alan!”

“But I never took the trouble to find out whether that was the way you felt. I drew my conclusions and expected you to share them.”

“Well, just look at me,” Karen said. “Threatening to barge ahead on my own if you didn’t go along. I never gave you a chance to talk about what was really bothering you.”

Alan wondered whether she already knew what was really bothering him.

“Let’s sleep now,” he said. “We can talk more in the morning.”

Neither slept. Alan lay on his back, arms by his side, eyes on the ceiling. Coward! He flung the accusation at himself. So he’d agreed to go along with the lawsuit. Agreed! As if it were her issue, and his role was to grant or withhold support. He’d professed confidence in a settlement, adroitly sidestepping the issue of taking the stand. He’d listened condescendingly as Karen bared her soul, had even admitted to being self-centered, yet had continued to guard his secret. She’d trusted him and he hadn’t trusted her. It was the grossest injustice. He owed it to her, and to himself, to come out of hiding. Tomorrow’s task was laid out.

Next to him Karen picked up where she left off during their midnight walk. To her delight, her subconscious mind, evidently unimpeded by alcohol, had done the job, for she understood now why Alan’s promise to go along with the suit hadn’t lifted her spirits: She no longer cared. Months of anger, determination, visions of revenge, and scheming to arrive at this point ― and her prize was no longer worth the contest. The discovery made her realize just how much her campaign had been energized by Alan’s resistance. If she needed one more reason to question her motive, this was it. How had this come about?

Without knowing it, Alan had executed a masterstroke. What she’d first confessed in the safety of Bobbie’s confidence she’d now confessed to him. It should have been a liberating experience, but it wasn’t. He could have disputed the substance of her confession, letting her bask in the self-righteousness of overly harsh self-criticism. He could have agreed with her, testing her sincerity and offering her the chance to substitute resentment for guilt. He’d done neither. By telling her that her motives didn’t matter, that people do things for all kinds of reasons, he’d dumped the responsibility of judgment back in her lap. He had forgiven her on his own behalf; he had not spoken for Edie. To pursue vengeance for a reason that Alan didn’t subscribe to, and that was such a blatant offense to Edie, would bring her no vindication. Quite the opposite. It would conceal guilt of motivation beneath pride of action. Her duty was clear. She must draw back.

Giving her subconscious mind the overnight assignment of organizing her thoughts, so that she could explain her new resolve to Alan in the morning, she fell into a peaceful sleep.

New Year’s Day was cloudless. A perfect day for a hike. Outside the window lay a large expanse of meadow bordered by a line of leafless trees. The ice on the windowpanes warned the visitors not to be fooled by the brilliant sunshine. Alan spotted an outdoor thermometer: four degrees Fahrenheit. Their ski clothes would be put to good use, snow or no snow.

Their path took them across the meadow, exposed to a stiff north wind that made the temperature feel like thirty below. Even the crows seemed disinclined to brave the cold. For two hundred yards they walked, arms linked, listening to the crunch of their footsteps on the frozen turf. First Karen, then Alan wrapped their scarves round their chins. “One, two, three!” and, arms still linked, they jumped across a ditch. Shortly they came to the edge of the woods.

“How did you sleep?” Karen asked.

“I kept thinking about what we said and what we didn’t say. Rather, what I didn’t say.”

“Your wheels turn quietly. I didn’t realize you were also awake.”

“You too?”

“Yes, and I also did some thinking. I’d like to tell you about it.”

“I go first,” he said, laughing. “And you must promise to let me finish.”

“I’ll try.”

“You made a courageous confession last night. Now it’s time to tell you some truths about myself. I was scared to go on the stand because I’d have to confess my part in Edie’s illness, all the way from her strep throat to the infected knee. I had this vision where I was being cross-examined by their lawyer, and he was showing how all Edie’s troubles were my fault—”

“They weren’t your fault. Some—”

“Karen, I missed the boat on the strep throat that started it all. Then I gave her such a hard time with the penicillin at camp that she was scared to tell me she’d lost the pills. And then I treated the knee infection as though it were no big deal. I’ve got a load of baggage, and the reason I didn’t dare accuse anyone else of killing our child is that I’m the one responsible.” His voice broke before he could say more.

“I promised I’d try to let you finish, but I can’t let you beat up on yourself like that. Everything you did was with Edie’s best interest in mind. Being both parent and doctor to your child is very hard. Don’t blame yourself for things that were just bad luck.”

“I’ve been a despicable coward about the lawsuit,” Alan went on, his voice steady now. “But I’m not going to shy away from it any more. We have legal rights and we have moral rights. If it means I have to face the music in court, that’s what I’ll do. I owe it to you, I owe it to Edie, and I owe it to my self-esteem. Because if I have to add to my résumé that I got you both in your present states and then abandoned you, I might as well pack it in.”

They entered the woods. Without foliage to obstruct its light, the sun shone almost as brightly as it had on the meadow. But they were now partly sheltered from the wind. Slowing down to pick their way over fallen branches, they absorbed the serenity of their surroundings for several minutes. Then the path narrowed, forcing them to unlink their arms. Karen took Alan’s hand, as if walking single-file would otherwise separate them. Eventually they came to a clearing and stopped to look for the marked tree that designated the continuation of their trail. Alan saw it first and began to walk toward it when Karen pulled gently on his hand.

“Alan,” she said, shaking her head as if disbelieving her own thoughts, “if the subject weren’t so serious, I’d be laughing my head off right now. Not at you, but at the crazy turn our positions have taken. You see, while you were making up your mind to take the stand, it was dawning on me that I’d lost my desire to go through with it. So here we are. In less than twenty-four hours we’ve both confessed our secrets, we’ve both switched our positions, and guess what: We’re on opposite sides again. We still disagree!”

