It was a Tuesday. The California autumn was mild. There were no clouds. From the trees, birds sang forth like glee clubs as her sister, Jeanette, strapped three-month-old, red-headed Heather, into the small portable container attached in the rear seat of her station wagon. When a family moves, there isn't much room, so Claire helped by pushing every which way in order not to waste even an inch of space inside her sister's car.

What she had been fighting all morning . . . the aching swelling sadness . . . began to crawl up her throat and crowd her thinking as the packing neared completion. Her sister, Jeanette, and brother-in-law, Mark, with their baby, Maggie, would be living far away. Mark had been chanting, "Nevada, Nevada, that's where we're a-viting to," all morning like an unwelcome promise. When he wasn't singing it, he was whistling the same silly tune. If there was sorrow in his tall lean frame of a body, atop which sat a square face, light blue eyes, and red curly hair, Claire could not detect it. "More for less," had been Mark's conclusion to every financial discussion for three years, usually with a follow-up that ran something like; "California is for deep pockets, and I have none of those. Someday, we're heading where door stops are gold and champagne flows like the Nile." Why is the soft earth and nectar covered with asphalt? If I'm alone I'll use my fingers to eat, and if no one is listening I won't swear because of the South Pole. Does the audience need silver and scandal in its denial of self? The South Pole is honest. Ask the daredevils who went there.

Mark and Jeanette settled on a tiny town called Sage, in the middle of Nevada, where the nearest doctor was 100 miles away down a ribbon of a road cutting through the desert as though a giant had drug a stick behind himself. Mark bought out the retiring hardware store owner and the store's limited stock of items. It didn't matter that it was a stark beginning, Mark acted like he had been crowned King of the World.

Their Nevada house had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a front and back yard, and was clustered with 200 other souls embedded in this village at the desolate heart of the state. There was even a small swimming pool off the rear deck from the master bedroom. The real estate agent said the only other pool in town was a community facility used in summer mainly by children because the adults were too busy scratching together the basics of life. Along with the doctor, the convenience stores were also 100 miles away, down that same narrow sheening path interrupting the barren landscape and stretching into the horizon as far as the eye could see.

Claire smiled wanly at the embarrassed glances Jeanette occasionally gave her this morning. It would be their first separation, and already Claire dreaded not being able to pick up the telephone to talk with her sister, or stop by for an afternoon cup of coffee and to cuddle little Maggie.

"All aboard!" Mark quipped, then hugged Claire, finishing his embrace by kissing her forehead with a loud smack. "Off to the frontier," he proclaimed, sliding behind the driver's wheel, then followed this with a chanting melody of, "More for less, we're off to where there's more for less. All aboard!" He turned and tickled Heather on her neck, causing her to smile then scrunch up in pink pleasure.

Jeanette came to face Claire, her eyes filled with tears. Her mouth moved but no sound came forth. Claire reached for her sister and pulled her to herself for a long oneness not needing words. They stood back and Jeanette looked at Claire, nodded her head up and down, closed her eyes, then turned quickly and entered the front passenger side of the car. Atop the tall white daisies, butterflies begin and end. They repeat yellow, purple, and white. In their lifetime of one day, these live through perils and gladness. It is enough.

Like a melting, the square white vehicle, with its extra carrying pod atop, and the only three people in the Universe Claire could call family pulled away, becoming smaller and smaller until her loved ones were a speck in the distance. Then they were gone. Claire stared at the spot where they had disappeared and felt like part of her body had been amputated. After several numb moments she forced herself into motion and walked slowly back to her car.

It was exactly 3:06 AM when the phone atop Claire's bed-stand rang. It wasn't yet twenty-four hours since her family had departed. A call at this hour felt like a bullet already discharged, singing through time and space with its song of death. Blue throbs and spills the red walls of drowning minds until they cannot get survival.

"Claire Summers?"

"Yes, this is Claire Summers."

"I'm sorry to say I have bad news, Ma'am," came a man's voice from the other end of the phone connection.

"Who is this?"

"Sheriff Meadows, Ma'am. I'm from Sage, Nevada."

"Nevada? Do you mean . . . where . . . "

"There's been an accident, Ma'am." The man cleared his throat. "I regret to inform you that your sister and her husband have been killed in an automobile accident."

Stones cry out, the moon screeches, mutes blare, because Claire's silence was greater than these. She was a siren of black absent sound.

"Mrs. Summers?"

"What? Yes?"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am."

Claire had to know all of it. She could barely make her voice work. "The baby?" she squeaked.

"Beg your pardon, Ma'am?"

Claire repeated hoarsely, "What about the baby? Heather? Is she . . . "

"No, Ma'am. She's fine. Not even a scratch. Sometimes you see that in my line of work. A whole vehicle will be smashed except one little pocket around someone holds steady and doesn't buckle at all. It's like a miracle." From before the Foundation of the World came what was to come; what was always coming; what had no say but to arrive on time for the Ordained Purpose.

"Where is she? Where is Heather?"

"We're a small town, Ma'am. Our pastor's wife is taking care of her. She's a nurse. Meanwhile, I'm doing the required paperwork and notifying the next of kin."

"I'll leave this morning. I'll come by plane."

"I'm sorry Ma'am, but we don't have an airport. The nearest one is 100 miles from here."

"Sheriff Meadows, if I have to hire a daredevil, I will land on whatever is flat nearest your City Limits today!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And Sherrif Meadows?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

. . ."Never mind."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I'll be there by noon."

"Yes, Ma'am. Good night, Ma'am."