Ruth sighs. “I wish I knew.” She pauses. “And anyway, we don’t even want to have to think about being in Africa in January. That is not where we want to be. We want to be back to ourselves. We want Isabelle to be in school.” Ruth pauses. “We need it.”

They are quiet.

“She’s got an appointment with another shrink on Wednesday. Maybe he can get her talking by January.”

“Another one?”

“I told you the last one gave up.”

“And what if he can’t? What if he’s just as useless as all the others?”

“He comes highly recommended. He’s dealt with this kind of thing before.” She’s not sure how she thinks she’ll persuade Wilson when she isn’t convinced of anything herself.

Kind of thing, Wilson thinks. He pushes back his chair and hurries to their bedroom, returns with Isabelle’s drawing. “Look,” he says, unfolding the drawing and handing it to Ruth. He turns on the light and stands above her as she looks down at the drawing. “Isabelle did it at Luigi’s the other night.”

Ruth stares at the lion, at its mouth open wide, its deep black throat. It is a troubling image. “And you think this means she wants to go to Africa?”

Wilson shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know what it means.”

Ruth folds the drawing back up and hands it to Wilson.

“No,” he says. “Keep it. Maybe this new shrink can explain it. Or something. I don’t know.” He turns the light off. Ruth looks up at him. The reflection of candlelight trembles in his eyes.

“I’ll show it to him,” she says.

Maggie plods into the room and leans against Wilson’s leg. He strokes her absently and finishes his wine. “I should probably take this beast out.”

Ruth nods. Wilson pushes back his chair and walks into the hall. Maggie has moved over to Ruth now and rested her chin on Ruth’s knee as Ruth scratches her behind the ears; Wilson waits for a minute in the doorway and watches them before calling Maggie after him.

Ruth puts her finger to her lips, gesturing in the direction of Isabelle’s room just down the hall.