Phil stopped searching and turned to his wife and felt like Marci was about to apologize for being so hard on him lately. But instead she said, “I just … I thought you’d be more excited about bein’ here tonight.”

“Marce, I’m sorry, but I told you, work’s been—”

“I know! Work’s been rough. And I thought you needed some fun! And I thought it would be fun—to come here. Help us forget all the … stuff. Get us away from the kids, get us back to where we used to be. We went skating, you know, the first time you kissed me. On a Friday night just like this one. ’Member? Right here. Echo Lake.”

Marci had made her way over to Phil and reached out and linked her pinkie finger in his, hoping Phil would remember. And he did. He had met Marci in high school at a party in Presque Isle. He had arrived with Lori York and left with Marci McCrumb. And they started dating. And Phil had to convince Marci’s parents that a boy from the hick non-town of Almost was worthy of their daughter. And that took some doing. But he did it.

And on their third date, he took her to Echo Lake.

And they kissed.

And knew that they loved each other.

And they promised to always remember the way they felt on that night. And Marci linked her pinkie finger in Phil’s.

But when Marci linked her pinkie in Phil’s on the night when all the extraordinary things did or didn’t happen, Phil pulled his pinkie—and all of himself—away from her and grumbled, “Where the heck is your shoe?”

Marci was stunned by her husband’s rejection.

“Maybe it’s in the truck,” reckoned Phil. And he scanned the picnic table area again with his flashlight and started toward the Sierra.

“It’s not gonna be in the truck, Phil,” mumbled Marci. And she made her way back to the picnic bench and put the lantern back down on the picnic table and sat down and stared into the blackness beyond the illuminated patch of ice they had been skating on.

She heard Phil open the truck’s passenger-side front and rear doors. Then she heard nothing as he searched. And then she heard him close the passenger-side front and rear doors.

And then she heard the scrunch of footsteps in the snow as Phil walked around to the driver’s side. And then she heard him open the driver’s side front and rear doors. And then she heard nothing while Phil searched.

Marci shook her head. She knew he wasn’t going to find her shoe. Because she hadn’t taken it off in the truck. She had taken it off at the picnic table, with him.

And besides, he was never going to find it, because he couldn’t find things.

She looked up at the sky as if it might tell her what was going on with her husband of twenty-three years.

And then she closed her eyes and prayed that they would be okay.