“You have time to eat something before you go, don’t you?” I ask.

“You can wrap up one of your biscuits for me.” He takes a gulp of coffee.

“They are scones, and if that’s all you want, I can do that.”

“I need to be on my way.” He sets his cup down and reaches into his suit pocket, pulling out a few dollar bills. He places them on the countertop. “Here’s some money if you need anything while I am gone.”

Martin takes another swallow of coffee.

“I’m off,” he says. “It will take a little while to get to the automobile and then out of the city. Even on a Sunday.”

I follow him into the foyer and Kat trails behind me. “And if I should need to reach you, is there an office or person I should ring up who will know where you are?”

He is shrugging on his coat. “We don’t check in with the office when we’re out.”

“But what if something should happen?”

“Like what?”

I blink back my surprise. “What if . . . what if Kat should get sick or the house catches fire or I fall and break my leg?”

Martin smiles easily. “I am confident in your abilities to see to any circumstance, Sophie. And what could I do from miles away if any of those events should occur?” He turns to get his hat off its hook on the hall tree, setting it on his head as he reaches for a packed valise on the floor. “I should be home in four days, maybe five. Be a good girl, Kat.”

He doesn’t seem to notice Kat is wearing one of her old dresses, or he doesn’t care. Or maybe he believes I am better suited to getting Kat to relinquish the dress and therefore it is better if he says nothing.

Martin turns to me. If we were a normal husband and wife, he’d lean in at this moment to kiss me good-bye. But we are not a normal husband and wife.

He looks eager to go, as though he is about to embark on an adventure that he is keen to begin. Perhaps this is another way he deals with his losses: by looking to the open road and the beckoning horizon as an escape from the reminders of all that has been taken from him.

“Have a good trip,” I tell him.

Martin opens the front door and steps out into the cool mist of a quiet Sunday morning.