“I do.” Jonah looked down through the clear rushing water to the gold-flecked stony bed.
“Imagine standing here and having it all torn out beneath you.”
“Luckily no one was on it.”
“Still. Can you just feel it in your feet?”
“I guess I can.” He glanced at the older man, realizing he was making a point.
“I work very hard to promote this community.”
Jonah waited.
“People don’t realize how much goes into that, because it’s all perceptions. You get me?”
“I think so.”
“Perceptions can be swept away in an instant just like that flood ripping out this bridge.”
Jonah had already made the connection.
“It takes time to rebuild. Time and resources, which in a bad economy might not be there at all. As you know, this Pine Crest annexation we’re negotiating will attract a certain type of resident. You’ve seen the homes they’re building, not just within the Pine Crest gates but throughout this valley. The revenue they’ll put into the coffers will pay your salary.”
“Should I be asking for a raise?”
The mayor smiled. “You take that up with Wolton, why don’t you?”
“So what can I do for you?”
The mayor put his hip to the railing. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve encountered a few bizarre animal mutilations.”
“I guess you could call them that.”
“Doesn’t matter what I call them. If word gets out, we’ll have alien abductees cutting crop circles in our meadows, claiming extraterrestrials are performing surgeries on our pets.”
“Only one pair might have been pets.”
“We’ll have PETA breathing down our necks, and trust me, son, it’s no foreplay.”
Son set his teeth on edge. “Well, I wasn’t planning on making an announcement. But I am looking into it.”
“You get animal rights groups looking this way, they’ll find some endangered mouse that stops folks building and revenue growing—you getting me?”
He got him.
The mayor gave his head a sideways tilt. “Now you know it’s probably a prank, kids putting a scare into folks. Why else leave them where they’ll be found?”
“This is sick stuff, and I can’t see it being kids or a prank. There’s a level of proficiency that concerns me. The kind of thing that could escalate, might already have from wild to domestic animals.”
“Just a couple cats.”
“Cut open and joined.”
“What’s the vet say? You consulted her, didn’t you? At the funeral home?”
Had Morey been his source? “She hasn’t seen it before. It could be cult—”
“Don’t even start. Think the word ‘cult’ is going to further our position? We need this annexation.”
“Why?” Redford had done fine as a little-known secret all these years.
“For growth and continued prosperity.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Politics is a balancing act. A high wire, if you will. Lean too far left or right, take too big a step forward, a treacherous step back …” He paused. “If word gets out about cults and animal sacrifice in our fair community, well, may as well wash the bridge right out from under us.”
“I can’t ignore something that could become a threat to safety.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised how many things just …” He spread his hands. “Evaporate. Our jobs, yours and mine, are to balance on that high wire. Your father understood that.”
Jonah stiffened.
“I’m not saying he didn’t lose sight of things at the end. That business went very bad. The town took a hard hit. That’s why we gave you your father’s job. Putting the best face on that whole business.”
“Nothing to do with my qualifications?”
“Sure. Of course you’re qualified. That’s not the point here.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I don’t want anything to cost us this deal. Least of all a few wild animals.” The mayor shifted his weight. “Just leave it alone.”
“You’re asking me to stop doing my job.” Walk away. Just walk away.
“I’m telling you to balance this potential situation with the greater good.” Buckley leaned in. “You get me?”
“I’ll consider what you’ve said.”
Mayor Buckley eyed him coolly, then warmth crept into his eyes. “I had reservations about you. But you have the makings of a legend yourself, Jonah. Stan always said so.”
Tia had made it halfway through the morning before the sickening self-pity forced her out of bed. She showered awkwardly, rewrapped her ankle, and limped down the path to the shop. Summer was ending, all but gone since yesterday’s storm had flipped the switch. Even the air felt different.
Autumn was still a good tourist time, with the turning of the aspen and area ski slopes opening. Out-of-state skiers were especially keen on mountain handcrafts. She would incorporate golden aspen and fiery sumac leaves into wax pillars and tie sprigs preserved in glycerin to jars and crocks.
Soon it would be waxed pine cones, juniper and holly accents. The bear and moose and evergreen molds. Hard fingers of desperation strangled her, and when a customer came in, Tia made no move toward her. The woman could decide whether she had anything of value to her.
