I set the stake into the dirt and drove it down with three hard strikes of the mallet.

The wood made a solid, thudding sound.

Then, I took the plastic, waterproof sleeve from my bag.

Inside was the clean, white divorce petition.

I used a heavy-duty stapler to secure the plastic sleeve to the face of the wooden stake.

The document was sealed tight against the weather.

Richard’s name was clearly visible through the clear plastic.

I stepped back and looked at it.

A single wooden stake in the middle of an empty field.

I walked back to the station wagon where the kids were waiting.

We drove down the hill and parked at the public scenic overlook half a mile away.

From this high point on the ridge, we could see the winding road that led up to our property.

I looked at my watch.

It was two-fifteen.

Richard’s flight from Honolulu had landed at two o’clock.

My phone sat in the cup holder between the seats.

The screen lit up with a text message from an automated number.