In the shimmering summer heat you could smell the Gulf and its salty, marshy shores. But those salts salted a nearer, harsher fragrance.

Maddo stood on the shaded veranda of the hospital, which looked to the northwest, across Galveston Bay and to Texas. Below, the street took a siesta. Maddo relit his cigar and held the ash close to his nose, stinging his nostrils awake from the terrible trance induced by this morning in the ward.

The Doctor, Danielle's father, joined him.

"I fear we have lost them both."

"But, both so innocent…?"

"Medicine can do no more," the Doctor choked, "my dear daughter and your child are in the hands of our heavenly father."

"I have spent my life pondering those hands, yet I am as powerless as a sparrow in a thunderstorm." Maddo grimaced in sorrow, "We are fools!"

When the grief finally became too heavy to bear in silence, the Doctor said, "Calvin, let us go in and make our farewells."

"I cannot," Maddo said, "I will join you in a moment."

Soon the sun cleared the awning of the veranda and burned his weeping face.