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Jo

T hree hours later, Jo had to concede, this was the best thing she’d ever done.

She knew Hugo was taking it easy on her. And she’d been nervous at first—even considered asking him to turn the car around and take her back into town. He would have done it if she’d asked, she knew. And maybe that was one of the reasons why she hadn’t said anything. Because this was important to him.

“Trust me,” he said, once he’d parked the car. “We’ll take it easy. Right ahead of us is a wooded path that runs along the Torrent des Favrands. We can take it right up to the Cascade du Dard.”

“A waterfall?” Her heart warmed as she realized he’d probably chosen it because of the sound the waterfall made.

“You’re going to love it,” he said. “Listen. I brought a short rope. It will help us stay connected.” He paused. “I’ve also been reading up on some guiding phrases to help us navigate the terrain.”

Again, her insides warmed. He’d put a lot of work into making this a safe and positive experience for her. The least she could do was give it her all.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“If I say safe , that means walk freely. I won’t use directions, like left or right, but rather towards me or away from me , to avoid misunderstandings. I’ll use roots for tripping hazards where you have to lift your feet, and arm if we’re entering complicated terrain and I need you to grab on to my upper arm.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed. “But you’re not planning on taking me anywhere dangerous, right?

“Of course not. It’s a nice, easy hike. You’re going to love the waterfall.”

Other than the words they’d agreed on, neither spoke much as they started walking. At first, Jo was tense. She didn’t even own a pair of hiking boots, so she was wearing her trainers. The grip wasn’t great, and more than once she came close to slipping. But each time Hugo helped steady her.

In time, she felt herself relaxing into the hike. She focused on the sounds of nature all around her: the rushing river to their left, the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. She found herself more steady on her feet, less worried about all the what-ifs that populated her day-to-day.

And it felt so right to be up out here, feeling the breeze on her face, breathing air that was somehow sweeter and crisper. By the end of the first hour, she had already decided to invest in a pair of hiking boots as soon as they got back into town.

The moment they left the forest trail, the air on Jo’s face immediately felt warmer. “Arm,” Hugo said. “We’re on the last stretch of the path. We’ll be at the waterfall soon.”

“Tell me what you’re seeing.” Hugo described the towering peaks in the distance. He was able to give most of them a name. As they walked on, the sounds of the river grew louder, as well as something else. There was the deep, resonant crashing of water cascading over rocks, then the fine hiss of mist spraying into the air.

For once, she realized she wasn’t at a disadvantage. Hugo had managed to find a true auditory experience for her—as much a sound, as a physical vibration.

“There it is,” he said, his voice low.

“You were right,” she said. “It’s incredible.” She could smell everything he’d told her about—the fresh pine and the melted snow. Everything.

“It is,” he said. She felt his face moving towards her and raised her face to meet him—their mouths coming together in a kiss that warmed her from the inside out. She could have kissed him forever, with the sounds of the waterfall around them.

It was only when he broke the kiss that she realized something had changed. The wind had picked up, battling the waterfall for who could make the most noise, and the trees rustled violently. The sun no longer heated her skin.

“Hugo?” she asked, holding on to his hand. “What’s going on?”

“The weather’s changing.” He sounded almost apologetic. “It wasn’t supposed to rain today.”

A shiver of fear ran through Jo. Hiking in the sunlight was all well and good, but she didn’t want to be out here in the middle of a storm. “What are we going to do?”

“It’s going to be okay. The bridge is just up ahead, beyond the waterfall. We’ll follow it straight to the road.” As calm as his voice was, there was no question that there was a new urgency to it.

Jo forced herself to inhale, then exhale. They were going to be okay. Hugo had a plan. He knew these mountains. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. “Okay. Tell me where to go.”

Hugo led them faster now, and even though the rope still tied them together, he asked her to keep her hand on his arm. In her other hand, Jo carried her cane, sweeping the ground ahead of them.

Rain started falling. Just a few drops, at first, which quickly became a deluge. “Stop for a moment.” Hugo pulled something crinkly over her shoulders and head—a rain jacket.

“What about you?” she asked.

“I’m good. Here, let me zip you up. It’s too big on you, but maybe I can tighten it here.” Hugo paused. “There. Let’s keep going.”

