“Give me a couple of hours to figure this out,” Maxine said quietly as her buzzer went off to tell her that her next patient had arrived. “I've got to think about it.” It was Tuesday. If she went, she had two days to get organized. But natural disasters never gave you notice, or time to plan. She had left before on a few hours' notice. And she wanted to help him out, or at least refer someone good to advise him. There was an excellent association of psychiatrists she knew in Paris who specialized in this kind of thing. But the thought of going to help excited her too. And she hadn't done anything like this in a while. “When can I call you?”
“Anytime. I haven't been to bed all week. Try my British cell phone, and my BlackBerry. They both work here now, some of the time at least… and Max… thanks…I love you, babe. Thanks for listening and giving a damn. Now I understand what you do. You're an incredible woman.” He had new respect for her after all he'd just seen firsthand. He felt as though he'd grown up overnight, and she could hear it. She knew that this was genuine, and a whole new side of Blake that was emerging at last.
“The same to you,” she said softly. There were tears in her eyes again. “I'll get back to you as soon as I can. I don't know if I can come, but if I can't, I'll find you someone first rate who will.”
“I want you,” he begged her. “Please, Max…”
“I'll try,” she promised, hung up the phone, and opened the door to her patient. She had to force her mind back to present time to listen closely to what the twelve-year-old girl was saying. She was a cutter, and had lines running up and down both arms. She had been referred to Maxine by her school, and was one of the victims of 9/11. Her father was one of the firefighters who had died, and she was part of an ongoing study Maxine had been doing for the city since it happened. The session was longer than usual, and afterward Maxine hurried home.
All her children were hanging out in the kitchen with Zelda when she got there, and she told them about their dad and what he was doing in Morocco. Their eyes shone as she told them, and she mentioned that he had asked her to join him. They were excited to hear about it and said that they hoped she would.
“I don't see how I can,” she said, looking stressed and distracted, and then walked out of the kitchen to call Thelma. She couldn't cover for Maxine on Friday since she was teaching a class at the NYU Medical School that day, but she said her partner could step in for Maxine on Friday instead, if she went. And Thelma was doing the weekend anyway.
Maxine made some other calls, checked her computer to see what appointments she had on Friday, and by eight o'clock she had made a decision. She hadn't even stopped for dinner. This was the least she could do, and Blake was making it easy for her by sending his plane. This was what life was about. She had always loved the line from the Talmud, and thought of it often, “To save one life is to save a world entire.” And she realized that perhaps Blake had finally figured that out too. It had taken him one hell of a long time. At forty-six, he was turning into a real human being.
She waited until midnight to call him. It was very early morning for him by then. She had to try several times on both his cell phones, and finally got through. He sounded even more exhausted than he had the day before. He told her he had been up all night, again. It was the nature of the beast in those situations, Maxine knew, and what everyone had to do. If she went, she would be doing that too, so as not to lose any more time than they already had. There was no time to waste or spend on food or sleep. Blake was living that now.
She cut to the chase. “I'll come.” He started crying when she said it.
They were tears of relief, exhaustion, terror, and gratitude. He had never seen or experienced anything like this. “I can come Thursday night,” she continued.
“Thank God… Max, I can't thank you enough. You are one hell of a woman. I love you… thank you with all my heart.” She told him about the kind of reports she would need when she got there, and what she wanted to see. It was up to him to get her access to government officials, get her into hospitals, and help her meet with as many of the children as possible, wherever they were being gathered. She wanted to make the best possible use of every minute she was there, and Blake wanted that too. He promised to take care of everything at his end, and he thanked her another dozen times before they hung up.
“I'm proud of you, Mom,” Daphne said softly when her mother hung up. She had been standing in the doorway, listening to her end of the conversation, and there were tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Maxine stood up and came to hug her. “I'm proud of your dad too. He doesn't know anything about this stuff, and he's doing everything he can.” Daphne saw clearly in one of those rare special moments that her parents were both good people, and it had touched her heart, just as Blake's call had touched Maxine's. They talked about it for a while, as Maxine made hasty lists of what she'd need for the trip. And she emailed Thelma confirming that she was going and needed her partner to cover her practice for her on Friday.
Maxine realized that she had to call Charles too. They had been planning to spend the weekend in Southampton and meet with the caterers and the florist. He could do it without her, or they could postpone it for a week. It wouldn't make much difference, the wedding was still two months away. But it was too late to call him that night.
She climbed into bed and lay there wide awake for hours, thinking of all she wanted to do when she got to Morocco. Suddenly, this was her project too, and she was grateful to Blake for sharing it with her. It felt as though her alarm went off five minutes after she fell asleep. And she called Charles right after breakfast. He hadn't left yet for his office, and she had to be in hers in twenty minutes. Since school was out, all the children were sleeping, and Zellie was puttering around the kitchen, getting ready for the onslaught that would come later.
“Hi, Max,” he said happily, pleased to hear her when he answered. “Everything okay?” He had learned that calls from her at unusual times didn't always mean good news. Sam's recent accident had taught him that. Life was different when you had kids. “Sam all right?”
“He's fine. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. I have to go away this weekend.” She sounded rushed and a little more brusque than she meant to, but she didn't want to be late for her office, and she knew he didn't either. They were both punctual to a fault. “I have to cancel the meetings with the caterer and florist in Southampton, unless you want to go without me. Otherwise, I can do it next week. I'm going away.” She realized she sounded disjointed as she spoke.
“Something wrong?” She flew around to conferences all the time, but rarely on weekends, which, as much as possible, she considered sacred for her kids. “What's up?” He seemed confused.
“I'm going to Morocco to meet Blake,” she said bluntly.
“You're
“Not like that. He was there when they had the big earthquake. He's been trying to organize rescue missions, and resources for the kids. It sounds like a huge mess, and he has no idea what he's doing.
This is his first foray into humanitarian work like that. He wants me to come over, look at some of the kids, meet with the various international and government agencies involved, and give him some advice.” She made it sound as though he had asked her to pick up a head of lettuce at the supermarket. Charles sounded shocked.
“You're doing that for
“Not for him. It's the first sign of being a human being and an adult he's shown in forty-six years. I'm proud of him. And the least I can do is give him some advice, and help them out.”
“That's ridiculous, Max,” Charles said, fuming. “They've got the Red Cross. They don't need you.”
“It's not the same thing,” she bristled. “I don't dig out survivors, drive an ambulance, or minister to the injured. I advise governments on how to deal with trauma in children. That's exactly what they need. I'm only going for three days. He's sending the plane for me.”
“Are you staying with him?” Charles asked, sounding suspicious. He acted as though she had said she was taking a cruise with Blake on his yacht. She had done that before too, with the children, but he was harmless. And they shared children, which justified almost anything to her. But in any case, this was different, whether Charles understood that or not. This was work, and that was it. Nothing else.
“My guess is I won't be staying anywhere, if this is anything like other earthquake disaster scenes I've been to. I'll be camping out in a truck, and sleeping standing up. I probably won't even see Blake when I get there, or not much.” It seemed ridiculous to her that Charles would make a jealous scene over something as obvious and benign as this.
“I don't think you should go,” he said, digging in his heels. He was livid.
“That wasn't the question, and I'm sorry you feel that way,” Maxine said coolly. “You have nothing to worry about, Charles,” she said, trying to sound gentle and be understanding about it. He was jealous. It was sweet. But this was one of her specialties and the kind of work she did all over the world. “I love you. But I'd like to go over
