Forsyth said, ‘Leo’s father, he’s Stage Four now. We’ve been helping him.’ He nodded over at the barn. ‘We’ve been using it as medication. And I think, you know, of all the things that have gone wrong with this, that’s one good aspect. That it can help someone, I mean. I didn’t want this to happen. I know what it’s like to lose someone. I didn’t want anyone to die.’

Vincent said, ‘Your wives are worried about you. They’d appreciate a call.’

Leo made no response, but Forsyth said, ‘You spoke to Deborah?’

Vincent nodded. ‘Yesterday. She’s worried you’re not coming back. And if you’re not, at least buy a burner phone and give her a call.’

Forsyth was shaking his head. ‘I was going to tell her. But it’s just so hard. How do you tell someone that you’re breaking off your life with them?’

No one answered. The mariachi played faintly from the kitchen.

‘It was an empty marriage. An empty life. It almost felt like the best thing to do was turn my back on it. Break it clean.’

Quiet for a little while. Leo paddled gently, both feet making circles, motion in antiphase.

Erin said, ‘Did my father …’

She looked away.

She said, ‘Actually, forget it.’

She stood up and walked away, stepped over the chicken-wire fence and stood in the grass facing the trees beyond the house, arms folded. Forsyth got up and went back into the house. Leo was still swirling his feet in the water.

Vincent said, ‘Your wife’s worried about you. I spoke to her this morning.’

Leo regarded him pleasantly for a few seconds. He said, ‘I made a promise when I married her, I’d never lie to her. So I can’t tell her this. She’ll think I’m going to hell. She’ll worry about that for the rest of her days. So I don’t know what to do about that yet. I gotta decide what’s the lesser evil: silence or honesty.’ He lifted a corner of the towel. ‘You mind? I’m getting back in the water.’

*

He stopped six feet behind her. She didn’t turn around.

Vincent said, ‘You all right?’

She nodded. ‘I’m all right. It’s just not what I was expecting to find. And now I don’t know what to do.’

Did my father …

He knew what she was going to ask. Did my father know what was going on? He could understand her ambivalence about the truth, whatever it may be.

He almost put a hand on her shoulder, but he didn’t. He said, ‘Shall I leave you here to have a little think?’

He knew she smiled—the sound of the short breath out her nose. She said, ‘That would be good.’