Fortunately I was saved from replying by a doctor, who put his head in the doorway to Lucas's room and then leaned out again.

"He's awake, if you'd like to see him," he said.

"Mr. Dusk?" his mother asked.

"Oh – no, I don't think so, you go first," I said, because I saw someone coming down the corridor and knew I was about to be dragged out of the hospital anyway. "I'll see him a little later."

They didn't seem inclined to argue; they ducked inside the door and let it close behind them, though I could hear their voices distantly.

"Well," said Angie, putting her hands on her hips, Brent and Mara behind her, "your insane friend Marjorie wasn't kidding about you, was she?"

***

As it turned out, Marjorie had called the few of my friends she could get hold of and ordered them to take me out for breakfast. Most of them were cheerfully skipping work to do so, and had called the others in for backup – including my replacement, Derek. I told them that the poisoning had been accidental, playing up their already-formed impression of my village as a country-bumpkin town. They took me to a restaurant downtown, fussed over my bandaged hand until it was time to order the food, and then moved on to Low Ferry.

"It must be nice, though," said Steve, picking to pieces the trendy fusion breakfast sandwich he'd bought. "I mean, we can laugh about someone eating hemlock instead of parsley, but all your veggies must be really organic and stuff."

"Who cares about organic?" Mara asked. "I don't want bugs in my bananas and herbal death in my salad, thanks."

I studied the pancakes I'd ordered, pushing around a little pool of syrup with my fork. "We get a lot of stuff trucked in, anyway, especially in winter."

"Is it expensive to live there?" Angie inquired.

I thought about that for quite a while. "What we buy costs more sometimes, I guess. But we don't buy as much."

"No malls, huh?"

"No, no malls."

"Do you miss the city?" Brent asked. The others glared at him as if he'd made an indecent suggestion.

"Yes, of course I do," I answered automatically. "But I like the village too."

"I'd hope so, Chris. You pulled up stakes quick enough when you moved there. We figured you'd gotten someone pregnant and were trying to avoid them or something."

I laughed a little. "No. I – " I hesitated. I knew they weren't expecting much of me, which was why they were making the whole thing into a joke. Marjorie must have told them – they must have seen – how tired I was. So it probably wasn't fair, what I did, because they were being kind to me, and I didn't return their kindness with the distant vagueness they were expecting.

"Well, obviously, it was after your dad died," Angie prompted.

There was a murmur of sympathetic agreement.

"Dad had a heart condition," I said. "So did I. So do I."

"What, like – "

"I left because the doctors told me if I stayed in the city and kept going like I had, I'd be dead in six months." I folded my napkin and set it next to my plate. I still hadn't looked any of them in the eye. "The air's better in the village and it's quieter there, that's all."

They burst into speech but mostly to each other, asking who knew, who I'd told, if I'd told anyone, who hadn't told if they did know. The food was forgotten – and so, apparently, was I.

"I didn't tell anyone," I said, slightly more loudly than I really had to. They stopped talking, at least. "I didn't tell anyone. I just wanted to...go. And that didn't really work anyway, because when I was here last time it was because I'd passed out and had to go to the hospital, so everyone in Low Ferry knows anyway."

There was an expectant silence.

"So that's why I went there," I said. "It's not why I stayed, I stayed because I love it there, but that's why I went there. And yeah, I missed the city and the idea that I'd make a pile of money and meet someone and have kids here, but I don't miss it very much anymore. I have books and friends in the village and – I have a life there. More than I ever had here."

"I'm so sorry, Chris," Angie said, completely ignoring what I'd just told them. I'd known three years ago that she'd say that if I told her. I didn't want to hear it, but there was no escaping them now. I'd told Lucas as much. You can want to be something other than who you are, but you can't get there by running away.

"I think I should go back to the hospital," I said. They wanted to ask questions, they wanted to come with me, but what we had been in the city and what we were now were too different, and they didn't fight too hard. Angie drove me back to the hospital and left me with a careful, pitying hug I didn't want.

When I walked in, the doctor from the night before was looking for me. Someone had dug up my medical records, finally, and called one of my city doctors, and he'd shouted at them for probably longer than they deserved: I should have my heart examined immediately and be under constant care, the strain of travel to the city and my injury liable to kill me if someone wasn't watching over me.

"So," she said, a little breathlessly, as she explained the situation, "we want you in the hospital for at least another few hours. An electrocardiogram at least."

"What does my insurance say?" I asked sourly.