“Please take good care of yourself,” he said. “Take care of your family. Take care of Noam. I wish you all well.”

Frieda nodded and reluctantly, she let go of him. She rose and walked to the door. Before she left, she wished him a tearless Shana tova. Gemar chatima tova.

Happy New Year. May your fate be favorably sealed.

Ordinarily a calm flier, Rina was jittery. What if Peter’s wound opened up while they were in the air? She pleaded with him to wait an extra day or two, but he was still beyond reason. Still acting like a mule.

I have to get out of here, he had told her.

Fine, Rina had responded. They’d go to a hotel in upstate New York. Give the children a chance to see some beautiful autumn landscape.

I hate the cold.

So we’ll stay in a nice heated hotel. Or a charming little inn. You love the countryside.

Forget it.

Then at least can we drive to Florida? If, God forbid, you need some help, you won’t be thirty thousand feet up in the air.

I won’t need help and driving is exhausting. I am taking a plane to Florida. If you want to come with me, you and the boys will also take a plane.

At that point, Rina gave up.

Now, sitting in a terminal at Kennedy International, waiting for their flight to be called, Rina was trying to will herself calm. Mind over matter. It wasn’t working.

Peter was in a bad mood and in a lot of pain. Not that he admitted he was in pain. He was fine, if you bothered to ask. But she knew differently. So did the boys. They were petrified that he was going to die at any moment.

She assured them he wasn’t.

He assured them he wasn’t.

But he looked as if he were in such terrible pain, the assurances rang hollow. Sammy and Jacob were clearly frightened. She knew that because usually before a flight, they were bugging her to death. Now they sat like statues.

Completely out of character.

Rina drew two ten-dollar bills out of her wallet and turned to them. “Why don’t you guys go to the shops and get something fun for the flight?”

They looked at each other. Then Sammy turned to Peter and said, “Is that okay?”

“Why are you asking my permission?” Decker snapped. “If your mom said it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Sammy shriveled from his stepfather’s tone of voice.

Decker sighed. “Sammy, I’m fine—well, no, I’m not fine, I hurt a little now. But I’m going to be fine.”

“I’ll stay out of your hair, Peter,” Sammy said.

“Me, too,” Jake chimed in.