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“He’s gotten too big for his britches,” I heard Grandmama say in the background.
“I have not,” I protested, even as Mitch’s accusation came back to me. “Muriella was in trouble.”
“Is she okay?” Mama’s voice turned to worry in an instant. “What can we do? And why didn’t you say this was about her in the first place? When are you going to bring that girl to meet your mama?” I did manage a smile at that.
“As soon as I can.”
There was a rustling noise, and then it got quiet. “I want to know what happened.” Dad spoke low into the receiver.
Hell, I was going to end up telling them eventually.
“Her father showed up yesterday. It’s a long story, but I’m telling you he’s nothing but trouble. Planned to take her back to Nicaragua with him against her will.”
“And you stopped him,” he said with pride. He had no idea of the situation, but did have enough faith in me to read between the lines.
“I got shot in the process. Just a graze. And don’t tell Mama,” I said hastily, glazing over the severity of my wound. “Not for now at least.”
“Good Lord Almighty!” he boomed.
“Dad,” I hissed like my mother could hear me all the way from Connecticut.
“You okay?” His voice returned to a normal volume.
“Fine.”
His sigh was heavy. “I’ll come up with something to tell the family.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Come see your mother soon. She wouldn’t say anything because she doesn’t want to bother you, but she misses you like hell. We all do.”
“I miss y’all too. I’ll call you later.”
I tossed the phone on the bed and pulled back the curtains. It was pitch black outside. Those pain pills had knocked me on my ass. No way could I stay cooped up in here a minute longer.
I manageda shower using the hand-held nozzle. Getting dressed was a little tougher, but I did it.
“Stone.” Muriella rushed toward me when she saw me walking down the hall. “What are you doing out of bed? And how did you change clothes? I was just bringing you something to eat.”
“Never been one to stay in bed all day, darlin’.”
Her mouth flattened. “Let’s find somewhere for you to eat your soup.”
“What about yours?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re up.” Donato strode toward us. “Perhaps you’d like to dine in the den.”
He motioned toward a set of double doors behind us and opened them into the ultimate place to chill. Leather sofas. Biggest television I’d ever seen. Pictures of who I assumed were his family everywhere. And a decked out Christmas tree as big as a sequoia was positioned near the fireplace where stockings were hung.
Muriella dumped the tray on a coffee table and helped me sit.
“Thank you,” I said tightly. I appreciated her doting on me, but I had my pride.
“It’s time for your pills.” She shook two out in her hand.
“Don’t need them.”
