Darleen had been drinking. Bernie’s heart sank.
“I got a buncha drawings done for that portfolio. When can you come over so I can show you? I’m celebrating now.”
“You aren’t driving tonight, are you?”
“Duh. That’s why I called, so you can come over here. Mama and I are watching an old movie on TV. I forget the name, but it’s funny. Here, she wants to talk to you.”
Bernie could hear the phone being transferred.
“Eldest Daughter, how are you?”
“I’m fine, Mama. Did you and Darleen have dinner?”
“Yes. Pancakes. Everything is fine here.”
“Except that Darleen has been drinking.”
“We have an agreement now. She only drinks at home, and I have her car keys.”
“I don’t think that school in Santa Fe is a good idea.” Bernie spoke without her usual caution.
“It is a good idea for her to have something to look forward to.”
“Tell Sister I’m tired tonight. I will look at her drawings tomorrow when I come to see you.”
Bernie was getting ready for bed when the phone rang. She checked the ID, and was relieved to learn that it wasn’t work, or Darleen calling back to argue.
“Hi, Louisa.”
“Hey there. I wanted to tell you that Joe is enjoying the laptop. We installed the Navajo language font.”
“Great.”
“He’s doing research on hummingbirds. And he’s looking up that cactus you gave me to see what kind it is.”
Bernie thought of the necklace Chee had mentioned, and explained the situation to Louisa. “I’m going to e-mail the Lieutenant a photo. Maybe he can find out something about it. He has Chee’s listing in his address book, so he can respond directly to him.”
“Good idea. Joe is really taking to this computer. You know, his spirit has been up and down. The physical therapist says that he’s frustrated, and it’s all part of the brain injury. But he’s got some of his old sparkle back.”
Bernie couldn’t imagine the Lieutenant having mood swings. She’d seen him satisfied, if not actually happy, when a case came to conclusion, and noticed brief, rare flashes of irritation, usually directed at Chee or the feds, but that was it. Sparkle was not a word she ever would have used to describe the Lieutenant. But she didn’t know him the way Louisa did.
Bernie woke early, went for a run, took a shower, and ate a tortilla with some peanut butter. She put on her uniform for work and headed to Mama’s.
Mama was sweeping the porch when Bernie drove up, using the broom for a bit of support.
“You’re working hard this morning. Did you have your breakfast?”
“I made the coffee.” Mama indicated the chair against the front of the house, next to her walker. “You sit here while I finish.”
It was nearly nine. Bernie asked, “May I fix you something to eat?”
Mama shook her head. “Youngest Daughter set up oatmeal in that envelope. She leaves me a bowl, even the water in a cup.” Mama swept the last of the dirt off the porch and moved carefully toward the walker. “She likes that beeping machine and those little packages.”
The microwave oatmeal Darleen had purchased was full of sugar, not as healthy for Mama, and more expensive than the regular kind. “I’ll tell her how to make the oatmeal you like.”
“I already showed her.” Mama laughed. “You explain how to make it in the bee na’niildóhó. That’s the way she does it.”
Bernie smiled at the Navajo word for microwave oven. It translated to “you warm things up with it.”
Mama looked good this morning. Relieved, no doubt, that what seemed to be a major problem for Darleen turned out to be less than that. Bernie would talk to her sister about the ramifications of her arrest, and learn what came next, if anything.
“How are you, my daughter? There’s some trouble in your voice.”
“Oh, a little problem at work.”
“And with the one you married?”
“I miss him.”
“He works hard, that one. He won’t forget you. Can you stay here with us today?”
“No, I have to patrol this afternoon. I just came by for a quick visit and to take a look at Sister’s new drawings.”
“That’s good. She’s in the kitchen.”
Darleen had opened a Mountain Dew, and sat at the table with two piles of papers in front of her. She wore silver hoop earrings that reached her chin and a knit shirt with a butterfly on it that, Bernie thought, would have fit better a size larger.
Bernie sat next to her. “Where are your drawings? I’m glad you did some.”
Darleen sighed. “I looked at them this morning. They still need work.” She put her elbows on the table. “And I don’t know about all this. I never was good at school.”
“You’re smart, you just weren’t motivated.” Bernie glanced at the paperwork Darleen had assembled—an admission application, student housing requests, and forms for financial aid. “Did you call the school and find out about the deadlines and the GED?”
“I left a message. No one called me back.” Darleen shoved a booklet toward her. “Look at this. They want to know all kinds of stuff. I don’t get it.”
Bernie opened the cover and thumbed through it. It was the application for financial aid, a universal form that many colleges used. Darleen had answered the questions requiring basic information but left most of it blank.
She could take over, Bernie thought, but she wasn’t going to. She poured herself half a cup of coffee. “Want some?”
“No, thanks. I made it too strong this morning.”
Bernie picked up the financial aid application again. “How much is tuition anyway?”
“I don’t remember. It’s here somewhere.” Darleen started shuffling through the piles.
“When the person from the school calls you back, ask about that too.”
“Are you going to help me?”
“When there’s something I can do. For now, you can handle all this.”
And if you can’t, Bernie thought, you shouldn’t be going away to school.
Darleen sighed. “You know, I just want to be an artist. This is really complicated.”
“Life’s complicated.”
“Like you and that the guy with the dirt?”
“Yeah,” Bernie said. “Like you getting arrested. What’s next with that?”
Darleen shrugged. “I got a ticket. Twenty-five dollars. Stoop Man is all mad at me and his sister for being drunk. He’ll get over it.”
Bernie said, “I don’t like you getting drunk either. Neither does Mama.”
“I’m OK. I just do it to celebrate or when I don’t have anything better to do. Don’t nag me anymore.”