Apparently, she did. “I’m fascinated with these leaf pillars. But I’m afraid they’ll ignite if I burn the candle.”
“They’re only in the perimeter. The wax at the center melts down, and the flame glows through the leaves. It’s a beautiful effect.”
“And I just love this one with the pebbles and such clear wax. It looks like a creek bed.”
“It’s a new glycerin wax.” She had made that candle before she’d realized the significance of its scripture: As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God. Psalm 42:1
Her work had revealed what she had not admitted, even to herself. She was parched, desiccated. The hope that once sustained her had dried up like a creek bed after snowmelt. She could not slake her thirst in it any more than a deer from the rocks.
“I’ll take it,” the stranger said. “It’s so unusual.”
“They’re all originals.”
“Yours?”
Tia nodded.
“You’re quite talented.”
“Thank you.” She wrapped and tied and stickered the purchases. She had told Piper she enjoyed it, but now she hated it with everything in her. How long could her mother expect her to go on?
Forever. Stella Manning had exerted the ultimate control—deep, crushing guilt. But even guilt could not contend with the hollow-chested ache of losing Jonah. She had borne this sentence because he’d borne it with her, even while she pushed him away. Now he’d broken free.
As the customer left, Piper burst in. “You’re here!”
She didn’t realize the accusation it was.
“I thought you were staying in bed.”
“I couldn’t.” Tia folded her arms. “Look at you. You’re completely aglow.”
“Am I?” She did a little dance. “Well …”
Words burst out of her. Sarge. Specials. A whole dollar raise.
“So what should I start with? I want it to sell like crazy and show Sarge this was absolutely the right decision.”
“I still think the gruyère and sun-dried tomato croissant was your best.”
“You don’t think the tomatoes were fishy?”
The reminder of Jonah’s comment stabbed her. Did even the joyous moments have to hurt? “Not at all. It was wonderful.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do. But Sarge said a daily special. Something new every day!”
“Well, that’s what you wanted.” And God knew it was dangerous to want. “But it wouldn’t have to be different every day.”
“You’re right. Of course.” She grabbed her in a hug, then jumped back. “Sorry.”
She hadn’t
meant to wince.
“Tia, what are you even doing here?”
Oh, the answers she could give.
Maybe it was a streak of the devil in him, but when Jonah got back, he put aside the administrative paperwork and brought out the file on the animals. Not much new from his initial digging, but—
He looked up as Sue came to a stop before him, arms crossed hard over her chest. The two days since they’d taken Eli into the system had harrowed her. She’d been allowed visits, and she’d made a pretty good case for herself, but no decision had been made. “What’s up?”
“Sam took Eli from the foster home.”
Jonah laid down his pen. “When?”
“Just now. He walked in and took him.”
“That’s kidnapping.”
Her face contorted. “If he takes him and runs … Jonah.” She gulped. He stood.
“How erratic has he been?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t talked. I’ve been staying at my mother’s.”
A lot of trigger points. Sam might have snapped.
“How did you find out?”
“Connie called me. She thought I might be in on it, that we could be fleeing.”
Connie Wong did her job conscientiously, the only social worker for the region. But if she believed that, she’d read Sue wrong. Fire filled his officer’s eyes.
“If I go after him, Jonah, I might use my gun.”
“You’re an officer trained in restraint.”
Her jaw jutted. “And a pregnant woman whose child is in jeopardy. If he hurts Eli, I’ll shoot him. And if he thinks he can take him away from me—”
“I hear you.”
She drew herself up with a shudder. “Find him, Jonah. Find my little boy.”
“And Sam?”
“I guess I’d rather you didn’t kill him.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jonah drove first to their home, guessing Sam might be collecting clothes and things if he planned to take off. The truck was outside the garage. Jonah blocked it in, parking his Bronco sideways between the cedar hedges. He approached the house cautiously, not drawing his gun, but of course a round was chambered.
He rapped on the door. “Sam?”
No answer.
“I’m coming in.”
