Roses and black-eyed Mexican sunflowers bloomed in full glory along the wooden ramp that led to the front door. Wearing a pair of overall jean shorts and a pink tie-dyed T-shirt, my mother waited impatiently on the ramp. She’d separated her long hair into thick gray pigtails.

“India, I don’t appreciate you hanging up on me. I was worried sick about Mark, and then I had to worry about you on top of that.” She said as I wrestled the car door open. Mark exited easily.

“And Mark, where have you been? Why the cryptic phone call? Honestly, both of you. Carmen would have at least called to tell me what was going on. I was waiting and worrying, afraid to leave for the church because you might—” She stopped abruptly. “Is that blood on your shirt? And you’re wet.”

Mark wrenched away and set Theo down on the driveway.

“What happened?” Mom demanded. She directed this to me.

I slammed the car door shut. “I’d tell you if you’d give me a chance.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. Is that your blood Mark? Are you hurt?”

She started toward my brother again, but he scooped up Theodore and sprinted into the house, a good move on his part.

“Just tell me if he’s hurt,” Mom said. This time I heard real fear in her voice.

“He’s not hurt, but Olivia is.” That shut her up and gave me a chance to tell her what had happened. “I’m going to head over to the hospital to see how she is.”

She waited, looking nervous, until Mark disappeared through the front door. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go to the hospital with you?”

“Yes,” I said a little too quickly. “I think it would be better if I go alone.”