Life Stories: The Enran Chronicles Book Two

Such a tremendous thrill, blessing, and accomplishment to announce Life Stories: The Enran Chronicles Book Two! This FREE tale is the result of much heartache, many deep breaths, a LOT of rewrites, and the passion for telling a good story.

In Life Stories, alternate timelines have wreaked havoc on those dwelling in Tia Sorenson Zanetti's home base on California's North Coast: Who is actually dying of cancer? Where are Bobby and Tris? Is Marcus truly a coward, and can Wynn and Shirl find their youngest sons? Most importantly, who is the young woman claiming Tia and Nathan are her parents....

Hah! Heaps of intrigue mesh with differing realities, also aliens, don't forget them. Lucy and Dana can't figure out why the brandy isn't potent while trying to reckon immense personal devastation. And what about the jerk living with Shirl and Marcus? Tama calls Tennyson Dorvuun a creepfest, but is he more than just a sleazeball?

Part women's fiction, part sci-fi, with loads of drama and laughter, Life Stories is about What if? What if a dearly beloved isn't dying of cancer? What if a child thought lost is actually alive? What if the worst possible scenario could be changed? And what if God and aliens both exist, hehehe. Dana's not sure about that, but Tris believes otherwise.

Twenty years have passed since A Love Story: Book One, the island mostly unchanged. Yet those now dwelling in the Sorenson house have aged, sometimes with grace, at other times poorly. And as Tia and Nathan grapple with their declines, might those forgotten Enran reappear?

Sometimes we get the chance to erase mistakes, alter the biggest regrets. I dedicated this novel to my husband; his continued support makes all the words possible. It's also in memory of D.J., Ruthie, and Don, who lost their battles against cancer last year. It's wholly fiction, but directly inspired by what I experienced as my brother-in-law died last January. And it's a love letter to his wife, as if I could alter timelines and return to her those most cherished.

Below is the first chapter. Currently this free novel is only available on Smashwords, but will be released in wide distribution to Apple Books, Barnes & Noble and other retailers soon. In the meantime, thanks for reading the blog of this author, fifteen years in the indie publishing trade!

Chapter1

 

Being a Sunday, Lucy Sorenson hadalready made cocktails. Condensation had collected in the outer crevices of alarge glass pitcher’s fluted edges, ice melting rapidly on a sultry Augustafternoon. Lucy didn’t mind the brandy and lemonade sluicing together, althoughif Dana didn’t arrive soon, another glass of ice would be necessary.

Squinting westward, Lucy saw no sign ofDana Noth. Grumbling softly, Lucy refilled her tumbler. A sudden gust of windcooled her neck, making her shiver. She closed her eyes, quickly permittingsounds from inside the house as a diversion; murmured conversations collidedwith twittering birds, crickets chirping, frogs croaking. Lucy opened her eyes,then sighed; Dana was exiting her house at the end of their shared street,waving as she took her porch steps, her full cotton skirt rising with anothergust of wind, revealing old bike shorts snug on her legs.

Neither spoke, but Lucy waved back,hoisting her glass in the air. Dana nodded, approaching Lucy’s house, whichoverlooked the narrow bay separating their small hamlet from what mostvillagers still considered as the mainland, although what had once been deemedan island hadn’t been so isolated since Lucy was a toddler. Did Dana rememberthe flooding, Lucy mused, sipping her drink as Dana sauntered through the openfront gate, gathering her skirt in front of her as another strong breezethreatened to again swirl the fabric aloft. “Damned wind,” Dana muttered as shereached the front steps. “Thank goodness it’s supposed to die down soon.”

Lucy didn’t flinch from Dana’sobservation. “Pour yourself a drink before it needs more ice.”

“That I shall.” Dana filled a largetumbler, then sat next to Lucy. The wide porch accommodated several chairs, buttheirs were set to the right of the front door, proffering a view not merely ofthe bay. If Lucy wore her glasses, she could make out Dana’s shop two blocksaway on the corner of Main Street. But Lucy had left her specs inside, anduntil the pitcher required topping up, she wouldn’t go back in.

Instead she peered at the bay. “Lowtide,” she said as Dana tucked her skirt under her legs. “Does that affectbusiness?”

“Not really. I shouldn’t have botheredopening today, it’s been so slow lately.”

