“What about Jim and Nancy? They can’t handle things?”

“Jim needs to get home,” he said. “Dolly has school. Nancy’s leaving for Florida tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Vanessa asked her to go,” Arch said. “Listen, Charlie, this is all a lot to take. But I need you here. You’re the only person I trust.”

I stopped and set the blade of my shovel on the ground. Arch pulled this kind of shit way too often. It was as if he was tormenting me with my own loyalty.

“Maybe you should stay too, Arch,” I said. “Just for a day.”

“You know I can’t,” he said. “We’re so close to the end. People are depending on me. I can’t let them down.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t pretend you’re just doing this for other people.”

For a moment, I wished I hadn’t spoken. Who was I to say such things to him? But his eyes softened and he nodded, and I could breathe again.

A shadow passed overhead. Above us, a large bird was circling beneath the sun.

“I have to go, you know,” Arch said.

I sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly. Arch took his shovel back up again and returned to sifting dirt from the pile down into the hole. When we were finished, he went over to the bench where he’d left his clothes and put his dress shirt back on. I helped him with his jacket. He dusted off his shoes and straightened his tie.

“Ready?”

I nodded, and we began the long walk: along the path of soft pine needles through the woods, out to the field and the path along the rim of the pond, and back toward the cabin.

“You’re not worried that you’ll look cold, leaving your grieving wife alone for politics?”

He stopped, turned toward me, and smiled.

“I’m not leaving her alone,” he said. “I’m leaving her with my best friend.”

After Nancy said goodbye the next morning, Jim and Dolly drove her to the airport. It looked like nothing so much as a happy couple taking their granddaughter off on an adventure.

I went to check on Vanessa. She was awake, propped up on pillows. Arch had left earlier.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Better,” she said.

“Can I fix you something? You need to eat.”

“Not yet.” Her eyes drifted off toward the windows. “So it’s just the two of us.”

“The way I’ve always wanted it.”

“Don’t tease.”

“You know it’s true,” I said.

“Your life would be incomplete without Arch.”

“I lived without him for nearly a decade.”

“But he was always on your mind.”

“So were you.”

She sat up and pushed her hair back.

“I think I’d like to get out of bed,” she said. “Maybe walk around a bit. See how it goes.”

“Only if you eat some breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”