“Is there anywhere we can stop?” Jo asked a few minutes later. The ground beneath her feet felt slick, dangerous. She wished she’d bought those hiking boots before coming out here.

“We’re at the bridge already. It’s solid. We just need to get across and make it to the road.”

“What do you mean by ‘it’s solid’?” she stammered, sweeping her cane from side to side, frowning at the creaking, groaning sound.

“It’s a narrow suspension bridge,” Hugo said.

“A suspension bridge? I … I don’t think I like the sound of that.” Jo was pretty sure she’d never been anywhere near a suspension bridge before.

“It’s solid. I promise.”

Hugo took a step forward and, because Jo was holding on to his arm, she stepped forward as well. The bridge creaked under their feet.

“I don’t like this,” she said. Understatement of the year.

“Trust me, Jo. Please.”

Jo sighed. She did trust him. She forced herself to take the first step. The hardest. Just take it step by step . The bridge creaked and swayed under her feet. “Tell me when we’re at the midpoint, please.”

“Relax. We’re already a third of—” A distant commotion stopped his words. Shouting voices, followed by a sharp screech of tires.

Hugo

The black van swerved on the slick mountain road above the river, slamming into the guardrail. For a moment it teetered, balancing precariously. Then, with a groan of bending steel, the guardrail gave way. The van crashed nose-first down the steep embankment, hitting the rocky slope in a series of deafening crashes before coming to a halt in the river.

Fear robbed Hugo momentarily of his breath. He grabbed on to Jo’s waist and pulled her tightly against him.

“What is it?” Jo asked, her voice surprisingly calm.

“A van lost control and fell from the road into the river.”

The shouting began, then, loud enough that they could hear it past the wind and the rain. The voices sounded young—young and desperate. Jo’s hands went to her mouth. “Oh my God. Children.”

The van had landed in the river, upstream from the bridge. It tilted precariously, the back wheels partially wedged on some rocks, which were keeping it from sinking. The metallic structure groaned. One didn’t need a degree in structural engineering to know the vehicle hadn’t been designed to weather such forces. Eventually, the vehicle would be dragged down the river and sink. And if there were people still inside, when that happened …

“I have to go help them,” Hugo said.

“I can help,” she said. “Please let me help.”

He couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk her. He fumbled with the rope holding him and Jo together, untying himself. “Hold on to the railing. Promise me you’ll stay right here.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and unlocked it, dialing Beau’s number. “When Beau picks up, tell him we’re at the Torrent des Favrands, just past the suspension bridge. He’ll know the place.”

“Okay.” She looked close to tears, and Hugo wanted to take her in his arms and kiss those tears away, but there was no time. “Please wait for me.”

Rain pelted his skin, but he barely noticed it as he clambered over the railing and dove into the water, keeping the dive as shallow as possible.

Though he’d been expecting it, the cold shocked him—an instant jolt to his system that momentarily took his breath away. He lifted his face out of the water, taking a deep breath, forcing himself to regulate his breathing. The water felt cold, but nowhere near what it would have been just a few months earlier. Even so, Hugo knew he only had ten minutes of effective swimming ability before his muscle function started to decline. Already, he could feel the way the cold was reducing his strength and coordination.

Ten minutes. And he didn’t know how many people were trapped in the van. He swam as hard as he could towards the vehicle. The back was still wedged against the rocks, but the front was already sinking as water rushed in through several broken windows. As he approached, he got his first glimpse at scared faces. One woman, and at least two children, their small fists pounding on the glass.

He swam to the back of the van, choosing the largest broken window. The cries of the children grew louder. They sounded younger than he’d originally thought. Holding on to the vehicle with one hand, Hugo used the elbow of his other arm to clear some more glass away before pulling himself through the jagged opening, into the van. A jagged piece of glass sliced at his arm, but Hugo barely noticed. Around him, metal creaked ominously. For a moment, he feared he’d made a huge miscalculation, one that was going to cost all of them their lives, but the van stayed put.

There was no time to rethink the plan. The occupants of the vehicle had been in the water too long, already. Hugo took off his soaked jacket and placed it on the window. It would provide a bit of protection against the glass. A figure lunged towards him. The woman he’d seen from outside. She thrust a small, trembling figure into his arms. A young girl, dressed in fuchsia.

