hought back.
He wondered if he hadn't, at a very young age, taken on responsibility
for _her_ problems--with Owl, with him, with life. Maybe he had felt
that they were his fault, somehow. Whatever it had been, Jacky had
beaten it out of him. Probably that was why she picked him in the first
place. She had sensed his need, matching hers.

He continued to work at home and at the Conservancy. One afternoon,
Jennifer talked him into the "Drumming For Gaia" trip.

"I can't drum anything," he said.

"Oliver, you like music. I know you do." It was true. "We have a
teacher--a Master Drummer. A lot of people have never drummed before,
and they always have a good time."

"I don't have a drum."

"We sell them--simple ones. I have an extra one. I'll bring it for
you." She was enthusiastic and meant well. He couldn't say no.

The morning of the trip was cool and foggy. The group was to meet at
the Conservancy and then be bussed to Wolf Neck State Park. Jennifer
spotted him as soon as he drove in.

"Morning! I love your jacket." She reached out and felt it between her
thumb and first two fingers. That Mark.

"Morning, Jennifer. Yeah, it's nice. Linen," he said, but he was damned
if he was going to mail it to her.

"I brought your drum; it's in the car. I'll get it." She skipped over
to a white Volvo and took a drum from the back seat. "You're going to
love this." He accepted it, feeling foolish. She handed him a wooden
striker. "You can hold it any way that is comfortable." She took it
back and tucked it between her left arm and side. "Like this, or
straight up, if you're sitting."

"O.K., I get it," Oliver said.

"We'll be leaving in about ten minutes." He took a seat near the front
of the bus and tried to look relaxed. The drum was shaped like a
miniature conga, handmade with a skin head that was lashed tight. He
rested it on his lap and watched cars drive in. Twelve or fifteen
people got on the bus, most of them his age or younger, mostly women in
twos and threes.

Jennifer bounced in and sat beside him. "We'll pick up a few more on
the way. There's another group coming down the coast. I hope it doesn't
rain. Think positive thoughts, Oliver."

"What are they?"

"Oh, Silly," she slapped him on the arm. "Don't worry; you'll have fun.
_I_ am going to have fun!" She passed around a box of name labels and a
magic marker. "Aliases permitted," she said.

Forty-five minutes later, they stepped from the bus and gathered