TWENTY-FOUR

Note: This is a past-day event, (continuation of odd-numbered time-span: 2,4,6, etc.)

I lay awake all night thinking about Isabella. Every terrible minute that a call can bring. Bad news. Or perhaps she wasn’t being serious? Did she just say that because she was discouraged?

Early the next morning I called her. No answer. It's Saturday, she might still be sleeping. I call the home phone. Her mother answered. "Isabella isn't up yet."

"Can aunty call her for me?"

"She's sleeping, Erick."

"Please."

I am waiting. Minutes pass by, as I continued to listen to the faint sounds of the speaking tube. If there was something...what would her mother do? Finally, there is the sound of someone arriving.

"Izzy?"

"Erick?"

"Are you OK?"

"Yes."

"Thank goodness!"

At the breakfast table, Gregory asks if I feel like going to the mountain. "We each get a horse at the stables," he suggests.

“That would be nice,” I said. "I feel like getting away from this place for a little while."

We dress comfortably, ask