Page 21 of Second to None
Chapter 8
“Mario’s fever has been normal for twelve hours,” Dr. Quillen said when Emily called her Saturday morning. “Your kid, Diego, has been with that dog every minute that he wasn’t in school or home sleeping. He pulled the dog through. Mario is going to make a full recovery.”
Emily slumped against the kitchen counter in relief. “Thank God!”
“I want to talk with you about Diego helping out around the clinic. He has a real gift with animals,” the vet continued. “I could even pay him a little. But that would be between you, me, and him.”
Emily understood. Diego was too young to be an official employee. “He would love that. We’ll put our heads together and see what we can work out.”
When Emily hung up, Izzy finished chewing her mouthful of pancakes and asked, “Is Diego’s dog going to be okay?”
“He’s going to be just fine. He probably won’t even limp.” Emily closed her eyes for a moment as happiness for Diego surged through her. Now he could take pride in befriending the dog instead of blaming himself for Mario’s pain.
“That’s good. Diego’s nice, and I didn’t want his dog to die.” Izzy put her fork down. “Can we start cooking?”
“I think we’d better. We have a lot to do before Mr. Varela gets here.” Nerves quivered through her. She and Izzy had done the grocery shopping yesterday evening. Now she had to create a meal for a man who routinely ate at the best restaurants Manhattan could offer, which was saying something. What was he going to think of her carrot-ginger soup and macaroni and cheese? He probably remembered the latter as being much better than it really was. His dining options had been vastly more limited at Camp Lejeune than they were here. At least Violet had agreed to come over to help Izzy with the chocolate pecan pie, so Emily knew the finish would be delicious.
As Emily arranged ingredients on the counter, Izzy put her plate in the dishwasher. “Mommy, is it okay if I ask Mr. Varela to tell me about Daddy?”
“I ... yes, you can.” Emily breathed against the tears that threatened. “But if he doesn’t want to talk about Daddy, don’t insist, all right? Some people feel weird talking about someone who’s died.”
“I’m glad you don’t. I like talking about Daddy. And looking at his pictures.” Izzy opened the package of Tillamook cheddar cheese. “If I’m really careful, can I grate this?”
Emily pulled the grater out of the drawer. “Remember about stopping when the piece of cheese gets too small?”
Izzy nodded and watched as Emily cut the chunk of cheddar in half so Izzy could hold it in her small hand.
Emily peeled open the applewood-smoked bacon and began to lay it on the wire rack to broil. “I like talking about Daddy, too. He was an important part of our lives, so I think it would be strange not to talk about him.” Even if sometimes the knowledge she would never see him again sent a rolling wave of grief through her. It happened much less often now, which she was grateful for.
When Ruth had been alive, the older woman would hold Emily while she sobbed. Now Emily had only Windy’s soft, furry shoulder to cry on, and she’d done it more often than she wanted to admit.
“What did Mr. Varela and Daddy do together?” Izzy scraped the cheese down the grater with care.
“Mr. Varela invented a material that was superstrong but light so soldiers could wear it to protect themselves. It’s called body armor. Daddy helped him test it in real-life situations and make it better.”
Izzy stopped grating. “I guess Daddy wasn’t wearing it when he died.”
“I guess not.” Emily didn’t explain that body armor couldn’t save a person from a bomb or a fire or a land mine or the many other dangers that Jake had faced when he was sent out on assignment.
Izzy started to shred the cheese again. “Was Mr. Varela a soldier, too?”
“No, he’s a scientist, a chemist.”
“Like the man Diego named his dog after. Mario something.”
“Mario Molina. He was a chemist, too, although his work was about the sky.”
“Cool.” The doorbell rang, and Izzy jumped off her stool. “That must be Violet. I’ll let her in.” She raced away with Windy trotting along behind her.
“Check the door camera first!” Izzy had a tendency to open the door without knowing who was outside, so Emily had installed a security camera with a view screen right beside the door.
“It’s Violet,” her daughter shouted as Emily started to follow her.
“Okay,” Emily called back, turning around and shoving the bacon into the oven.
As she wiped her greasy fingers on a paper towel, sadness and anticipation twisted her heart. What memories of Jake might Max choose to share?
*
