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today.” As she slid into the car’s cocoon of air-freshener and normalcy, relief that she had one person with whom she could talk openly about her problem filled her. “Not ever.”
    “You mean he had a picture of you in his wallet, but you don’t even know him?”
    “Yes.”
    “Whoa. Creepy.”
    “He’s not creepy.” He was frustrated and frustrating, complex and difficult, but she hadn’t received one creep vibe.
    “Did he tell you why he had your picture?”
    “He has a brain injury and can’t talk.”
    “Isn’t that convenient.”
    “It’s like a stroke.”
    “Are you sure? You’re not a good judge of men.”
    “You have so much experience? There’s three hundred men where you live, maybe fifty in the key cohort between the ages of eighteen and forty.” She projected fish populations for a living; counting bachelors in Pateros wasn’t challenging.
    “Bottom line, you delivered the box, so you’ve done what you have to do.”
    Reminded of the responsibility sitting in the trunk, she squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know if I have.”
    “What do you mean you don’t know? Last night you didn’t want to go. He lied—”
    “It’s more complicated.” Propped on the headrest, she tried to marshal words for her instincts. “His friends are going back to New York. I don’t feel right leaving him alone, and I have the week off.”
    “His mother’s on her way.”
    “When?” Hope flared that someone would share the burden.
    “Luisa—remember his sister?—took their mother to the bus in Wenatchee Friday, and she caught the train in Spokane. She should arrive Monday.”
    Imagining Rey’s mother worrying alone for days broke her heart. “Why didn’t she fly?”
    “You have been in the big city. Why do you think she doesn’t want to fly? Doesn’t matter that her son’s a hero, does it, if they ask the wrong questions at security?”
    “Oh. Right.” His mother was probably undocumented. “His dad?”
    “He died a long time ago.” Her sister’s voice went quiet. “Forklift accident when we were kids. We were too young to know, but people are talking about it again. He was off the books so they didn’t even get insurance or worker’s comp. Burns me up.”
    She thumped her skull onto the padded seat. This got worse. “I’ll stay until she gets here.”
    “I didn’t tell you all that to guilt you. You don’t owe him.”
    “Maybe I do.” Images of the young man with the missing arm, the laughing guy flirting with her escort from his wheelchair and Rey, propped in his half-empty hospital bed, swamped her. “Maybe we all do.”
    “This is not a patriotic duty. You have a duty to pay taxes, not to pretend to be engaged.”
    “Don’t you think there are places in between?” It wouldn’t hurt her to keep him company, maybe read to him or watch a movie.
    “Be careful, okay? That’s advice from your sister.”
    “Puh-leeze. You’re way too young to sound like Mom.”
    “Speaking of, they’re super excited about your engagement. No idea how you’re going to reveal the truth that you’re not going to be coming home more to visit.” Her sister snickered. “They’re counting potential grandkids.”
    “Oh, shut up.” Deciphering Rey might be easier than deflating her parents’ nuptial expectations for their firstborn.
    * * *
    The little guy’s long blue shirt fluttered as he tumbled from the opposite bank. His head bobbed once, but the canal was too deep, always too deep. Every night Cruz watched him disappear underwater.
    Cruz dropped his rifle and fumbled to unclip the chest strap of his assault pack.
Stupid
, he tried to yell, but the weight of his gear pressed too hard for him to breathe, too hard for his warning to rise above a moan.
Don’t be stupid.
He’s not worth it.
    Instead of listening, his dream-self took the big hop over the lip of the irrigation ditch. The three strokes to reach the kid used up all his air. Each time he struggled to hand the