“I think people can make different choices,” I said.

“And then make them again.

That’s the part that counts.”

She turned to look back at the front door.

Gavin stood behind the glass, not calling after us, just watching her go.

“I hope he keeps trying,” she said.

“So do I.”

As we drove away, she rested the shoebox on her knees and looked at the old photograph again.