April evenings are cool and clear blue, he thought, shuddering audibly so that a pair of ducks lying on the bank jumped hurriedly in the water. In a month there would be ducklings in the lake and candles on the chestnut trees.

Oscar had been found, and spring was coming.

The train station was closed because someone had been hit by one of the trains on the westbound S-train tracks, and the subway was running only intermittently, so Jeppe ended up walking all the way to Christianshavn. When he reached Burmeistersgade, he was chilled to the bone.

The way Sara opened the door told Jeppe that he was out in the cold in more ways than one. Maybe he had known all day.

“Amina came home today smelling of beer,” she announced.

She stood in the doorway looking at him. Jeppe set his bag down on the floor.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s sleeping now. But when I wanted to know who gave her the alcohol, she asked me if you had spilled the beans.”

Jeppe was about to explain but didn’t make it before Sara continued.

“Is it true that you found her out on the street late last night?”

Jeppe nodded.

“But you didn’t bring her home or tell me about it? My eleven-year-old daughter was sitting out on the street drinking, and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning to me?”

“She hadn’t had anything to drink yesterday—”

“She was sitting out on the street at nine thirty at night, and you didn’t bring her home?! What were you thinking?”

Sara’s expression was more than angry, it showed she was beyond reconciliation. Jeppe looked down. He knew instinctively that it wouldn’t do any good trying to explain his attempt to bridge the divide between himself and Amina right now.

She closed the door. Jeppe picked his bag up off the floor, turned around, and left. Every relationship comes to an end. Sometimes its time runs out before the love does. That’s when it really hurts.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 17