Thank Christ. I drove in, closed the door again and went through to the kitchen, carefully avoiding looking out onto the patio. Amanda. Where was she?...Not in the dining room. Not in the loo, or the utility.Upstairs? In the bedroom all ready waiting for me? I rushed up. Head round the door ... not there. “Amanda,” I called. No answer. The second bedroom? No. Third? No. Spare room? No. Saffie’s door was open ... No.I went back down. I’d have to look out onto the patio after all, through the big. Meanwhile, I worked in the barn and on the larger garden. The garden didn't need much work except for watering some of the plants. However, the sun was hot and that sweated away a lot of my depression as I labored in my shirt and large hat. Only a fool went out into the August sun in Texas without those things if he was a White man. Otherwise, he was sure to come down with a bad case of sunstroke.Over the next few weeks, Ma did improve slowly, but steadily, but we wondered if she ever would. More

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