“Please! Take her!” The woman’s teeth chattered so hard it was difficult to make out her words.

He didn't have to ask the girl to hold on—she got hung on to him like a burr. As cold as Hugo was, her small form chilled him. He held onto her tight and awkwardly pulled himself out the window, making sure her small body didn't touch the broken glass. As the moving water outside the vehicle roused her, she started flailing around, catching him on the chin with a small, sharp elbow. Hugo tightened his hold around her, swimming as hard as he could for the shallow end of the river.

“Just hold on to me,” Hugo said in what he hoped was a calm voice, though he had to make it loud enough for her to hear him over the roaring water and the screaming wind. “We’re almost there.”

Even as he told the girl not to worry, Hugo realized this was taking too long. There were at least two other people in the vehicle, maybe more, and his muscles were already feeling sluggish. The math wasn’t adding up—he couldn’t do this on his own. He looked up at the river bank to gauge the distance left, then looked again and sputtered. Because Jo hadn’t stayed on the bridge like he’d asked her to. She’d gone back the way they’d come and made her way down the river bank, wading into the water up to her thighs. The rope he’d used to guide her on their hike stretched taut between her waist and the edge of the bridge, where she’d secured it. Brilliant woman . Feeling a surge of relief, Hugo redoubled his efforts.

“Jo!” he shouted.

“Hugo?” Her voice was tentative, frightened. He realized how hard this must be for her, to be standing in moving water that she couldn’t see. “I spoke with Beau. He recognized the area. They are on their way.”

Hugo sighed, relieved that the team was on their way. He didn’t bother to tell her that it would take his team time to get here—time the people in the vehicle didn’t have.

“I have a small girl in my arms,” he said, finally reaching a depth where he could stand. “I need to go back for the others.”

Jo stretched her arms in the direction of his voice. “Give her to me.” As soon as he was close, he pushed the little girl into her arms. Jo’s teeth were already chattering, but she didn’t make a sound as the girl’s chilled body wrapped itself around her searching for warmth. “It's okay, little one, you're safe now.”

“Get her to the bridge. Please.” He watched for an instant as Jo turned around and felt her way along the rope with one arm, using her other arm to support the girl, who was still tucked against her chest.

Hugo forced himself to turn away and made his way back to the deeper part of the river. When he could no longer stand, he started swimming. This time, the cold wasn’t a surprise, but that somehow made it even more difficult, his half-frozen muscles complaining at the onslaught.

Hugo’s arms sliced into the water alternately, high and sweeping arcs propelling him forward. He angled his body slightly against the current. Each stroke began with a smooth entry of his hand, fingers together, slicing the surface like a knife before pulling powerfully through the water below. Each stroke brought him closer to the half-submerged vehicle.

His head turned rhythmically to one side, taking quick, sharp breaths before submerging again. He ignored the cold seeping into him, focusing on maintaining his rhythm.

The vehicle had continued filling with water. This time, he didn’t have to pull himself in through the broken window. The woman was there, waiting for him. She handed him a child, a small boy this time, about the same age as the girl, but wearing a forest green jacket.

“How many kids?” Hugo gasped, taking the child from her carefully.

She was already moving back into the vehicle. “One more. My oldest son.”

Hugo turned onto his back, cradling the boy’s body against his chest and securing his head against his shoulder to keep it out of the water, letting his free arm and legs do most of the work this time around. The boy was only half-conscious.

When he reached the section of the river where he could stand, Hugo pulled himself up, wading back towards Jo, who’d made her way back into the water after getting the girl to safety. This time it wasn’t just her teeth that chattered—her entire body shook. She wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore. She must have given it to the girl.

“Hugo!” Jo shouted, holding out her arms.

“I’ve got a boy,” Hugo gasped, breathing hard. He placed the boy in her arms, though what he wanted to do was send Jo back onto the bridge. Even better, get her somewhere warm—get her home safe. But he needed her help. “There are two people left. The mother, and an older child.” He had to tell her, just in case.

She didn’t tell him not to go back in, and for that he was grateful. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Cold.”

“Me too.” She smiled. “Please hurry back.”

Hugo squeezed her hand and was then off again. His leg muscles seized as he forced himself back into the water. He’d done some cold-water training, but he wasn’t an expert ice swimmer. He estimated he had a few minutes left before he became completely useless in the water.

