“Thanks. While I’m out, I’ll call Largo before he goes home and see what happened with that drug bust.”
Neither Mama nor the captain liked chitchat. Chee knew she’d be back before her burger arrived. But before Bernie could leave, the waitress returned. “The salad bar comes with the pork chops. There’s soup up there, too.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you from around here? You look kinda familiar.”
“My clan brother Paul lives in the valley.”
“He’s the one starting the new tour business?”
“Right. He’s specializing in taking people to places for the best photographs.”
“Good idea. I hope he makes it.” She smiled at Bernie. “You go ahead and have some salad if you want. Keep him company.”
The server left to bring water and menus to the bus people, who now filled all available tables and booths. The room echoed with the buzz of conversation.
“I didn’t realize this place was so popular. Are they speaking French?” Bernie asked.
“It could be Russian for all I know.” He looked around. “We’re surrounded and outnumbered.”
Bernie’s phone chimed, and she reached for it, studying the display. “It’s Mrs. Darkwater.” She pushed the answer button and covered her left ear. “Wait. I can’t hear you. I’m going where it’s not so noisy and the signal’s better.”
“If that doesn’t work, tell her to call my phone. Sometimes it gets better reception.”
Bernie walked quickly into the front hallway. She didn’t know why her mother’s neighbor was calling, but it gave her a deep sense of dread.
“Hello.” Mrs. Darkwater’s response was muted by the background blare of the television.
“I can barely hear you. Is everything OK out there?”
“Hold on.” A pause, and the TV went silent. “Your mother told me you were going up to Monument Valley for a little break. Hot there, I bet.”
“It’s about like Shiprock. A little warmer. Beautiful.”
“That’s good.” Bernie heard Mrs. Darkwater sigh. “My husband, he’s up in Dulce, and you know how you always ask me and him to keep an eye on your mother.”
What had happened? Bernie’s heart sank, but she knew better than to interrupt.
“I have to go to Chinle to help my son Marshall with Junior. Junior is the one who made those pictures of the rodeo that I have on the refrigerator. Marshall took him to the one up in Cortez.”
Would Mrs. Darkwater stay on track and save the stories of Junior’s artistic talent and her son’s success as a good dad for another day? “I remember that. How’s Mama doing?”
“Well, I hated to call you.” Bernie heard a change in Mrs. Darkwater’s tone and felt her chest tighten. “When I went over there a little while ago to tell your mother good-bye, she was still in her clothes from yesterday. She was just sitting on the sofa, not even watching the TV. Not reading. Nothing. Staring.”
A stroke, Bernie thought. Mama had a stroke. But why hadn’t her sister called? Darleen lived with Mama, and her job was helping take care of her.
Mrs. Darkwater kept talking. “I thought something had happened to her, but she said no. She felt OK. Then I asked about you, because I know she worries about you, especially because of your friend who got shot. She told me you were fine, off on a trip. That’s good, honey.”
Bernie listened, waiting, though she wanted to scream, Get to the point!
“Um. I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just blurt it out. Your sister didn’t come home last night. I am sorry to call you. Your mother told me not to call, not to bother you on your vacation, but I have to leave, and I worry about her all alone.” Mrs. Darkwater’s voice had an end-of-story sound to it.
“What happened to Sister? Why isn’t she there?” Bernie pushed the vision of her little sister dead in a car crash out of her mind.
“I asked your mama that. She just shook her head.” Mrs. Darkwater sighed. “My son needs for us all to drive to Chinle pretty soon now. I promised him I would help with the boy, since Marshall has to work. I thought you might know someone else who could stay with your mother.”
Bernie tried to think of available friends and relatives, and came up short. “May I speak to Mama?”
“Sure thing. But I’m not at her house, so I’ll go over there real quick and call you back.” Mrs. Darkwater hung up.
While Bernie was outside on the phone, the waitress brought dinner. Chee tasted the gravy—a creamy little brown lake surrounded by a mashed-potato dike. Very good! He cut some bites of the pork chop to go with the potatoes, tried the corn, and decided he was a happy man.
