Yours is going to cost you the rest of your life, if you never learn it.” He signed his name.

There were no theatrics, no shouting, no scene.

There was only a clean, quiet peace, the peace of two people setting down a thing that should never have been carried this far.

A month later the court issued the final decree, and I walked down the courthouse steps into a bright afternoon, and Logan was waiting near the bottom, holding his own copy of the decree like something he did not know how to put down.

“Where are you going now?” he asked.

“To the airport,” I said.