This time, the woman wasn’t at the broken window. Hugo pulled himself inside. It was hard going, his hands hardly able to grip anymore. He forced his way to the front of the van, where the woman’s figure was moving around.

“My son’s trapped,” she cried out weakly. And now Hugo could see the boy, who couldn’t be older than sixteen or seventeen, trapped between the passenger seat and the car’s dashboard, which had shifted against him.

The boy looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. “My right leg is pinned down.”

“I’m going to take a look.” Hugo took a deep breath and forced himself to put his head under. There wasn’t enough light to see, but he felt the caved in dash, where it was pinning the boy down. Fuck . Hugo didn’t have the time or tools to solve this.

The vehicle lurched precariously. The woman screamed. Then it stopped. Hugo waited, and prayed. If the back wheel got dislodged from those rocks, the vehicle would sink like a rock, with the boy still trapped inside.

The boy looked up at him. “Get my mom out of here,” he gasped.

The woman shook her head, clearly not on board with that plan, but the boy’s words made sense. “That’s a good idea. The less weight in the van, the safer he will be,” Hugo said, grossly exaggerating the impact of the slim woman’s weight. “And I need room to work in here.”

“Please, Mom, listen to him. He’ll get me out,” the boy said. He was either stupendously brave, or stupendously stupid. Their gazes met over the woman’s head. The boy’s expression was bleak, but he nodded. B rave it was .

Hugo guided the woman to the back of the van. She wasn't resisting, but she wasn't helping him either. Or maybe she couldn't. Maybe she was too cold. He pushed her out the window, careful to keep her away from the glass, then pulled himself out after her, holding on to her.

“Go back for my son. I can make it from here,” she whispered.

Hugo hesitated. He wanted to go back to the boy. He didn’t like the creaking noises the van had been making. But he wasn’t sure she’d be able to fight the current and make it back to shore. And leaving her to drown out here wasn’t an option. He cursed below his breath. There was no easy option.

And then he heard it. A helicopter, approaching. His team.

Hugo held on to the woman as the helicopter hovered. Less than a minute later, Lorenz landed cleanly in the water beside him. When he came up, he looked almost exhilarated. Hugo knew his friend had been swimming in Iceland. The Alps in summer was nothing for him.

“You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” Lorenz said, grinning, handing Hugo an earpiece, which Hugo swiftly slid in.

“You okay, Hugo?” Beau’s voice boomed in his ear.

“Fuck, am I glad to see you guys.” He turned to Lorenz. “Can you take her? There’s still a boy inside. I need to go back for him.”

“Sure thing. Let me get a harness on you, ma’am, so we can lift?—”

The woman in his arms started resisting. “No. Not without my children,” she gasped weakly, pointing at the shore.

“I understand. Please relax, ma’am, I’ll bring you to your kids.” He lowered his voice so only Hugo could hear. “I’ll get her to the shore and come back to help.”

“Beau, we might need some tools. The kid is trapped by the dashboard.”

“Shit. Let me see what we have here.”

Hugo turned and pulled himself back into the van again. It felt easier this time, now that he knew his team was there. He felt his way to the front of the van, moving as little as possible.

“My mom?” the boy asked weakly.

“She’s safe, with my teammate. What’s your name?”

“Ryan.” The boy sounded English. What a way to spend a holiday. Hopefully one day they’d all be able to tell the story and laugh. But first, he had to get the boy free.

“Ryan. Can you move your leg at all?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Ryan said. “I think. I’m … too cold to be sure.” Hugo was surprised the kid was still conscious. Suddenly, an idea came to him. Something he should have thought of a long time ago. He couldn’t do anything about the ruined dashboard, not until Beau got there, but maybe he wouldn’t have to.

“Okay, stay with me, Ryan. I’m going to get behind you, okay?” Hugo hesitated, holding on to the back of the seat, stretching his arm on the right side, searching for the lever. Please let it be a manual lever . An electronic one wouldn’t work after all this time in the water.

He found it. A manual lever. Yes . For a moment, his frozen hand refused to wrap around it. The metal hull groaned, sounding close to the breaking point. Fuck this. He wasn’t going to let this boy die because he couldn’t get his hand to work. He finally got a good grip and pulled. The seat moved back. Hugo registered the boy’s shout, more scared than pained. “I’m free,” he choked out.

