CHAPTER FOUR

      “HEY, JACK. WAIT UP.” Simon ran to catch up with the doctor as he crossed from the clinic to his small tent.

       “Where’s Amanda?” Jack asked, looking behind Simon. “I thought you were getting ready to leave.”

       “I am, but she’s dug in her heels. She refuses to come with me, says she’s going to hitch a ride into the city with the transport driver.”

       Jack sighed, shook his head. “That sounds like Mandy.”

       “We can’t let her do that.”

       “I’m not sure how we can stop her.”

       Simon cast around for the best way to say what was on his mind. He knew what he wanted to do was extreme and was certain that Jack would object to it, but he was also convinced it was the only way to get Amanda on the very beginning steps to recovery.

       “She’ll disappear, Jack. If she gets into the city, gets to the major airport, she could go anywhere, do anything, and I’ll have a hell of a time finding her.”

       Jack nodded. “That’s why I contacted you to begin with. But at the same time, if she really won’t have anything to do with you, I’m not sure how I can help. Do you want me to talk to her?”

       “I want you to drug her.”

       The words hung between them for long seconds as Jack’s eyes widened. He took a step back and then another, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. She’s a grown woman—she’s allowed to make decisions for herself.”

       “I know that. Believe me, I know that.” Amanda was the most independent woman he had ever met. “But at the same time, she’s not thinking rationally right now. She may say she’s given up, that she’s going to go home and rest, but you know as well as I do that she’s not built like that. She’s hurting and she’s going to keep running from the pain until she kills herself. I can’t stand by and watch her do that.”

       “But to drug her? Simon, she’ll never forgive you for taking the choice away from her. She’ll never forgive either of us.”

       Simon swallowed back the unfamiliar thickness in his throat, forcing himself to talk through the fear Jack’s words—which only echoed his own thoughts—engendered.

       “Do you have a better suggestion? Please, if you do, tell me. I’ve been racking my brain for hours trying to figure out how to do this another way. But she’s so angry, so hurt—”

       “It’ll only be worse if you do this.”

       “I know. Believe me, I know. But I need her to live. I need to get her someplace where she can recover, where she can remember that there are good things in life. You know how dire the situation is—you wouldn’t have emailed me if you didn’t. If we can’t get her somewhere safe, we both know that the next time we meet, it will be at her funeral. I can’t—” He turned away, terrified. He’d already lost his daughter. How could he ever survive losing Amanda, too?

       “I know where you’re coming from, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea. I mean, it’s a huge betrayal.” Jack sighed heavily. “Look, let me talk to her one more time. Try to change her mind.”

       “It won’t work.”

       “Maybe not, but before I ruin a fifteen-year friendship, I’m damn well going to try.”

       Simon’s whole being sagged with relief. “So you’ll do it.”

       “I’m going to talk—”

       “I know, I know. But if you can’t convince her, if she insists on doing this completely on her own so she can disappear the second we turn our backs, you’ll help me?”

       “Yeah.” Jack nodded, but he didn’t look happy. “If that’s really what’s going on, then I’ll find a way to help you.”

       “Thank you.”

       He snorted. “Don’t thank me yet. If I drug her, I’ll be hundreds of miles away when she wakes up. But you’ll be right there. Good luck with that.”

       AMANDA LOOKED AROUND the tent she had called home for the better part of a year. It seemed even more barren than usual.

       Her belongings, except for the outfit she planned to wear the next day, were all packed in one large suitcase and the worn green backpack that had traveled around the world with her. It was old and on its last legs, but she knew she wouldn’t part with it, even after she got to a place where replacing it was simply a matter of driving a few blocks to the nearest shopping mall.

       She could still see Gabby smiling and tugging the backpack off the rack all those years ago. At the time, it was bigger than she was, but she’d insisted on getting it down herself. Just as she’d insisted that this was the one her mother had to buy. It was the same color as Dada’s eyes, after all.

       Blocking out thoughts of Simon—and his ridiculous ultimatum—Amanda stowed the last of her toiletries and wondered where she’d be when she finally unpacked them again. Jack wanted her to go home, back to America, but there was no way she was going to do that. She couldn’t face everything she’d lost there. Maybe she couldn’t work with For the Children, but the world was full of countries—here in Africa and elsewhere—that needed a skilled doctor willing to work for almost nothing. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard to find another position.

       She zipped the backpack closed, then pulled the only picture of Gabby she had allowed herself to bring to Africa out of the front pocket. The others were all in storage in Boston. Locked away like so many of her emotions.

       The photo was ragged and well-worn, the edges crumbling a little from her daily handling. Her baby looked so beautiful, so vibrant and happy and alive.

       So very alive.

       She was dressed in a pair of jean shorts with embroidered peppermint candies around the waist and hem and a bright pink T-shirt covered in pictures of lollipops and gumdrops. Her black hair was swept up into two ponytails and she was wearing her favorite pair of jeweled tennis shoes—she had talked Amanda into letting her decorate them with the BeDazzler herself. There wasn’t a square inch on the shoes that wasn’t covered in sequins or jewels or beads.

       They were terrifically gaudy and eye-catching, and Gabby had loved them. She’d worn them every single day for months, until she’d gotten so sick that she didn’t need shoes and all she could do was lie in bed all day. Even then, they’d sat on the nightstand, waiting for her to get better. Waiting for her to need them again.

       She never had.

       The familiar pain welled up inside of Amanda, but she fought it, just like she always did.

       Fought against the fist squeezing her heart and the hollowness invading her stomach with every strangled breath she took.

       Fought against the razor blades slicing along every nerve ending in her body.

       It was a little bit harder this time than the last. That’s the way it always was. Just a fleeting thought of her beautiful, precocious daughter almost brought her to her knees.

       Outside the tent, someone cleared his throat, which was as close to a knock as you could get here. She ignored it, ignored him. There was no one she wanted to talk to right now, anyway. Especially of the male gender.

       But whoever it was wasn’t put off by her silence. Instead, he called her name softly before flipping the tent flap aside without waiting for an invitation. That alone told her it was Jack.

       “What do you want?” She didn’t even try to sound gracious, but then, why should she? He had completely