Ariel's Crossing - Bradford Morrow [124]
Sarah was reminded of another such morning as she drove across San Ildefonso pueblo toward the Hill. Mary was fighting for her life in a different way than Kip had fought for his, but she faced unknowns no less intimidating. Maybe more so, given, as Kip himself once said, living is often harder than dying. A lifetime lay ahead for Mary, no matter what decisions she made from this moment forward, whereas Kip seemed to be on a path that led toward relinquishment.
At Pajarito, Sarah had come close to sharing Mary’s secret with her husband. Leaving the girl in the kitchen, she woke Carl to tell him she was heading to work early. He squinted at the alarm clock and asked if the spry drifters had returned from their mysterious adventure. Seldom one to hide things from him, she cleared her throat, crossed her arms, and considered what words to use. His face, genial and sleepy before, fell into a rigid scowl when she simply said no.
“Well, where the hell are they?”
One secret or another had to give. Sarah told him about Delfino and Kip.
“Ridiculous,” he grumbled.
“What do you want to do?”
“Not a goddamn thing.”
“You’re not afraid they’ll wind up going to jail?”
“Can’t wind up in jail if you don’t break the law. I don’t see them managing to get far enough into White Sands to break the law.”
“I think you underestimate them.”
“They won’t get a hundred yards past the range perimeter. And if they do, getting busted might teach them loons a lesson.”
Tough brother talk, but Sarah read his scowl better than Carl might have imagined. She hesitated.
“That’s not all, is it,” he said.
“Well, not quite.”
“What else?”
“Marcos and Ariel went down there to find them.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
“You want me to bring you some coffee?”
“You’re not joking.”
“No.”
“I’m awake, might as well get up. Did I hear you talking to Franny out in the kitchen?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, at least she’s got some sanity to her.”
She knew her husband to be an understanding man. Allowing people their eccentricities, faults, and mess-ups was one of his virtues, something best learned early by anyone who would presume to work with animals. But unmasking Franny on top of everything else would push beyond Carl’s patience. He was the definition of mellow until you got him mad. Delfino and Kip, not to mention Marcos and also Kip’s daughter, were enough worry for one day. Besides, once he’d had time to think things over, his first response of hang-it-all diffidence would give way to a much more upset Carl.
“I have to tell Ariel’s grandmother and aunt what’s going on,” she said. “Can’t do it by phone, it wouldn’t be right. I’ll be home early, take the afternoon off so we can figure out what to do.”
“All right,” said Carl.
“Promise me you won’t go doing anything before I get back.”
“How could I? As it is, looks like I gotta do Marcos’s work, Kip’s, and my own to boot.”
“Seriously, Carl.”
“Don’t sweat. I don’t know what to do right now, anyway.”
The daybreak light was thin and brown. Black Mesa was veiled by a dust cloud. Wind shepherded burrs and tossed bits of bramble. Tumbleweeds bounded across the road in the futile headlights. Mary watched all this, numbly knowing the circle of her conceit had come full around. She felt as mindlessly driven as any of that stuff blown by the wind before them. Everything was out of check, the result of being beholden to too many unraveling promises—Kip’s to Delfino, Marcos’s to Kip, Mary’s to Marcos, Sarah’s to Mary. What better place than Los Alamos, she mused, remembering something Kip once said, to arrive with good intentions that might bring about dire consequences?
“I appreciate you coming along.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to tell them?”
“Well, having got you out