Chapter 11

The tequila had envelopedmy brain in a cottony fog, allowing me to drift off only a few minutes after my head hit the pillow, so I had no trouble getting to sleep at first.

Three hours later, however, I was startled awake by a dream that included a wild boar with a machete clamped in its teeth and flames consuming a pair of pink rubber slippers. I lashed out as I attempted to grab the huge knife from the pig's bloody mouth and swept Tiki off the bed.

"Roh-awr!" Tiki protested as she thumped onto the floor. Luckily, the bedroom floors in this swanky model home were covered in soft carpet, unlike the rough wood floor of my previous dwelling. Carpet or not, Tiki glared at me with an enraged expression of betrayal.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I had a bad dream."

She narrowed her eyes in a "you're gonna have to do better than that" squint and pranced over to the kitty bed. Little Misty mewed a welcome. Tiki paid her no mind, sitting down and squashing her kitten under her ample rump.

I flopped back onto my pillow, but I couldn't get back to sleep. I tried both sides, front and back, and nothing worked.

What is it about the dead of night that makes everything seem worse? After an hour of imagining all the ways I'd messed up when I'd gone out to the hermit's house, I rose and grabbed a robe.

Tiki followed me into the kitchen. She peered up at me with a little "merp" as if signaling that a treat would go a long way toward a pardon for knocking her off the bed.

I obliged. In fact, I gave her three or more treats before I remembered that although she loved them, they tended to give her fishy-smelling gas of eye-watering proportions.

"You know if you stink up my bedroom we'll be even."

Tiki yowled a "says you," stuck her back leg straight up, and began a self-cleaning ritual of her lady bits.

I rummaged through the refrigerator hoping to find something so tasty it would take my mind off my role in triggering yesterday morning's blast. Nope, nothing groundbreaking in there.

I would make tea. The electric teapot was way in the back of the cupboard. I winced as pots and pans clattered in my effort to wrestle the pot out of the narrow space.

By the time the tea water started boiling, Aunt Fae appeared in the doorway. "What brings you out here at this time of night?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"You still thinking about that explosion?" I nodded and gestured at the teapot. She smiled and nodded, letting me know she'd like to join me in a cuppa. "Want to talk about it?"

"I wish talking could make me feel better, but I don't think it will."

"You know, there's a whole profession that would disagree," she said.

"Counseling? Psychiatry? Those kinds of things?"

She nodded.

"I know. I remember when you took me to counseling after my parents died."

"You told me it helped."

"If you'd taken me to a witch doctor, I would've told you it helped. I didn't want to disappoint you."

"But you're grown now. Thinking back, how do you feel about it? Did talking to Annie make a difference?"

"It did. But this is different."

"How is it different?"

"Last time I was the victim of horrible circumstances. Now, I'm the instigator of horrible circumstances."

"You don't really believe that, do you?"

"It's hard not to."

"Well, I'm no expert on these things, but from what you've told me, I'd say that man was unstable. He was the instigator, not you."

"You're right. But that's what makes me feel responsible. I'm trained to recognize a potentially volatile situation, and I just bulled my way through. If I were still an agent, I'd be written up for my unprofessional behavior out there."

"Exactly what about your behavior was unprofessional?"

"First of all, I disobeyed a direct order from Lei not to engage with the hermit. And then, I provoked him by asking questions. Even though I knew when I first laid eyes on him that he was potentially dangerous, I went ahead and tried to probe for information."

"Oh, honey, you had no idea he'd go off like that."

"That's the problem, Aunt Fae. I suspected he was violent and unstable, but I did it anyway." I clapped a hand over my mouth as if to take the words back, but they were out there, hanging in the air between us.

"You wanted to help." Aunt Fae tightened her old terry cloth robe around her slim body; I remembered that robe. I'd given it to her one Christmas at least ten years ago. It had been a sunny yellow, but repeated washings had rendered it the color of sand. Clearly, it was well-loved.

"I guess I'm not sure what I mean." I folded my arms across my chest. "But I can't shrug off the fact that my visit to that house might have been a catalyst for the explosion."

Aunt Fae seemed to have run out of responses. Finally she asked, "Can I give you a hug?"

"Yes, please," I whispered. I closed my eyes as my aunt's arms encircled me and tightened. I was much taller, but she drew my head down to her shoulder. I relaxed at last, letting go of stress as I had when I'd been a child and was finally worn down enough to allow such affection.

Once again, I was grateful she'd chosen to come and live with me here in Ohia. We were a family, the two of us and our cats. Knowing that was a great comfort, no matter what came next.