He followed her into her studio. She turned on her computer and pulled up the clip. As soon as it started, he pointed at the screen.
"That's her,” he said. “See, she's alive and not pregnant."
"I'm guessing that if it were simple to call her, you would have already suggested that option."
Aiden put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Right,” she said, even though she'd been serious.
"The villages I worked in didn't have consistent electricity, much less telephones or cell towers. Of course, they have those things in the capitol city, but she's not there very often. I can call and leave a message for her at the water project headquarters, but it's anyone's guess when she'll get it. It could be weeks, maybe longer."
"Hopefully, we'll have this figured out long before that, but just to cover all our bases, maybe you should go ahead and make that call."
Aiden looked at the black plastic-encased sports watch on his wrist.
"I've got to give another round of antibiotics to my worst cases at midnight, so I'm going to see if I can grab a couple of hours sleep before I have to go back. If you think of anything else that could help me with the inquisition in the morning, give a call."
Harriet was relieved to see a brief flash of his normal humor.
"I know I have no right to ask,” she said, “but could you please call Carla? She's terrified of losing her job."
"Why on earth does she think that?"
"I have no idea,” Harriet said with as straight a face as she could manage. “You can find her at Connie's,” she said when she could speak without smiling.
She walked him to the door then went back into the kitchen, where Fred immediately began weaving figure-eights around her ankles. She went to the refrigerator and took out his can of cat food, scooping a generous tablespoon into his dish.
"Things are looking up,” she told him. “Aiden may not have forgiven us just yet, but he's starting to thaw."
Fred made satisfied smacking noises as he ate. If he had an opinion as to Aiden's state of mind, he kept it to himself.
Chapter 17
Harriet drove her aunt to the ten o'clock church service the following morning and then on to DeAnn's house when church let out. Aunt Beth had called DeAnn the night before and left a message with her husband David about their intention to visit. He encouraged them and confided to Beth that any ideas she might have about calming the baby would be greatly appreciated no matter what DeAnn might say.
Harriet noted Mavis's powder-blue Lincoln Town Car in the driveway as she pulled in to the curb in front of DeAnn's brown two-story bungalow. DeAnn met them at the door, her index finger against her lips in the universal sign for quiet.
"Mavis finally got her to sleep,” she whispered. She was clutching a damp baby blanket.
They quietly followed her into the the living room, where Mavis held the sleeping child. She nodded as they continued through the dining room and kitchen into the breakfast room.
"Would you like some tea or coffee?” DeAnn asked.
"You sit down and rest a minute,” Aunt Beth said. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter then filled the teakettle that sat on the stove and turned the flame on. With easy familiarity, she got a mug and put a teabag in it.
"So,” Harriet said. “How's it going?” She could guess how it was going from the dark smudges that shadowed her friend's eyes.
DeAnn laughed. “I think it's going about as bad as it can go. Iloai has cried pretty much nonstop. Mavis is the first one who's been able to get her calm enough to fall asleep."
"I'm sorry,” Harriet offered.
"It's okay,” DeAnn said. “We were prepared in our adoption class for this possibility."
"Still, it can't be easy,” Aunt Beth said “You want some coffee?"
DeAnn nodded, and directed her to a green mug with the Foggy Point Video logo on its side. Beth filled it and handed it to her.
"Somehow, when they described crying, tantrums and difficulty sleeping in our class they sounded so manageable.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Iloai has done all of that and then some."
"You'd think she'd be loving life here after being raised in an orphanage,” Harriet said.
"If she's never known anything else, this sort of change could be unnerving, though,” Aunt Beth said. “Think about it. She's used to being surrounded by a lot of children, and she probably hasn't had much adult attention. She might be having sensory overload."
"Is that her blanket?” Harriet asked. DeAnn was still holding the tattered beige quilt.
"Yes.” DeAnn laid the small quilt on the kitchen table and spread it out. “She's been chewing on the corner here,” she said, and pointed to a damp section. “I was going to try to stabilize the edge there, where it's coming apart, while she's asleep."
Aunt Beth held out her hand, and DeAnn handed her the quilt.
"Huh,” Aunt Beth mumbled as she examined it.
"What?” Harriet and DeAnn asked in unison.
She turned the small quilt around.
"Look at the embroidered images,” she said. “See how the color of the thread is starting to fade there at the top?” She pointed to the upper left corner. “Then look at this one."
DeAnn and Harriet leaned closer to examine the spot she was pointing at.
"The thread does look darker in the middle of the quilt.” Harriet ran her hand over the surface, pausing to carefully feel the area where each of the embroidered squares joined. “It almost looks like the embroidered pieces were added after the quilt was finished. See how the bottom half of the quilt has plain fabric with no embellishment? I think the stitched blocks were made and added on to the quilt over a period of time."
"Someone may have donated a UFO,” Aunt Beth suggested, using the acronym most quilters used for their unfinished quilts or “objects.” “The volunteers probably took the top the way it was and put it with a backing. Feels like they used fabric inside in place of batting,” she added.
"That makes sense,” Harriet said. “They probably don't have much use for warm quilts in Africa.” She looked at the embroidered designs again. “The imagery is interesting. Look.” She pointed at the block in the upper right corner. “It looks like a woman holding a baby in her arms."
"These lines look like waves,” Aunt Beth said, rubbing her forefinger over several parallel rows of blue stitching.
"Lots of different charities donate quilts to orphanages,” Harriet mused. “They could have come from anywhere in the world."
"I suppose,” Aunt Beth said.
"Not to change the subject,” DeAnn said, “but I heard Aiden had a meltdown at the Threads meeting yesterday."
"That's putting it mildly,” Aunt Beth told her, mouth twitching into a smile.
"We had round two last night,” Harriet admitted.
"Was he any calmer?” Aunt Beth asked.
"By the time he left, he was better, but only a little. The police had come to the clinic to ask him about Neelie."
"Why are they questioning him?” DeAnn asked. “He wasn't even here."
"I don't know. He put them off until later today. I'm guessing it has to do with her staying at his house and being found on his property."
DeAnn picked up her napkin and twisted it like a rope.
"Carla's going to freak out when they question her. Since she's the one who let Neelie stay there, they definitely will question her."
"Yeah, but we didn't stop her,” Harriet said. She started to run her fingers through her hair then stopped herself when she recognized Aiden's habit.
"She's down for the count,” Mavis announced as she came into the kitchen. The teakettle whistled and she took a mug from a black iron rack on the counter and put a tea bag in it.
"Could you pour mine, too?” Harriet asked.