14
In Goa they climbed off the train. The air was thick and hot, like soup, the fresh breeze from the morning in the hills long gone. They had reached Margao, which people seemed to pronounce "Madgao." As soon as Timothy's feet touched the ground outside the train station, the taxi drivers were beside him, asking him where he was going. Timothy turned away slightly and tightened the knot on his baby carrier. He swung his backpack on his back and picked up Isaac's bag with one hand. The packs were heavy. Timothy wished he could lighten the load, but nothing was expendable, not the bottles, not the journal, not the carved elephant or Isabel's French Bible.
Prema stood talking to the taxi drivers. Timothy noticed that the birds above them were incredibly loud. They shouted from the trees, d
