She waved when she noticed me. "Come on over here, take a look at this? See that clinging moss? These trees are going to be dead by the end of the year if we don't give them a hand."

I almost said, "Isn't that the natural cycle?" but bit my tongue before the words escaped. There was sickness in her garden, and she had the wherewithal to be rooting it out on her own. I hurried after her.

"It spreads," she told me with a sort of resigned dismay. "One tree to another, blocking their ability to draw down sunlight. The hard part's getting it off the tree without damaging the bark, but if you can they'll survive? Here's a knife." She tossed me a relatively blunt blade and showed me how to work it under the moss, how to loosen its clinging runners, and ultimately handed me the backpack so I could stuff the moss we'd cleared away into it. "I take it home and burn it."

On a whole different level, I felt one of the seeds of cold in her arm loosen, then shrivel and die.

It was good hard honest work, both of us sweating and swearing cheerfully as we scrambled up thin-trunked trees to find far-spreading gobs of moss. Every time a tree came clean, another seed fell away, until suddenly the whole grove brightened, fresh green needles sprouting instantly on all the afflicted spruce. Mandy stood back, brushing her hands with satisfaction, and gave me a sharp, pleased nod. "Thanks!"

The great Northwest faded out, leaving me in the back of an ambulance with Mandy Tiller blinking up at me.

Jake Tiller squeaked, "Mom?" and threw himself forward. I lurched back, getting free of paramedics and kid alike. The latter didn't care what had happened, but the former rushed in to check Mandy's vitals, then turned to Coyote and me with expressions raging between incomprehension, anger and relief.

"What are you?" one of them said. "Some kind of faith healers?"

Coyote shrugged a shoulder, graceful smooth movement. The truth was he probably could've picked his nose and I'd have thought it was gorgeous because I was just so glad he was alive. My heart sped up again like it was going to burst, then kind of exploded with messy joy inside me like it had burst. It was the happiest thing I'd ever felt, and it made the corners of my mouth turn up in an idiot smile. Again. Coyote said, "Something like that, without the religious overtones," and the medic who'd asked crossed himself anyway.

The ambulance thumped over speed bumps and came to a stop. The doors flew open, two new paramedics ready to help unload the injured person, and were greeted by six fully awake, undamaged human beings. Mandy'd gotten half her restraints off and was alternating between hugging Jake and prodding at the goose egg on her head. She looked at the new medics, then at the ones on either side of her. "I'm not sure I really need to be checked into the hospital?"

"You do," the one who hadn't spoken said, firmly. "I want to get those injuries X-rayed, maybe do a CAT scan. Or an MRI."

What he wanted, really, was an explanation for her recovery. He wanted something to tell him he'd been wrong, that she'd never been hurt as badly as it had seemed, even though he'd seen it with his own eyes. He didn't want a miracle. He wanted something comprehensible.

"I want Mom to come home!"

Mandy put her hand on Jake's head. "It's okay, Jake." She fingered the torn sleeve of her shirt and the still-raw wound beneath it. I hadn't healed that all the way, either, though it was neither as deep nor as dangerous as it had been. "I had a bad fall on the stairs," she said to no one in particular. "Maybe a neighborhood dog bit me while I was out, I don't remember? But with that cannibal everybody's talking about, and me being an outdoors type, it got a little out of hand?"

Tight-mouthed and unhappy, the second paramedic muttered, "Please stay on the stretcher, ma'am. We'll wheel you into the hospital for your examination."

"If you have to." She lay back down and the paramedics lifted her out. Jake jumped after them and grabbed her hand as they abandoned Coyote and me to the ambulance.

We sat in the vehicle's back end, watching with an air of detached interest. The part of me that wasn't bubbling with glee said, sensibly, "Her insurance is going to have a field day with this. I didn't heal everything all the way, but it's going to look pretty lame in light of ambulance rides and MRIs."

I heard the smile in Coyote's answer: "Yeah. Sorry I didn't get there before the ambulance did."

"Oh," I said lightly, "it's okay. I didn't, either. Our timing was off."

Just like that, with a handful of frothy words, all the composure I'd been holding in place shattered. Every emotion the paramedics had shown, anger and bewilderment and relief and fear, erupted through me. My hands turned into a shaking mess and tears wiped my vision out entirely. I turned on Coyote in the worst display of Girl Behavior I'd ever manifested, sloppy fists slapping at his shoulders and chest as my voice shot into a squeaky register. "Where have you been? What happened? I thought you were dead! It's been six months, Coyote! You disappeared, you saved my life and you disappeared and I thought you were dead!"

I couldn't have hurt a bug with the power behind my smacks, but he grabbed my wrists, then hauled me against his chest, capturing my flailing hands between us. "Shh, shh, hey hey hey. It's all right, Jo. I was only mostly dead, hey? Hush, hush, shh. It's okay."

Wracking sobs stole my ability to flail at him anymore, even if I'd wanted to. Coyote put his chin on top of my head and held on while I ran through the stages of a crying jag, ending with exhaustion so profound it left me nauseated. It was quick, as that kind of thing went, and no one bothered us. I figured people sobbing in the back of ambulances wasn't that uncommon a sight, and that paramedics would rouse us if they needed to go on a run. I finished crying before that happened, and looked up at Coyote feeling all red-nosed and swollen-eyed and hideous.

He smiled, a sort of rueful, fond expression, which was as much as any woman could possibly ask from a man when she's just cried all over him. In relationship terms, in fact, it probably meant the guy was a keeper. This particular guy got up and rooted around in the ambulance until he found paper towel that could double as a tissue, and brought it back to me. Definitely keeper material. I honked my nose clear and hiccuped an, "I'm okay now," that made him smile again.

"Why don't we go get some takeaway and go back to your place to talk?"

That sounded like the best idea in the entire universe, ever. I nodded and snuffled and said, "There's a great Chinese place on University. I'll call Gary and he can…" pick us up, then join us for dinner, was how that scenario would realistically end, although it wasn't what I'd had in mind. I stared blankly at the distance, trying to think of another cab company I could call. It wasn't that I didn't want to share Coyote with Gary. I just wanted to find out what had happened on my own, first. I was in no fit state to juggle more than one man in my life.

Right on cue, Morrison pulled into the parking lot with Billy in the car.

I got out of the ambulance and tried to make myself look presentable. There was no chance of that, not with my face puffy and red from crying, but I tried. The captain had on his Dread Morrison face as he got out of his car, and Billy just looked worried. I said, "We managed the hat trick, boss," before either of them got close enough to start yelling.

"Hat trick?" Whatever Morrison had expected me to say, that wasn't it. I was deeply grateful. Any chance to derail a lecture was a win.

"Mandy Tiller's okay."