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I scratched my head.
“That’s a little too much information,” Keene said. “Coffey’s not used to y’all. Please give him a week to come to terms with the utter lack of privacy before you go telling him about your bodily functions.”
“Just wait,” Crim called out from the other side of the trailer. “In about ten days, you’ll get to experience every single one of us on our periods. They’re all synced.”
I looked at the woman at my side. Not every one of them.
Simi’s eyes twinkled as if her thoughts were in tandem with mine.
“Yeah,” I grumbled at Val. “She can ride with me.”
Simi visibly relaxed at the news that she could ride with me.
Which made me feel even worse.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, man,” Keene grumbled as he passed. “Because this is going to suck thinking about her for the next four hours.”
I completely and utterly agreed.
“A helmet,” Val said ten minutes later. “Pants, jacket, and boots. They’ll be a little big on her since she has fairy feet, but they’ll work.”
Then she was gone, hurrying toward a porta-potty that was set up for the family only.
The door slammed behind her as I held out the clothes to Simi. “Head into the food trailer and get changed. We’ll leave when you’re dressed.”
“You don’t want to follow behind us all?” a worker asked.
The one that would be driving the food trailer with his camper truck.
“Uh, no,” I said, thinking about how horrible it would be if I had to follow behind the convoy, adding likely hours to our trip. “But thank you for offering, Kristoff.”
Kristoff was six foot eight, two hundred and ninety pounds, and presented himself like a teddy bear. But last night, I’d observed him crush a watermelon with one hand. Not to mention, I’d seen him react when Sheriff Bright had made his way into the camp.
He may try to act like he was a teddy bear, and everyone might think he was one, too, but I saw the truth. Man had a temper, and he also had the skills to pop your head with one hand.
I would definitely be nice to him, given the choice.
Warm, tiny fingers slipped into mine, and I was startled enough to look to my side. Then down. Down, down, down.
To the tiniest little girl that I’d ever seen standing. Most children that size were infants.
She looked up at me and smiled.
“Uh, hi,” I said to her. “Who are you?”
“That’s Ulitza.” Simi paused, frowned really hard, and then smiled wide.
“Hey! I remembered her name!” she cried.
So she was getting her memory back more and more, a little bit at a time.
I’d take it.
“Well, hello, Ulitza,” I said to the little girl.
She smiled a toothy smile at me.
“Itza,” Kristoff called. “That’s not me.”
Ulitza, or “Itza” for short, looked over to where Kristoff had called her name.
She looked back to me, then back at her dad, then back to me.
Then she took off screaming.
I couldn’t stop the chuckle from leaving my mouth.
It was cute, that was for sure.
Even if I’d inadvertently made her cry.
“Do you remember anything else about Ulitza?” I asked curiously. “Or Kristoff?”
She jiggled her clothes at me, and I nodded my head, indicating for her to go change.
She disappeared, and Kristoff wandered toward me. “She remembers my Itza?”
I nodded. “She did.”
“She and Itza get along great. She’s been working with her on the silk.” He paused. “Not like working with her, working with her. But more like playing with her, letting her explore.”
“Ah.” I nodded again. “I didn’t know there were any kids in this camp.”
Kristoff grinned. “We have a full-blown day care, man. That orange-and-blue tent. It also happens to be where the practice stuff is set up. Gets the kids’ energy out, allows them to play and have fun, and then everyone can go get an hour or so of work done while simultaneously watching the kids. Though we do have a full-time nanny now.”
“Well, that’s ingenious,” I admitted, thinking how convenient it would be when our own child came. Though I doubted our child would be spending as much time in day care when there were six ready and willing siblings to Simi walking around. “How old is Ulitza?”
“She’s a little over thirteen months.” He paused. “And before you ask, I’m her father. We look nothing alike. Her mother was blonde-haired and blue-eyed. Meanwhile, she came out with the iciest blonde hair I’d ever seen.”
I studied Kristoff some more.
He had dark hair that was nearly black but had just enough brown in it to know it wasn’t a true black. He had a beard, like me, though his was much fuller and thicker. He had no visible tattoos.
But Kristoff and I were dressed nearly identically.
Black shirts, black boots, faded jeans. Beards and dark hair.
“I can see why she got us confused. I guess when you’re looking up, everything seems really tall.” I chuckled.
