most folks were kind, smiling at
her as she passed, she garnered more than a few predatory glances as well.
For about the
fiftieth time that day, she thanked the Lord for Chaco’s return.
They covered ten
or twelve blocks before he stopped in front of an impressive building. The
sandstone walls were the color of faded cream. Two stories, it was an
old-fashioned hotel—right down to the cracked wooden sign suspended from a pair
of wrought-iron hooks. Hay habitaciones , it read.
“What do you
think?” Chaco said.
“Looks great,”
Terri said. She was filled with a sense of relief; a warm shower and a clean
bed had never sounded so good, and she was suddenly acutely aware of her
exhaustion. How many miles had she covered since waking at 4:30? “Are you…are
you staying?”
He shrugged.
“Got no place else here. I know the town, but not the people. Not really.”
Terri flashed a
relieved grin. “Thanks again. For all of this.”
“No problem.” He
opened the door and they stepped into the office. A young man had his nose in a
textbook. Probably a college student. He gave them a warm smile, marking his
place with a slip of paper. “Hola! Un habitacion?”
“Si, por favor,”
Chaco replied.
“Bueno! Tenemos
un más.”
A pained
expression flashed on Chaco’s face, and he and the innkeeper had a brief
conversation. He turned to Terri, his cheeks flushed. “They just have the one
room. There’s a festival in town, and he said they’re fortunate to have any
vacancies at all. He said we could try another hotel, but he can’t hold the
room for us.”
Terri gave a
dismissive wave. “Take the room. I’m not worried about it, Chaco. That’s the
last thing on my mind, after the day I’ve had. I’m dead on my feet, and the
only thing I need is a decent night’s sleep.”
He took the
room. It was on the second floor, at the far end of the building, and it had a
little balcony. Terri stowed her duffle and went out on the terrace. There was
a plaza in the distance, and people were dancing in the yellow light cast by
dozens of paper lanterns. “This is nice, Chaco. Take a look.”
He joined her
there, his elbow brushing hers. It felt good, that brief human contact.
“Very pretty,”
he agreed. “You want to check it out?”
“Ugh! I don’t
have the energy. Honestly, I haven’t walked that much since I was a teenager,
and I’m not in the best shape to begin with. My calves are seriously on fire.
I’m just going to grab a shower and hit the hay, I think. Thanks for asking,
though. You’re very sweet.”
Chaco nodded.
They’d both noticed the little sleeper couch in the corner of the room. There
was just a single queen bed, and they knew the arrangements.
“Then I’ll run
and get some supper in the hotel kitchen. There were still a few people at the
bar when we checked in. You hungry for anything in particular?”
“Something hot.
Other than that, the world’s your oyster.”
His eyebrows
bunched in confusion. “What? What does that mean?”
Terri laughed.
She explained the expression, and he joined her in laughter. “I’ve been
speaking English for more than ten years. Never heard that one. ‘The world is
my oyster.’ Okay, so it is. Be back soon.”
He left, and
Terri sighed a little when the door latched. He had a key, and she went to the
bathroom. It was clean and bright. She turned on the water, stripped out of her
sweat-stained clothing, and stepped beneath the shower, letting the warm
droplets scrub away the layers of salt and grime that had coated her throughout
the day. She eased herself down on the tiled floor, letting the scalding water
penetrate her sore muscles.
She tried to
concentrate on what she had to do in the morning, but she couldn’t.
Instead, she
thought of Chaco.
Who was he, and
why was he helping her?
The water
buffeted her skin, and it felt good. She briefly wondered what would happen if
her new ally met her there in the steaming shower, then banished the
her as she passed, she garnered more than a few predatory glances as well.
For about the
fiftieth time that day, she thanked the Lord for Chaco’s return.
They covered ten
or twelve blocks before he stopped in front of an impressive building. The
sandstone walls were the color of faded cream. Two stories, it was an
old-fashioned hotel—right down to the cracked wooden sign suspended from a pair
of wrought-iron hooks. Hay habitaciones , it read.
“What do you
think?” Chaco said.
“Looks great,”
Terri said. She was filled with a sense of relief; a warm shower and a clean
bed had never sounded so good, and she was suddenly acutely aware of her
exhaustion. How many miles had she covered since waking at 4:30? “Are you…are
you staying?”
He shrugged.
“Got no place else here. I know the town, but not the people. Not really.”
Terri flashed a
relieved grin. “Thanks again. For all of this.”
“No problem.” He
opened the door and they stepped into the office. A young man had his nose in a
textbook. Probably a college student. He gave them a warm smile, marking his
place with a slip of paper. “Hola! Un habitacion?”
“Si, por favor,”
Chaco replied.
“Bueno! Tenemos
un más.”
A pained
expression flashed on Chaco’s face, and he and the innkeeper had a brief
conversation. He turned to Terri, his cheeks flushed. “They just have the one
room. There’s a festival in town, and he said they’re fortunate to have any
vacancies at all. He said we could try another hotel, but he can’t hold the
room for us.”
Terri gave a
dismissive wave. “Take the room. I’m not worried about it, Chaco. That’s the
last thing on my mind, after the day I’ve had. I’m dead on my feet, and the
only thing I need is a decent night’s sleep.”
He took the
room. It was on the second floor, at the far end of the building, and it had a
little balcony. Terri stowed her duffle and went out on the terrace. There was
a plaza in the distance, and people were dancing in the yellow light cast by
dozens of paper lanterns. “This is nice, Chaco. Take a look.”
He joined her
there, his elbow brushing hers. It felt good, that brief human contact.
“Very pretty,”
he agreed. “You want to check it out?”
“Ugh! I don’t
have the energy. Honestly, I haven’t walked that much since I was a teenager,
and I’m not in the best shape to begin with. My calves are seriously on fire.
I’m just going to grab a shower and hit the hay, I think. Thanks for asking,
though. You’re very sweet.”
Chaco nodded.
They’d both noticed the little sleeper couch in the corner of the room. There
was just a single queen bed, and they knew the arrangements.
“Then I’ll run
and get some supper in the hotel kitchen. There were still a few people at the
bar when we checked in. You hungry for anything in particular?”
“Something hot.
Other than that, the world’s your oyster.”
His eyebrows
bunched in confusion. “What? What does that mean?”
Terri laughed.
She explained the expression, and he joined her in laughter. “I’ve been
speaking English for more than ten years. Never heard that one. ‘The world is
my oyster.’ Okay, so it is. Be back soon.”
He left, and
Terri sighed a little when the door latched. He had a key, and she went to the
bathroom. It was clean and bright. She turned on the water, stripped out of her
sweat-stained clothing, and stepped beneath the shower, letting the warm
droplets scrub away the layers of salt and grime that had coated her throughout
the day. She eased herself down on the tiled floor, letting the scalding water
penetrate her sore muscles.
She tried to
concentrate on what she had to do in the morning, but she couldn’t.
Instead, she
thought of Chaco.
Who was he, and
why was he helping her?
The water
buffeted her skin, and it felt good. She briefly wondered what would happen if
her new ally met her there in the steaming shower, then banished the
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