The phone on the nightstand rang, and Angie answered it before she was truly awake. "Hello?" she asked sleepily.

"Angie, it’s Rollie," she heard a familiar voice say, "I’m alive. Believe in the power of hope."

She sat up suddenly, totally awake, then looked down at her hands. They were both flat against the bed. I was holding a phone, what happened to it? She stared stupidly at her hands a bit more, then turned her head to look at the night stand. There was no phone there, but a figure moved from the shadows toward her even as she came to the realization that the call had been only a dream.

"Who’s there?" she asked, now frightened at the thought that Loubar may have found her, come for her ...

"Do not fear, Angela," a deep voice assured her even as she reached for the small lamp on the night stand where she had dreamed held a phone. She turned on the lamp to see the Australian aborigine that had been like a father to Rollie in Rollie’s childhood. "Mangela?" Angie whispered, wondering how the man had found her, and why he was there.

"Rollie’s path is no longer yours," the graying man told her, his eyes full of a warmth deeper than his voice, though his tone was darker than his skin. "Believe in the power of hope, and your paths will cross again."

Angie tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed to stand, but they wouldn’t move. She couldn’t move. She tried to speak, even as the light went out and she was surrounded by total darkness. She listened in the hopes of hearing Mangela’s breathing, but instead heard a drumming that grew louder, and louder ...

She woke up for real this time, and realized the drumming was knocking on the bedroom door. "Yes?" she called, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She looked to the night stand, but there wasn’t one next to the bed. There was a small table there, though, with a lamp, though not the one in her dream.

"Angie, you have a phone call," Callie told her, opening the door. "It sounds important ... Mira, from New York ..." she let her voice trail off to a question.

"It’s important," Angie replied, and this time when she swung her legs they moved and she got out of bed. The dream images were still with her as she followed Callie to the living room and answered the phone.

"Yeh, Mira," she said. A few seconds later her face turned pale, and Angie looked around where she stood. Seeing a chair near to the phone, she sat down quickly, whispering, "No," into the phone. Callie turned at that sound, and though she herself looked exhausted, walked quickly into her kitchen. She returned with a glass of water that she offered to Angie. Though Angie was staring right at her, Callie realized her friend wasn’t seeing anything but images in her own mind that the phone call was creating, and pushed the glass at Angie’s spare hand until it closed around it.

"Drink, Angie," Callie told her, and Angie took a sip of the water, then another. Her face regained some of its color, and her eyes regained a focus as Angie drained the glass. Putting it on the table, she mouthed "thank you" to Callie, then said in the phone, "It’s better to know. Thanks for calling me, Mira. I’ll be fine, I’m with friends." Another pause, then she said, "Coming home Sunday as scheduled. You don’t have to ..." and after another pause she said, "I appreciate it, Mira. Tell Frank I said so, too. You guys are so good to me." After a short listen, she said, "Bye, Mira," and hung up the phone.

"Bad news?" Callie asked, but Angie was lost in thought again. Callie watched as Angie walked to the front door and opened it.

"Still foggy out there, but it’s starting to lift now," Callie called.

"I need to take a walk," Angie told her.

"Barefoot and in your pajamas? I don’t think so, girlfriend. What will the neighbors say?" Callie tried to keep her tone light and teasing, but she was tired and more than a little worried now about Angie’s state of mind.

The chilled air that hit Angie in the face did more to wake her to her situation than Callie’s words. She closed the door quickly and locked it, then shivered slightly. Then she asked, "What time is it, anyway?" in a voice so normal Callie breathed a sigh of relief. Looking to the clock in her living room, she answered, "Four ten."

Angie looked to her friend and saw how bone-tired Callie was. "Have you been up all night?" Angie asked, and remembering what had happened the evening before, quickly said, "Did they find the fishermen? Are they all right?"

Callie tried to smile, but a yawn interrupted her. "They found one; he was released from the hospital about an hour ago and might still be at the Widow’s Walk being fussed over by Boris. But the fog grew too thick and the Coast Guard had to call off the search. As soon as the fog lifts they’ll be back out again." Seeing the worry in Angie’s eyes, she quickly added, "Your cell phone was quite the hit. All the fishermen wanted to make calls to family on the mainland and let them know they were okay. Daniel wouldn’t let them, of course, so Ruby and Bonita opened the General Store so the fishermen could use that phone. I put out a special edition of the paper to tell the story as we knew it, and let my mainland readers know who was missing. It’ll be going out on the first ferry out, but there’s a copy of the story if you want to read it." She pointed to a sheet of newsprint on the couch. Angie walked over to it and picked it up.

