Home, she thought, leaning giddily against the heaped trolley. Not Galveston, not yet. The Lodge would open again sometime, but that wasn’t home anyway. Home was David and the baby. Lying in bed with David, in warm tangled sheets, breathing American air, a nice twilight outside maybe. Trees, leaf shadows, red dirt and Georgia kudzu in a safe Rizome Retreat. Little Loretta, her solid little ribs and crooked baby grin. Oh, Lord ...