“It’s a good distraction,” Lucy said,then finished what sat in her glass.

“I guess. Any news?”

“I’m so sick of listening to birds Icould puke.”

Dana laughed abruptly, then placed herdrink carefully in her lap. Removing a scrunchie from her wrist, she twirledwavy gray hair atop her head, then wrapped the scrunchie around it. She sighed,collecting her glass, swirling the contents. Then she chugged the beverage,handing it to Lucy, who sat closest to the pitcher. Lucy needed no direction;she refreshed Dana’s drink, and the women said nothing as Dana ingested whatseemed so necessary, not merely that it was a lazy afternoon. Lucy wasforty-seven, Dana fifty. How many Sundays have we boozed away, Lucy wondered asnoisy wildlife continued to leak from the living room windows.

“Who’s with her now?” Dana asked.

Lucy furrowed her brow. “Everybody Ithink.”

“Shit, that’s a crowd. Surprised all wecan hear are the damned birds.”

“She gave everyone a scare earlier,” Lucysighed. “I almost called you but I figured she was faking.”

“Don’t call unless she’s….” Danauntucked the left edge of her skirt, then tucked it back in again. “Unless youwant the company.”

Lucy patted Dana’s leg. “Got morecompany than brains right now.”

Sipping her drink, Dana nodded. “Anyidea how much time’s left?”

“Nope.”

Dana grasped Lucy’s hand. “That okay?”

“I don’t know. Well, it’s fine with mebut….”

Someone stepped from the house and bothwomen glanced at the front door. Nathan was dressed in shorts, an old t-shirt,and sneakers. “I’m going running,” he said, walking behind them. He firstkissed Dana’s head, then Lucy’s. Then he chuckled softly. “Leave me some forwhen I get back.”

“She okay?” Lucy asked as he took thesteps.

“Just faking,” he said, reaching thefront gate.

“What I thought,” Lucy replied. “You haveyour phone?”

“Nope. If I miss it, sue me.”

“Go on,” Lucy said. “She’s not goinganywhere.”

Nathan nodded, gesturing to the bay. Hestretched briefly, then began to jog slowly along the slope where a concretepath encircled the hamlet. Within seconds he was past where Lucy could haveobserved him even with her glasses.

Dana swigged her drink, then againnestled it in her lap. “Lord, he’s a beautiful man.”

“He is,” Lucy smiled, “and barely knowsit.”

“Oh he knows, but doesn’t give a damn. Iwonder if he ever did.”

“Maybe back east, but not here.”

Dana nodded, retrieved her tumbler, butdidn’t do more than grasp it. “He doesn’t look any older than when I first methim, shit that’s been twenty years.”

“I’ve been thinking the very same.”

“Is that all you’ve been thinking?”

“Sometimes,” Lucy sighed. “Life’s afunny thing, but maybe that goes without saying.”

“Funny isn’t how I’d describe it rightnow.”

“Have another drink, then it won’t seemso depressing.”

“If I do that I’ll need help walkinghome.”

“Nathan can escort you,” Lucy grinned.

“I’m surprised he didn’t take hisphone.”

“Where would he have put it?”

“Maybe in his shoe,” Dana giggled.

“Maybe.” Lucy briefly closed her eyes,allowing sounds from the house back into her head. If Nathan felt comfortablein leaving, the rest would soon start filtering outside. Or maybe the littleboys would go upstairs. Glancing at the depleted pitcher, Lucy stretched herlegs. “Should I make another?”

“Not on my account.” Dana finished herdrink, then set the glass under her chair. “You want more?”

“I want one, but….” Gripping thearmrests, Lucy sat forward, gazing at the nearly empty bay. Glancing past it,she studied houses on the other side of the water, boats tethered to smalldocks, long piers with iron benches affixed. Mainlanders, she sniffed, thensmiled at the outdated term. “You hanging out the rest of the afternoon?”

“I can. You tell me what to do.”

“Shirl’s in charge of dinner, not muchto do but gossip.”

“If I don’t have to think about cooking,you have me the rest of the day.”

Lucy gripped Dana’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Scooting back in her chair, Lucy didn’trelease Dana, but she did take a deep breath. As she exhaled, a wave ofhelplessness flowed from her chest, clearing a slight blockage. Upon inhaling,she immediately noticed the scents of despair mingling with the sweetness oflemonade-tinted brandy, hedged by sodden mud. The fragrance of my adult life,she permitted, squeezing Dana’s hand and not letting go.

