[15: Canoe tipped over and she...]

“Which hospital? What happened? Can we go see her?” Meera felt the last vestiges of sleepiness crumble away. 

“She’s in the village hospital. She was asleep when I left. No visitors again until ten. I haven’t eaten. You haven’t either.”

Meera nodded. Uncle Ram wasn’t going to give her any details, she knew that now. She frowned and padded down to the kitchen. The whole house felt empty, or at least disturbed and asi if it didn’t know what to do with itself. 

Uncle Ram strode into the kitchen behind her, and took a few ingredients from the refrigerator.

“You’re cooking?” In the last two years here, Meera had hardly seen her uncle take more than a sausage or cheese for a snack, nevermind cook.

“Someone has to. The help has come and gone already. Eggs and sausage?”

“Alright.”

Uncle Ram moved slowly, hesitating for a moment before each movement. Meera thought he looked tired. And old. He looked a lot older when the fearsome personality was let down.

The clock struck nine in the hallway. Meera felt herself startle. 

Uncle Ram set two plates down on the little table there in the kitchen. He picked at the bits of sausage in his eggs, and slowly he ate. Meera couldn’t help watching him.  She realized how little of her uncle she saw, despite living in the same house for so long. He always had his guard up, and made a point of being done with things before others started, be it meals, sleep or work. Aside from family dinners and dinner parties, Meera realized she had never seen him eat anything but tea.

“So where were you last night?” There was no anger in his voice. Not even the slightest accusation.

“I helped Dick birth sheep.”

A silent eyebrow raise, almost looking her in the eye, then Uncle Ram renewed his efforts to pick at his eggs.

“Dick Hanesly?”

“Yes.” Meera wasn’t sure if this tired, unguarded Uncle Ram was someone to tell any more to. Wine and snowball fights and birthing sheep and falling asleep in the shed might be a conversation for other people.