Page 8 of Christmas Shelter

Patricia looks at her watch and realizes with surprise that the afternoon has flown by and it's time for dinner.

"Yes, sure."

Again, they seem very synchronized, and all Patricia has to do is ask Carlota about the animals' medications; otherwise, she manages perfectly while her companion this time prepares broth and beans for them, accompanied by a pre-cooked potato omelet.

"You came well-prepared," Patricia comments, genuinely surprised.

The night before, she'd already noticed Carlota had everything, but she was too upset to mention it.

"I've stayed with them before," Carlota responds, "and the first time was really rough. I stayed in that armchair where you wanted to sleep yesterday, and I was naive enough to think a sleeping bag would be enough to stay warm. I froze all night, not to mention my back. As for food, there wasn't even a microwave then, just the coffee maker, and I had to survive on packets of cookies and junk food that upset my stomach for a couple of days."

"How awful," Patricia comments.

"You can't imagine. That's why I ran a campaign and asked shelter members to donate other materials they didn't need, and that's how we got the bed, microwave, and other utilities. Now I come prepared, I bring my e-reader and some movies downloaded on my laptop, so I don't get bored if things drag on, like they have."

"I should get one," Patricia says, picking up Carlota's e-reader to take a look. "They say the battery lasts forever."

"It really does," her companion answers.

Patricia opens the cover, and Carlota's pulse races because it's set to display the cover of the book she's reading, and she just hopes Patricia doesn't recognize it.

"Oh, you're reading Writers?" the cardiologist asks, surprised.

Carlota wishes the ground would open up and swallow her.

"Yes, well, a colleague recommended it, but I'm just at the beginning."

Patricia arches an eyebrow, amused.

"Victoria Rivas and Micaela de Luca are my favorite writers," Patricia says, leaving Carlota speechless. "Did you know they're a couple?"

Carlota knows, but in the middle of a flush that lights up her cheeks like flames, she pretends to be unaware of the fact with a clumsiness that Patricia finds very entertaining.

"Well, well no, actually, I didn't even know their names."

"Right..." Patricia says. "In a few months, they're coming for a book signing at a bookstore in the city. If you like the book, you could buy the paper version and get it signed," she comments mischievously.

"Yes, maybe I will. Shall we clean this up?" Carlota changes the subject, feeling her heart might jump out of her mouth.

"Of course," Patricia responds, and while helping her clean up, she can't stop thinking about the fact that Carlota is reading lesbian literature.

She's never wondered if her former colleague was one of her own, and it didn't matter to her, and it unsettles her that this detail generates so much curiosity now.

Chapter 7

Patricia Burnet hasn't slept this well in weeks. She doesn't know if it's the city's cold, her yearning for a few days off, or the amount of work she's had lately, but since getting trapped in this shelter on the outskirts of Salamanca, she crashes at night and doesn't open her eyes until the next morning. She doesn't want to move, but a noise that's been drilling into her ears for minutes threatens to make her leave the cozy sleeping bag she's tucked into. She frowns because her mind, now waking up, detects a familiar sound, but no matter how hard she thinks, she can't pinpoint what it is.

"The snowplow," Carlota whispers as if she's inside Patricia's thoughts.

The cardiologist's eyes snap open, and she sits up with such force that the thin structure of the folding bed wobbles, making Carlota fully wake up with her heart racing.

"What's wrong?" asks the volunteer, also sitting up and placing a hand on her chest.

"The snowplow machine," Patricia repeats the information and jumps out of bed.

She peeks through the window and, to her delight, the day is quite clear. Although a white blanket still covers the ground, the snowplow is clearing the entire path, making Patricia smile with pleasure, though for some reason she can't identify, she's not as happy as she should be knowing she'll be able to leave these four walls where she's been confined.

"It usually takes about twenty minutes," explains Carlota, who has also gotten up and walks to the window.

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