"Now, what about you? What was the phone call about?" Callie asked, thinking that by now her friend was over the initial shock and might be willing to talk.

Angie chewed on her bottom lip as she stared without seeing at the paper in her hand. "Mira is one of the cops in my precinct," Angie started, to which Callie answered, "Isn’t she also a friend of yours? The name sounds familiar."

"Yeh, me and Rollie," Angie replied, sitting down on the couch. "Anyway, she called to say the F.B.I. caught Loubar in Seattle yesterday, about to board a ferry for Hope Island."

"Oh my God," Callie said, and sat down next to Angie, nearly as much in shock as her friend had been at the news. "He would have killed Daniel. He would have killed you."

Then Callie took a good look at Angie and knew there was more. She also saw that Angie wasn’t about to say any more either. She had shut off her emotions over the call, and was trying too hard to act as if it were just another day.

"How bad is the fog, Callie," Angie asked her friend. "Too thick for me to take a walk over to Widow’s Walk for breakfast?"

"No, it’s dissipating, and sunrise will burn the rest off," Callie said, then another yawn engulfed her. "Are you going to be all right, Angie?" Callie asked her.

"Sure, I’m fine now. You go get your sleep, don’t worry about me," Angie told her, and to prove what she said she stood up. "I’m gonna get dressed and go have some breakfast. So Daniel has my cell phone?"

Callie stood up, too, and answered, "No, I saw him hand it over to Alex to give to you. I drove him home before going to the office to put together that," and she pointed again to the paper. "You should read it. It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"I will," Angie promised her friend, giving her a playful shove in the general direction of the bedroom. "Want some help clearing a space on the bed?"

"You saw that, huh?" Callie said, and Angie answered, "Uh huh, sure did."

"I’ll take care of it. Go have breakfast, Boris is making Golden Ruple pancakes. He might even have some of his ‘comfort food’ left and that is absolutely delicious." Callie then stopped in her tracks in front of the bedroom door, and said, "If they caught Loubar, then Rollie doesn’t have to hide anymore, and Daniel will be leaving us."

"Daniel is not Rollie," Angie said firmly. "Rollie would never pretend to be a minister. He wouldn’t." Callie looked at her friend and saw a fierce certainty in her eyes. Rather than stay awake one more minute, Callie said nothing more on the subject.

"Night, Angie, or should I say ‘morning’ even though I’m going to sleep?" Callie grinned.

"Pleasant dreams, Callie," Angie told her. Once the door was closed Angie went to the spare bedroom, flicked the wall switch to turn on the overhead light, and put her suitcase on the bed. Pulling out a sweater, heavy jeans, sweat socks, and clean underwear, she bundled it up and went to take a shower.

After the shower Angie looked around in the kitchen and found an apple. Biting into it, she returned to the living room and sat on the couch to read her friend’s story. Half way through it she forgot about the apple in her hand or the piece in her mouth waiting for her to chew, so engrossed did she get in Callie’s reporting of the evening occurrences. She read of how poor the island was, how mainland fisheries had been cutting into the availability of fish in the area, forcing the fishermen to travel further and further out to sea, spending longer hours and taking risks just to get lower and lower prices for their catch. She read of how the Friday fish fry had been instituted at the Widow’s Walk for a market for those fish the mainland sources refused to buy. She read of The Mayor’s assurance that he would not rest until the second fisherman was found, of how the man’s wife had to be carried off to the Widow’s Walk for fear she would drown herself to be with her husband. When she was done reading, Angie looked in the direction of her friend’s bedroom and said, "You don’t need me to give you a Pulitzer Prize story, girlfriend, you already have one."

Then, looking at the half eaten apple in her hand, she decided to find the General Store and bring in some groceries for the house. Now, more than ever, she was glad she had treated for dinner the night before, had volunteered the use of her cell phone, and knew she wasn’t going to let anyone pay her back for the calls on her phone. Her bank balance might be low, and her cost of living high, but she was doing better than most on this island. Feeling guilty, she finished off the apple, and walked to the kitchen to toss it. She then took a fast inventory of the contents in the refrigerator and cabinets. "We’re going shopping later, girlfriend," Angie promised the fairly empty kitchen.

Then Angie went and grabbed her jacket and purse, put the house keys in a pocket, and left for her walk, not to Widow’s Walk, but to find the general store.