I touch one of the labels, not completely believing it’s real. “Where did you find this?”
“It was tucked behind the wine boxes in the storage locker.”
Of course. I moved it there when I bought the wine. The other boxes, 19–28 and Current, were on the shelf above it, and were, presumably, trashed by Pedro you-will-be-served-with-papers-just-as-soon-as-I-get-back-to-work Alvarez.
“Thank you for giving this to me, Dominic.”
He puts the camera down on the coffee table. “Of course. Now, why I don’t I clean up and leave you alone with that?”
“No, don’t go.”
“Are you sure?”
“If I go through that box right now, I’m going to be a freaking mess. And I know I might’ve seemed like a mess these past few days, but trust me, it could get much worse.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have given it to you.”
“No, I feel better knowing it’s around.”
“I can tell.”
“Really, it’s perfect.”
He gives me a slow smile, and I feel suddenly nervous, like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. Being happy, maybe.
“Where did you come from, anyway?” I ask.
Whatever Dominic was going to say in response is interrupted by the loud ding-dong of the doorbell.
“Midnight carolers,” he says, glancing at his watch, “at eight thirty?”
“You never know.”
He shrugs and goes to answer the door. I follow behind him out of curiosity. A rush of cold air chases past the door and swirls my hair around my face. I hesitate for a moment, then fly toward the entrance. Standing there, huddled inside a white puffy coat two sizes too big for her, is Stephanie.
“Stephanie!”
“Emma!”
Her arms are around me, holding me close.
Finally.
Chapter 11: Heart on a String
When I eventually let Stephanie go, I introduce her to Dominic and usher her inside. As she takes off her coat, boots, and hat, I fill her in briefly on how we met. She’s shivering from the cold, and I take her into the living room, placing her as close to the roaring gas fire as she can stand. When her teeth stop clacking, I start my cross-examination.
“When did you get back? Why didn’t you call me? Didn’t you get any of my messages? And how come you went to Africa in the first place?”
Okay, maybe barrage is a better word.
“I should be asking you the same questions.”
“I know, I know, but answer me first, okay? I’ll tell you everything after, I promise.”
“Is she always this annoying now?” Stephanie asks Dominic, her bright green eyes laughing at me from her gamine face. She’s wearing the twin of the outfit I was wearing the night I came back from Africa—linen pants and a matching shirt.
“Pretty much.”
“How have you put up with it?”
Dominic leans forward in his chair. “Well—”
“Hey! I’m sitting right here.”
Stephanie grins. Her small, slightly crooked teeth are bright white in her tanned face. “I know. Finally.”
“Will you just answer my questions before I go bonkers?”
She tucks her chin-length hair around her ears. It’s a gesture that’s so familiar it brings tears to my eyes. “You know all about you disappearing, and everything?”
“You can’t imagine how bad I feel about that, Steph. I would’ve called you again if I could have.”
She pats my hand. “Don’t be silly. It’s not like you wanted to disappear.”
I feel a spasm of guilt. “No, of course not.”
“Nice TV coverage, by the way.”
“Ugh, you watched that? It was awful.”
“What are you talking about? You were awesome. But I do have a bone to pick with that Cathy Keeler woman. She was way out of line.”
“I thought Emma handled herself pretty well,” Dominic says.
Stephanie nods proudly. “Of course she did. Emma’s always known how to handle herself, ever since she was a little kid.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yeah, like this one time in high school—”
I cut her off. “Aren’t you supposed to be answering my questions?”
“Right. Sorry. But, Em, you know where I’ve been. I’ve been looking for you.”
My throat feels tight. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a very big deal.”
“Nah. I wish I could’ve gone earlier, but what with the earthquake and all, it was impossible to get a flight until two weeks ago.”
“But it was still too dangerous, Steph.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You think I wasn’t going to go looking for you because something might happen to me?”
Dominic looks impressed. “You’re pretty brave for someone that small.”
She wrinkles her button nose. “Five foot one isn’t small, it’s petite.”
I smile at her fondly. Stephanie’s always been a little sensitive about her height.
“But how did you know there was someone to go looking for? I mean, why didn’t you think—”
Her eyes brim with tears. “You know I could never think that. Not unless it was certain.”
I know exactly what she means. A life without Stephanie is one I’d never willingly accept either.
I squeeze her hand. “Thanks for that.”
“Anytime.”
“But how did you see Emma on In Progress?” Dominic asks. “Were you watching it in Tswanaland?”
“Oh, I only saw that today. On the airplane. You know those systems they have now, where you can watch all these programs? Well, they had these episodes of In Progress, and none of the movies appealed. Anyway, my plane landed a couple of hours ago.”
“Is that how you found out I was . . . ?”
“No, no. Karen and Peter told me.”
“How did you find them?”
“I found that guy, Barono, Basono—”
“Banga?”
“Yeah, that guy. Anyway, he told me where he’d left you. I paid him some money, and he took me out there.”
“Not too much money, I hope.”
