In the end, with a herd of cattle crossing the road, a dead horse blocking it completely farther on, and a group of Tutsi soldiers at a makeshift checkpoint, it had taken them three hours to get there on roads that were gutted and had been washed out by the rains. And the Red Cross office was just closing when they reached it. India hopped out even before he stopped, waving frantically at the woman locking the door, and she explained what she needed from her. The woman paused and then nodded, as India offered to pay her anything she wanted for the call.

“bu may not be able to get through right away,” the woman warned. “Sometimes the lines are down and we have to wait for hours. But you can try it.”

India picked up the precious phone with trembling hands while Paul watched with a stern expression and said nothing. The woman went back to her office and picked up some papers. She wasn't in a hurry, and had been very kind to India. And at least the lines weren't down. It seemed like an absolute miracle when she heard the phone ringing in Westport. She had decided to call the house, for lack of a better idea where to call for information. She just hoped someone would be there. But mercifully, Doug answered on the second ring, as India fought back tears as she heard the familiar voice, and wrestled with another rising wave of panic about her youngest son.

“Hi, it's me.” She identified herself quickly. “How's Sam? What happened?”

“He broke his wrist in school, playing baseball,” he said matter-of-factly.

“His wrist?” She looked startled. “That's all?”

“Were you hoping it was more?”

“No, I just thought since you called me here that it was serious. I had no idea what he'd broken. I was imagining something truly awful, like a fractured skull and a coma.” Paul was watching her intently.

“I think this is bad enough,” Doug said, sounding pompous, “he's in a lot of pain. Tanya has been taking care of him all day. And he's off the team for the rest of the season.”

“Tell him I love him,” was all India could muster, “and thank Tanya for me.” She was going to ask to talk to Sam then but Doug had more to say to her, and it was obvious he wasn't happy with her.

“Tanya deserves a medal. He's not her son after all, and she's been wonderful to him. And if you were here to take care of him yourself, India, you could shoulder your own responsibilities and not expect us to do it for you.” Same old Doug. Same old story. Same old guilt. But it no longer hit her the way it used to. She had grown up in the past year, and although she still worried about her kids, Doug's hook on her had loosened. She no longer felt as guilty, except when something like this happened. And if it had been serious, she would have been devastated. But she thanked God it wasn't.

“They're your kids too, Doug.” She lobbed the ball firmly back in his court. “And look at it this way, you get three weeks with them.”

“I'm glad you can brush this off so lightly,” he said coldly, and her eyes blazed as she answered, and Paul watched her.

“I just drove three hours to get to a phone to call you, and I'll have another three hours to get back to camp. I don't think I'd call that ‘lightly.’” She'd had enough of him by then, and she was tying up the Red Cross phone, and keeping the woman who ran it from leaving, for nothing. Sam was fine, and it wasn't a big deal fortunately. “Can I speak to him now?”

“He's sleeping,” Doug said firmly. “And I really don't think I should wake him. He was up all night with the pain, and Tanya just gave him something for it.” Hearing that Sam had been suffering made her stomach turn over, particularly knowing she hadn't been there for him.

“Tell him I love him very much when he wakes up,” she said, as tears filled her eyes. Suddenly she missed not only Sam, but all her children. And with a six-hour time difference, with Westport behind her by that much, she knew the others were in school and she couldn't talk to them either.

“I would have thought you'd have called him yesterday, when it happened, by the way.” He threw in one last barb for good measure. And the tone of his voice made her so angry, it diminished her sense of sadness.

“I just got the message three hours ago. I told you messages would take a while to reach me. Tell him I'll sign his cast when I get home. Save me room.” She decided to ignore Doug's snide accusations.

“See that you call a little more quickly next time,” he said nastily, and she wanted to tell him something unprintable, but India didn't want to offend the woman from the Red Cross, who could hear them very clearly.

She hung up then and turned to face Paul with a sigh. “He's all right. It's his wrist. It could have been much worse.”

“So I gather.” He looked grim, and she thought he was angry at her for making him drive her so far. She didn't blame him. And, as usual, Doug had been a real bastard about it. Nothing new about that.

