Sarah MacCrimmon watched her family eat breakfast, an uneasy feeling in her stomach driving away the hunger that should have been there that late spring morning. Her husband Jamie was telling their four children one of his self-invented tall tales. Normally Sarah listened to Jamie’s tales, as captivated by the story as the children. But today her mind focused on her worry, no matter how hard she tried to get into today’s story.

She was dimly aware of the fact that the children were clapping their approval of Jamie’s now completed story. She smiled and clapped too. .Jamie’s reassuring smile told her that he knew her mind had been elsewhere.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked. “You’ve hardly touched your breakfast.” Something flashed behind his bright eyes. “You’re not… I mean, we’re not…”

Sarah looked at him for a moment, not quite...