Flashback from 1979, Colombia
And now we must sleep, Maddie thought, and just how do we do that? She was suddenly lonely for Guy. Achingly lonely. She wanted him to see this child who was so unlike the children she usually caught with her camera. The ones who pulled at her shirt and mugged for her. The ones who gave her their affection instantly and expected her love in return and stuck to her like glue. This child, she was certain, expected nothing.
The child seemed, though, to have a practical bent and when Maddie offered her a part of the pallet of leaves and branches she’d made with the guide, she was unquestioning. She simply held up the mosquito netting and crawled in beneath it. Maddie took her own place. It was all easier than she’d expected. This Bella-ita was asleep in an instant and Maddie, lying still and watching her, felt that her personality revealed itself more in sleep—the occasional whimper, the passage of calm that softened her features as she slept ever more deeply, the defenseless way her body had collapsed into sleep. Maddie was entranced. This was so purely a child.