Misplaced (77 page)

Lila
sat
beside
Khara
to
finish
her
morning
cigarette.
Due
to
Celeste’
s
delicat
e
health
,
smokin
g
i
n
th
e
mai
n
hous
e
w
a
s
strictl
y
forbidden
.
Sh
e
hel
d
i
t
ou
t
t
o
Khara
,
wh
o
wrinkle
d
he
r
nos
e
and
turned a
w
ay, and then shrugged and
w
atched her husband.

V
ictori
a
joine
d
the
m
outside
.
“Wha
t
woul
d
yo
u
sa
y
to
having some help with the cooking?”

“Y
ou?” Lila asked, astonished.

“
W
al
t
say
s
Celeste’
s
standin
g
s
o
lon
g
i
s
ba
d
fo
r
he
r
back.
While
w
e
’
re
here,
I
can
help
out.
I’m
not
completely
helpless
in
the kitchen, you know.”

Lila blew a last puff
of smoke out hard.

“I can follow instructions.”

“Com
e
o
n
then.
”
Lil
a
carefull
y
place
d
th
e
half-smoked
cigarette
under
the
lea
v
es
of
one
of
Celeste’s
prized
hostas
and
took off
for the main house.

A
clinking
sound
w
elcomed
them
as
the
wind
pushed
into
the
dining
room.
“Celeste
needs
good
food,
and
a
lot
more
of
it
than you
’
d think, to keep up her strength.”

“Bacon and eggs are my specialty,”
V
ictoria lied.

“No
w
you
’
r
e
talking
.
An
d
scone
s
ar
e
he
r
favorite
.
W
alt
ne
v
er made it home last night, which makes breakfast for six.”

“I’
v
e ne
v
er made scones.”

“Neithe
r
ha
d
I,
”
Lil
a
confessed
.
Sh
e
se
t
a
larg
e
stainless-steel
bo
w
l
in
front
of
V
ictoria
and
gathered
butter,
blueberries,
and
buttermilk,
as
w
ell
as
flour,
sugar,
baking
powder,
and
spices.
The
n
sh
e
whiske
d
th
e
dr
y
ingredient
s
togethe
r
an
d
afte
r
grating
a lemon naked, added the rind.
“Mixin
g
th
e
buttermil
k
i
n
thi
s
w
a
y
help
s
kee
p
th
e
dough
tender.”

Under
Lila’s
practiced
e
y
es,
V
ictoria
rolled
the
soft
pile
into
a
rectangle
,
droppe
d
th
e
blueberrie
s
o
n
top
,
an
d
the
n
folded
th
e
doug
h
int
o
thirds
.
Whe
n
i
t
w
a
s
finall
y
cu
t
int
o
w
edges,
sprinkled
with
sugar,
and
put
into
the
o
v
en,
it
seemed
nothing
short of a miracle.

Th
e
sumptuou
s
scen
t
soo
n
brough
t
th
e
others
.
W
al
t
w
as
first,
tucking
in
his
shirttail and
smoothing
back
his
sil
v
er
hair
while
sniffing
the
air.
V
ictoria
concentrated
on
not
o
v
ercooking
the eggs while Lila pulled out a chair for Celeste.

“
Y
ou
’
re a dreadful guest, cookie,” Celeste told
V
ictoria.

V
ictori
a
chos
e
he
r
word
s
carefully
.
“
I
though
t
i
f
I
helped
out
with
meals,
it
would
free
you
up
to
teach
Khara
the
finer
points
of
American
traditions.”
When
W
alt
ga
v
e
her
a
strange
look,
she
added
matter-of-factly,
“Khara’s
studying
the
impact
of
W
esternization on less ad
v
anced countries.”

W
it
h
a
n
ai
r
o
f
complicity
,
Celest
e
asked
,
“Speakin
g
o
f
my
guest, where is she?”

Chapte
r
Thirty-three
Kha
r
a

Th
e
bar
n
doo
r
w
a
s
open
.
Knowin
g
sh
e
ha
d
close
d
and
locke
d
i
t
th
e
e
v
enin
g
before
,
Khara’
s
firs
t
step
s
insid
e
w
ere
cautious
.
Sunshin
e
in
v
ade
d
tin
y
crack
s
bet
w
ee
n
th
e
wooden
slats
,
s
o
th
e
tac
k
roo
m
w
a
s
no
t
completel
y
dark
.
Whe
n
she
paused in the door
w
ay to let her e
y
es adjust, her nostrils filled with
the
s
w
eet
smells
of
hay
and
moist
earth. After
few
more steps, the heady essence of horses reached her. She reached for a bridle that hung just inside the door
w
ay, rubbing the leather
stra
p
bet
w
ee
n
he
r
fingers
.
I
n
tha
t
moment
,
sh
e
w
a
s
hom
e
again.

