So, what happened then?” Marla had scooted so close to Carlton’s hospital bed that she was practically in the bed with him.

“Ouch, Marla! The nurse said I need to sleep, and I shouldn’t be exposed to a lot of stress right now.” He reached for a juice box nearby, but Marla pushed it out of reach.

“Oh please, I practically am a nurse, and besides, I want to know what happened.” Marla lifted a series of tubes and pulled them out of her way so she could get closer.

“Marla! Those are attached to me! Those are keeping me alive!” He searched frantically around his bedside table. “Where’s my panic button?”

Marla felt around the edges of the bed until she found the small device with a red button on it, then set it neatly in her lap, clearly under her protection. “No juice; no nurse; tell me what happened.”

“Where’s Dad—Clay?” He lifted his eyes, searching the room until he found his father, who was standing by the window, his face tight with worry.

“I’m right here,” he said, and shook his head. “You gave us a scare, and it wasn’t a practical joke this time.”

Carlton grinned, but it was short-lived as he glanced around the small room in distress.

“Are the kids all right?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“They’re safe. All of them,” Jessica said quickly.

“All of them?” Carlton said in joyful disbelief.

“Yes. You saved him, the last one.” Jessica smiled.

“And he’s okay?” Carlton said again for confirmation, and Jessica nodded.

“And Charlie?” he said softly. Jessica and Marla looked at each other, unsure.

“We don’t know,” Clay said, stepping forward. “I’ve been out to look for her, and I’m going to keep looking for her, but so far …” He broke off, then cleared his throat. “I’m going to keep looking,” he repeated.

Carlton looked down thoughtfully, then looked up once more. “And what about hot Charlie?”

Marla slapped Carlton’s shoulder and he recoiled. “Marla! Ouch! I almost died; this is blood on my bed!”

“That’s Kool-Aid. You spilled it all over yourself about an hour ago.” Marla rolled her eyes.

“John?” Carlton suddenly spotted him in the doorway, hanging back so far he was almost in the hall. John waved, smiling slightly.

“Looks like they have you patched up pretty good,” he said, nodding toward Carlton’s bandages.

“Yeah.” Something’s wrong. Carlton considered John for a moment, but before he could formulate a question, a nurse stepped briskly into the room.

“Visiting time’s over for now,” she said apologetically. “We need to run some tests.”

Clay stepped up to the bed, displacing Marla briefly. “Get some rest, huh?” he said, and patted the top of Carlton’s head.

“Dad,” he groaned. “I’m not five.” Clay smiled and headed for the door; John stopped him.

“You’re going to keep looking for Charlie?” he asked.

“Of course,” Clay said reassuringly, but gave him a confused look before leaving the room.

“You’re not going to find her,” John said softly. The rest of them watched, discomfited, as John slipped out the door without another word, not waiting for anyone else.

“Hey, we found this next to you. I wasn’t sure if it was important,” Jessica said, pulling Carlton’s attention back, and handed him a folded piece of paper, heavy with crayon marks within. He unfolded it, revealing a grassy hill with five children running over it, the sun overhead.

“Yours?” Jessica asked.

“Yeah.” Carlton smiled. “Mine.”

“Okay.” Jessica gave him a suspicious look, then returned the smile, leaving the room. Carlton held the drawing close and gazed out the window.

*  *  *

He had come into the room cautiously, afraid to wake her up. The room was dark except for the light filtering in through the small dirty window, and she peered at him for a moment as if she could not see him.

“John?” she whispered at last.

“Yeah, did I wake you up?”

She was so quiet for a time that he thought she was asleep, then she murmured, “You said you loved me.”

The memory turned bitter here, and it had been nagging at him ever since—since everything ended. You said you loved me, she said, and he had babbled nonsense in response.

He stood in the gravel parking lot for a moment, feeling woefully unprepared. He tapped his hand nervously on the metal fence post, then took a deep breath and went through the gate. Slowly, he followed the path he had once watched Charlie take, hindered a little by the brace on his ankle. Most of the cemetery was as green and well kept as any park, but this corner was all scrubby grass and dirt. Two small, plain tombstones sat together just beside the fence, a telephone pole rising behind them like a sheltering tree.

John took a step toward them, then stopped with the sudden feeling that he was being watched. He turned in a slow circle, and then he saw her. She was standing beneath a tree just a few yards away, where the grass grew lush and green.

She smiled, and extended a hand, beckoning him to her. He stood where he was. For a moment the world seemed blunted, his mind had gone numb. He could feel that his face had no expression, but he could not remember how to move it. He looked back at the stones with a sharp stab of longing, then swallowed and took steady breaths until he could move again. He turned to the woman under the tree, her arm still extended, and went to her.

*  *  *

A warm gust of wind rolled over the cemetery as they walked away together. The trees rustled, and a rush of leaves blew across the stones, sticking to some. Beneath the telephone pole, the grass rolled with waves, brushing against the two stones that sat together in the setting sun. The first was Henry’s. The other read:

BELOVED DAUGHTER

CHARLOTTE EMILY

1980–1983

From the telephone pole above, a crow cawed twice, then launched itself into the sky with a flurry of wings.