Kion said, “Here we go again. Drama.”

Kembara said, “Always drama with Boo.”

Kyle-Jacques resumed shadowboxing.

Julie said, “Sam?”

Sam shrugged. “If she needs to rest …”

Julie said, “Okay, Boo, you can rest in the van, I’ll take you back.”

Kristina began toeing the dirt.

Sam said, “Okay, remainder-of-tribe, Julie will deal with Boo and we will proceed to learn about protozoans and other good stuff.”

Julie kneeled by Kristina. The little girl ignored her. Let out an abdominal grunt of protest.

A woman appeared from around the van. Tall, thin, in roomy gray sweats and a broad-brimmed straw hat that shielded her face, she walked over to Kristina, bent her knees, held out her hand.

Kristina shook her head. The woman in the hat swooped her up. Kristina molded to her. The woman said something. Kristina didn’t respond. Then she giggled. The woman tickled her chin lightly. Kissed her cheek. Turned Kristina’s face gently and kissed the other cheek, the tops of the child’s eyelids.

She rocked the child. Said something else. Kristina nodded.

Kembara sang out, “Draaa-maaa!”

Still carrying Kristina, the woman in the hat walked to the older girl, kissed her the same way.

Kembara said, “Ugh,” but she looked pleased.

The woman in the hat had tilted her face so I could see her jawline.

Clean and defined to begin with, tightened by a broad smile.

She placed Kristina down on the ground, took the girl’s hand.

“Time for you to learn, too, Boo. You’ll love it.”

Kristina considered her options. Nodded.

The procession began.

CHAPTER
47

I’d eavesdropped half turning from the van and its occupants, outwardly focused on canine toilet behavior.

Blanche obliged by taking care of business in her usual dainty manner, sniffing the dirt to find a perfect spot upon which to bestow her natural resources. Upon finishing, she kicked up some dust. One of the strategic implements I’d retrieved from the backseat was a plastic poop bag and I used it to good effect. The nearest trash basket was right on the way. Karma.

Swinging the bag conspicuously, I sped up and passed the group. The woman in the hat was carrying Kristina again. Julie wheeled the suitcase, Sam toted the plastic bag.

As I got several paces ahead, one of the boys, probably Kyle-Jacques, said, “Cool dog.”

Kembara said, “Looks like a gremlin.”

“It’s a bulldog,” said Sam. “They were bred to fight bulls but that was a long time ago, now they’re just pets.”

Kyle-Jacques said, “That one couldn’t fight nothing.”

“Anything,” said a new voice, adult, female.

Familiar. In another context, sultry. What I heard now was gentle, maternal instruction.

Kyle-Jacques said, “Yeah, whatever.”

Blanche and I reached the pond with time to spare.