She shakes her head. “Emma, you know I don’t care about money.”
I smile inwardly. “Is terrible with money” might be a better description, which is all the more reason that I need to find a way to pay her back.
“Did you enjoy the ride out to the reserve?”
She laughs. “Oh yeah, my coccyx is still bruised. But it was worth it, if just to meet Karen and Peter.”
“Ah, the famous Karen and Peter,” Dominic says.
I shoot him a silencing look. “Are they well?”
“They seemed very well. Missing you, though.”
“I miss them too. Are they still coming back next week?”
“They said so.”
“How’s the school? Have classes started?”
“They were just about to. They wanted me to stay for the opening, but I needed to get home for Christmas.”
Stephanie loves Christmas. Every year she takes on some huge project, like building a gingerbread house or stringing the outside of her apartment building with lights and electric reindeer that bop along to Christmas tunes.
“Karen told me to go home for Christmas, too.”
“Smart lady.”
“She is. I can’t believe we only missed each other by a couple of days.”
“I know. Ridiculous, right? If I’d been a little more patient, I could’ve met you at the airport,” Stephanie says.
“Patience isn’t really your strong suit.”
“True. But I’m glad I got to see what you did there.”
I look down at the floor. “I didn’t do anything.”
“I know twenty kids who would strongly disagree.” She turns toward Dominic. “She built a whole schoolhouse, you know.”
“Not
a whole schoolhouse. I just helped.”
“Don’t be fooled, Dominic. She’s not really modest.”
He smiles. “You mentioned something about a story from high school?”
Her eyes light up. “Well, Emma was on the debate team, right?”
I hold up my hand. “Oh no, not that story.”
Dominic looks disappointed. “Now you’ve made me very curious.”
“You’ll survive. How long did you stay with Karen and Peter?”
“Five days,” she says wistfully.
“You sound sad.”
She sighs. “I was kind of sad to leave. It was beautiful there.” A memory of something unpleasant flits across her face. “I still can’t believe Cathy Keeler was questioning your integrity like that. And that stunt she pulled with Craig—” She stops herself, looking guilty.
“Don’t worry. I know all about Craig and Sophie.”
“Did you find out before or after the kiss?”
Dominic stands abruptly. “I think that’s my cue to leave. Nice to have met you finally, Stephanie.”
She gives him an appraising look. “Yeah, you too. And thanks for taking care of Emma.”
“My pleasure.”
“Hello. Again—sitting right here.”
Dominic places his hand on my shoulder gently, patting me twice. “I know. Good night.”
“Night. Thanks again for my present.”
“It belonged to you already.”
He leaves, and before he’s out of earshot, Stephanie leans toward me excitedly. “So tell me all about him.”
“Craig?”
“No, not that idiot, and by the way, I can’t believe he hooked up with Sophie. I mean Dominic.”
“Um, well, there’s nothing much to tell, really.”
“Bullshit.”
“I swear. We’re just friends.”
“But you’re living together.”
“That’s a long story.”
“We have all night.”
I wake up the next morning to Stephanie’s smiling face. We stayed up talking until two in the morning, finally drifting off to sleep when we couldn’t stay awake any longer. It reminded me of a hundred similar scenes from childhood, when Stephanie would stay over and sleep seemed like an interruption to our endless conversation.
“What are you smiling at?” I ask. With messy hair and a makeupless face, she doesn’t look much older than she did the last time we had a sleepover.
“You, silly.”
“No, you’re the silly.”
She laughs. “That was pretty much our first conversation, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t remember. Was it?”
“Yeah. Remember, that kid was teasing me, that Roger kid, and you told him to get lost or he’d have you to deal with.”
I think back but I don’t even remember Roger. “Did I really say that?”
“Or some five-year-old equivalent. I was impressed, but I was also kind of scared of you.”
“The story of my life. When did I call you silly?”
“Come on, you really don’t remember?”
“Maybe. Tell me again.”
She bends her pillow in half and adjusts it under her head. “Well, as I recall, I told you that now that you’d saved my hiney, we had to be friends for life, and then you crushed my little heart by telling me that I was silly. ‘People aren’t friends for life.’ ”
“I’m glad I was wrong about that.”
“Me too. Hey, it’s Christmas!”
“It is.”
“I didn’t get you anything.”
“Sure you did.”
“Oh, Em. I’m really glad you’re okay.” She raises her hand to wipe away her sudden tears, and I’m fighting back my own.
“That makes two of us.”
There’s a loud sound in the hall, like someone tripped over something. “God fucking shit!” Dominic swears.
Stephanie smiles. “Your new roomie uses some colorful language.”
“He’s a great cook, though.”
She sits up. “I should get back to my place. Come pick me up around noon?”
“Pick you up? For what?”
“We need to be at my folks’ place by two.”
“Steph . . .”
“You think I’m leaving you alone on Christmas? No way. You’re coming to the annual Granger Liquor Fest whether you want to or not.”
“Can I pick not?”
“No.”
“Okay, then.”