 

 

At almost forty years of age NathanZanetti still possessed a graceful body, his thick black hair tinged with grayaround his ears. The wind provided a tousled effect that from afar made himlook more like Lucy’s son than her brother-in-law, yet Nathan possessedwrinkles which if viewed up close aged him severely. He could feel thosephantom years as he ran, trying not to consider why he was there, then hechided himself, no longer any way to separate himself from this place and itspurpose.

Yet in running without a phone a smalldeceit laced his steps and he smiled despite a throbbing ache in his chest.Dana was the point of contact for those not dwelling here, which basicallymeant his family, then he wondered how the locals would be informed. Not thatshe would text any of them; they would learn the news by witnessinggrief-stricken family members tearing through usually quiet streets, bringingtheir cars to screeching stops in front and around the corner of Lucy, Wynn,and Shirl’s place. Well, Shirl’s EV made little noise, but the rest droveregular cars. The remainder of Ian and Tamara’s clan lived where the Sorensonshad called home for generations, not scattered from hell to breakfast likeNathan’s family. Only Nathan represented his side, the rest dead or notemotionally involved enough to care.

No one here held that against him, forthese people had been what he considered his kin for over two decades. TheSorenson house had been teeming with visitors since Nathan’s arrival a monthago, in the thick of the summer season. Maybe Dana’s fabric shop wasn’t busy,but tourists packed other stores and the few restaurants. Main Street profferedtwo coffee shops, a deli that doubled as a micro-convenience store, and someprivate offices, one from which Lucy still worked as a realtor and propertymanager. Those professional buildings gave sightseers the impression thevillage was prosperous, also self-sustaining, although it was neither. ToNathan, it was a calm within the storm of his professional life as though NewYork City didn’t exist.

He ran like nothing bothered him, notthe unusually sultry temperatures or his acute heartache. He ran as though heactually lived here, perhaps on the other side of Main Street or around thecorner from Dana or on the western edge where a channel separated the hamletfrom a two-lane highway, dividing what had at times been an island from thePacific Ocean. Long before Lucy and Dana were born, this area had been cut offfrom the mainland when exceedingly high tides met up with violent storm surgesor the occasional tsunami, although tsunami was a relatively new term for mostof the islanders. Nathan knew this history and despite being a famous dancer,he was treated as though a native, yet at a time like this even the longesttenured villager would have found someplace to stash their phone.

But nowhere on him was room for even thesmallest device; a t-shirt clung to his sweat-covered chest, his shorts tightalong his buttocks, his shoes barely more than enough to cover his feet. He didwear socks and the compression shorts held in place the family jewels, theiroutput negligible. Nathan’s many siblings had produced abundant offspring, butBroadway was his legacy.

Taking another lap past the Sorensonhouse, he pondered that perhaps not having children had exacerbated thedistance between himself and his blood relatives, initially fractured by hischoice of an artistic career as well as marrying far beyond the Zanettis’ EastCoast nucleus. None of his family had joined him, but then not a single Zanettihad ever stepped foot on the island. It rarely bothered Nathan; he still woreIan’s wedding ring and he gazed at his left hand, then winced, clearlyrecalling how Tamara had given it to him. Despite their brief time spenttogether, she had loved him like her own.

And if the tables were turned, withNathan lying in the house on his deathbed, Tamara would be equally heartbroken,her daughter Tia dying of cancer at the tender age of thirty-nine. SomeSorensons didn’t live long, Nathan sighed, blinking away tears, anotherwretched loss for all of them to bear.

 

 

It was Wynn who had insisted Tia comehome, Wynn to arrange for hospice care. Wynn was usually the last to kiss Tia’scheek at night and the first or second to wish her a good morning as anotherday dawned. On that Sunday afternoon, Wynn sat on Tia’s left, Marcus on Tia’sright. Nathan was still running, or maybe he was cooling down, Wynn pondered,checking her phone, the stopwatch having reached forty minutes.

“He’ll be back soon,” Marcus said, alsoglancing at his phone. “But I’m sure he’ll wanna shower afterwards.”

Wynn smiled, Shirl’s green eyes vibrantin their son’s face. “Go ask Mom when dinner will be ready. I wanna be able totell him when he returns.”

