Back in November, seeing Kim's loss of faith, Landy suggested that she apply her outstanding sick and vacation time to her two weeks' notice, and Kim had agreed. She didn't have to go back to the hub another day. With no household to move, only a suitcase full of clothes and a handbag full of personal electronics, she flew to Des Moines, stopping only for her flight transfers. Her parents met her at the airport and drove her home to Winterset. Once there, she spent a lot of time in her old room, lying on the bed and brooding, or taking long walks on the farm.

Her parents and youngest sister, so happy to see her home at first, didn't know what to make of this Kim. Ellen, at seventeen, was hurt most by Kim's withdrawal. Kim was her hero, and it stung to be shut out by her. All she seemed to want was to be alone.

Kim was deeply ensconced in her solitude about a week after her arrival, staring blankly at the wall from her bed at about three in the afternoon when her mother tapped on the door. Not pausing for permission to enter, she came in and shut the door behind her. Kim steeled herself; she had been on the receiving end of this talk more times than she cared to remember. When her pet rabbit died when she was eight. When she got cut from varsity volleyball at fifteen, and had to play JV for one more year. When her high school boyfriend dumped her two weeks before the senior prom.

"Kim, you can't just sulk like this forever. I don't know what happened with your job, but you've got to pull yourself together and think about what you want to do next."

"I know, Mom. I'm trying; really I am. I just… I just don't know what to do with some of the things I've seen. Some of the things I know now; I don't know how to live with them."

Anne Ramsey saw the anguish in her daughter's face and came to sit on the bed. Her arms went around her oldest child and she pulled her close, feeling the sobs shaking loose and the tears flowing onto the shoulder of her blouse. "Shhhhh, baby. Okay; okay now.

Kim sat back, nose red, face streaked. "I thought I'd be doing good in the world, Mom. I thought I'd be saving American lives…" She couldn't say too much more.

"You were disappointed. You feel disillusioned."

Kim nodded, face dissolving again. "Yes."

"I know you can't really talk to me about it, Baby. But your father might understand."

"Daddy?"

Anne had seen the look in Kim's eyes before, when her husband came home from Southeast Asia with the 2nd Battalion 9th Marines in 1975. "He knows, Sweetie; still has bad dreams, sometimes. Give him a chance to help."

Kim started helping out, driving her sister to school after an early five-mile run and her 100 situps and some pullups each morning, and then finding her dad on the farm when she returned. They mended fence, cleared brush. It felt good to work her body in the cold, clean air and to give her mind a break. They talked about the Corps, and he told her—for the first time—about his service in Khe San, the last chaotic days in Saigon before the fall, then the bad luck and miscues of the USS Mayaguez rescues.

"No man left behind, my ass" he said, snorting to hide the emotion in his throat. The memory just as raw as the reality had been, more than thirty years before. "I was due to re-up then, but I just walked away. Some guy came on base and wanted to talk to me about getting into Intelligence, but I just said 'No, thank you.' You were on the way then; I brought your mother home, started working the farm with Daddy. Things started making sense again." He sighed. He hadn't wanted this for Kim, this doubt and confusion. The weight of being a part of irreparable mistakes.

She told him about Berlin, admitting for the first time that she didn't just work in the CIA Human Resources department. "I wanted to make Covert Ops," she said, voice still reflecting how exciting she had thought that would be. "But when I saw what that really could mean… What we're doing to people in the name of national security, and how it can be manipulated for personal gain…" She told him about Bourne, without using names. "He had a family and a life somewhere, Dad. It all got completely erased, and nobody will help him get it back. It makes me sick."

"Well, then, you were right to leave, Pumpkin. You'll find your way, don't worry."

It was the Holiday Dance at Winterset High School, and Kim had volunteered to chaperone. Was it only a decade ago, a little more, that she had danced in this gym with her boyfriend? The rat, he dumped her six months later for Melinda Reeves. She looked around at the shiny faces of the teenagers. She had thought this was magical, in her time, and saw that they did, too.

"Would you like some punch?" A man was standing next to her, holding out a cup of neon-red liquid.

She smiled an automatic smile, "Oh, thank you."

He held out his hand, "I'm Alan Wagner. I teach science."

"Kim Ramsey," she said, shaking it.

"You couldn't be Ellen Ramsey's mother. Sister? And Fiona, and Jamie?" He had dark hair and brown-black eyes. Very clean cut and plain. Nice.

"Yes, and Greta and Maddie." Kim named the two oldest, after herself. One a doctor, one an architect. Both married, both living in Des Moines.

"I never heard of those two, but the rest did their time in my classes. Are you visiting from out of town?"

"Yes, an extended visit."

"It's big of you to spend an evening chaperoning a high school dance."

"Oh, it's fun to come back and see the place again, from a different perspective. And, from my sister's perspective, it's a little less mortifying to have me here than our mother."

He smiled, nodded. Began to flirt. She flirted back. He asked if he could call her, and she gave him the phone number at her parent's house.

Ellen was mortified that Kim was going on a date with her teacher. "What if someone sees you?"

"Well, then I'll smile and say 'Hello!'" Kim responded calmly.

"I'm going to die of embarrassment! What will Becka say?"

"Embarrassment has never been fatal yet," observed their father.

Ellen huffed out of the room.

The doorbell rang, and Brian Ramsey stood up. "I'll get it, Daddy," said Kim, but he gave her a look and walked to the front door. She may be twenty-eight years old and score Expert on the firing range, his look told her, but he was still going to inspect any guy who came to his door asking for her.

The date was standard Winterset fare: a movie and dinner. He had a sense of humor, good manners. When he asked her if he could call again, she said yes. He was always on time, always paid, was respectful to her parents and to her. His kisses were sweet and held promise. It was tempting to make promises in return. He looked so good, on paper. But things were not making any more sense to her than before.

On their third date, two weeks after the dance at the high school, she told him, "I'll be leaving town soon."

"Oh?" They were in his car, having just left the movie theater at the mall. He was surprised. Hurt, too.

"I volunteered for Medecins Sans Frontières. I don't know yet where they'll send me…"

"Oh." He looked down, then at her. "I wish you'd stay. I mean, I know we just started going out, and everything…" A weak smile.

"Alan, I like you. I just, I want to do work that will utilize my training. I have to do some good, something to make up for all the bad that I've seen." And been a part of, she thought.

He nodded, drove her home. "Call me when you're in town," he told her.

She nodded, kissed his cheek, went inside. Eight days later, the tsunami struck. Kim was on a plane to India within twenty-four hours.