One night last month as Karen and I sat in a Dairy Queen eating burgers for supper, I saw a red and white half-ton with a white topper drive by. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest, for that is what Scott drives. Of course, I knew he was still at home in Saskatchewan, but for that split second ... I was pretty excited.

Every day I looked at his picture, set up as wallpaper here on my computer screen, and felt a sweet surge of affection at the sight of his sad smile on the morning the boys and I left Saskatchewan at the end of August.

Last Tuesday night, after Emil was feeling himself again and I'd taken up the spewage where he left off, I was laying in bed listening to Everett and my niece Jordan out in the kitchen. The cordless phone was beside me on the night table and I thought it might be a good idea to have Everett return it to its base in the living room. At the same time I'd give him instructions not to wake me, if I were lucky enough to fall asleep, unless it was Scott calling from Calgary.

Before long I heard footsteps walk up to the side of the bed. They were too heavy to be Jordan's, and sounded heavy for Everett's too, but they definitely weren't Emil's.

"Everett?" I said, face buried in my pillow. There was no answer, which seemed strange because surely I'd have heard the footsteps leaving the room. However, I was in a state, so you never know, I thought.

Then I heard the footsteps near the bed again. "Everett?" I asked again, turning over, thinking I'd have to give him hell for making me stir up the contents of my belly. But no. Standing there grinning at me in the dark was Scott.

"You!" I said, and pulled him down onto the bed. He'd seen a break in the weather and hit the road around noon.

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