The bigger the adventure, the bigger the risk. But degrees of tragedy aren’t a one-dimensional spectrum, and neither are the ways to cope…
There was a lizard in the wreckage.
Ria Kerey moved aside a chunk of metallic debris and looked down at the lizard’s crushed body. For an instant she thought it was a child’s toy, like the plastic dinosaur she’d found earlier, but it was real, and not long ago it had been alive. Carefully she picked up the lizard and lifted it in her hands. Its front half was undamaged; it had been a brilliant, iridescent creature, with stripes of blue and yellow and green, and highlights of orange and red behind the eyes. Ria cradled it in her hands. She pictured the lizard drowsing and dreaming on a Sun-baked rock on the warm hillside, content with its world, and wondered if it had even seen the small plane that had fallen out of the sky and killed it.
Darcy Angelo knelt beside her and Ria held out the lizard. “Innocent bystander,” Ria said, trying to make light of it, but her voice was unsteady and her hands, still cradling the lizard, shook ever so slightly. She felt foolish, getting emotional over a lizard after calmly and professionally helping piece together the bodies of the plane’s passengers—she especially felt foolish in front of gray-haired Darcy, the team’s leader, a woman who’d been working in the field for over four decades. Ria started to put the lizard back where she’d found it, but Darcy gently took it from her, moved it away from the wreckage, and laid it under a frond of flowering purple weed. Another lizard suddenly darted past in a flash of yellow and green, disappearing as fast as it had come, and Darcy smiled. “There,” she said. “A survivor.”
Ria nodded thoughtfully, then looked up at the waiting copter. Dusk was deepening, mercifully casting the hillside in shadow, hiding the neatly stacked rows of belongings and bodies, the long swath of debris that had once been a small plane. On the plane, there had been no survivors. The rescue team’s last four calls had been much the same: different sorts of accidents, but with the same sort of death toll. Ria found herself wishing for Paul, her husband, who was usually with her on the team. Paul had the luck, being so far away during the worst string of calls they’d had for months, but Ria would have liked to have him by her, just the same.
Lizards always made her think of Paul, these days. The week before he’d left, he’d traded shifts with Jack Mercer on urban duty, and had been called to a pet store fire. The rest of the team had rushed about rescuing puppies and kittens and birds; Paul had stuffed his pockets with chameleons and geckos, and had carried out an armload of iguanas. Apparently he’d been quite a sight, running out of a burning building draped in lizards. The urban team was still laughing about it.
As they walked to the copter, Darcy stopped for a moment to point at the darkening sky. “Which star is Ruby?” she asked.
Involuntarily Ria glanced up, even though she knew Paul’s star was too faint to be seen at dusk. “You can’t see it yet,” she said. “Too much light.”
“It’s hard to believe a ship can really go so far,” Darcy said. “Don’t think I did believe it till that first team went out on the string and came back. Sad to say, I’ve never been farther than the Moon myself.”
“I’ve never even been that far,” Ria said. “Never left Earth.”
“Really, you haven’t? Somehow I thought you had. Being married to Paul, after all. You know, I thought about applying for crew on
“I couldn’t,” Ria said quietly. “Not this time.”
Ria rode in the back of the copter with Darcy and Jack Mercer; Lupe Valdez piloted. Jack was filling in for Paul, and the last few days had not been kind to him. He stared out the window at the deepening gloom, then turned to the others. “Another for the books,” he said with feeling. “You guys work like this
Darcy glanced up from her novel and said, “The worst things happen in bunches. It’ll pass.”
“It won’t pass soon enough,” Jack muttered. “Remind me never to sub for Paul again. I’ve never had a worse run of calls in my life.”
“Neither have I,” Lupe said.
Ria was about to agree, but the memory of Simone stirred in her mind and she stayed silent. Beside her, Darcy too said nothing.
“You’ve seen
“Not worse, exactly,” Ria said. “It was just something that got to me.”
“What was it?”
Ria sighed. She didn’t like to talk about that day, but Jack seemed to think that if he heard about something still worse, the horrors of today would recede. And perhaps he was right.
“It was years ago, on my first team. One of my first mountain calls. A woman who’d gone over the side of a cliff.”
The alarm had sounded just before dawn, and when they’d arrived at the scene, the cliff was cloaked in morning fog. The sight of the mist-draped cliff brought a piece of music to Ria’s mind. She had a new album by her favorite singer, Simone Marionneaux, and one of the songs was a strange and sad traditional ballad in French. Ria translated in her mind, remembering; in the song a woman stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean, lamenting her lost love. It was a dark song but a rich one, laden with emotion. She had listened to it only the night before.