Bernie returned, frowning. After two years of marriage, Chee had become fairly adept at reading her moods, but this was something he seldom saw—sadness, confusion, anger, and worry mixed together. Searching his own conscience, he couldn’t think of anything he’d done lately to upset his bride. It must have been the phone call. Bernie loved burgers, but she wasn’t eating and didn’t seem to want to talk.
“Do you want to tell me what Mrs. Darkwater said?” Chee asked finally.
“Sister didn’t come home last night. I don’t know what happened. Mama’s been alone since yesterday, and Mrs. Darkwater can’t stay with her, and her husband is out of town.”
Chee chewed his pork chop, listening for more. The dining room had quieted as the tourists ate. The waitress returned with a box for the burger and a Coke refill. Bernie sat in silence.
“Eat a little, sweetheart, before the fries get cold. I’ll make some phone calls about Darleen.”
Bernie cut the burger in half, picked up a piece, and then put it down. She took a sip of the Coke. “Let me talk to Mama first to find out what she knows. Mrs. Darkwater was going over there to call me and get Mama to the phone.”
“You know, I have Largo and Bigman on speed dial. They’ll help us figure out what’s up.”
“I know. It’s just that—”
Her phone chimed. Bernie answered, “Hello?”
She put the cell on speaker, and Chee moved closer. “Yes, I’d love to talk to Mama.”
Chee pictured Mama seated in her favorite chair at the table and Mrs. Darkwater standing in her kitchen with the old-fashioned yellow phone receiver pressed to her ear, and then covering the mouthpiece with her left hand, telling Bernie’s mother that her elder daughter was on the line, before finally handing over the phone.
“Daughter, are you having a nice trip?”
“Yes, Mama. But Mrs. Darkwater said something’s happening with Sister.”
Silence. Then, “She has not come home. I tried to call her on that phone she has, but she did not answer me. I waited for her all night.”
The phone went silent. Chee heard Bernie’s mother sigh.
“Mama, was Sister arguing with you, something like that?” Darleen had never run away before, but maybe she’d needed some space to cool off.
“No. Some friends came by, and she drove off with them. She was happy. That’s all.” Bernie’s mother paused. “You find out what went wrong and bring her back here.”
“I’ll find out.”
An accident, perhaps? Chee wondered. Or maybe Darleen’s drinking had led to an arrest.
Bernie shifted gears. “What did you eat today, Mama?”
“I didn’t get around to that yet.”
“Is there something in the refrigerator for you to make a sandwich?”
“I’m not so hungry.”
Chee watched Bernie drum her index finger on the table next to her plate. Mama could be as stubborn as her daughter.
“At least have some peanut butter and crackers. Maybe there’s some juice. You don’t want to get weak, Mama, especially with the heat.”
The phone faded to silence, and then Mama said, “The sun can be hot in that valley. You be sure to have plenty of water. Make sure the Cheeseburger has water, too.”
Mama and Darleen had given Chee that nickname before he married Bernie. F
unny, he thought, since Bernie preferred her burgers cheese-less.
Bernie exhaled, and Chee saw the worry on her face. “Could you hand the phone back to Mrs. Darkwater, please?”
“She’s not here.”
“But she just called.”
“I told her to leave with her son and the little one. Darleen will be home soon.”
“Mama, listen. We don’t know when Darleen will be home. I will find out what happened to her. Do you know the names of the friends she left with?”
“One was that Stoop Man. And his sister, too.” Mama’s voice had an edge now. “Daughter, I need to say an important thing.”
Bernie and Chee stared at the cell phone, waiting.
“If you come here now instead of staying there with the one you married, I will be angry with you. T’ahi’go.” The word translated to something between “livid” and “furious.”
“You hear me, daughter? Understand this.”
Bernie’s eyes glistened. “Use your walker, Mama. Be really careful. Drink something.”
