acknowledge Gabe.
“We’ll bring her in,” Wayan said.
Jamie moaned when they laid her on the table. Her eyes fluttered open and then closed again.
“Her name is Jamie,” Gabe said. “American, I think.”
“She is a friend?” Wayan asked.
“I don’t know her.”
“We’ll take care of you, Jamie,” Wayan said.
Gabe felt Rai’s hand on his arm.
“Go sit in the waiting room,” she said tenderly. “Get some rest.”
“Can’t I help?” Gabe asked. He felt unready to leave the woman. He needed to do something. “You have to leave,” the doctor had told him when Ethan began to tremble uncontrollably. Gabe had wanted nothing more than to hold his son in his arms. “You have to leave now .” Gabe had stumbled out of the room backward, holding Ethan’s gaze as long as he could.
“We will work now,” Wayan said. “I will tell you if you can do anything.”
“You have done a lot already,” Rai added.
Gabe pressed his hand on Jamie’s bare foot. When did she lose her shoe? He curled his hand around her toes. He didn’t want to let go.
“Be strong,” he said quietly. He remembered her administering CPR in the wreckage of the club. She was strong. But strong enough?
He walked back into the waiting room, shutting the door behind him.
Gabe must have dozed—when the door squeaked open, he sat up, startled.
“Gabe,” Wayan said gently.
“Is she alive?” he asked, his voice caught in his throat.
“She is alive. She’s sleeping now. I gave her something for the pain.”
“How bad …?”
“I stitched up the gash on her face and put a cast on her arm. I do not know about internal injuries. We’ll know more in the morning when I can run some tests.”
“She’ll be okay?”
“She will be okay. Tell me about the bomb.”
“There were two, I think. Might have been more. Both in clubs in Kuta. Hundreds of people killed, hundreds injured. The place was an inferno.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No, I was in a restaurant nearby. I found her at Paddy’s. There were so many dead bodies.”
“You need a shower and a bed,” Wayan said. “Go back to our house. Rai and I will stay here with the girl. More people may be coming.”
“No, I’ll stay here.”
“The girl will sleep for a while. Take a shower. Get some rest. And then you can help her when she wakes up.”
“I left so many people,” Gabe told him. “I couldn’t help everyone. I stepped over them while they were screaming for help.”
“You did what you could.”
“No. I could have carried more of them out. The building was going to collapse.”
Wayan put his hand on Gabe’s shoulder, and Gabe bent over, releasing a sob that seemed to tear through his body. Wayan’s hand remained there while he cried.
Gabe was deep in a dreamless sleep when his cellphone rang. He reached for it on his bedside table, but there was no bedside table. He bolted up.
His phone was on top of his jeans, which were on the floor at the side of the bed. An unfamiliar room—he was at Wayan’s house. And then the memories flooded him: the bombs, the dead bodies, the woman in his arms. He looked at the light streaming through the window. It was mid-morning, he guessed. Why hadn’t Wayan wakened him?
“Hello?” he said into the phone.
“Oh, my God, I was so worried.”
“Molly.”
“I’m in Singapore. My flight leaves in an hour. I just heard about the bombing. Are you in Ubud?”
“No, I was there. Nearby. I’m fine. But I saw it.”
Molly burst into tears, and Gabe waited a moment while she cried. He looked around the room. His jeans were washed and neatly folded on the floor. A fresh shirt—Wayan’s, he guessed—sat next to the jeans.
“Why?” Molly asked. “Why did they do it?”
“Who did it?” Gabe asked. “I don’t know anything.”
“Terrorists. I don’t know, al-Qaeda, I guess. No one has claimed responsibility yet.”
“Why would terrorists bomb clubs?”
Molly sobbed. “You saw it? You saw the
“We’ll bring her in,” Wayan said.
Jamie moaned when they laid her on the table. Her eyes fluttered open and then closed again.
“Her name is Jamie,” Gabe said. “American, I think.”
“She is a friend?” Wayan asked.
“I don’t know her.”
“We’ll take care of you, Jamie,” Wayan said.
Gabe felt Rai’s hand on his arm.
“Go sit in the waiting room,” she said tenderly. “Get some rest.”
“Can’t I help?” Gabe asked. He felt unready to leave the woman. He needed to do something. “You have to leave,” the doctor had told him when Ethan began to tremble uncontrollably. Gabe had wanted nothing more than to hold his son in his arms. “You have to leave now .” Gabe had stumbled out of the room backward, holding Ethan’s gaze as long as he could.
“We will work now,” Wayan said. “I will tell you if you can do anything.”
“You have done a lot already,” Rai added.
Gabe pressed his hand on Jamie’s bare foot. When did she lose her shoe? He curled his hand around her toes. He didn’t want to let go.
“Be strong,” he said quietly. He remembered her administering CPR in the wreckage of the club. She was strong. But strong enough?
He walked back into the waiting room, shutting the door behind him.
Gabe must have dozed—when the door squeaked open, he sat up, startled.
“Gabe,” Wayan said gently.
“Is she alive?” he asked, his voice caught in his throat.
“She is alive. She’s sleeping now. I gave her something for the pain.”
“How bad …?”
“I stitched up the gash on her face and put a cast on her arm. I do not know about internal injuries. We’ll know more in the morning when I can run some tests.”
“She’ll be okay?”
“She will be okay. Tell me about the bomb.”
“There were two, I think. Might have been more. Both in clubs in Kuta. Hundreds of people killed, hundreds injured. The place was an inferno.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No, I was in a restaurant nearby. I found her at Paddy’s. There were so many dead bodies.”
“You need a shower and a bed,” Wayan said. “Go back to our house. Rai and I will stay here with the girl. More people may be coming.”
“No, I’ll stay here.”
“The girl will sleep for a while. Take a shower. Get some rest. And then you can help her when she wakes up.”
“I left so many people,” Gabe told him. “I couldn’t help everyone. I stepped over them while they were screaming for help.”
“You did what you could.”
“No. I could have carried more of them out. The building was going to collapse.”
Wayan put his hand on Gabe’s shoulder, and Gabe bent over, releasing a sob that seemed to tear through his body. Wayan’s hand remained there while he cried.
Gabe was deep in a dreamless sleep when his cellphone rang. He reached for it on his bedside table, but there was no bedside table. He bolted up.
His phone was on top of his jeans, which were on the floor at the side of the bed. An unfamiliar room—he was at Wayan’s house. And then the memories flooded him: the bombs, the dead bodies, the woman in his arms. He looked at the light streaming through the window. It was mid-morning, he guessed. Why hadn’t Wayan wakened him?
“Hello?” he said into the phone.
“Oh, my God, I was so worried.”
“Molly.”
“I’m in Singapore. My flight leaves in an hour. I just heard about the bombing. Are you in Ubud?”
“No, I was there. Nearby. I’m fine. But I saw it.”
Molly burst into tears, and Gabe waited a moment while she cried. He looked around the room. His jeans were washed and neatly folded on the floor. A fresh shirt—Wayan’s, he guessed—sat next to the jeans.
“Why?” Molly asked. “Why did they do it?”
“Who did it?” Gabe asked. “I don’t know anything.”
“Terrorists. I don’t know, al-Qaeda, I guess. No one has claimed responsibility yet.”
“Why would terrorists bomb clubs?”
Molly sobbed. “You saw it? You saw the
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