The copter touched down on the cliff top near a stand of tall pines and a cluster of summer cabins. A knot of people stood uneasily nearby, shivering. When Ria peered over the edge she could barely see the fallen woman, far below on an outcropping of rock. Such a long fall. Ria felt downcast. A fall of that distance meant they’d surely be recovering a body rather than saving a life.
So Ria went first, since she was new and could use the practice on a recovery where speed was not essential. She found the woman lying face up, with scarcely a mark on her, curled into an almost comfortable-looking position on the rocks. Ria stared at her in disbelief for a long time, watching numbly as the wind shifted, as the woman’s dark wavy hair blew across her cold face. There was not a mark on that face, and even dead the woman looked uncannily like the pictures on her albums. There was really no doubt that she was Simone.
At the top of the cliff, with Simone’s body bundled and ready for transport, Ria answered questions. The woman’s name was Simone Marionneaux. She was a singer and songwriter. No, she wasn’t well known. No, Ria had never actually ever met her, she had identified Simone from her album photographs. She did not know what Simone’s state of mind might have been, if there was any possibility of suicide.
That question made Ria think again of Simone’s last album, of the sorrowful traditional ballad that the foggy cliff had brought to mind. The entire album had a touch of darkness to it, a darkness that had not been present in Simone’s music before. The music had been richer and deeper for its presence, but had the darkness meant more than that? Had it reflected something in Simone’s life?
Ria never found out. There was no suicide note, no evidence of foul play, no evidence, in fact, of any kind. Ria spent her spare time the next few weeks calling in favors and talking to people who had known Simone, but came away no wiser. All anyone knew was that Simone had been staying alone at a summer cabin, as she had done many times before, and that she had been writing there; half finished pieces had been found at the cabin. Ria’s heart ached for the music that would never be completed, but she learned nothing that gave a clue as to whether Simone had jumped or had fallen.
“No one ever found out?” Jack asked.
“No. Never. I always wished that I could at least have known what happened to her.”
“That’s got to be the hardest thing,” Jack said. “Not knowing.”
“No it isn’t,” Darcy said abruptly, startling them both.
“What’s worse?” Jack asked.
Ria, surfacing from memories of Simone, looked at Darcy’s face and was startled to find her expression cold and remote. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Darcy said stiffly. Darcy, who would talk about anything to anyone, who lived in a state of perpetual good cheer, was suddenly and completely withdrawn.
Jack, though he didn’t move, seemed to almost physically retreat. An uncomfortable silence descended over the copter. For a long time they flew in the silence, listening to the suddenly loud noise of the rotor, looking out the windows at the featureless dark below.
Lupe finally broke the deadly silence. “Ria,” she called over her shoulder, “would you sing something?”
Ria didn’t want to sing, not in the mood she was in, but anything seemed better than the silence, and she and Paul had made a home-going song traditional long ago. Paul liked to say that the songs were charms against receiving further calls, and though he meant it as a joke, it seemed to work, and Ria suspected that everyone halfway believed in it.
Simone’s cliffside lament was still running through Ria’s mind. It was in French, which she knew only Darcy would understand, but the others were used to hearing her sing in languages they didn’t know, and it was the right song for the moment. A song for the dead, and there had been so many dead, of late. So many that Ria could not find it in her heart to sing any other sort of song.
“That sounded sad,” Lupe said, when the song was finished. “What does it mean?”
Ria started to answer, but Darcy spoke first. “A fisherman’s wife, standing on the shore… no, the cliffs above the shore. Is that right, Ria?”
Ria nodded.
“…Looking out on the ocean and mourning the loss of her husband at sea.”
“I’ve heard something like that before,” Lupe said. “In Spanish, though. It was sad, like that one.”
Ria thought there must be a song like that in every language. Why had Simone chosen to record this particular one? Ria wondered if it had some special meaning for her; if it had reminded her of someone she had loved and lost. More likely, of course, it meant nothing; Simone might well have selected it simply because she liked the tune.
Ria picked another of Simone’s songs at random, a bright original piece in English, and as she sang she saw everyone around her relaxing, settling into the home-going routine. Darcy seemed to feel better; her black mood had passed. When the song was finished they all fell silent, too tired to talk, but now the silence was a kind one, and Ria drifted in quiet comfort until the copter touched the ground.
