“Simple. Wear dark clothes, and always save your second pair of socks for the flight home.”

The girl laughed as we hugged. “Doc Ford, the mysterious biologist. I picked the right guy.”

I said, “It’s been awhile. We’ll see.”

Shay had her arm around my waist, shoulder wedged into ribs, thumb hooked to my belt. She was her usual affectionate, alpha-female self, body docked to mine so she could steer me efficiently toward baggage, or her awaiting car. But there was an intensity to the way she hugged close. This was a frightened women desperate for asylum. Had I provided it?

Life may be a chemical-electrical process, but living is a procession of uncertainties, one damn thing after another. Somehow, that truth makes lying easier.

“Did everything… go okay?”

“Couldn’t have gone smoother.”

“You feel good about it?”

“Better than expected. Very businesslike. We’ve been dealing with pros.”

“The money transferred from my account fast enough. I checked. Geezus, one hell of a chunk. Were you… surprised by the amount?”

Not surprised, shocked. But I replied, “A lot of money.”

“My entire savings.”

“You’ve saved that much since college?”

“Well… plus Daddy’s life insurance.”

“Insurance? He didn’t seem like the type.”

“I know, I know-a man like him being thoughtful was as unexpected as him dying. I thought I told you about the check. After the honeymoon, Michael and I could’ve-”

“It’s done. You said you weren’t going to beat yourself up when I got back. I’m back.”

“You’re right. You know the way I ought to see it? Like it’s an investment in the future. I have to keep reminding myself. Our future, Michael and me.”

We exited the terminal into the sodium glare of asphalt and Everglades heat. It was a Thursday in June, a little before midnight, less than ten days until the girl’s wedding. There were stars up there above palm trees.