A String of Beads (Jane Whitefield, #8)(40)

She walked into their hotel suite, opened the door, and found Jimmy working at the long counter that held their kitchen appliances. He looked up. “I’m making us some dinner. I figured we should have the fish you bought today while it’s still fresh.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

He said, “In case you’re worried, I also washed all the silverware and plates the hotel provided. I set the dishwasher on the nuclear fusion setting. No offense to the hotel.”

“Nope,” she said. “I’ll never tell them.” She set her bag on the couch, went to the dishwasher, and opened it. She touched one of the dishes. “It’s certainly hot enough. Besides, we’re probably immune to microbes after all that time living in the woods and sleeping on dirt.”

“What’s in the bags?”

“This one has phones. I bought us some throwaway prepaid phones and three hundred minutes. You get one and I get one, and we’ll use them to talk to each other, if we need to.” She reached into the bag and pulled one out. “See? They’re small, light, and simple. You can call or text, but don’t sign on to the Web. I’m setting them to vibrate, so the ring won’t get us noticed, and programming them so we can call each other by hitting one button. For now, we’d better call only each other.”

“Right.” He picked one of them up and looked at it.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “There’s already one exception to the no-calls rule. I’m calling Ellen Dickerson right now.”

“I’ll hold the fish while you do that, and then cook it after you get back.”

Jane dialed the number as she was walking into her bedroom. The familiar voice came on. “Sge-no.”

“Hi,” said Jane. “You must have been waiting by the phone.”

“No, it waits by me. I have a cell phone like everybody else. Are you both okay?”

“Yes,” said Jane. She felt slightly uncomfortable not telling her that Jimmy had been hit over the head a few days ago, but he seemed to have recovered.

“Are you eating?”

“Yes. Jimmy is in the kitchen right now with the makings of a fish dinner, which we’ll have as soon as I hang up. Thank you for asking. The thing that’s been bothering me most is what you said before—that men are getting themselves into the jail to harm Jimmy. That isn’t something that happens very often. Have you found out anything more?”

“We still don’t know very much. I told you about the two young men who heard the rumors while they were in the county jail. We don’t have anybody in there now. We seldom do. Normally that would be a good thing. It still would be if we didn’t have to worry about Jimmy.”

“It’s a good thing now, too,” said Jane. “We don’t want anybody getting killed trying to pry into jail gossip. If there really were men in there waiting to harm Jimmy, they’re still there. Judges tend to sentence people to jail for thirty, sixty, or ninety days. If they’re awaiting trial for something serious, it might be a bit longer, but long sentences get served in a prison.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” said Ellen. “I’m not an expert.”

“I am, unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry about that, but what you know seems to be what’s keeping Jimmy safe, so it’s what we need right now. Is there any kind of help we can give you? Send you money or something?”

“No, thanks,” said Jane. “I brought some with me, and we’re trying to live modestly. The best thing we can do is keep this small, quiet, and simple. Anything you can find out about people searching for Jimmy, or meaning to harm him, is important.”

“Is there something we should watch for?”

“Anything. Any strangers who seem to be interested in Jimmy or his case. I know you’re already helping Jimmy’s mother, and that will help him through this.”

“I’ll call you as soon as we find out anything at all. What number can I use to reach you?”

“If you get the answer, here’s the number.” Jane read it off the display on her phone. “But it would be best if you had someone else call from their phone. Jimmy’s case seems to be attracting attention from so many unusual sources that I’m getting nervous. Some of the police agencies who are likely to be looking for him are capable of getting phone records, so the fewer calls between us the better. I’ll get in touch with one of the other clan mothers if I have a question, so you won’t have lots of calls from one city.”

“We’ll be waiting,” said Ellen Dickerson. “Your clan is proud of you, Janie, and so are the others. We all wish you and Jimmy all the strength and courage you need.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Good-bye.”

Jane tossed the phone on the bed and sat still for a moment, then stood and went back into the living room and on to the counter and stood beside Jimmy. “No news, really,” she said. “The mothers wish us strength and courage.”

He set the fish in the hot pan and it began to sizzle. “We’ll have more of both after we eat this.”

When they had finished their dinner, Jane said, “Nia:wen.”

Jimmy also said, “Nia:wen.”

They both looked at each other for a moment. The word nia:wen meant “thanks.” In English it sounded so small and simple, but in Seneca it conveyed something big and -fundamental—thanks to the person who obtained and cooked the food, to the plants and animals that gave up their lives to provide them with sustenance, and to the ordered universe beginning with the earth and water and moving outward into the air and sky and the things beyond the stars, and to the Creator.