CHAPTER TWO

Friday Night

"Why are you here, Yonas? Can't you see I'm packing?"Can't you see I want you to go away?

Yonas continued standing in the middle of Ganet's bedroom floor, thumbs in his jeans pockets, feet spread apart, steadfast.

That's not the attitude you showed last night when your mama asked how you could date an Eritrean after your great uncle Birhane was killed fighting the Eritrean People's Liberation Front. Ganet walked around him and flung open her closet door. How did one dress for a mid-May jaunt into the Rockies? She grabbed one pair of tailored slacks, two pairs of jeans, one button-down shirt, three T-shirts and a peasant blouse. She glanced over her shoulder at Yonas then grabbed her slinky red club dress.

Make him wonder. Why not?

As Ganet passed him on her way back to the suitcase opened up on her bed, he asked, "You're sure this is a work thing?"

Ganet bent over to hide her smirk as she tucked in her clothes. "Yeah. I'm contacting a client's brother on behalf of his sister-in-law. She's Habesha so naturally I got the assignment."

"Habesha? Is that Eritrean Habesha? Amhara? Tigre?"

Ganet sucked air through her teeth. "Is that you talking or your parents?" The whole reason she preferred to call herself Habesha was to downplay all that ethnic drama.

"It matters to a lot of people. You can't deny that. You can't just walk in without—"

"Well, the man I'm going to see is none of those. He's just a plain old American."

"White?"

"Isn't that what I said?"

Yonas folded his arms. "Well, I should come with you."

"Just like that?" And Ganet knew Yonas could—buy a ticket at the last minute and pick up and go just like that. His father owned a string of mattress stores. Hers drove a taxi. "I can handle this on my own."

"Some strange white guy? In some out-of-the-way mountain town up in Idaho? What if he's, I don't know, some sort of survivalist guy."

Ganet bit her lip. Then she strode away from Yonas into her bathroom.Survivalist guy. That's not at all how Oscar Keefers had described his brother, but that's exactly the worry that had crossed her mind. If Abel Keefers had really been a UCLA professor, wouldn't she have found some trace of him on the Internet? A crazy backwoods survivalist was the most likely candidate for someone as absent from the grid as he was.

"I don't need a big brother with me," Ganet called out as she collected her shampoo, hair oil and relaxer into her toiletries bag. "I'm a big girl myself." As she turned to exit her bathroom, she saw Yonas blocking the doorway.

"I'm not your brother. I'm not even your cousin."

Ganet gave him a sarcastic smile. "You'd think your mother would have been happy my grandparents are from Asmara. No chance we're related for seven generations and counting." She pushed around him.

"Come on, Konjo. Let me keep you company. It's a long flight. Probably a long drive. Plenty of time for you and me to figure out how to handle my family."

Handle his family? Ganet had wanted Yonas to stand up to his family. She tapped her foot. "I don't have the energy for this. I've got to be at the airport by six-thirty."

"At least let me give you a ride." Yonas smiled. "If I stay the night, we can get up nice and early."

Ganet turned away before he could see her roll her eyes. She stowed her last necessities and zipped her suitcase. "This is a big assignment for me. I need to prep before I go to sleep, and I don't need distractions. But if you think you can get here by six…"

When Ganet turned back, Yonas gave her a mock pout, but she saw renewed confidence in his eyes. He thought he had her again—sleepovers, club dates, a little rebellion against his parents. But if his father objected to the Eritrean who'd upset his mother, Yonas would stay in line. If he didn't, he might have to actually work for a living.

"By six," he repeated.

Ganet nodded. "Not a second later."

Saturday Morning

At dawn Saturday, Ganet packed her car, drove out of her condo's underground garage and re-parked a little ways up the block. She looked back through her rear window, wondering if Yonas would really manage to show up by six. Three minutes before, he did.

Not too shabby. When she got back from Idaho, she might just give him another chance. If only I could get him to stop watching porn.

Gunning her motor, Ganet pulled away from the curb, headed for Western Avenue, the entrance to the 10 freeway and on to LAX. Why would she need a ride to the airport when Dr. Keefers' travel arrangements included a voucher for terminal parking?

Late Saturday Afternoon

When Ganet drove into Bierce, Idaho eleven hours later, she wondered whether taking this assignment was such a good idea after all. In the air by 9:30 a.m., in a rented Subaru and on the road by one p.m., and she still wasn't at her destination. The further from Los Angeles and the deeper into Idaho she journeyed, the more out of her element she felt. Since getting off the plane she'd seen one Habesha—the man who drove the van to the rental cars. Since getting on the road, she'd seen fewer and fewer non-whites altogether. The last African American she'd seen had manned the counter where she'd stopped for lunch. In the tiny mountain town through which she was now driving, she might be the only one.

And I need gas.

Bierce appeared to be one long collection of buildings along ID-11—Quonset huts, a couple of strip malls and a dozen boxy buildings with wooden verandas and awnings straight out of an old Western. As she pulled up to the pump in the non-chain gas station, she let her gaze rove between the mechanic under the jacked up Chevy and the two old-timers leaning against the red pickup. When she caught them eyeing her and then the back of her Subaru, she knew they'd placed her as a fish out of water. Quickly, she averted her gaze and exited her car. Self-service. Thank goodness. But when she looked at the pumps more closely, she realized they weren't equipped to take credit cards.

Shoot. I'm going to have to interact.