Walter doesn’t normally get feelings about things – that’s Kate’s department. But the dread sticks with him all that day, until finally he can no longer ignore the vague ache sitting low in his stomach. “I’m going into Nipigon to pick up some more fresh water and firewood,” he tells the researchers, even though they have plenty of both. As he readies the boat for the trip, he tries to calm himself by running through the names and positions of the eighty-eight constellations, the way he used to do when he was a child. Andromeda, Antlia, Apus, Aquarius, making it all the way to Gemini before he starts to think about the twins – could something have happened to one of them, or to one of Nicki’s children? – and then the house, one of the other boats, his truck, the dog. Anything to keep his mind occupied, to keep at bay this nagging worry that is likely nothing. Anything to chase away this feeling of helplessness, of being too far away.

Anything to keep from thinking about Kate.

Walter almost lost Kate on four separate occasions. There may have been other times, too, but Walter doesn’t want to know about them. Loving Kate has been a nebulous thing, like trying to catch vapour in your hand. Even before the falls, before the grandkids, before Shawn, before Serafina and Veronica even, there were moments when he was quite sure Kate had never actually looked him directly in the eye. There are still moments, now, when Walter can’t understand why she married him, why she finally decided to be with him, although sometimes it seems as if she is still trying to make up her mind.