Marcus tucked his phone in a pocket ofhis shorts, then went to his feet. He kissed Tia’s forehead, then walked towhere Wynn sat, also kissing her brow. She grasped his hand, larger than hers,and he stroked her shoulder. “I love you Ma,” he whispered in Wynn’s ear. Shenodded, tears tumbling down her face as he released her. Then he headed towardthe kitchen, allowing Wynn to wipe her cheeks privately.

As Marcus questioned his mother aboutsupper, Wynn clasped her sister’s hand, wondering if Tia was aware of thisaction. It had been two days since any physical response had been observed froma woman clearly near the end of her life. All were amazed at how little painmedication Tia required; a fentanyl patch adorned her left shoulder, liquidmorphine used when Tia was turned from one side to the other. Tamara’s suddendeath twenty years ago hadn’t prepared any of her daughters for thiscatastrophe and now Wynn was keenly aware of too many elements she dearly hopedto never again consider. Yet this information was essential, sparing Nathanfrom having to deal with it. Wynn, Lucy, and Shirl had agreed theirbrother-in-law should be freed from as much of Tia’s care as they couldfacilitate. All Nathan needed to contemplate was accepting this asinine realityto the best of his abilities.

Wynn caressed Tia’s hand, then strokedher sister’s face. “He’s okay,” she murmured. “Still running or walking. He’llbe back soon, so will Bobby. To be honest, I don’t know which of them’s havinga harder time with this. Women deal better with death, maybe it’s thecaregiver’s aspect of….” Wynn choked back a sob, then chuckled. “Bobby’s justlike his father, but don’t tell Lucy I said that. I wanna say he’s like Daddy,but who the hell knows. He’s also a lot like you, maybe someday I can tell himand he won’t lose his shit. Shit Tia,” Wynn huffed, still tenderly grasping hersister’s cool hand. “When you’re gone, I’m gonna tie one on to last the ages.Or maybe I’ll see if Lucy and Dana finished the pitcher.” Carefully Wynn placedTia’s hand on the mattress. Stroking Tia’s forehead, Wynn then stood, glancingat the far corner of the large living room. The hospice nurse on duty, whosename Wynn had forgotten, looked up, then nodded, going to her feet.

“I’ll be right back,” Wynn said as thewoman approached. “Forgive me, but what’s your name again?”

“Caroline,” the woman smiled, joiningWynn at the hospital bed.

“Nice to meet you Caroline, if I haven’talready said that today.”

“No worries. I’ll be here all week.”

But will my sister, Wynn didn’t say asshe stepped from Tia’s side, then headed to the front door. Before exiting thehouse, Wynn took a deep breath, Lucy and Dana’s soft laughter an invitation.Wynn accepted it, joining them on the porch, the breeze like gentle kissesalong her sweaty temple. “Anything left to drink?” she asked.

“Just the dregs. You want a propercocktail?” Dana stood, offering a quick embrace.

Wynn hugged her hard, shaking her head.“Just told Tia I’d hold out till….” Wynn cleared her throat as Dana releasedher. “The dregs are fine for now.”

“Barely gonna wet your whistle,” Lucysaid as Dana poured what remained of the pitcher into a glass.

“Maybe I’ll have something strongerafter dinner.” Wynn took the tumbler from Dana, then chugged her drink. “Anysign of Nathan?”

“Nope,” Lucy said. “But he’ll be backsoon. When’s supper?”

“Marcus was just checking for me.” Wynnglanced at the front door, then stared at the bay. “Is the nurse new?”

“Caroline?” Lucy said.

Wynn nodded, then finished her drink.“She said she’ll be here all week.”

“Jeannie will be here later. They worktwelve-hour shifts.”

“I knew that,” Wynn sighed. “Christ,can’t keep a damned thing in my head.”

Dana took the empty glass from Wynn,placing it on the side table. Then she hugged Wynn. “You’re allowed a seniormoment,” Dana smiled. “Be grateful they’re far and few between.”

“Not that far or few,” Wynn muttered.

“It’ll get better till it doesn’t.” Lucystood, then joined them, grasping Wynn’s hand. “I’ll sit with her, you take mychair.”

“You sure?” Wynn asked.

