Becca wanted to jump in and say something to get Dave Mathieson to reveal everything that was coursing through his mind. But she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to effect this, so she forced a smile and referred to the subject that Dave himself had brought up. “He’s the greatest guy, Sheriff Mathieson. But c’n I say something?”
Dave seemed to rouse himself. “Sure,” he told her.
“You got nothing to worry about with me and Derric. You know.”
He gazed at her, as if evaluating this. Then he said the unthinkable. “Becca, let me ask you this. Has Derric ever mentioned someone called Rejoice?”
• • •
BECCA WAS COMPLETELY unready for a frontal assault. She bought time with, “Rejoice? Is that really someone’s name?” to which Dave Mathieson said, “It’s a girl from Uganda. From the same orphanage where my wife met Derric. He’s . . .” Dave looked off in the direction that Derric had taken in his Forester. He frowned as if considering how much to say. Don’t want to mess up what the boy has going suggested to Becca that Dave’s hesitation had a lot to do with her own relationship with Derric. This pleased her since it indicated that he didn’t want to cause a problem between them, especially a problem having to do with another girl. “He’s been writing to her since he first came here, letters that he’s never sent. It feels like . . .” In confidence now . . . from the past like a crush so it doesn’t mean . . . and yet unfinished business . . .
Becca tried to sound thoughtful. “Could it be . . . like, a journal or something? Like there’s no real person at all? ’Cause it’s sort of odd, isn’t it? First of all, the name’s kind of a non-name. And then writing letters but not sending them? If she was real, wouldn’t he just’ve asked you to mail ’em?”
Dave considered this. “There’s that,” he admitted. “But . . . well . . .” Always holds back . . . if there’s a way for a breakthrough . . . dad and son trust and he can trust me I swear it . . .
Becca furrowed her brow. She thought she got it and what she got was that Derric wasn’t hiding the truth about Rejoice nearly as well as he thought he was. She said, “He’s never said anything to me about a Rejoice, Sheriff Mathieson. And . . . well . . . I kind of think he would.”
Still he gazed at her steadily. That he was trying to read her for truth or lie was something Becca could tell even without his whispers. He wouldn’t be able to read the truth from her, though. She’d been on Whidbey Island for just a year, and her biggest accomplishment so far had been perfecting her ability to lie with an innocent expression on her face.
He said with a sigh that sounded relieved but could have meant anything, “Okay, then. Can we keep it between us that I asked you about her?”
“About Rejoice? Sure,” Becca said.
• • •
THE TRUTH WAS that Becca knew all about Rejoice. The truth was that Rejoice was Derric’s sister. The truth was that he’d never told anyone at the Ugandan orphanage that among the children with him whom they’d picked up off the street in Kampala was a two-year-old girl who didn’t remember that the boy sharing the cardboard cartons in the alley in which they’d been discovered was her older brother. That Becca knew all this was purest chance. For she was the person who’d found the letters that Derric had written to his sister and hidden from the world, along with his shame at having kept their very relationship his most closely guarded secret.
Becca could have told Derric’s father all of this. But aside from wishing not ever to betray Derric, she also believed that the story of Rejoice had to come from Derric and not from her. He wasn’t ready to do that. That was how the situation had to stay for now.
Or so it seemed until she caught sight of an older woman in a baseball cap walking an elegant standard black poodle along Cascade Street in her direction. This was Diana Kinsale, the first adult Becca had met on Whidbey and the only person whose whispers Becca had never been able to hear, unless Diana wanted them heard.
Becca set off to meet her. The woman and the poodle were taking their time, with lots of stops so that Diana could admire the Cascade Mountains, the jagged range clearly visible from the top of the bluff along which the street ran. They rose far in the distance across the water and beyond the city of Everett, whose port buildings caught the sunlight of the late afternoon.
As Becca approached the woman and dog, Diana went to one of the benches along the bluff and sank down onto it. She bent to caress Oscar’s floppy ears. The poodle leaned into her in his usual fashion. Diana pressed her head to the top of his. This, too, he accepted without stirring from her knees. It came to Becca that something wasn’t quite right.
