And on the fourth day, finally, Jason moaned softly, opened his eyes, smiled at them, sighed, and drifted back to sleep. For a horrifying instant, Brad thought he had died, and he clutched Dylan's arm, with wide eyes. But the nurse said he was out of the coma, and sleeping normally. He had made it. He was going to live.

He and Dylan went outside, and they cried and laughed and shouted. It was the best day of both their lives. And the longest week Brad had ever lived.

“You smell like a dead rat,” Dylan teased his father, as they sat outside for a long time, celebrating and talking quietly. Someone had brought them some hard cheese and a piece of bread. The hospital was primitive in the extreme, and poorly stocked, but the medical personnel had been terrific, and saved Jason's life.

“You don't smell so great yourself.” Brad grinned at him.

After checking on Jason again, Brad asked a nurse and she directed them to an outdoor shower. He had brought his only bag with him, and shared the clothes he'd brought with his son. They were clean at least by the time they went back to Jason, he was awake again and trying to talk, and the doctor was pleased.

“You got quite a blow, young man,” the New Zealander said, smiling at Jason. “You must have a mighty hard head.” And when Brad took him aside later, the doctor told him it had been a miracle that the young man had lived. Of those who had survived the accident, he had been the most dangerously hurt.

Brad asked later if there was a telephone somewhere, and everyone laughed at him when he said he wanted to call the States. The best they could offer him was a phone he could use to call the post office in Ngulwana, where someone told him they would radio the game preserve, and in turn ask them to contact Jason's mother in the States, if she was still there. It took another day to get an answer from them. They had used the same complicated, circuitous route to call Pam in San Francisco, and she was relieved to know that her son was “okay.” It was obvious to Brad from all that that she had never left. And he wondered what she imagined “okay” meant. She had no idea what they had been through. There was no excuse for her not coming, in Brad's eyes. No matter how much she hated third world countries, or Africa when she'd been there two months before, she should have been there. He didn't say anything to either of his sons, but Brad knew he would never forgive her for it. There was nothing she could have done, but she owed it to her boys to be there, and to Brad as well.

And a day later, he used the same circuitous routing of radios and local phones to ask someone to call Faith in New York to tell her Jason would live, and to thank her for her prayers. Brad had no doubt that they had made a difference, and he was desperately sorry that he couldn't call her and talk to her himself, but there was no way he could while he was there.

Three days later, a nurse told them that Jason's mother had gotten a message to them. She couldn't come, but was glad that all was well. She would see them when they got home. It was that message that made the difference to him. Unless she were in a coma herself, there was no acceptable explanation she could give for not being there. Brad never mentioned it to Dylan, but he knew that their marriage had died on that day. They had told Jason that their mom was tied up in San Francisco, and it was too complicated for her to get there, and he didn't question it, but Dylan could see on his father's face how he felt about it, and he tried to reassure him as best he could.

“It would have been too hard on Mom here,” Dylan said gently, and Brad nodded. He had nothing left to say. They had spent twenty-five years together, and one always assumed that when the chips were down, the person you were married to would be there. Even if they didn't give much from day to day. But when they failed to stand up and be counted when it really mattered, you knew everything you had tried not to know all along. And Brad knew now. Not only wasn't Pam his wife anymore, she wasn't even his friend. It was a devastating revelation, and a disappointment so enormous in her as a human being that even if he could have called her, he would have had nothing to say.

The doctor estimated that Jason would be at the hospital for a month, and they provided two cots for Brad and Dylan. They sat with him for hours every day, and then went on walks in the cool of the evening. Brad took long walks by himself every day when the sun came up. He had never seen as beautiful a place as this one, and it was even more so because Jason hadn't died there, but nearly had, and had been reborn. Brad felt as though his own spirit had been reborn with him. He suddenly felt filled with hope and life and promise, the miracle had not only touched Jason, it had touched all three of them. And it was a bond and a time Brad knew they would never forget.

