Over the Waters by Deborah Raney

the injustice of it all.
    And then Will had come along. And he was handsome and witty, a wonderful conversationalist. And one of the few men she'd dated recently who didn't have a dark secret or an ex-wife--or an ex-wife who was a dark secret. A smirk twisted one corner of her mouth at the thought.
    Dating was a minefield she'd been glad to put behind her when she met Will. He seemed like the answer to her prayers. They shared a strong faith. They genuinely liked each other. And they rarely fought.
    Until the night she told him about her dream. She could still see the shock on his face--that deer-in-the-headlights expression he'd seemed unable to erase from his square-jawed, finely chiseled features.
    "What's wrong?" she'd asked, still blissfully innocent.
    He gulped audibly. "Kids? Y-you want kids?"
    "Well, of course, Will. Who doesn't?"
    His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "Um...I don't."
    "What?"
    "No, Valerie." His voice hardened. "I thought we'd discussed this. I don't want to bring kids into this world."
    "Will. You can't be serious."
    "Think about it, Val. It wouldn't be fair. How could we fit kids into our life?"
    "But...you love kids, Will! I've seen you with them. You're great with kids."
    Will taught the junior high class in their church. He was good with the kids, and they adored him in return.
    "Well, sure," he said, brushing a hank of hair from her forehead. "Other people's kids. And not till they're past the rug-rat stage."
    She pulled away and sat staring into his face, feeling numb. Feeling nothing.
    Will took her hand and started talking.
    Apparently she'd been too busy falling in love to notice before, but it seemed Will had his own dreams. Dreams that he, too, had nurtured from childhood.
    "I want to travel the world, Val. There are still a couple of mountains I haven't climbed, and a lot of oceans yet to be sailed. Oh, and hey, I forgot to tell you, but I talked to Jim Wallston the other day and he's starting up that parachuting class in the fall."
    "Oh, Will. That's so dangerous."
    "Since when have I ever shied away from danger?"
    "Since you got engaged and realized it was time to grow up and be responsible?" She tried to imbue her words with levity, but Will wasn't smiling. And suddenly neither was she.
    "I am responsible." His chin jutted out in defiance, then he seemed to catch himself and his tone softened. "Look, face it, Valerie...If I'm lucky enough to get to live the life I dream of, it's very possible I'll die on the side of some mountain or at the bottom of some ocean." At her sharp intake of breath, he lifted a hand. "Not anytime soon, I hope. It's not like I have a death wish or anything. I'm just being realistic. And I honestly can't think of a better way to go. Doing what I love to do. But...I don't want to leave a bunch of orphans behind when I go. And child welfare services kind of frowns on backpacking babies to the top of Everest." He flashed that impish grin she'd always loved, trying to humor her, she knew.
    But instead of making her laugh, this time his grin seemed almost sinister.
    "But you don't mind leaving behind a grieving widow?"
    "That's different."
    Looking back, she knew that conversation had been the death knell of their relationship.
    She'd tried a hundred times after that to convince him that fatherhood would be the greatest adventure he could imagine. He wasn't buying it. She couldn't quite persuade him that 3:00 a.m. feedings and changing dirty diapers would give him the same adrenaline rush as piloting a hang glider over the side of a Hawaiian cliff or traversing the Amazon jungle canopy on a zip line.
    They'd begun to argue more and more until finally they'd come to the end of themselves, and admitted that this marriage would never work.
    It was a mutual decision. Really it was. But Will was the one who spoke the actual words. So technically, he dumped her. And that hurt. Still, she liked to think that if he hadn't broken off their relationship, she would have come