She called out, “Where’s the rest of the pack?” referring to Diana’s other four dogs.
Diana turned. She tilted her baseball cap back and exposed her face. Becca felt a shiver. Diana looked unwell.
“Becca,” the older woman said in greeting. She patted the bench. “Join me. Oscar’s had his teeth cleaned today, and I’m giving him a bit of exercise before home. Well, I was until the view got my attention. How are you? We haven’t seen you in ages.”
By we she meant herself and her dogs. When Becca had lived in the Cliff Motel and even when she’d lived in the tree house in Ralph Darrow’s woods, she’d been a regular visitor to Diana’s house outside of Langley.
Becca sat beside her. She’d always taken great comfort from being in Diana’s presence, and today was no different. Diana put her arm around Becca’s shoulders in a hug that stayed just where it was, and what Becca felt was what she always felt from Diana. An incredible sense of peace and warmth came over her.
“How’s school?” Diana asked her. “How’s life at Ralph’s? How’s Derric?”
“Fine, fine, and fine,” Becca said simply. Then she caught Diana inspecting her. Diana read things in people and this reading, Becca believed, came from touch. So did the comfort that she was able to provide them. Allow Diana to touch you and your troubles weren’t gone, but how you felt about those troubles was altered forever. Becca said, “Really, Mrs. Kinsale.”
“As to Derric . . . ?”
“It’s nothing. Just something his dad asked me.”
“About Derric?”
God, she got to the meat of things fast. Becca bent to pet Oscar. He accepted the affection. Since he was a poodle, he wasn’t inclined to do much more than blink at her and move his tail languidly to indicate his willingness to allow her a further show of devotion. Like his mistress, he gazed at the view. A few gulls flew over them. Two majestic bald eagles sailed by on the lookout for food. Far out in the water, a ripple suggested the presence of a seal.
“Wow,” Becca said in reaction to all of this.
“Heavenly, isn’t it?” Diana replied. And then she said, “Are you avoiding it?”
Becca knew exactly what she meant. Diana had picked up on her indecision. She meant was Becca avoiding the subject of Derric and his father? The answer was yes.
She said to Diana, “It’s a loyalty thing.”
“Loyalty to Derric?”
“I know something. His dad asked me about it.”
“I take it you said nothing.”
“That’s about it. It’s not illegal or anything. It’s just something private.”
“Between you and Derric?”
“Yeah.”
“Ah. Parents worry, you know.”
Becca felt herself getting hot. “It’s not that. Just something personal about Derric that his dad wants to know and it didn’t feel right for me to tell him.”
“Because of what he might do?”
“Because of how he might feel.”
Diana shot her a look. “Are you thinking you can control how people feel?”
“I’m thinking how Derric feels is more important to me than how his dad feels. What I also think is he should tell his dad and tell his mom but he doesn’t want
to, so it’s not up to me to do the telling for him. I didn’t like lying to the sheriff, though.”
Diana turned from reading her face. She said, “Trust.”
“What?”
“I think trust is the next step for you.” And then Diana added meditatively, “Could be it’s the next step for everyone.”
“Next step where?”
“Next step on life’s journey.”
Becca scowled. “You’re doing that Yoda thing again, Mrs. Kinsale,” she told her in warning. “Next you’ll start sounding like a fortune cookie.”
Diana laughed. “There are worse things,” she told her. “I quite like fortune cookies.”
TEN
The fiddler who’d joined Seth and his group during their rehearsal at South Whidbey Commons turned out to be in town for Djangofest. His name was Parker Natalia, he was from Canada, and he’d been a longtime member of a Canadian group called BC Django 21.
