The sound of sirens filled the kitchen. Their family home. The place where love had found its way through the weeds that might have choked weaker marriages. Cooper’s head snapped up. Their eyes met. He held open his arms and she stepped into them. The comfort of the familiar was an undervalued gift.

Through the wall of his chest, Audrina could hear his heartbeat. Constant. Steady. Unwavering. She closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of him. Soap and the earthy scent of geraniums.

“Remember what I told you?” He chucked her lightly under the chin. In some marriages, this might have seemed dismissive or patronizing. But not here. This was a gesture of affection. A tender good-bye.

“I love you, Audrina.”

She shook her head, a violent denial. “No, Cooper. I—”

He placed his finger on her lips. “Hush now, my love. You’ve been a good wife. I’ve been happy. Haven’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts, my love. Promise me you’ll do as I ask.”

“Cooper—”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He kissed her. To a casual observer, it may have seemed chaste. His lips grazed hers, barely touching. But every ounce of love he felt for her was in that kiss, his desire to protect and cherish and honor as undiminished as the day he met her.

The back door slammed. The sound of running footsteps.

Cooper and Audrina spun around in unison. A spoon lay on the floor, two or three droplets of milk marking the linoleum. The boy had gone.

And so had the crate.

Cooper’s lips pressed together until they went white around the edges. His shoulders slumped, the balloon of his hope pricked. Audrina brought her handkerchief to her mouth. Their hands sought and found each other, fingers entwined like vines.

Time slowed and stilled. Blue lights moved against the walls in a hypnotic dance. The clock in the hallway counted down. Neither moved, savoring this pause in breath before their lives were split apart.

The sound of loud voices and heavy hammering at the door.

“ ‘Those who have courage and faith shall never perish in misery.’ ” Cooper was trying to smile as he quoted Anne Frank, and Audrina had a pain inside her, flavored with regret and a quiet sort of anger that was filling up the empty spaces, setting them alight.

“I can’t live without you,” she said, and there was so much truth in those words that she did not know where to put it, how to shape it.

“You can,” he said, and there were teeth to his anger. “You must.”

And she nodded at him, slow and sad. Resigned to this hand of cards.