"I guess."
"What?” asked Harriet. “Is there a problem?"
"I'm not sure. Like I said, I called, and DeAnn said things were okay, but I could hear the little girl screaming in the background, and DeAnn sounded like she was really stressed. I didn't want to press too much, but she finally did admit that things were a little rougher than she had anticipated. The child has been screaming nonstop since she got there."
"Did she talk to Joseph?” Harriet asked. “He's her social worker, isn't he?"
"Yes, she did call. He said sometimes children who come straight from the orphanage have a little rougher transition. I guess the kids usually go into foster care for a while first."
"Do you think she wants any help?” Aunt Beth asked.
"I'm not sure she'd ask for it, but I think she's going to need some relief, especially if the little girl keeps crying."
"Maybe I'll stop by on the way home from church tomorrow,” Aunt Beth said. “Just to see how it's going."
Robin sighed. “I think that would be good. I'm going to go check on Mavis and Carla and Neelie's baby tomorrow, see if anyone's contacted them about her or anything."
"Let us know what you find out,” Harriet asked.
"Maybe I'll give Phyllis a jingle when I get home and see if she has any ideas,” Beth said. “I'm sure Joseph is good at his job, but Phyl has been doing this a lot longer than he has. I'm sure she's seen it all."
"I guess it couldn't hurt,” Robin said and stood up. “I better go—I just thought you would want to know about Neelie."
"Thanks,” Harriet said. She turned to Aunt Beth. “Shall we go?"
"Yeah, we've got some dog blocks to work on."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 16
Harriet was rearranging a grouping of red-toned blocks on her design wall for what felt like the thousandth time when she heard a knock on the outside studio door. She got up to answer, but she was only halfway across the room when it opened and Aiden walked in.
"What have you gotten me into?” he demanded. He raked his fingers through his black hair.
Harriet was speechless as he paced across the room and back.
"The police came to the clinic to question me—the police, for crying out loud. I was with my patients, so they told me to come in tomorrow morning. They said if I didn't show up by noon, they'd come get me. What have you done?"
He strode across the room again.
"If you want to talk to me, you better take it down a notch,” Harriet said in a cold voice, her stomach tensing. She turned and went into the kitchen. She was slamming the lid on the teakettle when he followed her and sat on a stool at the bar. He took a couple of deep breaths then spoke in a controlled voice.
"Harriet, could you please tell me what's going on here?"
She told him what had happened in his absence then described Neelie's death as clearly as she could. His jaw tensed, and his lower left eyelid twitched spasmodically, but he didn't say anything until she'd finished.
When Harriet had been quiet for most of a minute, he spoke, the tension still clear in the stiffness of his posture.
"So, none of this seemed the least bit odd to you?” he spat.
"Of course it seemed odd. It seemed crazy, and yes, we assumed it was some sort of scam. But we had to think about the baby."
"The one you just assumed must be mine,” he said. “Because it had blue eyes. Do you have any idea how many black children are born each year with blue eyes? Blue eyes are the result of a genetic mutation that took place ten thousand years ago. Every blue-eyed person relates back to that common ancestor. They crop up everywhere, in every country and every race."
"Thanks for the biology lesson, but that isn't why she was living at your house. She told us the baby was her sister's child. That her sister had died, but before she did, she asked Neelie to bring your child to you."
"And you didn't question it?"
"We tried, but it was her sister's dying request."
"You should have known I wouldn't get a woman pregnant and then just leave."
"I didn't think you would do that. Lauren has been trying to find out about Neelie's sister, but, Aiden, in the meantime, there was a baby involved. Carla said she wasn't being fed properly."
"So, now you're going to blame Carla for this?"
"Unlike you, I'm not blaming anyone for anything. I'm trying to find out who these people are, and I want to find out the truth, whatever that is."
He stood up and began to pace again.
"Could you stop the pacing, please?” The kettle whistled, and she poured water over a teabag in her mug. “Would you like some tea or coffee?"
"Coffee,” he said and sat down.
Harriet got out her single-cup coffee filter unit and set it on the mug Aiden usually used at her house, then scooped ground coffee into the filter section and poured boiling water over the grounds.
"You do realize you've never really told me about your time in Africa. I mean, you've mentioned your research and being in multiple villages, but for all I know, you could have been married and divorced three times while you were there."
