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“Sorry, my bad.” His lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “I made that doodle after I showered but thought it’d disappear.” His smile fading, his forehead puckered. “Did you see anything else?”
The giggle and squeaking door came to mind, but I dismissed them to an overactive imagination. “Nothing until last night.”
“Besides the rubber ball, what was in the room that wasn’t there the other nights?”
What was different…new? Hands folded, I tapped my index fingers against my lips, mentally taking inventory. The cameo… “The brooch appeared in both the mirrored image and my dreams.” I glanced at Luke for confirmation. “Could the cameo be the trigger?”
“It’s been in my family for a hundred and twenty years.” He scratched his ear. “Aunt Rosie never mentioned anything odd, and I don’t recall hearing any stories.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m grasping at straws, but I get the feeling someone or something is trying to communicate.” But what are they telling me?
****
Twenty minutes later, Luke pulled clippers from his pocket as he led her into the vineyard. “To get the best grape production, you have to cut back last year’s vines to the shape of the wire trellis. Leave only two or three green buds with about six inches in between.”
“What percentage should I remove?” She shrugged. “Maybe ten?”
“More like ninety. Trim any growth that points down or has insect or weather damage.” After demonstrating, he turned toward her. “Get the idea?”
“I think so, but could you watch me clip a vine or two, just to be sure? I don’t want to ruin this year’s production.”
“As long as you don’t cut the vine’s main trunk or permanent extension, you’re fine.” He chuckled. “But if you’re more comfortable with me watching, sure, I’d be happy to look over your shoulder.”
“Does that make you an angel on my shoulder?”
“Not quite.” He stepped to the next vine. “Try this one.”
She knelt and clipped one spur. “Like that?”
“That’s a good start but clip off this spur”—he pointed—“this one, this one, and these two.” He lifted his lips in a half smile. “Be ruthless. Don’t trim ten percent. Leave ten percent.”
He monitored her next attempt, watching her nimble body angle and twist while she trimmed the vine. So, she doesn’t want to stay in her hotel room any longer than necessary. As her earlier words came to mind, he got an idea. But will she go for it?
****
A bird cheeped overhead, repeating the same notes, over and over, as if singing stay, stay, stay, stay.
I tracked the song to a nearby tree.
Its black crest erect, a bird warbled stay, stay, stay, stay.
The refrain reminded me of the little girl in my dream, repeating Quédate…Stay. Am I hearing things now? Rosie came to mind. Or listening with my heart?
****
After four hours of stooping and bending, I stretched before I grabbed a quick sandwich in the arbor.
“Nothing fancy, but these should hold us until dinner. Maybe you’d like to eat in Fort Stockton?”
“Sounds great.” I glanced at my rumpled clothes. “But first I have to shower, change, and call the insurance company.”
****
“What did the adjuster say?”
“It’s totaled.” Her shoulders slumping, she climbed into the truck. “The car would cost more to repair than replace.”
She looks so vulnerable. His protective instincts stirring, Luke spoke before he thought. “You keep the Mercury dime. You need—”