In her room at the station house, Ria sat and stared at the digital, willing the minutes to pass. She kept expecting Paul to take her hand and turn her physically away from the readout. Paul had always smiled at the way she watched the clock, had never really understood the frightened anticipation she felt, heart pounding and chest tight, as she waited for the next call. It had been the same for her before they climbed Everest, before she jumped from a plane or got into a submarine; a gnawing fear that almost consumed her. In the end she’d treasured those experiences, had voiced them in song, but she would never have done such things without Paul. Unlike her, he’d thrived on the danger, lived for the exhilaration. He was someone, Ria thought, who could not live without it. Just as he could not turn down a chance to travel to the stars.
Ria looked at the clock again, then deliberately turned away. She must distract herself, as Paul usually did for her; she knelt to open her guitar case and lifted out her old battered instrument. She played a few chords, her fingers awkward with exhaustion, and sang a few words, but stopped. Her throat was too tight for song; her voice, usually so true, couldn’t seem to find the notes. She’d felt the same the first time she’d tried to perform Simone’s music after the singer’s death.
She’d meant it to be a memorial of sorts. She remembered it so clearly, standing in the spotlight on the coffeehouse stage, guitar in hand, singing from her heart. And she remembered how the image of Simone, crumpled on the rocks in the fog, had flashed so suddenly in her mind that she’d faltered, forgetting the notes. Desperately she’d scanned the crowd, looking for someone to focus on. Her Granna had always told her to do that if she lost her concentration, to focus on one person and tune out the rest. And when she found her focus, it was Paul.
She hadn’t really known him then. She’d met him before at the station, knew he was in rescue, but they were on different teams with different schedules, and their paths had not often crossed. Ria remembered how he’d sat before her that night, watching her steadily, listening with a delighted recognition that told her he knew the song well. With that the music had come back to her, and she’d shut out the rest of the audience, so as to sing for Paul alone.
Ria rested the guitar on her lap, eyeing the pile of sheet music and printouts in the corner of the room. Her own music, without a completed piece in the lot. She’d had visions of greeting Paul with a brand-new song she had written herself. But now there wasn’t time; Paul would be home any day now. She tried to imagine where he was now. Still on Ruby’s surface? Not likely; the crew was probably back on
The phone rang, startling Ria out of her conjecture. She thought it was the alarm at first, and she dropped her guitar and headed for the door, but then turned in confusion. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she’d left the phone, and when she found it on a shelf she knocked a stack of disks and sheet music to the floor. She stepped back out of the mess, turning on the receiver. Her grandmother smiled at her from the phone’s screen.
“Hello, Ria.”
“Granna? Why are you calling so late? Is anything wrong?”
“Oh, dear. Is it late there?”
“Three in the morning. No, three-thirty.”
“Well, you’re still on shift then, aren’t you? When do you get off?”
“Four.” Ria was sure that Granna knew that. Granna was like Paul sometimes, always trying to distract her from clock-watching. On the screen her grandmother looked bright and cheerful, dressed in red, with her hair knotted up in a scarf. She had a book of music in her hand and a mandolin in her lap. Ria wondered vaguely what time it was in Galicia, where Granna was now, but was too tired to figure it out.
“Is Paul home yet?” Granna asked.
“No. Still out on
“Oh, too bad, I wanted to show this to him as well. Look what I’ve found!” She waved the music book at the screen, but Ria couldn’t make out any of the words. “A set of music by Luis Garcia,” Granna said happily. “I saw him play once, did I ever tell you? Listen.”
Granna propped the book on a stand, lifted the mandolin and played a few bars of a mazurka. Ria closed her eyes for a moment, listening. The music took her back, took her back so far. To when she was ten years old, a nervous stranger in her grandmother’s house after the death of her parents. Watching with fascination as her grandmother dug through boxes of old printed music, watching Granna in the music room moving from instrument to instrument before selecting the one she’d play. Just watching at first, watching and listening, till the music caught hold of Ria and she picked up a tin whistle to try her first fumbling notes.
Ria opened her eyes as Granna laid the mandolin back across her lap. “I found that music in an antique shop. The owner didn’t know what she had! She was using it for a decoration, lying across a desk with a bunch of old books; can you believe it? I’ll send you a copy.”
“Thanks, Granna.”
“So when is Paul coming home?”
“Don’t know. What about you; when are you coming back to the States?”
