The fir trees beyond the formal gardens rustled in the wind, like bystanders whispering about the scene in front of them. Aunt Beth and Lauren came around the corner of the house and strode across the grass to join Harriet and Robin. Lauren handed Harriet a worn flannel quilt.
"Carla said we could use this to cover her,” she said. “It's one of hers,” she added, as if she wouldn't have brought it otherwise.
"What have we got here?” Aunt Beth asked in a businesslike tone.
"She has a pulse,” Harriet reported. “She's unconscious, and Robin's on the phone with nine-one-one.” She heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance.
Aunt Beth dug in her pocket.
"I have a cough drop here,” she said and pulled out a paper-wrapped oval. “If she's diabetic, she needs sugar."
Robin turned from her phone.
"The operator says we shouldn't try to give her anything while she's unconscious."
Aunt Beth stuffed the drop back into her pocket.
"What happened? Can you tell?"
"Not really,” Harriet said. “She was curled in a ball when we found her. She doesn't have any big cuts or scrapes or anything like that-at least that I could see."
The sound of a siren got louder then stopped. The women could hear the paramedics before they saw them.
"Over here,” Robin called.
Mavis was with the three jumpsuit-clad EMTs. They trotted across the grass, and the cluster of women separated so they could reach Neelie.
"We think she's diabetic,” Harriet offered.
"Type one or two?” a chunky blond asked as he knelt beside the fallen woman. He looked up at Harriet and paused, recognition showing on his face. “You,” he said. They'd met in the summer over another body.
"The type that requires a person to take sugar quickly,” she answered, not wanting to explain why she was once again at the scene of a serious medical emergency. “We don't really know for sure."
"Here we go,” the paramedic said and pulled up a metal tag that hung from a chain around her neck. “Type One."
The second paramedic pulled a clear bag of fluid from the large orange plastic box. He tore off the wrapper off a tubing kit and quickly attached an IV to Neelie's arm. The third paramedic, a slight, older man, set down the backboard he'd been carrying and applied a stabilization neck collar.
The blond paramedic quickly and efficiently ran his hands over Neelie's arms and legs-checking for broken bones, Harriet assumed. Finding no obvious injuries, they strapped her onto the backboard and carried her to the ambulance, where they transferred her to the padded gurney.
Chapter 13
The Loose Threads stood in a silent cluster as the ambulance drove away, once again turning on the lights and siren.
"Would someone like to tell me what's going on here?” Sarah demanded. “Why was there an unconscious woman in Avanell's bushes?"
"Don't you think if one of us knew what had happened we would have told the paramedics so they could help her?” Lauren shot back.
"We think she's diabetic,” Carla offered, her cheeks turning their customary pink.
"Yeah, but why was she under the bush?"
"It seems like she had a blood sugar crisis and wasn't able to think clearly enough to come in and ask for help,” Mavis said. “We don't really know, so there's no point in speculating until we have more information."
Harriet folded her arms across her chest and rubbed her hands on her upper arms.
"Can we go inside, please,” she asked. “It's cold out here."
Robin was holding both Harriet's sweatshirt and her own yoga jacket. She looked at Harriet and wiggled the sweatshirt slightly. Harriet shook her head once, and Robin let it fall back against her arm.
"Does anyone want to go back up and look at our blocks?” Harriet asked.
"We might as well,” Robin replied. “We're all here."
Everyone else had gone in when Harriet started up the stairs to the porch. A crunch of gravel signaled a vehicle coming up the driveway-fast. Aiden's Bronco slid to a stop, and he jumped out.
"What happened?” he shouted. “Where are Carla and Wendy?"
Harriet turned to meet him as he leaped the porch steps two at a time.
"Wendy and Carla are in the house,” she said. “They're fine."
He stopped. “So, why did Angela hear on the police scanner there was a ten-forty-five-C at my address?"
"Who is Angela, and what's a ten-forty-five-C?” Harriet asked.
"Angela works in my office. She heard the police scanner calling for an ambulance pick-up for a person in serious condition.” He raked the fingers of his left hand through his silky black hair.
Harriet put her hand on his back and gently patted.
"Let's go inside,” she said.
"Let's stop treating me like a child and tell me what happened."
"Okay. We were having a Loose Threads meeting in your upstairs parlor, and we looked out the window, saw something under a bush, investigated and discovered an unconscious woman."
"An unconscious woman?” he demanded. “What woman?"
"Can we please go inside? It's cold out here."
He brushed past her and wrenched the door open. She followed, and as soon as she was through the door, he whirled to face her.
"What woman?” he demanded.
"She claims she's the sister of a friend of yours from Africa-Nabirye Obote."
"She was conscious when you found her?"
"No, she wasn't conscious today. She said that when she first came to town."
"So, you know her? Did she come here to see you?” His voice was getting louder as he paced across the kitchen.
"Can we sit down a minute?” Harriet went to the breakfast nook and sat at the table.
"Harriet, what's going on here?"
She sighed. Her decision to spare him the additional stress while he was in Ephrata didn't look like such a good one now.
"This woman came to town looking for you-” she began.
"What woman? Why was she looking for me?"
"I'm trying to tell you.” She put her hands on her knees and took a deep breath, willing herself to relax. “This woman, Neelie, came into Pins and Needles. At first, she just said she was looking for you. We-Aunt Beth and I-told her you weren't here. She asked us about a hotel and left."
"Is she the one who grabbed your phone?” Aiden asked, his voice still too loud.
"The Threads are upstairs,” Harriet pleaded.
"I don't care,” he said, louder than before. “It's my house. Or, at least, I thought it was."
She knew it was his lack of sleep talking, but it still hurt.
"The next day,” she continued, “she showed up here. She claimed the baby she had with her was her sister's and that her sister had asked her to bring the baby to you."
"Why would her sister send her baby to me?” he interrupted.
"Aiden, I don't know why any of this happened. I didn't tell you this because I thought you already had so much to deal with, and you couldn't do anything about it until you were back anyway."
"So, she came to my house with the baby…” He made a rolling motion with his hand.
"She said she didn't have any money for a hotel, so we assumed she didn't have money for formula or milk, either.” Harriet paused. “Then she had some sort of episode. She's a diabetic, but she wouldn't admit it. She got sort of faint. I gave her orange juice, and she perked up. Anyway, we didn't know what to do-"
"I told her she could stay here,” Carla said. Neither one had seen her come down the servant's stairs. Kissa was perched on her hip. “She was starving the baby."
She set the empty bottle in her hand on the counter. Kissa started fussing, and Carla jiggled her gently. As she turned to take a seat, Aiden got his first look at Kissa's face and her pale-blue eyes.
His reaction was palpable. His face froze then turned an angry red.
"You thought this was my baby?” he hissed.
"We didn't know,” Harriet said in a quiet voice.