“Turtle,” she said, still unsure what to say or what to share. She formed a small smile and gently laid her hand on his chest, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “Just,” she started, then stopped. “I don’t know,” she said. “Just, hold me.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her face into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. Turtle wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. She breathed deeply, letting her husband’s musty, rugged scent reassure her the way only something vague and intangible sometimes can.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”