“Oh, my, I don’t know either. I think I might look through the decorations in a few more antique shops. Who knows how long that will take?”
Ria smiled. “Then I’ll see you when you get back. Say hi to the cousins.”
“Good night, dear.”
“Night, Granna.”
Ria switched off the phone and knelt on the floor among the clutter of disks and papers. Softly she hummed a snatch of the tune her grandmother had just played on the mandolin. It was a bright air, one she’d enjoy learning. She reached for her fallen guitar, wanting to play the tune through before she forgot any of it. She sat down on the bed, put the guitar over her knees, and had played only the first chord when the phone rang again.
She groaned, put down the instrument, and dug the phone out from the clutter on the floor. Probably it was Granna again, with something she’d forgotten to say. But when she turned on the phone she saw a young man that she couldn’t place at first, not until she saw the room behind him. It was the control room in Aurora’s financier’s private residence, a beautifully equipped and comfortable room with huge prints of astronomical scenes on the walls. On the edge of the screen Ria saw one of Ruby’s planets; she recognized it from the photographs Paul had brought home.
“Ria Kerey? It’s Andy Davison. I don’t know if you remember; I’m part of
“What’s happened?” she whispered. And listened in a daze as Andy Davison haltingly told her that they had lost
“Of course,” Ria said, and broke the connection. The screen hummed and spluttered at her for a moment, then faded to black. Slowly, carefully, Ria turned off the phone and placed it back on the shelf, then reached for the fallen pile of disks and music. She began to stack the disks, struggling to put things back in order. Halfway through the stack she found Simone’s last album. She was sitting holding it, staring at the photograph on the back, when the alarm sounded.
Ria was the first one outside. The copter sat on its pad before her, still and silent, a dark shadow against a background of stars. Seconds later Lupe and Jack appeared, Lupe complaining bitterly, Jack muffled and groggy.
“Unbelievable,” Lupe muttered, climbing into the copter and jabbing at the controls. The engine whirred to life, the rotor began to turn. “I was so set to go home I could taste it,” Lupe yelled above the engine noise. “We’re jinxed, I tell you. Jinxed!”
Jack climbed in blearily, his eyes half closed, and curled up under a blanket without a word.
Ria started to get in, then hesitated, feeling a strange reluctance. She was so disconnected, she felt she could float away if she stepped off the ground.
“Come on, Ria,” Lupe called. “Hey! Where’s Darcy?”
Ria glanced back at the station, just in time to see Darcy emerge and start to run toward them. She was about to climb into the copter when Darcy, breathing hard, caught her shoulder and held her back.
“Ria,” Darcy said, “we can manage. You don’t have to come.”
Ria stared at her. “How did you know?”
“Andy Davison called me right after he talked to you. He was worried about you. Ria—”
“Hey, what’s taking so long?” Lupe yelled. “Get in!”
“You don’t have to go,” Darcy said again, to Ria.
“Yes, I do,” Ria whispered.
“No.”
“Yes! I can’t stay here alone.”
Darcy hesitated, then said quietly, “OK.”
So strange, Ria thought. The copter moved urgently through the air, on its way to an accident site, and somewhere far away on
The music in her head suddenly faded and Ria listened desperately, trying to find it again, but it was gone, and she heard only the noisy chop of the copter’s engine and the soft ping of Lupe’s search pattern. The copter’s seat was cold and clammy. Ria shifted uncomfortably and peered out the window; there was nothing but pitch blackness below, and she couldn’t even tell where the ground ended and the sky began. She glanced over Lupe’s shoulder at the virtual on the screen, and saw the sharp contours of canyons and mountain ridges.
A new screen lit up and one of the controllers appeared and began to speak. Ria closed her eyes, trying to shut everything out, to find the music again, but the controller was too loud and too urgent. A passenger in a small plane had seen a car lose control on a turn and go over a cliff; computers had traced the car to a woman named Mary Arden, who had last been seen leaving a campground with her two children, ten-year-old Jenny and six-year-old Daniel. Ria shivered. She’d really had enough of cliffs.
“We’re getting close,” Lupe said, changing course, and Ria looked up at the virtual display again. Inside the virtual she could see the ripples of a mountainside, the jagged edge of a cliff, the dusty track of a dirt road climbing along the cliffs edge. The screen next to the virtual flashed silver, and Lupe brought the copter into a hover and switched on the spotlight. The light swept over the remains of the car, tumbled and shattered on a slope at the base of the cliff. Looking at it, Ria felt sick; there wasn’t much left. The twisted metal remains could have been anything: a car, a plane, even a spacecraft, smashed on the surface of another world when its fuel had run out.
