It was nearly sunset when she and Blake stopped at the Red Cross truck, and took steaming cups of mint tea. And as they stopped to listen, they both heard the mystical call to prayer that reverberated from the village, started by the main mosque. It was an unforgettable sound. She had promised to go back to the medical tent later that night, to outline some plans for helping them deal with trauma victims, but that meant almost everyone here, including the workers. They had seen some terrible tragedies firsthand. Maxine had chatted with the Red Cross volunteers for a few minutes. Everyone needed such basic care at this point that there was really no way to set up more sophisticated interventions. All you could do was talk to people one by one, and she and Blake hadn't sat down for hours. It was only as they sipped their tea that Maxine suddenly thought of Arabella, and asked him about her, and if she was still in his life. He nodded, and smiled.

“She had a commission and couldn't come on this trip. I'm glad she's not here. She's pretty squeamish. She faints if someone gets a paper cut. This wouldn't be for her. She's at the house in London.” She had moved in with him officially months before, which was a first for him too. Usually, women stayed with him for a while, and then just disappeared from his life. After seven months, Arabella was still around. Maxine was impressed.

“Is she a keeper?” she asked with a broad smile, finishing her tea.

“Could be,” he said, looking sheepish. “Whatever that means. I'm not as ballsy as you are, Max. I don't need to get married.” He thought it was a brave thing to do, but he was happy for her, if that was what she wanted. “I've been meaning to tell you, by the way. I want to give you and Charles your rehearsal dinner in Southampton. I feel like I owe you at least that.”

“You don't owe me anything,” she said gently, with her surgical mask hanging around her neck. The smell was still awful, but she couldn't drink her tea otherwise. She had given a mask to Blake too, and surgical latex gloves. She didn't want him getting sick, and it was easy to do in a place like this. Soldiers had been burying bodies all day, while family members wailed. It was an eerie, torturous sound, mercifully drowned out by the bulldozers some of the time.

“I want to do that for you. It'll be fun. Have the kids settled down yet?”

“No,” she said honestly, “but they will. Charles is a good man. He's just awkward with kids.” She told Blake about their first date then, and he laughed.

“I would have run like hell,” Blake confessed, “and they're my kids.”

“I'm surprised he didn't.” Maxine was smiling too. She didn't tell him how furious Charles had been that she had come to Morocco. Blake didn't need to know that, and his feelings might have been hurt, or like Daphne, he might have concluded that Charles was a jerk. Maxine felt a need to protect them both. As far as she was concerned, they were both good men.

She went back to the medical tent for a while after that, trying to help them work out a plan, and she talked to some of the paramedics about signs of severe trauma to look for, but at this point it was like trying to dig through a mountain with a spoon, not very effective and pretty crude.

She was up for most of the night with Blake, as he had been for days, and in the end they both slept in the Jeep that had brought her there, piled on top of each other like puppies. She didn't even think about what Charles's reaction would have been to that. It was entirely beside the point, and of no interest here. She could spend her time reassuring him when she got home. She had more important things to do now.

They spent most of Saturday with the children. She talked to as many of them as she could, and sometimes just held them, particularly the young ones. Many of them were getting sick, and she knew that some would die. She sent at least a dozen of them to the medical tent with volunteers. And it was dark before she and Blake stopped.

“What can I do?” Blake looked as helpless as he felt. Maxine was more used to this than he was, but it upset her too. There was such a huge need here, and so little at hand to fill it.

“Honestly? Not much. You're doing about as much as you can.” She knew he was pouring money and machinery into the rescue efforts, but by now they were finding only bodies, not survivors.

And then he shocked her with what he said next. “I want to take some of the kids home,” he said softly. It was a normal reaction. Others in similar circumstances had reacted that way before. But she knew that in situations like this, adopting orphans was not as simple as Blake may have thought.

