8 – Bread Crumbs

I followed Henry to the Red Pony and parked my car near the kitchen in the back. He went in quickly while I transferred my and Sugar's backpacks into his truck. When he came out, he slid a large box onto the flatbed with the barbeque and other supplies from the day. Sliding into the driver's seat, he scratched Sugar's head, and smiled at me as we drove off.

The south entrance for the Rez was only about fifteen minutes up the road.

"Your boss doesn't mind you taking the night off? I would think Saturday would be a busy night." I asked.

"It is, but everyone is entitled to time off now and then. I have a pretty flexible schedule."

"Lucky you. Do you enjoy what you do?"

"Very much. Although there are always things that need to be taken care of, every night is different. Different people on different nights means different dynamics. But, you can always count on the familiar, too. For example, Sam will come in every Friday around four, or if Jesse mixes beer and whiskey, even one shot, a fight will erupt."

"Keeps you on your toes. I know I've asked this before, but what exactly do you do there?"

He glanced over and smiled, and I rolled my eyes as we both laughed, "Everything."

I chuckled. I guess that was deserved. He was about as forthcoming about his job as I am about mine. Maybe I should change that.

As if reading my mind, my phone vibrated at my hip, and I pulled it out looking at the caller ID.

"Excuse me," I said flipping it open. "Farine," I briskly answered. The number was known, and the voice on the other end was familiar: Brook, my best friend in Mandera. It would be about six the next morning there, taking in the time difference, and that concerned me.

"Salamu," I greeted in Swahili, glancing sideways at Henry. It was a start. "Ni mapema. nini ni vibaya?" (It is early. What is wrong?)

"Mimi zinahitajika kuongea na wewe." (I needed to speak with you.) My colleague replied in a hushed, worried voice.

"Shida na Lewis?" (Having trouble with Lewis?)

"Ndiyo. Ganjawi hapendi naye. Hali ni wakati." (Yes. Ganjawi doesn't like him. The situation is tense.) There was a slight pause. I could almost see Brook glancing over his shoulder in the way he always did when we spoke confidentially. "Unaweza haja ya kuzungumza naye." (You may need to speak with him.)

I glanced over at Henry again who was politely trying to ignore the odd conversation. "Lewis or Ganjawi?" I switched to English and snorted knowing neither man would be easy to deal with.

"Both would be good," Brook responded with a heavy accent. "But, if you speak only with Commander Lewis, he will feel undermined, and if you speak only with Ganjawi, Lewis will know and will feel betrayed. But something needs to be done. The Commander may know the technicalities of his job, but he is not relating well to the people and not listening to our advice."

"And, you think he'll listen to me?"

"He should." Brook was firm, annoyed. "It is your path he must follow if peace is to be maintained. Both Ganjawi and Mirembe would rather deal with you, and they are not making it easy for the Commander. However, Lewis' abruptness is not popular either."

I frowned and looked out the truck window. "If I speak with them before speaking with Lewis, it would definitely be considered an undermine and betrayal. I can't do that." I paused. "Ganjawi and Mirembe have worked hard on this alliance. You're right; we can't let this situation deteriorate any further. Do you want me to call Lewis tonight?"

Just then, the pickup hit a bump, and I let out a little yelp as I unexpectedly bounced and hit my head on the ceiling.

"Where are you?" Brook asked curiously concerned.

"On my way to see a movie." I grinned at Henry who grimaced and mouthed I'm sorry then focused more closely on the road.

"Please tell me that you are not going alone." I could hear the exasperation in his voice. Brook had been bugging me for years about doing things on my own, that I should find someone. I used to jokingly reply that I didn't need anyone, I had him.

"Actually, no, I'm not alone."

"Kumshukuru mungu!" (Thank God!) My best friend sighed. "It's about time." There was a pause. "It is a man, correct?"

I laughed out loud. "Yes." I paused then got back on topic. "Do you want me to call tonight?"

There was a pause. "No," Brook answered. "Enjoy your night."

"Look," I started, "Keep Anton and Bennett in the village. They are our eyes and ears. I promise I'll call Lewis in the morning unless something critical happens in the meantime. I'll keep it easy. You know, just the Hi, how are things going- type call. At least that will be within my job. I'll see what he says and get back to you."

"That sounds good." I could hear relief in Brook's voice. "I will keep you informed. Go. Enjoy your movie. We should web chat soon. I miss your smile."

"You know, I'm doing a lot more of that these days." I grinned as we pulled onto the road that led to the Rez. "Look, I have to go, but I promise I'll make the call. I miss you. Take care."

"Have fun tonight, and don't go home." Brook was laughing as we hung up.

