Martha listened, and even as the anger built in her, some frantic, loyal part of her mind went on trying to construct an exit, a reading of this that was survivable.

Maybe Mark had genuinely misheard the doctor.

Maybe he had convinced himself, wrongly but sincerely, that it could wait until the semester ended.

Maybe, in some clumsy, misguided, fundamentally loving way, he had only been trying to shield her from one more worry in a season already full of them.

She built the explanation carefully, the way you build a wall against rising water.

Then the physician asked one more question, in the same mild tone he had used for all of them, and it took the wall out at the foundation.