“Yup, happy hour’s over.” Lucy squeezedWynn’s shoulder, then went inside. Wynn glanced at the empty pitcher, then satin her sister’s chair, leaning over her legs, breathing deeply.

Dana returned to her seat, randomlydrumming her fingers on the armrest, her breaths matching Wynn’s. The womenthen gazed at each other, breaking into giggles. “I find myself breathing likethat all the time now,” Wynn said.

“Tris noticed me doing it last night,”Dana smiled. “Some weird involuntary reaction I guess.”

“Where is he?”

“At work, someone called in sick.” Danapulled out her phone, tapping the screen. “Should take this off silent, hewrote ten minutes ago, wondering if we were eating here.”

“Tell him to come out, Shirl’s fixingplenty.”

Dana nodded, writing the text. Then shepocketed her phone. “Bobby still inside? I didn’t see him leave.”

“He took Jon and Luiz upstairs, I thinkthey mentioned Legos.”

“They doing okay with all this?”

Wynn nodded. “Maybe for kids to see thisis better than we think. It’s shitty, but it’s real too.”

“Do you remember your dad’s passing?”

Wynn shook her head. “Was talking aboutthat with Shirl last night. But I was much younger than Luiz. Mom probably keptus outta the house.”

“She did,” Dana said. “You and Tia wereat our place most of the time.”

Wynn nodded to be polite, not that sherecalled anything related to her father’s death. Then she grimaced. “Where wasLucy?”

“She was here till Tamara…. Hey Nathan,how was the run?” Dana stood from her chair as Nathan entered the expansivefront yard.

Wynn also went to her feet, but remainedon the porch as Dana joined Nathan on the concrete path that intersected themostly dead grass. Dana spoke softly to Nathan, grasping his hand. He nodded,then sighed, then stared at Wynn. She trembled, her brother-in-law’s disheveledface a rare sight despite their circumstances. But she didn’t move to jointhem, allowing Dana to proffer the necessary embrace. Wynn cleared her throat,then spoke. “I’ll check about dinner, but I’m sure there’s time for you toshower.”

Wrapped against Dana, Nathan gesturedtoward Wynn. She didn’t respond but walked into the house, the familiar soundof chirping birds and tender sentiments like invisible daggers piercing herskin.

 

 

According to the medical community,those approaching death retained their hearing until nearly the end of life.Nathan and the rest had been briefed on that detail, as well as otherspertaining to Tia’s situation. Tia knew this too, having wished to be as fullyinformed as possible to her final days. Now those days had arrived and whileshe couldn’t communicate with her beloveds, Tia Sorenson Zanetti remainedaudibly cognizant of what occurred around her.

She knew none of Nathan’s family hadtraveled west, but all of her relatives flitted in and out of the living room,though initially her hospital bed had been installed on the second floor in herchildhood bedroom, a small space with ocean views. Lucy thought that would havebeen best, but immediately it was deemed too constricted for those who wantedto visit. Dana’s son Tris had carried Tia into the guest room, then he, Bobby,and Marcus had dismantled the bedframe, toting the pieces downstairs. Withinhalf an hour Tia had been ferried to where she now lay unconscious but notoblivious, unless she was asleep. Her family could tell when she was napping,her shallow pants changed to steady, deep breathing.

But no longer was Tia aware of thedifference; she merely knew the presence of familiar voices and the comfortingsound of nature. Before losing the awareness of life experienced in a normalmanner, she had verbally expressed how much she liked the birds and cricketsand frogs. So dissimilar to living in a big city, she had smiled, grippingNathan’s hand, tears rolling down his cheeks. His immense sorrow was the worstof her sufferings, she had confided to her sisters and Dana. Make sure he runsdaily, she’d admonished them. And that he doesn’t witness me in any pain.

Shirl had taken notes while Lucy noddedand Wynn shook her head, Dana standing behind them. Tia had then closed hereyes, wishing she’d had the strength to grasp Wynnie’s hand, not wanting to beparted from this group of women, nor from her husband, or the collection ofyoung and not so young males that made up her family. One of the few things Tiaactively recalled was how amid the older generation, Nathan was the only manand that someone was missing from her sisters’ children, a feminine influenceto balance all that testosterone. Had Bobby or Marcus recently broken up with agirlfriend? Tia didn’t include Dana’s older daughters; Collette and Laura livedon the mainland with their partners and offspring. But Tris, who still lived athome, was single, so were Tia’s oldest nephews. Maybe she had imagined a youngwoman among them or maybe….