Hugo sighed in relief and waded back through the icy water to take Ryan. The boy’s expression was guarded as he stared behind Hugo at the back of the van. “Ryan? Is your leg okay?”

“I don’t know how to swim,” the boy said.

Hugo barked out a laugh. “This river is nothing to worry about. I’m going to take you to your mom and your siblings, okay?”

Ryan nodded, gripping Hugo’s arm tightly. Hugo pushed the boy ahead of him. A shape loomed outside, darkening the broken window.

“Hugo?” Beau asked, his voice loud. “The only thing I could find was?—”

“I was able to free him. He’s okay. He’s coming out now.”

“I’m right here.”

“I’m not going out there,” Ryan said, shaking his head.

“That’s my boss out there, Ryan,” Hugo explained calmly, ignoring the cold seeping through his bones. “He’s one of the best swimmers I know, together with Lorenz, who pulled your mom to safety. You’ve been so brave this whole time, but you don’t need to be brave anymore. Now’s the time to relax and let him tow you to shore.”

While the boy was still pondering that, Hugo lifted him and pushed him through the window, right into Beau’s arms. “This is Ryan. He can’t swim.”

“I’ve got you, Ryan. I won’t let you go,” Beau promised. As soon as he had a good grip on the boy, he turned back to Hugo. “Get the fuck out of there right now.”

Hugo nodded. His muscles were tight and stiff. His legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each. He knew part of it was simply lactic acid buildup from exertion in cold water. One last effort . He pulled himself out the window and swam away. He was only a few bodies away from the van when he heard the loud crash. He turned around to see the van disappear into the water. Fuck . That was closer than he would have liked it.

“Hugo!” The terror in Jo’s voice propelled him forward.

Jo

Jo stood in the icy water. She could no longer feel the cold—couldn’t feel her legs at all. The rope tied around her waist connected her to the bridge, the only thing keeping her grounded as she waited.

She tilted her head slightly, her unseeing eyes fixed on the distance as if that could somehow help Hugo get to her.

“Please,” she muttered. Then, louder, “Hugo!”

There was a splash beside her as somebody walked into the water beside her. She knew it had to be Lorenz, who’d brought out the kids’s mother.

“Are they all okay?” she asked.

“Cold, and shocked, but they’ll be alright. Beau and Ry are with the family. Come, let’s get you out of the water,” he said firmly. With that sixth sense blind people develop over time, she could feel his hand hovering near her shoulder, but he stopped short of grabbing her.

“I’m waiting for Hugo,” she said stubbornly.

“He’s swimming towards us. He’ll be here in a minute.”

But Hugo had been in the water for so long. How long has it been? Ten minutes? Fifteen minutes? It felt like an eternity. Her breaths came in quick, shallow bursts. It seemed to her, his friend should be out there helping him, instead of standing here with her. She voiced that thought out loud, her voice sharper than she’d intended.

Lorenz laughed. “I think Hugo would much prefer I stay with you. We can wait here,” he said easily, “or get out and start getting you warm.”

Relief filled her, then, because Lorenz didn’t sound worried about Hugo. “You sure he’s okay?”

“Hugo’s fine. He’s got this.” His body stood behind hers, as if attempting to ward off the wind, but she was so cold, it felt like she’d never be warm again.

“Is the boy okay?”

“He’s fine. Hugo freed him from the vehicle just in time.”

Just in time.

“I’m waiting here,” she repeated stubbornly.

“Okay. We’ll wait here together. I’m going to put a thermal blanket over your shoulders, okay?”

The blanket felt light, insubstantial, but Jo clutched it to her body. “Thank you.” Her teeth chattered visibly now, and she wondered if she might make herself sick like this. Could she hurt the baby? It wasn’t something she’d thought of until now. But she had to start thinking about these things. She was responsible for that baby now. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip to stop it from trembling, pulling the blanket more tightly against her body.

She looked up as another splash sounded in front of them, then the sound of someone breaking the surface.

“Jo.” Hugo’s voice sounded hoarse but healthy. He’s fine. He’s fine . Relief washed over her like a wave, her knees almost buckling. Lorenz seemed to sense it and held on to her.