“Till they kicked me out for someone they figured was better,” the young man had said with a shrug. But Seth could tell that the shrug hid heartache, and if anyone on earth knew about heartache, Seth was that guy. So he kept asking Parker to jam with Triple Threat whenever he was in South Whidbey Commons while the trio was practicing. Admittedly, it was partly to cheer Parker up that Seth asked him to play his fiddle, but it was also partly because he was so damn good. Seth couldn’t believe that anyone with ears and a brain would ever kick Parker Natalia out of a group.
Ultimately, Seth talked the members of Triple Threat into inviting Parker to join them during all their rehearsals, with an eye toward having him play with them during their appearance at Djangofest. It was high time to bring a fiddler into Triple Threat to broaden their musical offerings, he pointed out, which was critical if they were ever going to do more than just play as background music for local fund raisers. More important, though, Parker Natalia had the potential to provide what Seth referred to as the heartthrob factor for females in the audience. And growing their audience was just as critical as growing their music.
The reason Seth decided to take Parker to meet his grandfather had to do with housing. One of the quirky things about Djangofest was that the local citizenry opened up their homes to house the performing musicians. The problem here was that Parker wasn’t one of the musicians scheduled to play. While his former band BC Django 21 was on the schedule and thus happily ensconced in someone’s house, he was not.
Seth discovered that Parker was sleeping in his car in a hidden corner of the fairgrounds. With limited funds, he didn’t want to spend money on a motel room. What money he had with him had to last until he left Whidbey Island to return home, so he was making do with a sleeping bag in the back of his Ford Taurus and using the facilities—when they were open—at the fairgrounds.
Seth had a better idea. It wasn’t a motel room, but it was definitely a step up from a Taurus. And a bathroom with a shower was available if Parker didn’t mind a bit of a hike. It would, of course, all depend on Ralph Darrow’s approval.
When they got to Ralph’s property, Seth let Gus out of the VW and watched the Labrador lope in the direction of the house. He and Parker ambled along after the dog, and they found Seth’s grandfather at work in front of the woodshed, along with Becca King, Derric Mathieson, and a mound of fire wood. Three cords of it had just been delivered and needed to be stacked. Ralph was doing this. So were Becca and Derric. Gus was bounding around them, barking and waiting to be noticed.
“Get that dog one of those bones before I clobber him,” was Ralph’s greeting to Seth.
Becca hurried to the box on the porch. Gus followed, knowing exactly what was in the offing.
Seth nodded hi to Derric and introduced Parker both to his grandfather and to the other boy. When Becca returned to the woodpile, he did the same for her. She said with a smile, “You’re the fiddler at South Whidbey Commons. I was there when you jammed with Seth. It was totally amazing.”
Parker shot Becca a smile, and said, “Thanks,” as he shook hands with Ralph Darrow and Derric.
He and Seth joined in with the wood stacking, and Seth’s grandfather stood back and let the younger people take on the job. He wiped his hands with one of his cowboy handkerchiefs and commented, “Tom Sawyer couldn’t’ve managed this better. How’re the rehearsals coming along, favorite male grandson?”
“Excellent,” Seth replied. “Parker’s joining us.”
“Is he indeed?” Ralph looked Parker over.
Perhaps it was something in Ralph’s speculative tone that sounded less than convinced this was a good idea because Parker said quickly, “Not permanently. Just for a few numbers at Djangofest.”
Seth added that Parker had come to Whidbey Island as part of the contingent of gypsy jazz lovers who showed up yearly to attend the performances of musicians from around the world. “He used to be part of a group from Canada,” Seth said, “BC Django 21.”
“British Columbia,” Parker added helpfully. “That’s the B and the C.”
“Anyways,” Seth said, “you know how the musicians all get put up during the festival by people around Langley? Well, see, I was sort of wondering . . .”
“Ah,” Ralph said.
Becca smiled. She knew where this was heading. She also knew that Seth had learned his lesson when it came to making decisions about his grandfather’s personal property and his land. Seth wanted to put Parker up in a tree house that Seth had built deep in the woods. But since he’d stowed Becca there without his grandfather’s knowledge the previous winter and spring, he wasn’t about to make that mistake another time.
“British Columbia is it?” Ralph said affably. “Whereabouts?”