Tia’s cognitive processes had then begunto fail, her life turning into wave of sounds buffered by the hum of nature.Then again returned the voices, those she still recognized; Nathan’s baritonewas unimpeded by his East Coast accent. Lucy’s at times sharp tenor was nowtamed by grief and copious amounts of alcohol. Wynnie’s teary voice wasbolstered by Shirl’s relative serenity. When Tia could still reason, she firstgave thanks for Nathan. Lucy, Wynn, and Shirl were always considered together,Tia couldn’t separate her love for them. Yet a pecking order remained; Danafollowed, then Bobby and Marcus. Wynn and Shirl’s youngest sons Jon and Luiz werenext, then Tris…. Tris had suggested that Tia should be moved downstairs. LaterTia thanked him, noting it was probably easier for Tris to have made thearrangements than two young men for whom she had cared since the days theyentered the world.

Tia hadn’t known to what Tris was privywhen thanking him for getting her out of a room that despite the beautiful viewfelt claustrophobic and not at all conducive to a peaceful death. The livingroom was far better, not merely for its size but it wasn’t near where everyoneslept, what she told Tris, finding in his gray eyes Dana’s compassion andunderstanding.

These and other facts had swirled inTia’s mind once Nathan brought her home to die. They had waited until the lastpossible moment to fly west, seated in first class with a nurse accompanying.Arriving in San Francisco, they were driven north by a private ambulance, thelast time Tia would meander up the coast. She had been taken upstairs on agurney, too frail to walk, but not so debilitated to seek a change in herlocation. She hadn’t cared about the ocean, more concerned with the comfort ofthose who would surround her. And now all that planning and moving about, evenfrom one side of the country to the other, was fodder for her relatives toponder. Tia merely noted their voices, the chirping birds, the hospice nurses.One was named Caroline. The other would arrive later for the night shift.

Those details were spoken to Tiadirectly, then discussed around her as family gathered with paper plates heapedwith chicken parmesan, egg noodles, salad, and garlic bread. Tia recognizedthose scents, Shirl had probably cooked. The smells were as soothing as thehappy banter; Tia wasn’t so close to death that all conversation was muted. Butdeath wasn’t far away; Tia knew that from how previously her relatives’mealtimes weren’t spent beside her. They usually ate at the table expanded toits full complement of seating. Yet with each passing day fewer had gatheredthere. Now chairs were staggered around the hospital bed so every person couldsee the woman for whom all these requirements had been necessary. The oldernephews often sat in outer ring, allowing their mothers, Jon, and Luiz theinner chairs. Nathan alternated from his wife’s side to occasionally standingnext to Bobby or Marcus, offering them not a paternal presence but that ofanother man attempting to fathom what the hell had happened.

What Tia now discerned was a delicious supper,innocuous chit-chat, plans for the week brewing; despite slow foot traffic,Dana’s fabric shop would remain open. Lucy’s minions might request her presencein the office, but they would have to come here, no way was she leaving thehouse. Wynn had illustrations in need of revising, maybe a Zoom call with heragent. Shirl would be teaching on Thursday, but her superiors knew thesituation and substitutes were already lined up in case…. The chatter ceased,frogs and birds filling the awkward silence. Tia wanted to tell them thank you,she wished to let them know she could still hear them. But despite her openeyes, voluntary muscles no longer responded to her requests. Only involuntaryorgans worked, yet she tried, straining uselessly to smile. Someone grasped herhand, probably Nathan, for how soft was the person’s skin and how sensuous werethe caresses. “You’re in charge Sorenson,” he murmured. “Whatever you want,we’ll do.”

If Tia could have smirked, grinned,flinched…. Inwardly she sighed: I’m so sorry Zanetti, but I’m grateful to behere, to be home, to be…. A few tears inadvertently leaked from her eyes,making those around her gasp, then break into sobs. Chairs were shuffled asrelatives moved away, then some returned as Tia sensed hands upon her, kissesproffered, her husband still clutching her fingers.

Yet for all these familiar persons,someone was missing. Wracking what little cognitive thought remained, Tiapondered who it might be. Then as quickly as tears had emerged, sleep engulfedher. And in her dreams, Tia still wondered who was absent.