“I told you he was fine,” Lorenz said, his voice smiling.

Then Hugo was there. His hands found hers, and she gripped him tightly. “Hugo …”

“My hands are cold,” he said, trying to pull his hands back, but she wasn’t about to let him go, not know that she’d found him again. She gripped tighter, holding on.

“Come on, guys, you can have this reunion on dry land,” Lorenz complained, herding them back towards the side of the river. “Some of us are actually freezing out here.”

Hugo laughed. He was no longer trying to pull away from her. Instead, his fingers gripped her as hard as she was gripping his. His skin felt cold to the touch, but she could also feel his strength.

“You sure you’re okay?” Hugo asked her in a low voice.

Jo nodded, but her legs betrayed her, trembling. She tried to stand taller, but it was as if the adrenaline that had carried her through this entire thing had drained away, leaving her cold and unsteady. Every nerve seemed raw, as if her body was only just realizing how much it had endured. She tightened her hold on Hugo, that touch, her only remaining anchor to reality.

Hugo wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, his own body radiating a faint warmth despite being drenched as well. “Jo, you’re freezing,” he murmured, concern sharpening his voice.

“I’m fine,” she managed through chattering teeth, though her words lacked conviction.

“Fuck this.” Hugo’s arm came up under her knees and he lifted her easily out of the water, even though she felt like she must weigh a thousand pounds. His other hand went behind her back, steadying her. And Jo didn’t have the strength to fight against the sudden drowsiness that struck her.

“I can take her,” Lorenz said.

“I’ve got her. But we’re going to need another blanket.” Then, more quietly, to her, “Jo, you’re going to be okay. We just need to get you warm.”

Am I? Her body and her mind felt disconnected. She was aware of the fact that she should feel cold, but it felt like a faraway sensation.

She felt him climb out of the water. His wet boots squelched on the grassy side of the river. Around them, the scene buzzed with activity. Every sound was magnified in her mind. Hugo set her down on something soft—another blanket—and she couldn’t stop thinking about how many blankets they must keep around. An entire helicopter full of silvery space blankets. There was sharp relief as he undid the rope from her middle.

“Don’t leave me,” she begged, tightening her grip on him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. Hugo called out sharply to somebody else, and then another man was kneeling next to her. He introduced himself as Ry, the team medic. She had a vague memory of meeting him at the party, before their wedding. That evening, she’d thought of him as charming. Today, he was all business. And she wanted to tell him to focus on the children, but he was asking about her pregnancy, and Hugo was right there, adamant that something wasn’t right, and she didn’t feel strong enough to argue with both of them, so she let Ry poke and prod at her wet clothing.

“Tristan’s ready for us,” Ry said, eventually. “Hugo, you take Jo. We’ll take care of the others.”

She felt Hugo’s arms around her again, lifting her—how did he have the strength to do that? “The family should go first,” she muttered.

“It’s okay. The helicopter’s big enough for all of us.” Then, in a lower voice, “You didn’t have to get in the water, Jo. But thank you.” His voice warmed her as much as his arms around her. He wasn’t wearing his wet jacket anymore. Somebody must have given him something else to wear.

Jo had never been inside a helicopter before. It felt exactly as she’d thought it might, like a vibrating tin can. Hugo fit a harness-style seat belt around her shoulder and lap, securing her firmly in place, then placed the blanket on her. “We’ll be at the hospital in no time, Jo. And I’ll be right beside you.”

“Thank you,” a new voice said. It was the kids’s mother, Jo realized.

“You’re welcome,” Hugo said. “I’m glad we were in the right place to help.”

Jo shivered. If Hugo hadn’t been there, the entire family would have drowned. But the mother didn’t need to hear that.

“Are the kids okay?” Jo asked.

There was a soft clicking sound from the doorway to the helicopter. “Stop that, Ryan,” the woman said, sighing. “He’s always taking pictures with his phone for the school newspaper. Apparently, even something like this can’t stop him,” she said, her voice shaky.

“We’re lucky the phone was waterproof, Mom,” the boy said, his voice halfway between that of a boy and that of a man.

Jo closed her eyes. She wanted to tell the woman not to get upset at her son, that the pictures could help him process what had happened, but she was suddenly too tired to get the words out.