"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.
[Back to Table of Contents]
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.
"You said not to tell him until he was back, but I was afraid he would walk in and find them here with no warning."
"What did he say?” Connie asked.
Carla looked down, letting her hair fall around her face.
"I only told him that the sister of a friend of his in Africa had come to see him, and that I'd let her stay here until he came home."
"You didn't mention the baby?” Harriet asked.
Carla looked up, her cheeks crimson. She shook her head.
"I know you didn't want to—” she tried to explain, but Harriet interrupted her.
"That was good,” she said. “He did need to know someone was staying here, but you saved the big news until he could come home and see for himself. He hasn't been here yet, right?"
"No, he called and said he was going to be at the clinic and would probably just catch a few hours sleep on the couch there. He said it would take a while to get the vet techs up to speed on the hoarding survivors, and he said he would call when he was on his way here."
"FYI, he's asleep at my house at the moment,” Harriet said. “He came by to say hi, but he was asleep on his feet. I persuaded him he wasn't going to be able to help his patients until he got some rest."
The doorbell sounded, and Carla went downstairs to greet the arriving Loose Threads. Mavis and Jenny had come together, and while they were fixing their cups of tea and coffee, Sarah arrived followed shortly by Lauren. Harriet went downstairs to refill her cup as Lauren was taking her jacket off and hanging it in the coat closet in the front entry.
"Follow me,” Lauren said.
"What's up?” Harriet asked.
Lauren glared at her. “Could you keep your voice down?"
Harriet sig
hed but followed her until they were out of earshot of the others.
"What?” Harriet, following her.
"There is a spy among us,” she murmured dramatically.
"What are you talking about?” Harriet whispered.
"I was just at the senior center, giving yet another training session on their patient-tracking software. I went into their big dining room to get a bottle of water, and I saw the Small Stitches group meeting in a smaller dining room they have that opens off the main one."
"And?” Harriet prompted.
"They were facing away from me, looking at a flip chart they'd set up. They had a list of quilt block names—our quilt block names. And they were assigning people to make them."
"Huh,” said Harriet. “That's weird. Why would anyone do that?"
"Why does anyone do half the stuff they do? What should we do?"
"What do you mean?"
"We can't keep letting our ideas be passed directly to the enemy."
"First of all, we don't know for sure there is an enemy. It still could be a coincidence."
"Once maybe, but twice? They had all our block names except your experiment."
"We better join the others. Let's see what everyone's done. We may have a new list by the end of the meeting."
By the time Lauren and Harriet got their tea and climbed the servants’ stairs from the kitchen to the second floor parlor, Robin had arrived by the main stairs and was adding her block to the array already stuck to the portable design wall. The design wall was a plastic pipe framework with a large sticky flannel fabric laced to the pipes. Its light weight allowed Carla to reposition it once everyone was seated so they all had a clear view.
Mavis settled in an overstuffed chair, her feet on the matching ottoman and her tea on a heavy cherry side table.
"You better be careful, making us so comfortable,” she said to Carla. “People might decide they want to meet here all the time."
Carla's cheeks turned pink.
"That would be okay,” she stammered.
"We wouldn't do that to you, honey,” Aunt Beth assured her and reached over to pat her hand.
"So, who wants to talk about the blocks first?” Robin asked, bringing them back to the reason they were there.
"I want to take mine back, now that I've seen Jenny's,” Mavis said, referring to Jenny's intricate appliqué design. She had created the face of a Yorkshire terrier out of batik fabrics in tan, brown and grays, complete with a pink bow holding the dog's hair out of its eyes. The face was surrounded by a wreath of dog bones intermingled with a green ribbon.
"Yours are cute,” Robin protested.
Mavis and Beth had been assigned the snowball blocks. They had fussy-cut squares with dog faces in the center of novelty print dog fabric, with Beth using realistic images of dogs and Mavis using a cartoon-style print. They'd chosen contrasting corner triangles to form the snowball image.
"They would be easier to make, too,” Jenny offered. “I won't pretend my appliqué was quick or easy. It was the only thing I could think of that wouldn't make the dog bones look goofy.” She turned to Sarah. “Sorry."
Everyone couldn't help but focus on Sarah's block after Jenny's comment. Lauren had been right—Sarah's images didn't look like dog bones at all. No one wanted to say out loud what they did look like.
"I like—” Carla started to say, but she was interrupted by a loud screech from the baby monitor now sitting on the table. Carla grabbed it and turned down the volume, but not before Wendy's bottom lip started trembling as the toddler prepared for a sympathy cry.
Connie stood up and carried Wendy to the picture window at the back of the parlor. The view was of the back garden.
"Hey, chiquita,” Connie called to Harriet, “Aiden's dog looks upset."
Harriet came to the window. Connie pointed at the kennel, where Randy was jumping wildly and howling like a whole wolf pack. She threw herself against the chain link walls of her enclosure.
"That's weird. I'm going to go see what's wrong with her."
She had just started to turn away from the window when something at the edge of the garden caught her eye. By the base of a large rhododendron was a splash of lime green that didn't belong to the landscape.
Harriet froze.
"Chiquita, what is it?"
"I'm not sure.” She pointed to the patch of green.
"Dios mio,” Connie murmured and made the sign of the cross.
"I'm going down to look."
"I'll come with you,” Mavis said.
"How about I go instead,” Robin offered. “No offense,” she added, referring to an incident during the summer when Mavis had fainted after going to investigate a suspicious situation with Harriet.
"It was very hot that day,” Mavis protested.
"We know,” Aunt Beth said, “but it's probably nothing, so let's not climb the stairs for no good reason."
Robin grabbed her cell phone from her bag and followed as Harriet went down the servant's stairs and out the kitchen door. They took the gravel path around the house to the large back yard.
"Randy,” Harriet said in a firm voice. “Hush."
Randy stopped howling and switched to barking as Harriet and Robin crossed the large grassy area and finally arrived at the rhododendron bushes. The mature shrubs had to be ten feet tall, and were at least that wide. The leathery dark-green foliage was dense and nearly touched the ground at the bottom of each bush.
"It's Neelie,” Harriet said and rushed the last few feet to the woman's side.
She was curled in a fetal position, facing toward the center of the rhododendron. The curve of her spine was all that had been visible. Harriet put a hand on her shoulder and rolled her out from under the bush and onto her back. Robin knelt beside her and felt for a pulse.
"She's alive.” She started punching numbers into her cell phone. “We need an ambulance,” she said when the 911 operator answered.
Harriet pulled her zip-front hoodie off and laid it over Neelie's chest.
"Are you okay?” she asked.
Obviously, Neelie wasn't okay, but Harriet's first aid training had kicked in, and it was what they taught you to say.
Robin shrugged out of her Lycra yoga jacket and handed it to Harriet, who added it to her own shirt on the supine woman. She took Neelie's cold, clammy hand in hers.
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 look
ed 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.
[Back to Table of Contents]
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.
Quilt by Association Page 7