Bernie’s mother was probably not sipping water like she was supposed to, Chee realized, because without Darleen as a safety net, using the bathroom was difficult for her. She had given herself a black eye that spring when she slipped and fell against the tub.
“You be careful, too,” she said to Bernie, and hung up.
Bernie looked at the phone and then shifted her gaze to the picture-perfect view of the expansive valley. Chee thought how much they’d been looking forward to this vacation. He thought about the private tour in the People Mover, and Bernie’s face when he told her how the red stone buttes and spires began to glow at the first hint of dawn. He thought of who they knew who might be willing to stay with Bernie’s mother, and discarded every idea as quickly as it popped up.
“I need to check on Mama and figure out what’s happening with Darleen.” She looked like she was fighting back tears. “Oh, honey, I’m so—”
Chee touched her lips with his fingertip. He had already left cash for the bill and a tip on the table. He reached for his truck keys. “Don’t forget to take your burger. I might want it later if you don’t.”
3
They made good time, Chee driving as fast as he could safely. Before they reached Agathla Peak, Bernie had called the hospitals in Shiprock and Farmington. If her baby sister had been in an accident fairly close to home, the ambulances would have taken her there first. Through friends who worked in the emergency rooms and gave her the information confidentially, she learned that Darleen had not come in for treatment, been admitted, or been transferred elsewhere. Good, but it left the mystery unsolved. Of course, there were other hospitals in the area—Gallup, Cortez, Durango—but those were farther away, and Bernie didn’t have contacts there. She’d put that off until she ran into a dead end.
Darleen could have been arrested. If she were, it probably had to do with too many beers.
Bernie thought about calling Bigman and decided not to, at least for now. If the Navajo Police had picked up Darleen, she knew someone would be in touch. Even if they had stopped Darleen and let her go, Bernie and Chee would find out about it soon enough. Theirs was a small and close-knit community. She’d have to live with the embarrassment.
She phoned a girlfriend who worked for the San Juan County sheriff’s office and could have discreetly found out if Sister had been arrested by one of the deputies. But the woman was out of the office, and Bernie didn’t have her cell number.
So she sat and fidgeted, edgy and uncomfortable in this unknown territory. She could have asked Chee his opinion, but she wasn’t ready for it yet.
They rode in silence to Kayenta, where Chee turned on to US 160. They cruised east on a paved two-lane highway with no traffic signals, stop signs, cell service, or patrol cars, and plenty of scenery. Bernie studied the landscape as it rolled by, watching the first tinge of pink sunset brighten to brilliance and then fade again to soft gray. She turned on the radio and channel-surfed, finding only static. Turned it off again. Looked out the window until she could see the first pinpoints of starlight in the summer sky.
Chee broke the silence. “When Paul told me he could use some help, I didn’t realize how much.”
“Paul’s a nice guy, hard to say no to. It felt good to do something physical instead of sitting in my unit all day.”
“He told me how much he liked you. I mentioned that your sister was single and cute. I told him she was a strong girl, too. A good worker.”
“You didn’t!”
Chee laughed. “I didn’t. You think I should be a matchmaker?”
“Don’t you dare.” She moved closer to him, slipped off her shoes, and put her stockinged feet up on the seat beneath her. Chee wrapped his arm around her.
His phone rang from the center console, where he’d placed it along with his sunglasses. Bernie looked at the screen. “It’s Paul.” She answered and put it on speaker.
“So where are you guys? Guess I should have told you to get back before sunset.”
“Oh, man, I should have called you,” Chee said. “Bernie’s mother had an emergency and we had to drive back to Toadlena. I forgot to let you know.”
“It’s OK, bro. I would have canceled your tour anyway. The People Mover won’t start.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you can take a look.”
Chee asked more questions and they listened as Paul tried to define the problem.
“That sounds easy to fix.”
“I hope so,” Paul said. “Easy for you, anyway. I’m not great with this stuff.”