“In the Kootenay Mountains,” Parker replied. “Town called Nelson.”
• • •
SETH SAW BECCA freeze when Parker said this, but he didn’t know what it meant. Derric saw her freeze, too, and his glance went from Becca to Parker to Becca again, as if some message had passed between them that was unreadable to everyone else. For Ralph’s part, he seemed to notice nothing. He merely said, “Not familiar with the place,” to which Parker replied, “It’s north of Spokane.”
Quickly and perhaps to cover for whatever she’d felt when she’d heard the place name Nelson, Becca went back to work. So did Derric. Seth could see, though, that she was listening intently. In her haste to put the firewood where it belonged, however, she’d lost the ear bud to the AUD box.
“Anyways,” Seth said, hoping for his grandfather’s agreement to the plan, “Parker’s been sleeping in his car, and I was thinking the tree house might be better. He could maybe use your downstairs shower if Becca doesn’t care. It wouldn’t be for that long. Just till after Djangofest. More or less.”
Ralph shot him a look at the more or less part of it. He said, “I expect that’s up to Miss Becca, Seth. It’s her bathroom.”
Becca said, “Fine by me long’s Parker knows it’s a hike from the tree house.”
“I’ll show him the place,” Seth said. And then, a little anxiously, “’S okay, Grand?”
Ralph waved him in the general direction of the woodland trails beyond the pond. He said, “Have at it,” and Becca added, “I’ll go, too, Seth,” and gave no one—and specifically Derric—any chance to quash her intention.
ELEVEN
Becca’s ear bud had kept becoming dislodged as she was stacking the wood, and she’d finally removed it altogether. This hadn’t been a problem. She needed the practice tuning out whispers, and those coming from Ralph and from Derric had been easy enough to “un-hear,” as she was starting to call it. Ralph’s whispers had been about enough wood for winter and can’t remember if there was snow last year and Sarah’s question’s got to be answered while Derric’s had been concerned with his dad, her butt, her boobs—he was such a guy—and a coming test in Sports Medicine.
But when Seth and Pa
rker arrived, things changed and the air became thick with thoughts that Becca didn’t want to try to un-hear. So she replaced the ear bud and went on working, listening idly to Seth’s plans for his new friend Parker . . . until Parker had said he came from Nelson.
It was an oh-my-God moment, and Becca thanked her stars that she didn’t blurt out a single word. She did pull the ear bud out of her ear at that point, though, because if Parker Natalia knew anything about Nelson that he didn’t want to say aloud, she needed to delve through all the whispers to learn what it was.
Unfortunately, mostly what she picked up on was Derric. He’d seen her reaction to hearing Nelson mentioned, and he was worried. He’d assumed her reaction had to do with Parker, who looked like a cross between a male model for Jockey shorts and a movie star.
Derric was ten times the only guy for her, and Becca wanted to tell him that. He didn’t need to worry, and he would never need to worry. But she couldn’t say this to him without revealing to him that she’d heard his thoughts.
When she said she’d tag along into the woods with Seth and Parker, she half expected Derric to protest. But he said nothing and as for what he thought, it was jumbled up with what everyone else was thinking. And she didn’t have time to sort through that because Seth and Parker were heading across the lawn to descend to the pond. She hurried after them.
The tree house was an excellent excuse since she’d hidden out there for months. She followed Seth, Parker, and Gus along the trail that wound into the woods, and for the next ten minutes they crunched along a path strewn with alder leaves and the disintegrating pine cones from Douglas firs. Ferns and salal and wild huckleberry bushes grew to the edges of this path along with Oregon grape, elderberry, various creepers, wild grasses, holly, and invasive ivy. The air was sharp with the musty scent of decomposing vegetation.
When they reached the tree house, they paused at the clearing that held it in the interlocking branches of two towering hemlocks. Parker muttered, “Holy hell. Who built this thing,” and Becca was happy to announce that every board of it had been put in place by Seth.
The Edge of the Shadows Page 6
