“It was an emergency,” I explained. Though there was no way I could explain to her that the emergency had involved an NCDP who’d unexpectedly shown up at the park while I was babysitting them, and that they’d been safer in the car, as he’d been trying to resist mediation by way of pelting me with a municipal trash can. “And I left the windows cracked.”
“It was so exciting,” Mopsy said. “Especially when you threw that garbage can against the windshield, and it exploded!”
I most definitely could not explain that the NCDP had by that point been inside the garbage can.
To the girls I said, “Could you please cut Aunt Suze some slack? I’m trying to talk to the nice lady.”
Behind me, I heard the sliding doors to the hospital’s main entrance whoosh open, and I whipped my head around, half hoping to see Brad coming to rescue me from the girls, but mostly hoping it would be Jesse.
My heart sank when it was neither, just some young guy with a goatee carrying balloons for a patient he’d come to visit.
I couldn’t understand it. I knew Jesse had worked two back-to-back shifts straight through (which is technically illegal, but most residents do it, not out of choice so much as out of necessity), so I wasn’t surprised he’d slept through the ringer on both his cell and the house phone when I called to let him know what had happened to Father Dom.
But he usually felt it when I was upset about something, even in his sleep, and came running.
So where was he? Why hadn’t he called me back?
“Why do we need to cut you some slack, Aunt Suze?” Flopsy wanted to know.
“Because she’s worried about Father Dominic, and you should be, too, stupid,” Mopsy informed her. “He’s probably going to die.”
“I’m not stupid, you are.”
“I’m not stupid, you are.”
“Aunt Suze, she called me stupid.”
“Hey, kids,” I said brightly, reaching for my wallet. “Are you thirsty? Why don’t you go get a soda? I see some machines over there.”
Shrieking with joy at the prospect of sugar, which they were not allowed at home, the girls snatched singles from my hand and tore from the reception area at top speed, nearly crashing into several people who were waiting to see the triage nurse.
“Be sure to get lots of candy bars, too,” I called after them. “The kind that rot your teeth. And don’t talk to strangers. Look.” I turned back to Peggy, leaning in very close and lowering my voice so that only she could hear me. “I am not in the mood for this right now. You’re going to tell me where they’ve taken that priest, or I’m going to let those three unholy terrors you think are so cute get all hopped up on sugar, then turn them loose in your ER. I’m going to let them touch everything, and you do not want that, because guess what? They haven’t had any of their shots. Who knows what kind of weird diseases they’re carrying without even showing symptoms? Mumps. Polio. Whooping cough. Measles. Did you know that measles is still one of the leading causes of death in children worldwide? That because it’s so infectious, nine out of ten people who haven’t been vaccinated against it who come into contact with someone who has it will catch it. Is that really what you want? All those vulnerable, unvaccinated babies in your maternity ward to come down with measles in a matter of hours?”
Peggy’s eyes widened to their limits, and she scooted her wheeled chair away from me. “I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m going to go get my supervisor.”
“You do that,” I said. “But remember, the longer you make me wait, the more contagions are festering on those little girls’ hands. I hope you have a vat load of antibacterial lotion nearby.”
While she was gone, I pulled out my cell phone to try Jesse again.
Four missed calls from him, and three texts!
For once, the texts weren’t in Spanish, which indicated how dire he considered the situation. He spoke in English only when he was feeling calm, texted in it only when he was not.
Jesse Got your messages. I’ve been trying to call you, but you aren’t picking up.
NOV 17 4:20 PM
What? I studied my phone more closely. Of course. The ringer had been switched off. Not only that, the screen saver had been changed from a photo of my pet rat, Romeo, adorably asleep on my fiancé’s shoulder as Jesse read one of his medical textbooks, to one of all three of my stepnieces in the backseat of the Land Rover, leering into the camera.
I glanced at the vending area, where Flopsy and Mopsy were now fighting over a bag of Skittles. A favorite trick of the triplets was to sneak electronic devices out of the bag or pocket of whatever adult was nearby, then completely reset them and slip them back without the person ever suspecting.
When they were older they were going to end up either in prison or working for the NSA.
I sighed and scrolled to the next text.
Jesse Don’t worry, querida. Everything is going to be all right. I’ll take care of this.
I swear.
NOV 17 4:25 PM
“I’ll take care of this.”
What was he talking about? What was there that he could take care of that I didn’t have under control?
His next text was only slightly more illuminating.
Jesse No one’s at your office. You must be at the hospital. I will see you there.
I stopped by the church to pick up a few of the father’s things.
Te amo, querida.
Nov 17 5:05 PM