“Yes, but you were right all along, just on the bare facts alone. And we should go ahead.”

“We–ell,” she said, “I’ve been turning over a few more thoughts. Now that each of us has acknowledged the other side, we could agree to either keep going or withdraw without one of us resenting the other. But we might resent ourselves instead. Suppose, for example, we went ahead and won, as we’d be bound to. How could I avoid being confused over what I was being compensated for? My ambivalence alone would be an offense to Edie. Alan, I want to stop thinking in those terms. I don’t trust my emotions.”

Alan nodded. “I understand. Though to be honest, I’m not sure that’s reason enough not to act. We can’t erase our pasts, neither the events nor the feelings we’ve harbored all this time. We should put them on the table, in full view, do what we can, lament what we can’t do, and move on. Besides, look at the alternative: Suppose we withdraw. Then you can be sure you haven’t acted out of questionable motives. But I’d be relieved that I don’t have to face that cross-examination. So now we’re catering to my questionable motives. See?”

“Exactly!” she said triumphantly. “Either you or I end up not feeling right. You’ve said it!” She took both Alan’s hands in hers. “We’ve come so far, I don’t want either of us having reservations about doing the right thing. Any reservations. Is that too ambitious?”

“It’s idealistic,” he answered. “No person in his right mind would let such idealism stand between him and a million dollars.”

“Him or her,” she teased.

“Yes, him or her,” he repeated seriously. “No one would ever believe it. But I do, fool that I am. . . . What can we do that’ll leave us both feeling clean?”

“I don’t know, but as long as we don’t know what else to do, I’m curious what McCrae has in mind. I’m still suspicious of him, but after the shock of Josh’s visit wore off I asked myself, What if it were true? And do you know what answer I came up with?”

“No. What?”

“Firms like F & D might have to diversify. Imagine doctors owning up to their mistakes, like McCrae seems to be doing. What would the victims need lawyers for? Note I didn’t say plaintiffs. Every settlement would be amicable. No trial, no humongous jury award.”

“Do you think McCrae ― supposing he’s for real ― is just trying to cut out the lawyers? What would he care? How would that ease his conscience?”

“I don’t know. Actually,” she looked at him to make sure he was paying attention, “I’m even thinking, how about if we listen to what he has to say?” She held her breath.

Alan’s face clouded over. “As a lawyer, don’t you think that would prejudice our case?”

“It could,” she answered with a shrug, “although that could be dealt with. Maybe I should ask Bobbie. To tell the truth, I don’t know how else to get any new ideas, and something tells me that his are going to be new if nothing else. So I’m prepared to gamble.”

He looked at her fondly and nodded. “Let’s do it.” And he started to move toward the edge of the clearing. She held back, stopping him for a second time.

“It really is a new year, isn’t it?”

~~~~~~~~~~

On the first day back, Karen made straight for Bobbie’s office. Bobbie had only to see her face to know that something significant had happened over the weekend. It took Karen a full minute to find her voice. “Bobbie, I don’t even know where to start.”

“It’s all right. Tell me the end first. We can fill in the rest later. And Happy New Year.”

“Yeah, Happy New Year. You won’t believe this—”

“Yes, I will.”

“We had an incredible time. When it was over, Alan was ready to go forward.” Bobbie’s eyes and mouth opened wide with pleasure. “And I’m not sure I want to.” Bobbie’s eyes and mouth opened wider with disbelief. Karen sat down and explained.

“My God,” Bobbie said when Karen had finished, “that is some story. Between the two of you, you don’t quite want to sue, and you don’t quite want to not sue. Do I have it right?”

“You have it right.”

Bobbie sighed. “I’m a person of limited imagination. It seems to me you must either do it or not do it. Are there other options?”

“We’d like to find one, so we were wondering what McCrae might have in mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let him speak his piece.”

“To whom?”

“Us. Alan and me,” Karen said. She felt like cringing but steeled herself.

Bobbie’s incredulity was exhausted. Her answer was firm and matter-of-fact. “Litigants meeting without their lawyers present? No, we can’t have that. There’s a suit in progress.”

Karen took a deep breath. “I’m not saying we feel strongly about it, but suppose we did?”

“There isn’t a thing I could do to stop you. But as your lawyer I’m advising unequivocally against it. And if such a meeting leads to trouble ― which I guarantee it will ― I doubt that I can bail you out.” Karen did not answer.

“I think,” Bobbie went on more deliberately, “that if you insist on meeting with McCrae, despite my instructions not to, I ought to withdraw from the case. I want us to remain friends, but I can’t represent you if you knowingly do things to jeopardize your position.”

Karen cast a pained look at Bobbie. “What an irony,” she said. “It was because of your wisdom that Alan and I had this conversation. Because of you we got together, opened up to each other, and discovered how much more important our marriage is than any kind of retribution for Edie’s death. We have so much to thank you for. And here I am, full of hope born of that process you helped start, and I can’t go ahead without losing you.”

Bobbie’s expression softened as Karen spoke. Leaning toward her, elbows on the desk and chin resting on her fists, she said, “My dear friend ― and you’ll always be that ― if what you’re about to do will bring you peace of mind, then I’m absolutely delighted to get out of my legal straitjacket so that I can cheer you on. Obviously you’re willing to forgo a million-dollar verdict, or more. That can only be because you’ve found something more valuable. Well, more power to both of you. Go ahead and meet with McCrae and hear him out. That’s my advice as your friend. If you still want a lawyer after that, just tell me what happened. If not, then also tell me what happened!”

Karen looked at Bobbie with something approaching adoration. “Thank you, Bobbie, thank you. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.” She got up, kissed Bobbie’s cheek, and practically ran from the office.

That evening she called Josh and told him to bring Calvin over next day.