Free Leaving Unknown by Kerry Reichs Page A

it. I looked at her helplessly, mute. “He might get scared,” I finally said.
    Ruby’s eyes told me she knew exactly what I meant. “I don’t want bird poop all over my bedroom” was her logical position.
    “I have this Snuggle Hut, see?” I held it up. “I can wrap him in it. He won’t be roaming free. And he was just clipped,” I pleaded. “Tomorrow I’ll walk back for his cage.” I stopped. I shouldn’t talk about tomorrow. Ruby wasn’t adopting me. She was putting me up for a night.
    “Let’s have no foolish talk about walking twelve miles,” Ruby relented. “We’ll deal with tomorrow when it’s tomorrow. Your bird can stay with you. Keep him in his tent. Follow me.”
    She lifted a candle and stepped in her gifted, precise way through a door opposite, away from Lulabell’s roost. A hallway stretched into the shadows. I followed the dancing candle past a series of darkened openings, and through another glass door, which put us outside, the hallway becoming a covered adobe walk. We stopped in front of a door with a brass numeral affixed. Room Number One. Ruby opened the door.
    “I trust you’ll be comfortable. There are towels in the bathroom. I’ll expect you for breakfast at eight thirty. I know it’s early considering your night, but that’s when I do business.”
    I nodded. She set the candleholder down on a bedside table. As she passed me, she paused. She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Sleep well. Everything will sort itself out. Or we’ll get it sorted.” With that she was gone, with the exact numberof steps required to reach the door, pass through it, and close it behind her with a soundless click.
    I sat on the bed, awake only long enough to take off my shoes, secure Oliver in his tent, set the alarm, and register that the bed was pillowy soft, before blowing out the candle and sliding under the covers and into sleep for the second time that night.
     
    When the alarm dragged me awake in the morning, the sun was brilliant. I flung out a hand to silence the beeping, and encountered…air. I blinked at the bedside table, but it wasn’t there. I realized the sound was coming from the other side of the bed, then recalled I was not home. I was in a strange bed owned by a strange woman, with no clue what I was going to do about my car. I hit the snooze button and fell back into the bed. My eyes drifted shut as I contemplated the depth of my tiredness. I’d rest while I could, I decided, so I’d be equipped to handle whatever was thrown at me today.
    Then my eyes flew open and I bolted upright in the sickening way you do when you’ve had a sudden, horrifying realization. My eyes leaped to the clock. I wilted in relief when I saw it was only eight and I hadn’t missed meeting Ruby. The proud owner of a thumping headache, reward for my abrupt blood-pressure spike, I rubbed my temples and surveyed the room.
    Coral adobe walls met ochre tiles, accented by sage-green window trim. White curtains flanked windows on both sides of the room. My headboard boasted an image of horses cantering across the prairie that you might expect to find painted on velvet rather than inlaid on beautiful wood in an otherwise tasteful room. The walls were decorated with colorful inlaid tiles and hammered metal mirrors. I pushed back thick feather-filled covers and stepped out of bed. My dusty backpack was on an antique dresser that matched a wardrobe and bedside table. Ruby must have brought it in. I retrieved a clean sweater and underwear. After some deliberation I decided on my favorite parrot-adorned knee socks. I hoped Ruby would like them. I stepped into the bathroom, taking advantage of Oliver’s silence to shower.
    Refreshed and dressed, I collected Oliver and left the room. My door opened to a passage flanking a square courtyard. To my right the corridor passed doors numbered to 6. The courtyard was enclosed by adobe walls, and looked to be a combination of flower garden and vegetable garden. To my