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She turned to him now. His face was outlined against the stars. The deep scar on his forehead was invisible. But if she reached out, she’d be able to feel it. Etched there.

“I still have days when I struggle,” she said.

He nodded. “Me too. When I’m tired.”

“I search for words,” she said. “And when I find them, I slur. But that just reminds me how far I’ve come.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had to make that journey, Isabelle.”

Her actions had saved not just his life, but the lives of most of the villagers. She’d been shot, almost killed, right there. In the bistro. In the safe place.

But they, better than most, knew that no place was really safe from physical harm. Anything could happen to anyone, at any moment. What made a place safe were the people. The caring. The kindness. The helping. Sometimes the mourning. And often the forgiveness.

“I am stronger, in every way,” she said. “But I feel badly for my children. I tell myself it’s made them stronger too, more resilient. They saw that it’s possible to overcome. But . . .”

But.

“They were wounded too,” he finished her thought.

“Oui.”

They sat in companionable silence, breathing in the thin, cold air. Breathing out words unspoken. Until Isabelle spoke.

“I’ve been thinking about Abigail. What happened to her mother is something a child would never fully get over.”

She saw Gamache nod, then he got up. Together they walked past the New Forest and into the village. Both of them limping slightly.

Daniel was out with the dogs, the last walk of the day. Armand joined him, while Isabelle headed to her bed in the B&B.

“Dad?”

“Oui?”

“Do you think Professor Robinson will be successful? In her campaign, I mean.”

Armand turned to his son. Large, sturdy like his father. Strong and kind. And sensitive. One day it might fall to Daniel to make that decision. To pull the plug, to remove the respirator. To let his father die. To let nature take its course.

But what “nature” were they talking about? Human nature? Was that what Abigail Robinson was relying on? Armand knew it was not always pretty. Or compassionate. Or brave.

If human nature was allowed to take its course, unchecked, what would happen?

He remembered the smear on the window. The elongated handprint. And had some idea. Though he also had an overriding belief in the decency of people. While he’d seen the worst, Armand Gamache had also seen the best. And he believed the best would prevail.

“I hope not.” But was hope enough?

“Would it be such a bad thing if Professor Robinson died?” Daniel asked.

Armand looked at his son, hardly believing what he heard. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do.” Daniel examined his father for a moment. “Do you regret saving her life?”

No one had, as yet, asked him that. Not directly. “I had to try.”

“I understand,” said Daniel. “But do you regret it? Do you wish you’d failed?”

Armand breathed in, and out, unable to answer.

“Would you do it again?” Daniel asked, quietly.