The flashing lights of an ambulance appeared in his rearview mirror, followed soon after by the rise of its siren. He pulled as far to the right as he could without ramming the guardrail that bordered the two-lane road. He didn't care to know what was beyond the rail, the topography of the area suggested a thirty-foot drop past trees and boulders to a stream, he checked Sara's door for the eleventh time.

The ambulance flew by. He pulled back onto the road and returned to speed. It was ten-fifteen. They had been awake since dawn, warming up, having breakfast, breaking camp before putting into the water. By midmorning the sun had brought a warmth that made the snow squall seem a joke He was glad they had come canoeing now.

Another few weeks and a snow squall would escalate into something more.

He loved the thought of thatnature was beautiful cloaked in white reduced to the basics of size and shape and therein more boldbut he wasn't sure Sara was up to it. Maybe in a few years. They might go farther north. Make three or four days of it. Even shoot the rapids.

A crescent moon poked through the bare arms of the trees. A month before, it would have been kept out by the leaves. A shame. With the ghost of its entirety holding it there in the sky, it was a testament to the stalwart source of its light.

His rearview mirror flashed with the approach of another ambulance, and again he squeezed right. It wasn't one this time, but three in succession, whipping past with a speed he would have judged unsafe had he not known that everything was relative. Three ambulances meant serious trouble. He wondered where.

Sara stirred. She raised her head as the last of the flashing lights disappeared around a curve in the road. "What happened?"

"I don't know, but something must have.

They're bringing them in from all over."

She righted herself on the seat. "Maybe it's a car "That's a lot of ambulances for a car crash."

"Or a bus crash. Or a madman opening fire in the Tucker Tavern."

He shot her a humorous look. "Good God, sweetie, you have a vivid imagination."

She shrugged. "It happened back home. At a fast food place, with families and kids all around."

"That was urban violence. Chances of something like that happening in quiet little Tucker are more remote." But he saw another ambulance coming up behind them. There were two in this group. When they had passed, he said, "Maybe you're right."

"Can we follow?"

"No. We'd only be in the way." And he had no intention of letting Sara see blood and gore.

"We'!l go home. If it's something big, we'll hear about It pretty fast."

"At Mount Court?" she asked. The dashboard illuminated her "get-real"

expression. "We're as far as you can get from Tucker and still be within the town limits."

"That," he said with a sigh, "is an astute observation. It's true on more levels than you'd want to count."

"They hate us."

"No. They don't know us. They have a preconceived notion of who we are, what we stand for, and how we behave, and unfortunately the blatant misbehavior of a small group of students in recent years has fed into it.

We're off to a better start this year."

Another ambulance approached, passed, and whizzed off. By Noah's count, that made seven.

He might not be far off the mark when she asked, wDo Paige hurt? "God, I hope not!" ambulances Wouldn't ntohueyh inSdUrhies to fill all theSe You re right They would " . As a doctor.

Eh m cln rs. f hea mebaby-sitter way "Well, if they need her, I'm sure someone "That must be awful." "What?" w can be having a "That's part of being a doctor." pointedly that Noah would have had to heartaotSaalld ggentothant of the workings of children's mind Angie was feeling better about herself and her life Do".gie to Montpelier haedSspsehet and Ben had taken Then they had returneedret haTving an early dinner smtarvtiienSgat RtheelS9thand were now done with one and thing The day had beenhaBeSnhs e dhadn t arranged a fmishexcept for the popcorn, which she had just air-popped and over which, as a splurge, she was in the process of dribbling melted butter.

She didn't splurge often. Dribbing melted butter on popcorn defeated the purpose of the air popping, but she wanted to do things differently. She was determined to pull herself out of the rut she had settled into in recent years, and if that meant dribbling melted butter on popcorn, or overlooking the fact that the late show had been Ben's choice and was R-rated, or ignoring the sound of the sirens that had been wailing in the distance, on and off, for the last ten minutes, she would do it.

"Wonder what's going on," Ben remarked when she returned to the den with the popcorn.

"Beats me," she said with determined nonchalance. "Peter's on call tonight. He'll handle whatever comes up." She didn't look at Ben to see whether he was pleased. He had to be. Her statement said that her family came first, which was at least part of what he wanted.

"Sit here, Mom." Dougie moved over to make a place for her between Ben and himself. "The movie's starting. This is a good one."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've seen it before."

Angie dared a glance at Ben. "When?"

"At school. Some of the kids have rented it.

"But it's Rrated."

"They're old enough."

"Ahhhh," she said.

"There isn't much difference if he sees it with them or with us," Ben pointed out, though gently. He was trying. Angie could tell. That made it easier.

"Better with us," she said lightly. "That way we can answer any questions he might have. Or give a blow-by-blow commentary on what's happening," I she teased, "or cover his eyes at the explicit SDotS.

"The R isn't for sexually explicit," Dougie informed her. "It's for violent."

"Violent. Lovely." Another siren wailed in the distance. "What with the sound effects out there, and the violence you say is in here, I may be the one who'll have nightmares," she quipped, but the truth was that she didn't care. Sitting between her husband and her son, with a warm bowl of buttered popcorn floating back and forth along with an atmosphere of goodwill, she couldn't have cared if she had nighmares for days. The moment was worth it.

Ben reached back and hit the light switch, plunging them into a darkness broken only by the flicker of the television. Just as the opening credits of the movie filled the screen, the phone rang.

Reflex brought Angie forward, but second thoughts had her elbowing Dougie. "It's been for you most of the weekend. Go on. We'll pause the movie." She thought it was a brainstorm. After all, Ben said she smothered the boy. What better way to ease her grip than by letting him answer his own calls. It wasn't asking much, yust a short walk cross the room.

From across the room a minute later, he called, "It's for you, Mom."

"Oh." She got up. XSorry." She took the receiver from him. "Yes?"

She knew it would be business. No one would be calling for fun this late on a Saturday night.

"Angie," she heard Peter's voice say "we have a problem."

If he was saying that he was in bed with a woman and wanted her to cover for him, the answer was going to be no.

"The movie house?" he went on. "The Henderson Wheel concert that's been sold out for days?

The one Jamie Cox was so damned proud to be packin' em in for?"