And as he walked home from his long hikes every morning, he found himself not only thinking of his children, and thanking God for them, but he also thought of Faith. He only wished that she could be there with them to see the beauty of the place. She would have seen the splendor of it as he did. And she would have understood what it meant to him.

They flew Jason back to Kalabo a month after he had gone to the hospital. He was tired and wan, and had lost a considerable amount of weight. He was still too weak to travel, but the doctor thought that after a few more weeks resting at the game preserve, and eating properly, he would be able to make the trip home. It was three weeks after they brought him back from the hospital that Jason said he felt well enough to make the trip. The headaches he had had for weeks had finally gone away as well.

It was an emotional day when they finally left the game preserve, and started the long trip home. Brad had gone to the post office twice to try to call Faith, he had waited hours for an outside, international line, and had finally given up. There was no way to call. Nor had he communicated further with Pam. He had too much to say to her to call on a bad line from a remote African phone.

As it had when he'd arrived, it took them two flights to get to London, and Brad had arranged for them to stay there for two days. He had been gone for nearly two months by then. And he wanted Jason to rest and see a doctor in London, before they traveled the rest of the way home. And much to everyone's amazement, when he did, Jason got a clean bill of health. They described the accident, and the procedure that had saved him, and showed them the chart, X-rays, and paperwork that had been sent home with him. And the doctor in London said he was an incredibly fortunate young man. He could have easily died from the injury he'd sustained. They didn't anticipate any long-term ill effects, although they suggested he take it easy for a couple of months. Even Jason agreed with a weak smile. He felt like he'd been hit by a train.

When they got to Claridge's, Jason called his mother, and he cried when he talked to her. And then Dylan told her everything, and after that he passed the phone to Brad. He put her on hold and took the call in the other room. He was no longer even angry at her. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't accuse her of anything. And he didn't want to hear the excuses he was sure she would proffer.

“Thank God he's all right,” she said, sounding nervous. And at first, there was silence from Brad's end. He hadn't wanted their sons to hear the conversation, which was why he had gone to the next room.

“What do you expect me to say, Pam?” There were a thousand rude or cruel things he could have said. But the situation seemed far too serious to him to do that. That would only have made sense if he still cared. And he no longer did. What she had done, or hadn't, had been the last straw for him.

“I'm sorry … I couldn't make it, Brad. I got tied up here.” As far as Brad was concerned, “couldn't make it” was something you said about a dinner party or a ballet, not a son who nearly died continents away. “I tried, but by the time I could have come, he was all right.”

“He's not all right yet, Pam. He won't be for months.”

“You know what I mean,” she countered. “We knew he was going to live.”

“I guess that was enough then, was it?”

“I don't know, Brad … maybe I was just scared … I hated that place … it terrified me, and I've never been good when the kids are sick,” she said honestly, but without remorse.

“He nearly died, Pam. I thought he had once or twice.” Brad knew he would never forget those moments, nor would Jason's twin. “The worst part is that for the rest of his life, he's going to know that you didn't give enough of a damn to come, when he needed you most. That's a hell of a thing to live with, for him, never mind me. You're his mother for chrissake,” even if she chose not to act like a wife.

“I'm sorry,” she said contritely finally. “I think he understands.”

“If he does, you're a lucky woman. I wouldn't forgive you, in his shoes. And even if he does, how must it make him feel?”

“Don't be so dramatic for chrissake, Brad. You were there.” It was the wrong thing to say to him. All it did was make him angry at her, and turn him off. He cut the conversation short after that. He had nothing more to say.

“Yes, I was. And you weren't. I guess that about sums it up.”

“How does he look?” She sounded concerned. It was the least she could do.

“Like he's been beaten with lead pipes. But I think he's happy to be alive. We'll be home in a couple of days.”

“Brad,” she heard something in his voice that startled her. He sounded completely removed. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am,” he said firmly. “Jason's alive, that's all that matters. I'll see you when I get back.” His voice was ice cold, and as Pam hung up at her end, she frowned. It wasn't that she didn't care about her son. It was just that she hadn't wanted to go. She felt guilty about it. But she had served herself in the end. She always did.