Late as it was when Joanna arrived home, she started the washer the moment she walked in the door. She had used the last of her clean underwear that morning. If she didn’t stay up late enough to put a load of wash in the dryer, she’d have to wear a damp bra and pair of panties to work the next morning.
Once she staggered into bed, sleep came quickly, but so did morning. Feeling guilty about spending so much time away from Jenny, Joanna had set the alarm for six so she could drive into town early and have breakfast with Jenny before she left for school.
She was dressed and close to leaving the house when the phone rang. Hurrying back to answer it, she found her mother on the phone. “You never called me back yesterday,” Eleanor complained.
“I didn’t get home until almost midnight,” Joanna answered. “I didn’t think you’d want me to call that late.”
“Well, I suppose not,,” Eleanor agreed. “Were you out dealing with that awful mess up by Tombstone?”
Joanna sighed. “As a matter of fact, I was.”
“What I can’t understand is why those people keep on coming here in the first place. Why don’t they just stay in Mexico where they belong?”
“Why didn’t your great-grandparents stay in England?” Joanna asked.
“That was different,” Eleanor told her.
This was a long-standing argument-one that no amount of logic could win. Joanna closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “What is it you want, Mother?”
There was a slight pause before Eleanor answered. “Are you planning on attending the Buckwalter funeral this morning?” she asked finally.
“Yes.”
“Well, good,” Eleanor said. “You should. Your father always did. Keeping up appearances, you know. In the face of this awful crime wave, it’s important that people see you out in public and know you’re on the job.”
Eleanor hadn’t been wildly in favor of her daughter’s running for office in the first place. Now that Joanna had won the election, however, Eleanor Lathrop seemed determined to do everything necessary to keep the job of sheriff in the family.
“Right, Mother,” Joanna said.
“You know,” Eleanor added, “I never remember anything like this number of homicides happening all at once when your father was in office.”
No doubt there was a hidden subtext behind that comment. Eleanor was probably building tip to letting Joanna know that everything that had happened was all Joanna’s fault. It was fine for Joanna to blame herself. It was definitely not okay for her mother to do the same.
“Neither do I,” Joanna said. “But times have changed, haven’t they?”
“Yes,” Eleanor admitted. “I suppose they have. By the way, did you ever talk to Reverend Maculyea? She called here looking for you.”
“Marianne called there? That’s odd. What’s going on?” “I don’t know. You’d better talk to her first thing.”
“I will,” Joanna agreed. “As soon as I get off the phone with you.”
It was only after she clicked the receiver that Joanna remembered that she still hadn’t tackled her mother on the subject of her relationship with Cochise County Coroner George Winfield. That conversation was going to come, though, eventually.
Joanna dialed Marianne Maculyea’s number without ever dropping the telephone receiver back on the hook. She was worried about calling too early, but when Marianne answered she sounded wide awake, if harried.
“I can’t talk long,” the pastor said. “I’m on my way out the door to catch a plane.”
“A plane. Where to?”
“San Francisco. Jeff sent me a telegram yesterday afternoon. First nothing happens for weeks on end. Then all of a sudden he sends word yesterday that I have to be in San Francisco by noon today. The expectation had always been for him to fly into Tucson and for me to meet him there. He didn’t send along any explanation about the change in plan, either. Nothing. Just ‘meet us in San Francisco,’ and a flight number from Hong Kong. But that’s something anyway. At least he said ‘us’. It means…”
Marianne’s voice faltered.
“It means he did get the baby, right?” Joanna finished triumphantly.
“That’s right.”
“How great! Mari, congratulations. Aren’t you excited?”
“Yes, but… It’s just that…”
“It’s just what?”
“I’ve been so worried that there was some kind of hitch and he wouldn’t be able to get her out, that I had sort of given up hope. Now I guess I’m a little overwhelmed.”
“Do you need a ride to Tucson? Can I come pick you up? God knows, I’ve put in enough hours at work this week.”
“No,” Marianne said. “I’ve asked Billy Matthews from First Baptist to substitute for me at Bucky Buckwalter’s funeral. Meantime, I’m driving myself up in the Bug.”
Joanna knew her friend well enough to discern the undercurrent of concern beneath her business-as-usual words. “Mari,” Joanna said, “what’s wrong?”
Marianne laughed. “I’m that transparent?”
“To me you are. Now tell me. What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared,” Marianne Maculyea said.
“Scared of what?”
“Of becoming a mother. All of a sudden I realized I don’t know the first thing about it. What if she gets sick? What if she won’t eat or hurts herself? How will I know what to do?”
Joanna laughed at that. “Everybody feels that way in the beginning, but you’ll be fine. You and Jeff will be wonderful parents. Just remember, it’s all on-the-job training. How soon are you leaving for the airport?”
“Half an hour.”
“Promise me you won’t go until I get there. Jenny and have something that we want you to take along.”
“All right,” Marianne agreed. “I’ll wait.”
Joanna dropped that call and dialed the Bradys. Jenny answered the phone, sounding sulky. “Guess what?” Joanna announced. “Jeff is on his way to San Francisco with the new baby. Do you want to ride along up to the parsonage with me to give Marianne her present?”
Concerned that something might go wrong, Marianne had absolutely forbidden any presents or baby showers prior to knowing for sure that the adoption would go through. Once Jeff left for China, however, Joanna had bought a diaper bag. In the intervening weeks she and Jenny had added another item or two almost every time they had gone to the store.
The sulkiness went out of Jenny’s voice. “But it isn’t wrapped yet,” she objected.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Joanna said. “I’m leaving the house right now.”
“I’ll be ready,” Jenny said.
True to her word, Jenny was waiting on the porch when Joanna stopped in front of the Bradys’ neat duplex. In her arms she carried a bundle of pink yarn that turned out to be one of Eva Lou Brady’s down-soft broomstick-lace afghans.
In the Blazer, Jenny held the afghan against her mother’s face. “Isn’t it soft? I’ll bet the baby’s going to love it.”
“I’ll bet she is, too.”
At the parsonage up Tombstone Canyon, Marianne Maculyea was just loading her overnight bag into the VW when Joanna pulled up and stopped behind her. Jenny was out of the car almost before it stopped, carrying the bulging, bunny-covered diaper bag in one arm and the afghan in the other. As soon as Marianne saw then, she burst into tears.
“See?” Jenny said helpfully. “The straps are long enough so you can carry it over your shoulder. Like this.”
Laughing through her tears, Marianne slipped the diaper bag on one arm. “I guess this makes it real, doesn’t
