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know. Has Peter said anything about it?”
    “Not to me. We haven’t spoken in weeks.”
    “I thought he was supposed to take the girls every Saturday.”
    An informal arrangement. “The last few visits haven’t worked out.”
    “Why not? The girls need to be with their father.”
    “I know, Mom. Of course they do. But this is his busiest time of year. Plus, the girls have had things going on, too. Maddie was invited to a birthday party. Kate had a tennis tournament.”
    “Couldn’t he have gone to that?”
    “Kate didn’t want him to.” Ann glanced to the kitchen and saw her oldest daughter leaning back in her chair, fitting the earbuds of her iPod into her ears. “She’s going through such a tough time, Mom.”
    “I know. And Peter’s leaving hasn’t made things any better for her.” Her mother sighed. “She was always his little girl.”
    Ann stared out at the birch tree in the corner of the yard. “Tell me she’ll be okay.”
    “Of course she will. She’s a levelheaded girl. She’ll work things through. Besides, she has you.” Her mother gave a soft laugh. “She reminds me so much of you.”
    “Well, whatever you do, don’t tell her that.” Ann pulled the pile of mail toward her and tugged out the lawyer’s letter. She slid her finger beneath the flap and removed the thick sheaf of papers. Heavy paper stock, lots of tiny type.
    “This has got to be so hard on Peter, too. Do you think maybe …?”
    Ann stared down at the pages. “No, I don’t think he’s changed his mind.”
    “I just can’t understand that. I know he loves you and the girls.”
    He’d promised to love her forever, but it had turned out to be much shorter than that. “He loves the girls, but … there’s nothing between us anymore.”
    There was another silence, longer this time. “Maybe if you—”
    Not another suggestion to go for counseling. “I’d better go, Mom. I have to get dinner started. Give my love to Dad.”
    “All right, honey. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    “All right. Love you.”
    Ann set down the phone and paged through the papers. Post-it notes poked out from the margins like little pink flags. SIGN HERE. INITIAI HERE . Proof that Peter was gone.
    But she was still stuck in that hot, bright hospital room ten years ago with the social worker, trying to answer her questions. Someone had given Ann a pill, and the woman kept swimming in and out of focus. She wore brown shoes and a blue suit. Her blouse gaped in the middle. Little Kate sat in Peter’s lap, hiccuping in her sleep, her small face blotchy from crying. The social worker’s voice was unceasing, a syrupy flow of southern accent. The way she kept saying “baby,” wrapping up the hard vowels in soft fluff. Bay-bee, bay-bee . Then she’d stood and reached for Kate. Ann had come hastily to her feet. She couldn’t possibly let this person, this stranger who couldn’t even button her clothes properly, carry off her child.
    But Peter had handed Kate over. “We don’t have a choice, Ann.” Even then, he’d taken that first step away.
    Pulling a pen from her pocket, she flattened each page on the hard glass of the table, and pressing the nib down hard enough to leave an imprint on the next page, she signed her name beside every bubblegum-colored sticky arrow. Every last one.
    Peter had moved on.
    She knew she never would.

 
“… following confirmation that several people hospitalized do indeed have the H5N1 influenza virus, airlines have canceled all incoming and outgoing flights from Heathrow and Gatwick, stranding thousands of travelers. Lodging’s filling up. Some hotels are turning away international guests. A manager at a large city hotel confided that he’s directed his staff to refuse anyone with a passport from the affected countries.”
NBC Breaking News Report

FIVE
    P ETER SAT UP, WINCING AT THE SUDDEN SPASM OF pain across his shoulders. He glanced at his bedside clock. Five a.m. He’d slept right through the