Nola returned to her bedroom. From the living room she heard the television in English, probably CNN or the British Sky News. She stood looking at the phone, longing to hear a friendly voice. She thought of calling Gabby even though it was the middle of the night in Colorado. If only Keith were within phone range. Daniel. She dialed the embassy. Some clicks later, they were connected.

In the background she heard the soft notes of Berlioz’ King Lear overture. “I hope I didn’t get you at a bad time,” she said. How little she knew about his likes and dislikes. Or who kept him company.

“I’ve been reading,” he said. “I’m ready for a friendly chat.”

“Are you home?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied, and she wondered what kind of an apartment he occupied for the year. Must be filled with books. Maybe a flowering plant. Where was the woman who was in his life “in a way?”

Nola slid down the carpet by the bed and hugged her knees. “They have so many unwanted babies!” she burst out. “Why are they so immovable?”

There was a rustle of sheets at the other end. He was in bed. Hopefully alone. Embarrassed by her outburst, she said, “Forget it. I’m sorry to intrude—”

“Don’t be,” he said softly. “It’s tough, I know. You’re grieving.”

She sniffled. “No one understands it…”

“I’m in mourning, too.”

“Over Lulu?” she asked with incredulity.

“My own loss.”

She let a moment pass. “The woman who’s in your life ‘in a way?’”

“Yes.” His voice was so low she had to strain to hear. “And our baby.”

The skin around Nola's mouth felt taut. “God. I’m so sorry.”

“This week it’s been eighteen months. I tell myself it’s time to get over it.”

“But you can’t.” She clutched the phone to her ear. “I know. It takes longer to heal.” If ever.

He began to speak. “Three years ago, I was living in Washington, D.C., with a woman I had met at Human Rights Watch. Kate. Her parents were upset over her choosing me. The notion of having grandchildren who were one-quarter Chinese rattled them. She loved her parents and felt torn. To give herself emotional space, she volunteered for the Peace Corps. They sent her to Uzbekistan. That’s in Central Asia, bordering Afghanistan.”

Nola’s back pressed against the nightstand.

She heard an air intake as he continued, “It was tough on me. Little did I know that it would get worse. After a while, Kate asked me to visit her during my winter break. We became engaged, and I returned home to teach for the rest of the school year. A couple of months later, on Easter, she disappeared. Her body was found a week later.” His voice broke.

“Daniel, I’m so sorry,” Nola whispered. “How it must hurt.”