I grinned. “Well, I think you do a really good job. Does your husband help out much at home?”

She looked like she didn’t like the question. “When he’s around,” she said.

“For the record, your spaghetti is fantastic. Emeril couldn’t have made it better himself.”

She smiled at this. “You think?”

“Bam!” I said.

She laughed. “You really do know who Emeril is. I thought you were pretending.”

“I haven’t always lived in a cave,” I said. “I even know who Paula Deen is.”

“Now I’m really impressed.” She looked down at my empty plate. “Would you like more pasta?”

“I would, but I usually try to stop after my third helping.”

“Okay.” She looked at me. “Do you mind if I ask you something about your wife?”

“No.”

“If you don’t want to talk about her, I understand.”

“It’s okay.”

“How did you lose her?”

“We lived in a suburb with a horse trail. She was riding one day and the horse got spooked and threw her. She broke her back.”

Her expression showed her distress. “I’m so sorry. Was she killed instantly?”

“No. She got an infection. She died a month later.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. She looked down for a moment. “I’ve wondered if it’s better to watch a loved one die over time, or to just lose them—never saying what you would have liked to say.”

“Watching her die wasn’t easy. But we said everything we needed to say. I guess if I had to do it again, I would choose to have that extra time together. But she was the one in pain, so I guess I’m selfish.”

“I don’t think that’s selfish. I think it’s beautiful.” She looked down at her plate. “I think I would choose the time too.”

The conversation stopped, swallowed into a cloud of sadness. After a moment Analise said, “That kind of killed the mood. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“No, it’s good to talk about it sometimes. I carry a lot of emotions and I never have a chance to let them out. Sometimes I think I’m going to explode.”

“How long was it after she passed away that you decided to walk?”

“Two days after her funeral. While I was taking care of her, I lost my business and our home was foreclosed on. The day after her funeral the bank gave me notice that they were taking my home.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah, it was. I had nothing holding me there anymore so I just packed up and started to walk.”

“I know I asked you before, but really, why Key West?”

“It was the farthest place on the map.”

She let my words settle. Then she said softly, “I understand better than you know.” She forced a smile. “So before you started your walk, what did you do?”