He’s silent for a moment before responding. “Unfortunately, my mom was just diagnosed with pneumonia.”
“Oh no—”
“The doctor caught it before any serious complications, but no traveling for her until she’s recovered.”
His daughter’s face appears in my mind, those tears of sadness on her cheeks yesterday. “Ella must be devastated.”
“I’m coming home the day my team finishes here.”
I hear the concern in his voice, and I understand—I’ve spent much of my adult life afraid to travel in case something bad happens while I’m gone. But then I remember my birthday wish, that I would have someone to share my trip. Ella would be good company... and insurance that I would actually step onto that plane.
“Why don’t I bring Ella with me?” I ask. “We can come after your team leaves.”
He’s quiet again, and I chide myself for asking. For all he knows, I’m like Hatschi Bratschi, waiting to steal children away.
“I wasn’t trying to hint—” he starts.
“I know.”
“You like children, right?”
I burst out laughing. “Of course I like children.”
“Stupid question.”
My laughter stops, but still I’m smiling. “In all my years as Story Girl, no one’s actually asked me that before, Dr. Nemeth. They just assume I like kids.”
“You have to start calling me Josh.”
I hesitate. Names are important and changing what I call him means tearing down a wall.
But then again, if I’m flying to Austria, perhaps it’s a wall that must come down.
“Josh,” I finally say.
“Having you bring her... it’s a lot for me to ask.”
“You didn’t ask. I volunteered.”
He pauses again. “Honestly?”
“Yes.” Kids and books, both of them energize me.
“If we haven’t found Annika yet, you and I can search for her together.”
And I like this idea of searching for Annika with him, after I find what I need about Luzia.
“I bought traveler’s insurance for my mom’s flight. I’ll just transfer her ticket into your name.”
I stiffen, not wanting to be obligated to him. “I can purchase my own ticket.”
“Please, Callie.”
I wish I could see his face, understand his motivation. “It’s hard for me to be away,” he says. “If you are taking care of my daughter, then I want to make sure I’m taking care of you, too.”
How can I argue with that? I’m not entirely certain what to say, but I relent.
“They were supposed to fly out this Thursday.”