“You can do it. Take the phone outside, and I’ll walk you through it. First, open the hood and find the battery.”
They waited, and then Paul’s voice was back over the speaker. “Is there a latch or something? It doesn’t want to go up, man. Oh, wait, I got it now.”
Chee started to explain, but it soon became obvious that Paul needed more than a verbal map to discover the mysterious world beneath the hood of an aged vehicle. “Do you know somebody who’s good with cars?” There had to be a shade-tree mechanic in the Monument Valley community who could help him; living in out-of-the-way places bred self-sufficiency and cooperation.
“Yeah, sure, bro, but you are my go-to guy tonight. I’ll try doing what you say.”
“Good.”
“Speaking of good, here’s some good news. Outback Expeditions—that’s Ron Goodspring’s company—he called me after you and Bernie left for the movie. Ronnie’s got four people from Norway wanting a sunrise photo tour, and he can’t handle them. I just landed my first referral.” Paul talked in enticing detail about where he would take them—Skull Arch, Honeymoon Arch, House of Many Hands ruin. “We’ll probably stop so they can take pictures of horses on the sand dunes, too. When will you and Bernie get back?”
“I don’t know. Everything’s up in the air at this point. We’re not sure what’s happening with Bernie’s mom.”
“It depends on Mama and—and some other stuff,” Bernie chimed in. “Nice to have met you if I don’t make it back this time.”
“I hope everything works out OK. You all stay in touch.”
“Thank you,” Bernie said. “Come see us in Shiprock.”
Paul hung up, and Bernie snuggled closer. “I appreciate you not mentioning Sister.”
“I didn’t want to spoil our double date.”
Chee focused on passing the occasional RV or delivery truck and watching for animals on the road as he considered the problem with Paul’s vehicle. How could he explain in the simplest terms how to fix it in time for the morning tour? Maybe, just maybe, things would work out with Darleen and Mama, and he and Bernie could salvage some of their vacation before he had to go back to work.
Bernie hadn’t talked to any of her law enforcement contacts, he noticed. “Are you OK?” he asked.
“I guess,” she said. “I’m trying not to worry. I just want to sit here and think about t
his, figure out what comes next. Sister probably did something dumb, but I hope she’s OK. She said she’d give Mama more help while we were gone, and I trusted her. I shouldn’t have.”
Chee started to add that they didn’t know Darleen’s side of the story, but thought better of it.
They reached the turnoff for Many Farms and Mexican Water, Arizona. Just beyond that was the road that could have taken them north to Utah. A few minutes later, Chee read the big Welcome to New Mexico sign. It was interesting, he thought, that the state considered this obscure border important enough to mark. When they reached 491, with its big trucks roaring toward Gallup or the Colorado border, he turned south.
“I think I’ve come up with the start of a plan,” Bernie said. “Tell me what you think.”
“Go ahead.”
“My job is to make sure that Mama is safe. I should have been on top of this sooner. So I’m making a list of relatives I can call to give us some help or who might know somebody to stay with Mama. I’ll work on that, then deal with whatever trouble Darleen is in.”
She squeezed his hand. “And I thought some more about that guy with the boxes of dirt. Maybe instead of hiding something in the dirt, he was interested in the dirt itself—hunting for pot shards or charcoal from an old fire pit, or something like that. You can barely take a hike out here without running into an archaeological site.”
“Hmmmm.”
“That’s lame?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” He felt her shift, straightening her legs. “Thank you for coming home with me.”
“Every pretty girl needs a chauffeur.” But he heard her use the word home for her mother’s house. When would his house, their house, be home? Maybe with a kid or two playing outside?
Bernie pushed her hair behind her ears. “Did I tell you about those beer cans stacked up in Sister’s bedroom? I’ve seen her drunk when I’ve gone to Mama’s. One day she could barely get out of the car. I didn’t want to think about it, but now I have to. I should have been tougher on her. Maybe this will be a wakeup call. What do you think?”
Rock with Wings Page 3