We’re out about a hundred yards from the shoreline. Sophie has moved from the deck of the Wisteria to the massive concrete bulkhead. Her book has been abandoned but not her wine. She sits there and waves to us. Aubrey heard a dog bark just north of the crescent beach, and I’m rowing in that direction. She wants a dog, but Sophie and I stay firm that we can’t bring any pets into the house until construction is complete. It’s mostly a delay tactic on Sophie’s part. I love dogs. I grew up with golden retrievers. Sophie isn’t as much of a fan. It’s one of the few things we really disagree about. Sophie is the kind of woman who never deviates from whatever she believes to be true. Her undying confidence is at once an asset and a detriment. When we are on the same page, we are unstoppable. When her plans or ideas conflict with what I think is best, we edge toward a knock-down, drag-out fight that I will never win. Five years into our marriage I’ve learned that, as tough as I can be at work, I acquiesce to Sophie’s ambitions, plans, and ideas at home. I do that to keep the peace. I do it because she’s everything to me.

As I row back toward the cabin after failing to find the dog for Aubrey, I hear a scream. It’s not piercing, but it’s jarring enough that I swivel my attention to the shore. I see my wife and a man struggling. The wineglass has fallen and shattered. Sophie is yelling at the man, but I can’t hear what they are saying. I turn my back to them and row as fast as I can.

Aubrey, who is facing me, thinks it is a game. I work out twice a week, but I can’t get the boat to move fast enough, though the surface is so smooth. Aubrey sees the terror in my eyes, but she misreads it. “Fast!” she calls out. “Fast!”

Sophie is not a large woman. She’s 110 pounds dripping wet. But she’s strong. She can beat me in a marathon, and she has. The next time I check over my shoulder, I see the stranger do the unthinkable. He balls up a fist and punches her. She drops to the ground.

“What the fuck!” I yell. “Leave her alone!”

I can’t get there. I am rowing. My glasses fly into the water when I wrench my head around to check on Sophie. What was so clear now becomes a smear of color and shapes. I see the man scoop up my wife and carry her off behind the Wisteria.

My heart jumps from my chest.

“Holy fuck! Stop! Leave her alone.”

Aubrey knows now it’s not a game we’re playing. She starts to cry. I want to jump out of the skiff and run through the shallows to get to my wife, but I can’t leave my daughter adrift in a boat. I’m hyperventilating now. I tell myself to get it together. Twenty more yards. That’s all.