A
shuffling noise
from
the
opposite
end
of
the
barn
jolted
he
r
bac
k
t
o
reality
.
“Who’
s
there?
”
sh
e
called
.
Th
e
onl
y
respons
e
w
as the strong, hollow breath of animals.

A
n
enormou
s
ba
y
stoo
d
quietl
y
i
n a
stal
l
bearin
g
his
name
.
Khar
a
remembere
d
Chris’
s
ster
n
w
arnin
g
abou
t
his
undisciplined spirit;
she
should not,
under
any
circumstances, get too close. Luminous e
y
es
w
atched as she stood in front of his stall. They regarded each other without hurry.

Lik
e
man
y
thing
s
a
t
th
e
Square-4
Ranch
,
Almo
s
seemed
to
languish
in
the
absence
of
his
master.
Reaching
out,
Khara
cupped
a
hand
around
his
ear
and
gently
rubbed
the
soft
fur
inside.
Here,
the
hands
of
Celeste’s
ticking
w
atch
w
ere
useless.
Sh
e
stoppe
d
pettin
g
an
d
too
k
a
calculate
d
ste
p
back
w
ard
.
When
h
e
mo
v
e
d
for
w
ard
,
hi
s
heav
y
ches
t
pushin
g
agains
t
th
e
stal
l
door
,
sh
e
grinne
d
an
d
w
en
t
t
o
him
.
P
lacin
g
he
r
forehea
d
against
his, she stroked the side of his neck.

“Whe
n
I
lear
n
t
o
us
e
a
saddle
,
wil
l
yo
u
sho
w
m
e
th
e
forest?”

He snorted and stamped a hoof into the straw.
“It’s
been
too
long
since
I
had
my
nose
in
a
field
of
grass,”
he told her.

Soon
her
heart
w
as
beating
with
the
same
slow
deliberation
as
his.
Her
hand
ran
from
the
hard
flatness
of
his
forehead
to
th
e
v
el
v
e
t
nose
.
Age
s
ha
d
passe
d
sinc
e
Khar
a
ha
d
fel
t
such
peace.

Ther
e
w
a
s
tha
t
shufflin
g
nois
e
again
.
A
t
th
e
bac
k
o
f
th
e
barn,
sh
e
sa
w
a
fi
g
ur
e
lur
k
in
g
i
n
t
h
e
shadow
s
o
f
a
doze
n
s
t
ac
k
ed
bales of hay.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Someon
e
wh
o
belong
s
here,
” w
a
s
th
e
ans
w
er
.
“The
question is, who are you?”

A
youn
g
ma
n
wit
h
blac
k
hai
r
steppe
d
out
,
arm
s
folded
across
his
chest approached,
his
head
tilted
to
one
side.
It
w
as
not
the
familiarity
of
his
earthy
skin
and
dark
hair
that
dre
w
he
r
in
;
Khar
a
w
a
s
lure
d
b
y
hi
s
cal
m
assuranc
e
an
d
the
mischie
f
i
n
hi
s
e
y
es
.
W
atchin
g
her
,
hi
s
smil
e
grew
,
a
s
di
d
the
dimple
s
i
n
hi
s
cheeks
.
H
e
di
d
no
t
regar
d
he
r
a
s
someon
e
to
gro
v
e
l
o
v
e
r
o
r
sho
w
e
r
wit
h
fals
e
compliments
.
H
e
knew
nothing about her, and for this she
w
as o
v
erjo
y
ed.

“I
didn’t
mean
to
startle
you.
My
name
is
Oli
v
er.
Y
ou
still
ha
v
en’t said what you
’
re doing here.”

The
sound
of
his
voice
made
her
remember
the
rushing
of
the
Nile
during
flood
season.
He
came
closer,
tucking
his
hair
behind
his
ear
and
w
atching
her
expectantly.
Oli
v
er
wore
the
look
of
a
skeptic,
his
left
e
y
ebrow
noticeably
higher
o
v
er
e
y
es
th
e
colo
r
o
f
dam
p
earth
.
Hi
s
lip
s
mad
e
he
r
fee
l
suddenl
y
thirsty.