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“So the deed is done, huh?” said Fern, bringing her lemonade and Dave’s to the patio table. She sat down, and tamed the long brown flyaways that floated around her face in the gentle late-summer breeze. “Sweet little Grace, gone to college.” 

Dave nodded slowly, accepting his glass. “Dropped her off yesterday morning,” he said. “The house is so quiet.” Not just the house, either, but the yard, and the car, and life in general. How absurd, he thought, to be an empty nester at forty. It was nearly as surreal as becoming a widower at age twenty-three had been.

“Well, you’re a quiet guy,” Fern teased gently. “You’ll have lots of time to read now. Between calls and visits, of course.” 

Dave laughed softly. “Well, I guess that’s true.” He sipped his lemonade. He hadn’t really meant quiet, he reflected. Lonely. That was the word. He felt lonely, and he was afraid. He glanced at Fern to find that she was peering at him with concern in her warm brown eyes. There was always a faint yearning in his chest when they made eye contact. It was more pronounced today than it had been in a long time. 

“I’m sure Imogen would be pleased,” Fern went on. “You’ve done a great job with Gracie.” 

“It’s hard to know what she would have wanted,” Dave said, with a shrug.  He paused. Actually, that wasn’t true. His late wife would have wanted to watch her daughter grow up. She would have wanted to be there to drop her off at school, and to be here with him now, celebrating. Life could be so unfair. “Thanks, though,” he added. “Honestly, a lot of the credit is yours.” 

Fern waved his words away. “I just did what neighbors do,” she said. “Babysitting and that kind of stuff isn’t parenting.” 

“Maybe. But if I’m a good dad, it’s because I had you looking out for me over here all these years.”

“Oh stop,” she said, and Dave noticed Fern’s cheeks turning pink. He glanced away. She was beautiful with a little color. He tried not to notice, but sometimes it was impossible. 

They fell silent for a few moments, sipping lemonade and gazing out over their lawns, hers with the pool she had fenced in for Grace’s protection, his with the swingset, overgrown with weeds, that he hadn’t been able to part with just yet. 

“So, what next?” Fern asked, finally breaking the stillness. “Join a soccer team? Take up knitting? Get a girlfriend?” 

Dave sighed. “This again? I know I said I’d consider dating when she was out of the house, but I didn’t mean as soon as she was out of the house!”    

Fern lifted her hands in mock surrender. “No pressure,” she said. “But that’s a big empty house you’ve got over there.” 

“Yours is the same,” Dave pointed out. 

“I know,” Fern said. “That’s how I know how lonely it is.” 

Dave tapped her foot with his under the table. “I’m right next door,” he said. “If you’re that lonely, you can come on over any time.” 

“And run the risk of bumping into your new girlfriend?” teased Fern. 

“Or becoming my new girlfriend,” Dave said. He allowed his gaze to meet hers for just a moment as the words hung in the air. He smiled softly, then looked away. 

“Are you asking?” Fern said, a bit less jokingly. 

“Not today,” Dave said lightly. “But soon, maybe. I’ve been thinking about it.” 

“Well.” Fern reached over to squeeze his knee. “Thanks for the heads-up.” She collected the glasses and stood, ready to take them inside. 

“You know,” Dave said, as she began to slide open the patio door. “It might hurry me along a bit if I knew what your answer might be.” He stood up and began to back slowly across the property line toward his own back door. If rejection were coming, it would be easier to escape with a head start. 

Fern laughed, stepping inside to place glasses and pitcher on the kitchen counter.  Then, poking her head back out through the opening, she fixed him with a serious look.  "I'd never say no to you, sweetheart," she said, and quickly pulled the door all the way shut. 

Grinning goofily, Dave stumbled backward over a pair of gardening gloves he'd forgotten to pick up from the flower bed. When he bent to retrieve them, all he could focus on was how much they looked like two hands pressed palm to palm, ready to entwine their fingers.