Free The Late Child by Larry McMurtry

once.”
    Harmony was getting a little more awake, but the dream wasn’t stopping, exactly. It was almost as if Pat and Neddie were right there in the ladies’ room with her, Pat in the stall to the left andNeddie in the stall to the right. Harmony glanced at her watch and almost fainted: four and one half hours had gone by since she sat down in the stall. Her sisters’ plane could have landed. It wasn’t a dream. Her sisters themselves were right there in the ladies’ room, talking about her.
    To make sure, she peeked under the partition between her stall and the stall to her right. She saw a plain brown shoe and knew she hadn’t been dreaming at all, her sisters
were
in the ladies’ room, in stalls on either side of her. It seemed a little peculiar that they had just gone on talking, with an innocent third party in the stall between them; but, then, Neddie and Pat weren’t very formal, they tended to continue speaking their minds whatever the circumstances.
    Anyway, Harmony was excited that they were there, she wanted to make her presence known before either sister accidentally said something that would create an awkwardness.
    â€œNeddie, I’m not lost, I’m here—I’ve been asleep,” she said. “Pat, don’t say anything too mean about me.”
    About that time the toilets on both sides of her flushed—she wasn’t too sure her sisters even heard her; if they
hadn’t
heard her they might just walk off—neither of them was the type to hang around waiting very long.
    She popped out, and there they were. Neddie was skinny and Pat was chubby; both were soberly dressed, as befitted the occasion.
    â€œPoor thing, I guess you cried all night,” Neddie said, taking Harmony into her arms.
    â€œWhat’s that red splotch on her cheek?” Pat asked, waiting her turn to hug. “Is that from going to sleep in the crapper or did some big bozo slug her?”
    â€œI guess from going to sleep in the john,” Harmony said, hugging her. Pat still wore a strong perfume.
    Then Harmony realized she still had the letter from New York in her hand—the letter that had brought her the news.
    â€œPat, would you carry this letter?” Harmony asked, quickly handing it to her.
    Pat took the letter and began reading it as they walked out of the airport. It irked Harmony a little, that Pat would just immediately start reading the letter, instead of putting it in her purse. It was just like Pat, though—she had always been nosy about family matters.
    â€œPat, you don’t have to read it right here in the airport,” Harmony said. “You could read it when we get home.”
    Neddie glanced at her when she said it—she could tell from Harmony’s tone of voice that she was a little bit irritated with Pat for diving right into the letter.
    Then, as Pat read the letter, she stopped walking along in stride with the two of them. When she finished a page she carefully put it behind the others. Her pace had definitely slowed.
    â€œWhat’s the matter with you, can’t you keep up?” Neddie said. Just looking at Pat’s face made Harmony really apprehensive. It might be that the letter contained news that was worse than any they had expected to receive.
    Harmony began to wish she had never handed the letter to Pat. She wished it had blown away in the night. Pat was hardly walking at all, as she read. Then she came to a complete stop, right in the middle of the airport; she had a very sad look on her face.
    â€œPat, was she murdered, is that it?” Harmony asked; she suddenly couldn’t bear not to know what the letter said.
    Pat stood right where she was until she had read all three pages of the letter, which she then very carefully folded and put in her purse. She started to take out a compact and powder her nose, an act that was almost a reflex if she happened to have her handbag open. In this case, though,