The copter touched down near the wreckage and settled, blades whispering to a stop. Lupe opened the door and the night air swept in, full of the scent of juniper and sage. Jack and Lupe jumped out and began setting up lights; Darcy stopped Ria and said softly, “You up to this?”
Ria nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and stepped out into the night.
It was cold and bitter outside, with a high wind that cut through clothing and sent shadows bobbing before the emergency lights. Ria and Darcy ran to the crashed car, bearing cutters and jaws and the medical kit. The car had come to a rest half on its side, leaning against a screen of thorny bushes. Lupe had already scrambled up to the driver’s door to peer in.
“What do you see?” Darcy called.
“The woman’s dead. She matches the description of Mary Arden.”
“What about the children?”
“No sign. All I see is the woman. She’s wedged in tight.”
“You two start cutting her out,” Darcy said. “Ria and I’ll look for the kids.”
“Right.”
Darcy caught Ria’s arm, put a light into her hand, and pulled her away from the main body of the wreckage. They cast out away from the car, moving in slow, awkward circles. The rough ground, the steep slope, the cacti and thorny bushes all made the search difficult, and they found pieces of metal and glass scattered across a huge area. Behind them they heard the noise of the cutters and the jaws, as Jack and Lupe set about the task of extracting Mary Arden from the wreckage. Darcy moved fast, scanning everywhere, her movements controlled but urgent. Ria, following, tried to feel the urgency, but could not. No one could have survived this crash, and there was no need to hurry for the dead.
They found the little boy, Daniel, lying in the middle of a clump of bushes, his clothes snagged by thorns. Soft, Ria thought dazedly. The bushes looked soft, like pillows. Daniel was utterly motionless, a limp horizontal statue, stiff and cold. There was hardly a mark on him, but he was dead.
Ria pushed her way into the thorny clump, and she and Darcy lifted Daniel out of the bushes and laid him gently on the ground.
They stood still for a few seconds, looking down at the boy, listening to the soft mutter of voices on the radio, the whine of the jaws working on the car. Jack and Lupe were still struggling to extricate the dead woman; it did not sound as if things were going well.
“Come on,” Darcy said quietly. “We’ll come back for him later. There’s still a chance for the girl.”
Their circles grew wider and wider, but they found nothing. Ria stumbled on a half-buried shard of metal and fell against a cactus, impaling her arm with daggerlike inch-long thorns. Feeling nothing, she pulled her arm free, picked up her fallen light, and trudged on. Behind her, Darcy stopped, picking up the piece of metal to examine it. “Ria!” she called. “I think we’ve gone too far; we’d better circle back and start over. We must’ve missed her.”
“Pieces of metal flew this far,” Ria said. “We must still be in the range.”
“I don’t think so,” Darcy said. “I don’t think this debris is from the car.”
They were on a slope far below the main accident site; Ria looked up toward the site and shivered, realizing for the first time how far they had come. She crossed her arms in front of her, gazing at the faraway lights, which flashed between the windblown bushes like stars. She looked up at the real stars, then quickly looked away as Darcy shoved the piece of metal into her hands.
“Feel that. It’s metal, but it’s pliable. Just molds from one shape to the next. Sure as hell doesn’t look like it’s from a car.” Darcy paused, momentarily indecisive, then abruptly turned around. “Let’s start back. I’m sure we’ve gone too far.”
Ria slipped the piece of metal into her pocket and had just turned to follow Darcy when the radio’s alarm went off. Lupe’s voice followed it. “We’ve found the girl; she’s still alive. Come in fast.”
Ria froze for an instant, unbelieving, then began to run. Where could Jack and Lupe have found her? And how could she be alive? Ria stumbled and fell, landing heavily in the dirt, and the light in her hand shattered and went dark. Shaken, Ria looked up: the stars weaved and bobbed drunkenly above the desert floor. Ria pulled herself to her hands and knees, feeling sick and dizzy. The stars still moved in pulsing waves, like the sea. The cruel sea.
“Ria!” It was Darcy’s voice, echoing in her ears, Darcy tugging at her arm. “Are you OK? We have to move!”
