What if a lady with half a bedspread over her head peeks in here?” “I just want you to hold me,” Aletha said. They both trembled with cold and reaction, lying on one sleeping bag and covered by the other, inside the tent, and still wearing their down parkas. The sudden and short-lived Alta winter had extinguished the fire. “And they were shawls, not bedspreads. Callie was small and young again. And it was winter there. Things … or time, is getting mixed up.” “So am I. You’d better let me go build a fire. Make us some coffee.” “But can’t you help explain what’s happening?” “Yeah. You’re seeing things that either did or did not happen a long time ago. And you’re making me see them too.” “Maybe it’s not me. Maybe Callie is the catalyst you and Tracy say I am. And who’s this Bram Callie talked of?” “Somebody close to her. Poor kid was sick about him being in the cave-in.” He reached over her to unzip a fly window on the tent door and peered into the night.