Don't go home, I snorted. Brook was always trying to make me cross that line. I frowned. Not anytime soon. A veteran at the hospital had told me to wear the scars as a badge of honor, but they were varied and deep. Not just physical. I just wasn't ready yet.

"Sorry about that," I apologized as I slid the phone back into its holster.

"No problem," Henry replied. "Work?"

I nodded.

"Swahili." He noted.

I nodded gain.

"It sounds like a difficult language to learn."

"It is, but it's either learn or rely on others to translate, and that could be very dangerous." I glanced out the window at the rundown, mobile homes and small, wooden houses as we entered the residential area of the Rez.

"Do you only speak Swahili?"

I sighed, thinking. Maybe it was time to start opening up. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. "No." I quietly answered.

Henry's brow knitted together. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Fluently, conversationally, or just to get by?"

Henry slowed as we approached the community center and took the opportunity to look directly at me. "You're serious." I returned his gaze. "Alright. All."

"Somewhere around thirteen."

His eyebrows shot up. "Thirteen? And, fluently?"

"That's easier." My lips twitched up uncomfortably. "Five. Although, it used to be six, but I haven't spoken German in many years, so it probably slides back to the conversational category."

"How did you learn all these languages?"

"Immersion mostly. Work. I deal with a lot of people from different places. My boss used to say that I picked up languages the way most people picked up colds. I had a knack for it. It's not something I advertise, though. Is that the community center?" I pointed to a low, white building with a number of children and parents milling about.

Henry drew his attention back to the approach. "Yes. I'll pull over to the side and unload the barbeque there. By the way, good digression." His lips twitched up as he parked the truck.

Henry got out, shook hands with a couple of men who came over to help, and they began unloading the equipment.

I slid out the other side, hooked Sugar's leash onto her harness, and moved to the back to help as well. The adults sent suspicious looks: white woman on Indian land, but several children came running over to pat Sugar. She just sat and proudly absorbed the attention.

A small boy and girl raced to the truck, the little boy, the youngest, launching himself into Henry's arms, squeezing the man's neck tight. The little girl, the mature older sister, stood back waiting her turn. Henry shifted the boy to his left hip and ran his hand affectionately down the little girl's cheek before taking her hand and wandering toward a slender, golden-skinned woman with long, black hair and dark, shining eyes. They hugged, and he gently kissed her forehead.

My heart rose into my throat and a crushing feeling tighten my chest. For a woman who has spent most of her life reading people, how could I have misread him so completely? Or, did I? Did I misinterpret something that really wasn't there? Was I hoping for something? Friends. He offered friendship. That's all I was interested in, all I was looking for. Right? So, why did this hurt? I shook my head at myself.

Returning to the cab of the truck, I hauled out Sugar's backpack and, taking a deep breath, pulled it onto my back and joined Henry and his family.

By now the boy was on the ground, and wrapped around Henry's leg hiding while the girl stared up at me with big, brown eyes.

"Julia." Henry held his hand out to me. "I want you to meet someone."

I stepped forward with a polite smile, hand uneasily gripping Sugar's leash.

"Yvonne, this is Julia." The introductions began, and the woman beamed. "Julia, this is my sister, Yvonne," he continued.

Sister? Relief flooded me. I wasn't trespassing.

"And these two rascals are Marcus and Layla." He finally pried the boy from his leg and brought him forward.

I reached my hand to Yvonne in greeting and knelt on my haunches to be eye level with the children.

"Hello there," I said confidently. "You're not afraid of me, are you?" I feigned shock comically as Marcus shied away. He giggled and shook his head "no".

"Does your dog bite?" Layla asked.

"No," I replied as I struggled to stand. "She's very gentle. Would you like to pat her?"

The children looked up at their mother, and she nodded approval.

"Henry says that you're far from home?" Yvonne began conversationally as we moved toward the community center.

"Yes," I replied.

"You don't have any family here?"

"No. My parents died when I was young." Another tidbit for Henry to digest.

"No brothers or sisters?" I could see her desire to ask about husband and children, but she politely held her tongue.

"No, I was an only child." Ah, the breadcrumbs were dropping.

At that, Layla gazed up at me. "Poor you. Ohana means family. And family means no one gets left behind. You got left behind."

Out of the mouths of babes. Gee, thanks kid. You have no idea.

Yvonne pressed her lips together in a quiet smile and shooed the children into the community center with the others.

"Sorry about that. A quote from tonight's movie," Yvonne clarified. "Lilo and Stitch. Layla's favorite. I think she has half the dialogue memorized. Come, I'll introduce you around while Henry and the others get the barbeque going."