expensive sales gimmick. Come on, Nattie, hurry up. Get your Pooh bear and follow me.”
Daria pulled the yellow sheet of paper from the envelope, unfolded it, and began to read. Was this some kind of sick joke?
NATHAN CAMFIELD FOUND ALIVE. FLYING INTO K.C. INT’L. VIA BOGOTA 12 APRIL. CALL AMERICAN EMBASSY IMMEDIATELY FOR FLIGHT CONFIRMATION.
This can’t be real. But even as the thought went through her mind, she somehow knew the telegram’s words were true.
She felt the strength ebb from her body, and she leaned against the wall of the hallway. Though her vision blurred, she read the glorious, damning words again.
Flashes of memory came at her, repeating themselves as though she were seeing them from a carousel spun out of control. There was Nate in Colombia, his long legs jumping across the narrow stream to their hut, smiling in anticipation of seeing her after a day away from the village. She blinked and there was Cole in his office at the clinic the first time they’d met, holding Natalie in his arms and looking down on the baby as though he knew even then that he would someday be her father. Then Nate’s face appeared again, the way he had looked the night he first told her he loved her. The carousel continued to spin, and she saw Cole and Natalie walking hand in hand down the lane to their farm, singing. But the song was drowned out by an odd cacophony that roared in her head—the voices of the people she loved, the hushed song of the Rio Guaviare, the nasal dialect of the Timoné, the relentless howling of the Kansas wind.
Daria put her head in her hands and tried to drown out the din, afraid she would be sick. She had a vague sense of Cole standing behind her.
“Be quiet so Mommy can read her letter,” he shushed Natalie. He moved in front of Daria.
“Is it from Dwama? Is it from Dwama?” Natalie jumped up and down.
“What is it, Dar?” Cole was watching her face closely, and there was deep concern in his voice.
“Oh, dear God.” It was a prayer of utter anguish, but she didn’t recognize the low, wretched, tremulous groan of her own voice.
“Daria! What’s wrong?”
She shoved the paper toward him and slumped to her knees.
Natalie started to cry. She came to her mother’s side and leaned her tiny head on Daria’s shoulder, whimpering with confusion.
Cole read the telegram in stunned silence. “No. This can’t be right! This isn’t…” He turned the paper over and over again in his hands as though he would find an explanation in the small print.
“Daria?” Cole knelt beside her, but before he could pull her into his arms, Natalie transferred from her unresponsive mother into the waiting circle of Cole’s arms.
Daria was aware that her daughter was frightened and confused. A rational part of her longed to comfort Natalie, to draw comfort from her, but she couldn’t seem to make her muscles respond to her brain’s command.
Almost involuntarily, she began to rock back and forth on her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around her own shoulders. “Oh, Nathan… What are we going to do, Nate?” she moaned.
Cole stepped back as though he’d been slapped. The echo of her own words reverberated through her mind, and she realized that she had called Cole by Nathan’s name.
She reached out for him, disconsolate that she had hurt him, now of all times, desperately needing to feel his arms around her. “Cole. I-I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what this means,” she repeated over and over.
Cole pulled her into his embrace, and Natalie quieted between them, putting a tiny hand on each of their shoulders, her bright eyes darting from one to the other, innocently oblivious to the drama that was being played out in her family.
Daria felt Cole’s chest heave in mute sobs and, as she contemplated the reason for his sorrow at this news that should have been rejoiced over, the reality of the situation rolled over her like a tsunami.
Nate was alive! Her first love, the love of her life—the man to whom she had joyfully given the gift of her virginity, the gift of her firstborn—had risen from the dead. The hopeful, desperate wish she had dared to entertain as a grieving widow more than two years ago had come true. But the realization of that dream had spawned a nightmare more horrible than any sleep had ever conjured.
Cole gave her one last hug and stood,