"Thanks, Jorge,” she said and then explained about her phone and the need to call her land line.
"No problem. You want to try some of my pollo verde?"
"Sounds great,” Harriet said and dug into her chips again.
A few minutes later, a young woman with long dark hair in a braid down her back, dressed in a bright pink-and-orange ruffled skirt and white embroidered peasant shirt, set down a platter heaped with chicken in a green chili sauce, red rice and pinto beans topped with crumbled cotija cheese, and a generous scoop of sour cream. She also brought a plastic container that held soft hand-sized flour tortillas. She left, then returned a moment later with a frosty glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade.
Harriet pondered Neelie's lunch date as she ate. There was clearly more going on with her than the story she was telling.
"You need a box for the leftovers, chiquita?” Jorge asked when he returned to her table a half-hour later. He set a foam carry-out box next to her plate.
"This was enough for three people,” she said. “It was very good, though."
"And you're going to need to feed that young man of yours."
"He's not home yet, and I don't know when he'll be back."
"As it happens, he's on his way now."
"What?"
"He called while I was fixing your plate. He tried your home phone, and when you didn't answer, he took a chance and called here. He was just leaving Ephrata. That should be a four-and-a-half-hour drive, but with a truckload of dogs it could be twice that."
"How did he sound?"
"I won't lie, chiquita,” Jorge said and rubbed his large hand over his face. “He sounded bone-weary. He won't be driving the truck, so don't worry about that,” he hastened to add.
"I wish there was something I could do."
"There is. Just be you. Be there for him, and don't expect anything for a while. He's a tough boy. He'll get through this. He just cares a lot for the animals."
Jorge sat with her for a few more minutes, neither of them speaking.
"I better get back to work,” he finally said.
"Thanks for letting me try the chicken."
"De nada,” he said. “And don't even try to pay. Just because Aiden isn't here doesn't mean the rules change."
Jorge took his job as surrogate father seriously, and steadfastly refused to take money from “family,"a fact that made Harriet decidedly uncomfortable.
She walked slowly back to her car. If what she'd seen on the video was true, Neelie's sister was still alive. Could she have sent her baby to Aiden for some reason other than her health? Did she not want the child? If that were true, then who was Neelie having lunch with? If she were simply a courier for her sister, she wouldn't know anyone here-certainly not well enough to be arguing with them.
For a moment, she wished Aiden wasn't coming home. She instantly felt guilty for the thought, but she needed time to figure out what was going on.
She drove home turning things over in her mind and, hindsight being what it is, was starting to wonder if she'd done the right thing when she didn't tell Aiden everything right from the start.
Chapter 12
"Oh, my gosh,” Harriet screamed. “I haven't been to class all term."
She wasn't sure who she was talking to, but it didn't matter. Her algebra final was due to start in ten minutes, and as a result of having not attended a single class, she didn't know where it was held. She had a schedule in her locker, but that location was evading her, too.
She felt needles pierce her face. She shook her head and was brought to consciousness by Fred's screech as she pushed him away. He'd apparently tried to wake her from her nightmare by slapping her in the face with the tips of his claws.
"Thank you, Fred, I needed that,” she said.
She reassured herself she had passed algebra long ago, not only in high school but in college; her “lost in high school” dreams were an indication of her anxiety level. This one was well-deserved, she decided.
She fed Fred then went back upstairs to shower. She was just returning to the kitchen when she heard a knock on the outside door of her studio, followed by the sound of the door opening.
"Hello?” called a male voice.
"Aiden?"
She hurried toward the door between the kitchen and studio; it opened and she fell into Aiden's open arms. He put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her, his unshaven face rasping her skin when he finally pulled away and gazed at her with his white-blue eyes.
"I've missed you so much,” he said.
He stepped to the bar and collapsed onto a stool, pulling her with him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned into her.
"You look exhausted,” she said.
He was dressed in his customary work clothes-surgical scrubs and washable canvas shoes. A rust-colored smear stained the left shoulder of his shirt. She didn't want to think about what it might be.
"I just need some coffee,” he said. “I've got to get back to the dogs."
"You can't possibly do those dogs any good the condition you're in.” Harriet pushed out of his arms. “You need to rest."
"I don't have time to rest,” he argued, but then he folded his arms and, leaning on the bar, laid his head on them.
"Come on,” she said and pulled on his arm. She freed one hand and tugged until he stood then led him upstairs to the guest bedroom.
"Wake me up in thirty minutes."
"Okay,” she agreed, her fingers crossed behind her back.
"Promise,” he said, and lay down on the bed. The fact he didn't try to talk her into joining him was an indication of how tired he was.
Harriet took a down throw from an armchair by the window and spread it over him. He'd been asleep before his head hit the pillow. She tiptoed out the door and pulled it shut behind her.
The phone started to ring just as she reached the kitchen. She grabbed it, though she imagined it would take dynamite to wake Aiden at this point.
"Hello,” she whispered into the receiver from force of habit.
It was Aunt Beth, suggesting they ride together to Carla's for the Loose Threads meeting. She agreed, and wrote a note to Aiden explaining where she'd gone and that she'd left him sleeping because he needed it.
"Hey, chiquitas,” Connie greeted them as they entered through the kitchen door. “Would you two like a cup of my orange spice tea?"
"Sure,” Harriet said, even though spice tea wasn't her favorite. Aunt Beth agreed also, and Connie poured them each a steaming mug from a pot she'd just made.
"How are things going with your house guest?” Harriet asked when the four women were settled in the upstairs parlor. Wendy was perched on Connie's lap, playing with her earring. Carla was holding the receiver from Wendy's baby monitor, which indicated to Harriet that Kissa was asleep in the nursery.
"It's been like she's not even here,” Carla said. “Probably because she mostly hasn't been here."
"What do you mean?” Harriet asked.
"She left a while after the shower, and I haven't seen her since. I fed the baby dinner and put her to bed when Wendy went down. Kissa woke up crying at around midnight, and I didn't figure Neelie was likely to get up, so I fixed her a bottle and rocked her back to sleep."
"And you didn't see Neelie? No light under the door or anything?"
"No, but the baby is sleeping in the old nursery. Wendy sleeps in the room that adjoins mine. but when I asked Neelie where she wanted Kissa to sleep, she said the baby kept her awake at night and she'd rather have a room to herself. I figured I was going to be the one getting up in the night, so I put her in the nursery where there's already a monitor set up."
"So, Neelie has been missing since last night?"
"We don't know that Neelie is actually missing, do we?” Aunt Beth pointed out. “Seems like all we know is that she isn't here."
"Dios mio!” Connie said. “I knew that girl was trouble."
"Did you tell Aiden she was here?” Harriet asked Carla.