Lani left the hospital then. Weariness was catching up with her. She needed to get Gabe fed and on his way home, and then she planned to go to bed herself. Fortunately she had today and tomorrow off. That would give her a chance to catch up on her sleep. It had been a busy night in the ER. Once Jose Thomas had been shipped off to Phoenix Indian, Lani had treated two maternity cases, one of which had ended with the normal delivery of the infant. The other had required an emergency C-section. By the time Lani got off work, both mothers and both newborns were doing well.

She walked across the parking lot and through the hospital housing compound, where Lani was surprised to see Delia Ortiz’s aging Saab parked in front of her house. On dance weekends, when Gabe stayed with Lani, she usually returned him to his parents’ place later on in the morning, giving them a chance to catch up on their sleep.

Delia’s car was parked in Lani’s driveway, but she wasn’t in it. That meant she was probably inside. Lani and Delia knew each other, but they had never been close. The idea that Delia had gone inside Lani’s home without an express invitation and without Lani’s being there violated some age-old Tohono O’odham traditions where hospitality was a gift to be given rather than something to be expected or demanded.

Lani paused for a moment outside the front door, listening for the sound of the television set. Gabe Ortiz loved Saturday and Sunday morning cartoons, but there was only silence.

Turning her key in the lock, Lani let herself inside. Delia Ortiz was sitting in a rocking chair, dozing. She jerked awake when the door opened.

“Sorry to stop by unexpectedly like this,” Delia said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I needed to talk to you.”

“Where’s Gabe?” Lani said, looking around.

“I sent him home.”

Whatever this was, it was something Delia didn’t want her son to hear. That made Lani uneasy. “Can I get you something?” she asked. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks. No coffee. After this, I need to go home and take a nap.”

Lani needed sleep, too. Instead of going to the kitchen, she sat down on the couch and waited, allowing the silence between them to stretch.

“He had a good birthday,” Delia said eventually.

Lani nodded. She hadn’t been invited to Gabe’s eighth birthday party. She had been at work, but there was more to it than that. There was a certain rivalry between these two young women, a kind of sibling rivalry, even though they were not related. Both of them had been put forward by their mutual mentor, Fat Crack Ortiz. He had brought Delia home from Washington and he had seen to it that the Tohono O’odham paid for Lani’s medical education. So they were both women of influence on the reservation, but they were not friends. Not birthday-party friends.

“I’m glad,” Lani said.

“He loves video games,” Delia said.

Lani knew that, too. In many ways, Gabe Ortiz was an ordinary little kid. In other ways, he was extraordinary.

“You gave him to me,” Delia said after a pause.

“I wrapped him up in a towel and handed him to you,” Lani said with a smile. “You’re the one who had to do all the hard work.”

“What would have happened to us if you hadn’t been there that night to help?”

Lani shrugged. “Probably nothing,” she said. “It was a normal delivery. Faster than expected, but normal. You were both healthy. Anyone could have helped you.”

“But you’re the one who did,” Delia said. “I don’t think I ever said thank you.”

“You made me Gabe’s godmother,” Lani said. “That’s thanks enough.”

“Maybe,” Delia said.

Lani was puzzled. So far there was nothing about this oblique conversation that couldn’t have been said in Gabe’s presence, especially if he was engrossed in watching cartoons. But rushing the process wouldn’t have been polite, so she sat back and waited.

“Now maybe I can return the favor,” Delia said.

Lani blinked at that, but she said nothing.

“Angelina Enos is still in the hospital?” Delia asked.

Lani nodded. “Yes. As soon as her family arrives, she’ll be released to them.”

“They won’t come,” Delia said flatly. “Nobody is coming for her. I spoke to her mother’s parents last night and to her father’s parents earlier this morning. Joaquin Enos is in jail in Phoenix. His parents are already taking care of two other grandchildren. They can’t take another.”

“What about Delphina’s parents?” Lani asked.

“They’re from Nolic,” Delia said.

Lani blinked again. Nolic was where she was from, where she had been from, years ago before she became wogsha, an adopted Indian child, and before she went to live in Tucson with Brandon Walker and Diana Ladd.

“Delphina’s parents are Carmen and Louis Escalante,” Delia continued. “Delphina was your cousin. Carmen and Louis are your aunt and uncle.”

Lani sucked in her breath. “Some of the same people who didn’t want me,” she said.

“Yes,” Delia agreed. “Since you were an ant-bit child, they believed you were a dangerous object. Now they think the same thing about Angie-that she’s dangerous. Louis called her Kok’oi Chehia.”

“Ghost Girl?” Lani asked.

Delia nodded. “Louis called her that because she wasn’t killed when everyone else was. He’s also convinced that she’ll grow up to be a bad person like her father.” Delia shrugged and added, “Maybe she will be bad someday, but maybe she’ll grow up to be like her mother. My brother is like my father; I’m like my mother. It can go either way.”

“But Angie needs to have a chance,” Lani said.

“Yes,” Delia said, “that’s true, and it’s why I’m hoping you’ll take her.”

Lani’s jaw dropped. “Me?” she echoed.

“Yes, you,” Delia said determinedly. “You’re Angie’s cousin, after all. If a blood relative steps in to take her, I believe we can keep CPS from getting involved. Since Angie is an eyewitness in the death of her mother, Detective Fellows thinks it’s important to involve the state in the process as little as possible.”

For several long moments neither of them spoke.

“I’m too young to be a mother,” Lani said at last. “I don’t have a husband and I don’t know enough.”

“Delphina had just turned twenty, and she didn’t have a husband, either,” Delia pointed out. “All she had was her GED, but she was making her way and doing a good job of raising her daughter. You’re what-thirty?”

Lani nodded.

“That makes you plenty old enough to be a mother,” Delia continued. “You’re also a trained doctor. You’ll make a good mother.”

“What makes you think so?”

Delia shrugged. “When Fat Crack came to Washington and told me I’d be a good tribal attorney, he didn’t ask to see my school transcripts or ask for references. He already knew I was right for the job. You’re right for this one.”

With that, Delia stood up. “I know this is a shock,” she said. “I know you need to think about this before you answer. Take as much time as you need. We both know Angie is safe as long as she stays in the hospital. Call me later. Let me know what you decide. If you’re going to take her, I’ll handle everything else.”

Delia left then. She let herself out while Lani, too stunned to move, sat where she was. What was it her mother had said to her yesterday? It had been something about wanting another grandchild. Lani doubted this was what her mother had in mind.

Sometimes you have to watch out what you ask for, Lani thought. You may just get it.