“If we hadn’t taken them across an ocean they might have been able to.” I help Aggie out of the bath and dry her off, then dress her in warm, comfortable clothes and park her in front of the fireplace while I make breakfast. “There’s no love between Six and Nine yet,” I say. “But they haven’t killed each other, either.” The words fall so casually from my mouth that I am startled. Is that the way of all love? That it should carry the risk of death? But the words haven’t reminded Aggie of the same things, she is too far distant to be reached. I want to follow her to wherever she’s gone and I
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