“I’m OK. Just fell.” Ria leaned on Darcy and clambered to her feet. If she was careful to look only at the ground, she could move, and she let Darcy guide her in a quick jog to the copter. There a myriad of lights cast back the shadows, and she saw Lupe and Jack with a stretcher bearing a small form. The girl, Jenny, lay beneath the insulated blanket, not only alive but aware, her expression dazed and pained. Ria stared at her in astonishment. Impossible that Jenny should be alive, yet she was.
Ria joined the others as they lifted the girl into the copter and latched the stretcher in place. Ria’s movements were entirely automatic. She helped Darcy place the IV lines and warming units while Jack and Lupe fastened the last of the straps.
“Where’d you
“In the car,” Lupe said breathlessly. “Wedged under her mother. We didn’t even see her till we got the woman out. Everybody ready?”
“Ready,” Darcy said.
“OK we’re off.” Lupe scrambled to the controls, and seconds later the copter lurched gently and lifted from the ground. Ria gasped and fell against the door, clinging to it. Jack, looking worried, reached for her to steady her, but before he could touch her she pulled away from him and jumped out of the copter to the ground.
“Ria!” Jack called. “What’s the matter? Lupe, wait—”
“What’s going
“I’m staying,” Ria called out. She couldn’t go, she
There was confusion for a moment, voices calling back and forth; then the sound of the copter began to fade away. Ria lay face down on the ground, clutching at the dirt and grass, hanging on for dear life. The noise of the copter died completely away, leaving her all alone. She let herself cry then, tears sinking into the ground beneath her. She looked up once, but the stars were still there, glaring down at her horribly, and she flinched away from them and pressed her face into the dirt.
It was a long time before she realized that she was not alone after all. She heard soft footsteps in the sand and gravel nearby, and became aware of a dim light beyond her closed eyelids. Slowly she pushed herself up from the dirt and opened her eyes. The sky was dull gray, waiting for dawn; the stars had faded and vanished. Darcy was walking past her, carrying the dead boy. Ria sat up and watched as Darcy wrapped a blanket around his small body and laid him next to his mother. The corners of the blankets stirred and waved in the dawn breeze. Ria swallowed hard and looked away. Down the hill she saw a rabbit, darting back and forth in the scrub brush, and a lizard, sitting still atop a rock. The lizard made her think of Paul, running out of a fire with an armload of the creatures, and she turned back to Darcy, who had finished with the bodies and now came to sit at Ria’s side.
“How do you feel?” Darcy asked.
Ria stared at her blankly. “I don’t know,” she said. “Where are the others?”
“They took Jenny on to the hospital. Should be back for us soon.” Darcy gave Ria an appraising look, as if wondering if she’d be able to get off the ground.
“Is she still alive?” Ria asked.
“So far.”
Ria glanced involuntarily at the blanket-wrapped bodies near the wrecked car. She hoped Jenny had family still living, someone like Granna who would take her in and love her and care for her. She wondered if Jenny knew what had happened to the others. If anyone had told her. If she didn’t know yet, she’d find out all too soon.
“At least she’ll know what happened to her mom and brother,” Ria said bitterly. “At least she’ll know.”
“Ria?” Darcy touched her shoulder.
“I’ll never know what’s happened to Paul. Whether he’s alive or dead.”
“No. You won’t.”
“What’s worse than that?” You said there was something worse. Please—” Maybe hearing about something still worse
“I used to think not knowing
The piece of metal in Ria’s pocket jabbed her in the leg and she took it out and turned it in her hands, twisting and flexing it.
Darcy said, “I was working with a team searching for a missing girl. Someone else found the girl, and
“I was the one sent to tell the family. I thought I was doing them a good turn. At least they’d finally know for sure what happened. But the boy’s mother had accepted not knowing, had built her hope on it. She’d put him in fortune’s hand.”
“What happened when you told her?”
“She mourned. And went on. But without hope. And I felt like I was the one who’d killed him, because I took away the life he’d had within her.”
Ria clenched her hand around the piece of metal she held, twisted it one last time, and dropped it. Paul would like that, she thought. Being in fortune’s hand. If she could put him there. If she could hope for him, hope that
The lizard below was still sitting on its rock, in spite of the deep chill in the air. The first light of the Sun touched the green and gold of its skin, and glinted brilliant red in a circle around its throat, as if it were reflecting off a ruby collar. At the first touch of the Sun, the lizard whirled about and disappeared into a crack between the rocks.
And with that the music was back in Ria’s head, her own music, a song for Paul, for