“Good. Now, get up and get ready. That’s an order.”
“When did you become so bossy?”
“Someone had to fill the gap while you were away.”
I grab my pillow and whack her with it.
“That’s the way it’s going to be, huh?” She positions herself on the bed and takes a mighty swing at me with her own pillow.
A moment later we’re involved in a full-fledged pillow fight. Several rounds in, Stephanie lands a particularly good shot that catches me off balance and I tumble to the floor. The thud sounds bad, but I’m unhurt. I roll onto my side, laughing and clutching my pillow to my stomach. Dominic’s bare feet are in the doorway. I look up into his amused face.
“A girl-on-girl pillow fight. It really is Christmas.”
“Get him, Steph.”
Chapter 12: Let the Sunshine In
Two weeks to the day after my first trip to the village-that-might-have-a-working-satellite-phone, I slung my pack over my back and mounted the old red Schwinn. Everything about the day seemed the same—a dry blue sky, a breeze that twined through the faded grasses, the nervous anticipation in the pit of my stomach—only this time Karen was coming with me. We started out with plenty of time to avoid the hottest part of the day, falling into an easy rhythm of squeaking wheels and weaving to avoid the pits in the road.
“Do you think they’ll have fixed the phone by now?” I asked Karen.
“We’ll see,” she answered in a practical tone.
“They should’ve had enough time. I mean, if they know how to fix it, two weeks seems like enough time.”
She glanced at me as I swerved to avoid a hole that could’ve had my bike for breakfast. “I don’t think you should get your hopes up.”
“Don’t you want it to be fixed? You must have people you want to call.”
“Of course I do. I just . . . I’ve learned not to put a time frame on things that I can’t control. Who are you so eager to call, anyway?” she teased. “The boy?”
“I should call him. And my best friend. And the office, of course.”
“Of course.”
“What? It’s important. People are relying on me.”
“I’m sure the legal world will spin on without you.”
“I know, but . . . I miss it.”
“You miss it? Or them?”
I bent a little lower over the handlebars. “I meant them, of course. Plus, it’s what I do for a living, right, so . . .”
Karen nodded, and we pedaled in silence until we turned the bend that brought us to the village. The same group of boys sat on the same collection of rocks, like they hadn’t moved. Karen and I slowed to a stop at a safe distance, dismounting from our bikes, unsure of our welcome. But Tabansi stood up and shaded his eyes. Then his face broke into a grin and he flicked his wrist—come, come.
We wheeled our bikes up to him, and he bounded down from the rocks.
“You have come back,” he stated in a way that should’ve been a question but wasn’t. His jeans were held tight against his stomach with a piece of rope, and there were sweat stains around the neck of his T-shirt.
“Yes.”
“You still want to use the satellite telephone.”
“Yes,” I said enthusiastically.
“It is still broken.”
My heart fell. “Oh.”
“You are disappointed.”
“Yes.”
“We are fixing it. You come back in—”
“Two weeks?�
� I said.
He grinned. “Yes,” he said. “Yes.”
Stephanie comes by her love of Christmas honestly, a gene she must’ve inherited from her mother. When people say “That family went all out at Christmas,” I know they haven’t met the Grangers, or seen the sight that is their house at Christmas.
The outside is restrained—in context, of course, with what’s inside. The eaves and edges of the house are rimmed with white blinking lights. Next comes the enormous crystal wreath on the front door, and more lights wound around the wrought-iron baluster. Mechanical animals form a menagerie on the front lawn.
But Lucy Granger saves her real enthusiasm for inside. Each room on the ground floor gets its own tree, one white, one red, one green, and all strewn with reflective tinsel. The mantelpiece above the fireplace in the living room is crowded with a gingerbread village, lit with real lights and inhabited by dollhouse furniture. Below hang the stockings, all matching, and each embroidered with a family member’s name. The air smells of cinnamon and chestnuts, with an undercurrent of rum.
The source of the rum smell is Brian’s large glass of eggnog, sitting on a small table by his favorite armchair. From experience, I know this glass always looks full—barely touched—but can’t be, because Brian becomes jollier by the hour and is usually nodding off by dinner.
We arrive in the early afternoon. Brian rises unsteadily to greet us. He’s wearing a bright-red velour vest, in contrast with his conservative pants and shirt. His tie sports a Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer motif. He envelops Stephanie and me in a joint hug, calling us his “girls,” telling us not to give him a scare like that again.
When he releases us, Lucy swoops in. Her velour tracksuit matches Brian’s vest, only it has a pair of reindeer antlers sprouting off the back. Her silvery hair is cut like Stephanie’s; Stephanie inherited her hair-tucking motion from her mom too.
She kisses and hugs us both, smelling of turkey and cranberry sauce, and we’re ushered to the comfy couch that sits under the bay window because it’s present-opening time and we’re behind schedule. We’re just waiting on Kevin, perpetually late, at least when his parents want him to be somewhere at a particular hour.
“I didn’t bring any presents,” I murmur to Stephanie through the side of my mouth.
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