“We all do,” she said quietly. “You can't take them all home.” The government was going to set up makeshift orphanages for them, and eventually feed them into their own system, and some might find their way into international agencies for adoption, but very few. Children like that usually stayed within their own countries and cultures. And most of the children around them were Muslims. They would be taken care of by their own. “The hardest part of this work is having to walk away. At some point, you've done all you can within the scope of your possibilities, and you have to go home. They stay.” It sounded harsh, but she knew that in most cases, that was true.

“That's my point,” he said sadly. “I can't do that. I feel like I owe something here. I can't just set up a pretty house, and show up with a bunch of fancy people now and then. I feel like I owe more than that, as a human being. You can't just take forever,” he said. It was a new discovery for him, and it had taken him a lifetime to get there.

“What about helping them right here, instead of trying to take them home? You could get caught up in red tape forever.”

He looked at her strangely then, as something occurred to him, which might make more sense in the long run. “What if I turn my house here into an orphanage? I could support, house, and even educate them. The house in Marrakech could probably house a hundred kids if we reconfigure it, and the last thing I need is another house. I don't know why I didn't think of it before.” He was smiling broadly, and there were tears in Maxine's eyes.

“Are you serious?” Maxine was stunned, and it sounded as though his plan might work. He had never done anything like it before. It was a totally selfless project, and a wonderful thing to do. And it was certainly feasible for him, if he wanted to do it. She was sure he could set the palace up as an orphanage, staff it, finance it, and change the lives of hundreds of orphaned children in the years to come. It would be a miracle for any one of those kids, and made far more sense than trying to adopt any of them himself. By turning over his house, setting it up properly, and financing the project he could help many, many more.

“Yes, I am serious,” he said, with his eyes boring into hers, and she was shocked at what she saw. Blake had grown up. He was finally an adult. There was no sign of Peter Pan, or the rogue.

“It's a fantastic idea,” she said with a look of admiration.

He looked excited about it, and she saw a light in his eyes she had never seen there before. She was very proud of him.

“Will you help me assess them as time goes on, as trauma victims?

Kind of like a mini version of one of your studies. I want to get them whatever help I can. Psychiatric, medical, educational opportunities.”

“Sure,” she said softly. It was an amazing project. She was too moved to even tell him how impressed she was. And it would take her time and several visits to properly assess the situation for him.

They slept in the Jeep again that night, and she made rounds with him again all the next day. The children they saw were adorable and in such dire need that it made his idea of turning his house into an orphanage for some of them all the more poignant. And in the coming months, there would be much work to do. Blake had already called his architect that day, and was working on setting up meetings with government agencies to implement his plan.

She spent her last hour in the camp at the medical tent again. She had the feeling that she had done very little while she was there, but one always felt that way in situations like this. Blake walked her to the Jeep at the end of the day. He looked worn out. He had so much on his mind.

“When are you going back?” she asked him with a look of concern.

“I don't know. When they don't need me anymore. A few weeks, a month. I have a lot to organize here now.” They were going to need help for a long time, but eventually the worst of the crisis would be over, and he would go back to London, where Arabella was waiting patiently for him. He was so busy he had hardly had time to call her, but she was loving and adorable whenever he did. She told him how wonderful and what a hero he was and that she was in awe of him. And so was Maxine. She had been monumentally impressed by his efforts and plans for setting up an orphanage in his palace in Marrakech.

“Don't forget you have the boat for two weeks in July,” he reminded her. They both felt awkward talking about it here. A vacation on a superyacht seemed totally out of place in this context. She thanked him again for it. Charles would be joining them this time, albeit reluctantly, but she had insisted that it was one of their traditions, and the children would be upset if they didn't do it. And he was part of the family now. She said she didn't want to change anything for them just yet. It was too soon, and there was no room for them in his house in Vermont. “And don't forget the rehearsal dinner. I'll have my secretary call yours. I want to do something fabulous for you and Charles.” She was touched that he'd thought about it, especially now. And she was looking forward to meeting the famous Arabella. Maxine was sure that she was much nicer than Daphne was willing to admit.