The blanket looked so familiar. In the past, Diné woven blankets had been given to family and friends. This one was old and well-used as if it had been a cherished possession passed along to this tiny baby. The motifs and designs looked familiar; in fact he saw some that he knew his grandmother used especially the tiny moon on the edge of the blanket.
The moon was considered sacred and female for the Diné people. His grandmother and aunties all used it in their designs.
He turned and she followed him out of the room after she turned on the monitor.
“So I guess you owe me,” he said.
It wasn’t fair that he looked so good when he was so irritating. But he did. That thick black hair, eyebrows that framed his dark brown eyes with laugh lines and that mouth… Lord, she had a hard time not wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Which wasn’t appropriate at all.
“Yeah, I’m not going to back out of answering your questions. Want a coffee?”
“Yes, please,” he said.
She led him into her kitchen and gestured for him to take a seat at the table while she made a pot of coffee. There hadn’t been time today to do anything but take care of Gracie.
“Is Gracie part Navajo?” he asked.
“We’re not sure. I’m fostering her,” she added when he looked confused. “She was found at the fire station. They named her Gracie. Dr. Meadows is doing a DNA test. Do you think she might be?”
He shrugged as if he didn’t want to say more. “That blanket…looks familiar.”
“In what way?” Ava asked as she poured two cups of coffee. “Milk or sugar?”
“Neither,” he said.
She added both to hers before bringing both mugs to the table and sitting down across from Chay. He smelled good, too. Darn him.
He was a good-looking man, which she was just now noticing. Maybe her gaze had been softened by his magic with Gracie. She’d really started to believe she had some natural mothering instinct, but Gracie was challenging that belief. It was a lot harder to mother a baby than Ava had realized.
“The blanket?” she asked.
“It just is similar to one that I had as a boy. I don’t know why that is. My grandmother and aunties all weave so maybe that’s why it seems that way. I noticed the motifs used are the ones my grandmother uses. I’ll have to ask her about it.”
“Does she sell them?” Ava knew authentic Navajo rugs were worth a lot of money and the weavers could name their own prices. They were generally sold at festivals around the state.
“Blankets aren’t sold. Rugs are and she does sell hers, but the blankets are just for family,” he said.
“Could she be yours?”
“Definitely not,” he said.
“Celibate?” she teased.
“Careful,” he retorted.
They both watched each other as they took a sip of their coffees. Both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. He had nerve. She liked it.
“So, about Fern Hensley.”
“What do you want to know? Most of what I have heard is from the sheriff’s report,” Ava warned him.
“Has she been able to describe either of the men who were holding her?” Chay asked.
“Not really. The descriptions are vague. Tall, dark hair, big… I mean, it would be half the men in Dark Canyon.”
“Or on the Navajo Nation,” he said.
Ava agreed.