“I'm sorry to have made you drive all this way for nothing.” She looked embarrassed, but relieved, as she looked at him. In spite of everything, she'd been glad he'd been with her.

“He's still an asshole, isn't he?” He could just imagine the other end of the conversation from the things she'd been saying.

“Yes, he is,” she sighed, “and he always will be. That's just the way it is. At least now he's Tanya's problem, and not mine. He never misses a chance to get a hit in.”

“I used to hate him,” Paul admitted. But it didn't bother him as much anymore, or it hadn't until then. He was removed now. He just felt sorry for India and the garbage she took from him. But he'd been impressed by how well she'd handled him. Doug was no longer tormenting her, or making her feel as guilty. He just made himself look stupid with the games he played.

“I used to love him.” India smiled. “Shows what I know.” She went to thank the Red Cross woman then, and pay for the call. She gave her fifty U.S. dollars and was sure it would amply cover it, and even include a small donation.

And then she and Paul got in the jeep and drove home. It took them even longer on the way back, on bad roads in the darkness. It was nine o'clock when they got to camp. They had missed dinner and they were both starving.

“I'd offer to take you to La Grenouille, but it would be a bit of a trek,” he said, smiling at her ruefully when they found the mess tent dark and the food cupboards locked.

“Don't worry about it. Any old frog will do,” she smiled back. She was almost hungry enough to eat one.

“I'll see what I can catch.” He looked exhausted, as they walked slowly out of the tent. It had been a long day for him, flying to pick up supplies, and then driving seven hours to find out that Sam had broken his wrist playing baseball.

“I'm really sorry for the wild-goose chase,” she said again. She had apologized several times on the way back, and couldn't stop from doing it again.

“I was worried about him too,” Paul admitted, as they stood in the clearing in the middle of camp, wondering what to do about their dinner. There was nowhere else to go. They were miles from any kind of civilization, and then India had an idea, and she looked up at him with an air of mischief.

“They must have food in the hospital for the patients,” she said, looking hopeful. “Maybe we can steal some.”

“Come on, let's try it,” he said, grinning, and hurrying toward the hospital with her.

They found several boxes of crackers that had grown soggy from the humidity, a box of Triscuits that had gone stale, hidden in a cupboard, a box full of grapefruits, several cartons of Wheaties that still looked pretty good and didn't have bugs in them, half a dozen huge bottles of milk, and a tray of slightly soft red Jell-O. They had crates of it, sent to them by a church group in Denver.

“Well, Scarlett …that looks to me like dinner,” he said, imitating Rhett Butler, as she poured the Wheaties into a bowl with milk, spooned some of the Jell-O into two bowls, and he cut up two of the grapefruits. It wasn't Daniel, but they were so hungry it looked good to both of them. They would have eaten the boxes the Wheaties came in if they had to. Neither of them had eaten anything since their picnic on the airstrip.

“Stale Triscuits or soggy Saltines?” she asked, holding both boxes out to him.

“You give me the nicest choices,” he said, pointing to the Triscuits.

They ate enough to curb their appetites, and they both looked more relaxed with each other than they had in a week, as they talked about Sam, and her other kids, and he told her about his conversation with his son Sean two months before, and this time he actually laughed about it.

“He said that at ‘my age,’ I really shouldn't need to date. And he seemed to see no reason why I shouldn't remain celibate to the end of my days, which he seemed to calculate as a hundred and fourteen.” He grinned. “At least I assume that's what he meant when he called me ‘middle-aged.’ Kids sure seem to have some strange ideas about their parents, don't they?” But he had a few strange ones of his own too, she knew, since he intended to remain faithful to the memory of Serena forever. But she didn't remind him of it. He looked too happy eating his Triscuits and his Jell-O for her to want to spoil it for him.

It was nice feeling at ease with him again. The crisis over Sam seemed to have broken the ice between them. And she didn't expect any more from him now, but at least they actually felt like friends. Knowing that was something she still cherished. It was where it all began for them, and they had shared so many confidences that it had brought them closer than some people ever were. It had been hard for both of them to lose that.

“What about you?” he asked, slicing another grapefruit for himself. She had had enough, but he was obviously still hungry. “Have you gone out with anyone?” It was a question he had been dying to ask her, and she looked startled by it.