"Oh, please,” he said as he accepted the cup she handed him.
"Think about it. You know everything about my dead husband—his lies, his disease, his death. And you certainly know about my parents. Anyone who uses the internet could know about my parents, but I told you how they warehoused me in boarding schools—all of it, the good, the bad, the ugly.
"Yet all I know about you is what happened to your mother, and the immediate aftermath of her death, and that's only because I lived through it. I have no idea if you went to Africa because your girlfriend since high school broke your heart, or if you were a serial dater."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Harriet reached across the bar and put her hand on his arm.
"I know in my heart you're a good person. You wouldn't knowingly leave a pregnant woman without support."
"That's big of you."
"There is still a lot of room for a baby scenario. You could have agreed with your pregnant-by-someone-else friend to take responsibility for her child if something happened to her, never imagining it would happen this soon."
Aiden's shoulders sagged.
"Didn't think of that, did you?” she said with a self-satisfied smirk.
He sat in silence, sipping his coffee.
"Carla and I figured, with the help of Aunt Beth and the Threads, that the baby was safer where we could keep an eye on her and Neelie, at least until we could figure out what was going on. We were also hoping you'd get back and shed some light on the situation. We had no way of knowing Neelie would die while she was staying at your house."
Aiden wasn't ready to concede he'd overreacted, but Harriet could see that his anger was receding. She took the top off her ceramic cookie jar, pulled out three home-baked chocolate chip cookies and put them on a plate. Aunt Beth nagged her about her weight, but Mavis and Connie restocked her cookie jar on the sly, always with admonishments to not abuse their gift.
"Thanks,” he said when she set the plate in front of him.
"Let's go back to the start.” Harriet watched his face for a return of his earlier anger. “Do you know a woman named Nabirye Obote?"
He paused so long before answering she was afraid he wasn't going to, but finally he did.
"Yes, I know a woman named Nabirye Obote. She worked for a national initiative for clean water in Uganda. We crossed paths because I was trying to get the villagers to take better care of their animals, and she was trying to get them to keep their water sources clean. We were organizing the same groups of people, so we decided to work together."
"Was she pregnant that you know of?"
"No!” he all but shouted. “No,” he repeated more quietly. “She was pretty clear about the need to improve things in Uganda and appalled by the infant mortality rate. In Uganda, eighty-five of every one thousand children die bef
ore their first birthday, and the average life-expectancy at birth is only fifty-two years.
"Besides, she had been educated in England. I always got the sense she was paying some kind of debt to her home country. She was planning to return to Oxford to pursue graduate studies so she could affect things at a higher level."
"Did you know Neelie Obote?"
"No, I didn't know she had a sister.” He took another sip of his coffee. “You're not getting the right picture here. Nabirye and I worked closely together on our joint sanitation project. We talked a lot when we were working on our presentation, but that was because she spoke English, as well as all three of the major Ugandan languages. I mainly speak Lugandan, which is spoken in the south, but in the north I needed help translating, and Nabirye was there.
"She is very intense about her country and her cause. When we spoke, it was always about water, animals or how to help her people. She could have twelve sisters and that many husbands, too. What we did together was a small part of my work. Most of the time, I wasn't even in her home village."
"So why on earth would she leave her baby to you?"
Aiden ran his hands through his hair and then stared at them in his lap.
"I don't know how many ways I can say this. Nabirye certainly didn't have my baby, and I seriously doubt she had anyone else's baby, either."
"Then why did Neelie say she did? And more important, where did she get the baby?"
"Maybe it's hers."
"Carla doesn't think she takes care of Kissa the way a mother should or would."
"There are lots of bad mothers in this world."
"I suppose,” Harriet said.
They sipped their drinks in silence.
"We should be able to prove Nabirye isn't dead easily enough,” Aiden said.
"That's what Lauren and I were thinking. She couldn't find any death reports for her or birth reports for the baby. But she did come up with an online video clip that shows Nabirye talking about clean water. It looks like it was taken pretty recently. It's on my computer right now if you want to look."
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.
[Back to Table of Contents]
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 acrony
m 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.
"I know the agency told you to put her in a crib,” Mavis continued when she'd poured the tea. “but I couldn't hoist her over the rails, so I put her on the bed."
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