The children slept, having been put to bed hours ago by Mildred. A heavy dread settled over Compton; this time of evening sucked beyond all measure. Earlier, she’d tried to call Kira but hadn’t been able to reach her. How many years had it been since Kira’s husband had died? Six? Seven? Now, looking back, a deep sense of shame assailed Compton that she’d been so ignorant of what Kira must have gone through, especially that first year after Daniel’s death when she’d endured a pregnancy, a transcontinental move, a grueling fellowship, and the birth of her son. At least Vani had been there for her.

Compton had always seen herself as the odd man out. Perhaps she alienated other people in some way of which she herself was not quite aware. Within their complicated seven-way friendship, certain factions and allies had developed, which Compton supposed was normal. Zadie and Emma had always been insular within the group, even moving to the same city after residency. Vani and Kira, who’d been united during school, had stayed in close touch, always seeming to herald the big events in each other’s lives, both good and bad, with unconditional support. Georgia, the dissident of the group, had never seemed to need or desire a female confidant, but she nonetheless moved comfortably within the friendship, darting in and out of their endeavors at the behest of whatever mysterious whims activated her. Plus, she had Jonah, and it was a good thing she did, because Compton found herself at a loss to envision how Georgia was dealing with the onset of motherhood without Mark, her partner. You couldn’t reach out to Georgia, though, even if you were trying to help; you had to wait for her to reach out to you.

Finally, Hannah. While not aligned with any one person more than any other, Hannah served as the glue bonding all of them. Everyone loved her.

The thought of her triggered fresh grief. They’d found themselves rudderless in her absence; in the past, when anything had happened to one of them, Hannah had directed the efforts at celebration or consolation, relentlessly and sweetly hectoring everyone else until they rearranged their schedules to be able to do whatever was needed. Now they needed a Hannah to keep them informed about Hannah. Zadie had been trying to fill in, even though with four kids, a busy cardiology practice, and a congenital tendency toward dysfunction, she wasn’t an ideal successor as the group organizer. Georgia, who’d met Harry in San Diego several times now, kept them apprised of Hannah’s condition whenever Harry passed along information. She’d survived the worst of her illness, it seemed. Off the ventilator now for a few hours, she had to be awake enough to have asked about her baby. But neither Georgia nor Zadie had been able to reach Harry, and so no one knew Hannah’s current mental or physical state. The last they’d heard, the baby had not died.