I took a breath. I had some of the water, and took another breath. I looked at Pike.
“Thank you.”
He dug something from his pocket, and held it out.
“You dropped this.”
I smiled at the little Jiminy, then put it on the counter. Nita told me she would take it back when I found her daughter, and I was going to hold her to it. Dreams really can come true.
I wanted to shower. I wanted to brush my teeth, and floss, and shave, and get out of clothes that smelled of blood and torture and death. I wanted to put the desert behind me, but some things are more important.
I gathered up the plastic mop bucket I keep in the laundry room, some dish soap and towels, and took them outside. Pike and the cat followed me.
I filled the bucket with soapy water, soaked a towel, and went to work washing Pike’s Jeep. I rubbed hard to get rid of the desert. Pike picked up a towel and joined me. The cat crouched under my car and watched.
We washed away the dirt and dust, but the desert had put dings and pits in the paint that were part of the Jeep now, but that’s as it should be. They would fill with wax over time, and eventually be lost in the shine.
That day would come with enough work and patience. Pike knew it, and I knew it, too.
We washed his old Jeep, and buffed its bright skin. We made the Jeep as right as we could, and everything with it.