Then, to make my evening complete, Gavin called. Of course, he was furious.
"Gavin, honey, please speak English," I said after a while. The English that came out of his mouth was still punctuated with cursing—in Italian, I think.
"Lissa, I truly want to take you over my knee," he shouted. I'd gone back into the hallway so Winkler couldn't hear but he may have heard some of Gavin's rant anyway, it was so loud. "Merrill said he gave you the message that I wanted to hear from you and what do you do? Of course you do not call!" That was followed by another spate of Italian. No, I hadn't called him. I'd sent him email with my new phone number and told him a little of what happened. Of course, that wasn't enough. Merrill and Franklin had both gotten emails, as had Charles. They weren't complaining or cursing in foreign languages.
The diatribe went on for twenty minutes, at least. I wanted to hang up on him again but thought better of it. When he started cursing in French, I did the next best thing. "Of course, honey," I said when he took a breath. "You're right, sweetie-pants," I said the next time. "Absolutely, booby-kins," I agreed during the following minuscule pause.
"Lissa, what the hell are you saying?" That was after the booby-kins remark.
"I'd like to ask you the same thing," I said. "Except that you'd probably answer me in yet another foreign language. Do you know Swahili? Maybe Setswana? That's the language they speak in Botswana. At least that's what I hear."
"Lissa, why are you so far away from me right now?"
"I don't know, honey. Am I far away from you?"
"Yes. I am prevented from telling you where, but I am."
"Then be careful, all right?"
"I am always that," he sighed.
* * *
Oregon was beautiful. I only wished I could see it in daylight. Yes, I see very well at night but the moon doesn't sparkle on the water like the sun does and the sky looks a deep blue instead of the sunny blue I remembered. And it was raining when we landed, the water running across the tarmac as we taxied to a stop. The little rack squeaked a bit as I collected postcards at a twenty-four hour pharmacy in Portland while Winkler bought shaving cream and shampoo. Weldon was foraging through the snack aisle and loading up a hand basket. I thought about calling Tony and asking him if he was still sleeping in cracker crumbs but thought better of it. He'd take it the wrong way and all I wanted was a non-judgmental friend with whom I could laugh.
Daryl, Weldon's son was handling some of what Weldon would normally deal with while in North Dakota—disputes over running grounds and the like. Some of the larger cities had more than one Pack, Weldon informed me, and if your Pack was over forty members it was harder to control. Weldon had been on the phone most of the night, helping his real Second with problems that had cropped up. I couldn't blame the Grand Master for having the munchies now; worry always did that to me when I'd been human.
The cashier didn't bat an eyelash when I handed over at least twenty postcards, all with scenes photographed in daylight. I couldn't take the photographs myself so this was the next best option. We were spending the night in Portland, but the Pack Weldon was scheduled to visit was just outside Tillamook. We'd be driving there the following day with me in my body bag, of course. They were planning to start the drive in the afternoon. Winkler figured I'd wake up somewhere along the way.
There was a guest laundry inside the hotel after our trip to the pharmacy, although it consisted of two coin washers and dryers. I gathered up all the laundry and headed down to the second floor of the hotel to put it in. The pharmacy carried laundry soap and dryer sheets, thank goodness.
The window inside the tiny laundry room allowed me to watch the rain pound the parking lot outside; Winkler's pilots had a little trouble landing the jet at the airport earlier because of the storm. The local news was all about the record snowstorm only two weeks before and now the rains that were currently hitting the Oregon coast. Several rivers were swollen and flood and landslide warnings had been issued. Of course, Tillamook was right in the middle of all that.
The laundry was all done and nicely folded, waiting to be packed into suitcases when Winkler got up and I slipped into his bed. Winkler appreciates clean clothes as well as anyone—he just doesn't like the process of getting them clean. He gave me a warm kiss when I crawled in bed to lie down, and he covered me up before I passed out with the sun's rising.
* * *
"They're evacuating parts of the area because of the flooding," the desk clerk informed Winkler later as he checked out. Weldon was outside, watching the bellman load up the luggage into the rented SUV, including Lissa's bag. Weldon just shook his head as the man tossed her bag right in on top of the other luggage.
"We may have to change hotels when we get there," Winkler grumbled, folding up the printed receipt the desk clerk had given him. "There's a lot of flooding in the area."
"No surprise," Weldon nodded, climbing in on the passenger side. Winkler was driving the first leg. "Is the rain supposed to let up at all?" Weldon leaned over so he could look out his window at the heavy gray clouds overhead.
"Doesn't look like it; the weather service says it may clear in a day or two."
"The run is going to be a wet one, then."
"Yeah."
The full moon would occur their second night in Tillamook, the dinner the third night and the confirmation would be held the fourth night. There was also a wedding scheduled and they'd waited until the Grand Master could perform the werewolf portion; a local clergyman had already done the normal ceremony. Weldon hoped the weather would clear up for that at least.
"Hancock left a message—said he picked up Kelvin's female collaborator in Dallas for questioning," Winkler said. "Funny, don't you think, that he was working on parts of this from the opposite end?"
"I think he has information he's not handing over, that's what I think," Weldon grumped.
"Possible," Winkler agreed. He and Weldon drove through pouring rain in silence for a while afterward.
Rain was still coming down when Winkler's watch went off and he traded driving duty with Weldon, who would finish the drive into Tillamook. Winkler pulled Lissa's bag into the back seat and sat there with her, waiting for the sun to go down completely before getting her out.
* * *
"Is it still raining?" I stretched and yawned a little.
"At least you haven't been driving through it," Winkler grumbled at my side. He handed me a unit of blood so I nipped the top off and drank.