He turned the knob and pushed the door but shielded himself against the wall in case a shot was fired. The door swung to the wall unimpeded. He could see around the door frame into the kitchen. Sam sat at the kitchen table, Eli in his lap. As Jonah approached, Sam looked up, but Eli kept coloring the picture in the book open before him.
“What are you doing, Sam?”
He didn’t answer. Eli stopped scribbling with the green crayon and held it up. Sam took it and handed Eli a yellow, a routine they both seemed to know. Sam’s eyes were red-rimmed and sagging. “You going to arrest me?”
“You violated the court order.”
“I called. I wanted to talk to him, but they said he was too upset already. I heard him crying. You don’t know what it’s like to hear your kid crying and not be allowed to help him. Not allowed.”
“Because you’re considered a danger.”
“I fell asleep, and he took a fall. I don’t pretend that was nothing. But I never hurt my kid. I don’t know how those fractures got there. Maybe Sue, maybe her mom. Maybe one of the play dates he’s had. A while back he was really fussy, and yeah, I dosed him with cough syrup to help him sleep. I didn’t know he was injured.”
Jonah just stared.
“He’s like me. When I was three I broke my leg in a sandbox, broke the other jumping off a couch. Maybe I gave him that. But I never broke his arm.”
“People do things when they’re using, Sam.”
Sam blinked.
A denial now would determine the course.
His chin quivered. “I can beat it. I beat it before.”
“Then you were sober. But you know as well as I, you never really beat it.”
Sam looked like he wanted to argue. Nothing he said would matter.
“But our concern is Eli.”
Sam’s mouth worked. “He’s my son. You think some foster parents can love him more than I do?” Something stark showed through his eyes, but he was talking to the wrong man. Jonah would have welcomed a foster family.
A tremor seized Sam’s chin. “I swear to you, I would never hurt this child.”
He sounded sincere. But in the grip of the drugs, could he say the same?
“Right now, Sam, we need to take him back.”
Sam shook his head, but there was no real fight in it.
“And I have to take you in.” He hadn’t expected it to be this easy. He’d envisioned an Amber Alert and highway closures. But Sam didn’t have the resources for that. Or the heart.
Jonah watched the words hit him, saw him realize the futility. Tears rimmed the man’s eyes as he squeezed his son close to his chest and kissed the top of Eli’s head. “I didn’t mean for it to come to this.”
“We never do.” Jonah swallowed.
Nineteen
What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes.
—ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
She had to be sure. And so she opened the door to the candle shop, tinkling the bell as she stepped in.
Tia looked up, braced herself almost imperceptibly, then forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Dr. Rainer, right?”
“Oh, call me Liz, Tia.”
“Liz,” she said flatly. “Can I help you?”
“I promised Lucy I’d bring her fresh melts. And I want something for someone else. I think you know Jonah Westfall?”
Tia formed a neutral expression and nodded.
“I want to thank him for the puppies he gave me.”
“Puppies?”
“Coyote pups.” Liz slipped a strand of hair behind her ear. “I patched up the mother when she made his closet her den.”
Tia braced her hips with her hands. “Jonah has a coyote in his closet.”
“And the remaining pup. Do you have a suggestion?” At Tia’s puzzled look, Liz clarified. “Something Jonah would like?”
“No. I don’t know what he’d like.” An edge slipped in. She seemed to realize and regret it.
“I’ll just browse then.”
Tia frowned. “I can’t think why he’d want one of these candles.”
Liz half turned. “To go with his collection.” She watched it hit the mark. The woman hadn’t known. “Believe me, Tia, he loves your work.” She chose an aspen leaf pillar. It didn’t really matter what she bought. “This will go nicely in his cabin with the others.” She set it on the counter.
Tia held her eyes with only a hint of distress. “Did you want melts?”
“Oh. I forgot.” She grabbed them off the shelf. Lucy would be glad for them, and it would explain her absence.
“Do you want them wrapped?”
“Yes, separately. It’s almost the best part.”
Tia’s face looked wan, and there could be no doubt. The anguish she’d seen through the window yesterday was real.
Tia locked the shop at the stroke of six and began the slow, limping climb toward her house. She could have driven, but she wouldn’t give a sprained ankle and a bruised calf the power to limit her. Besides the pain felt good. Every jolt up her leg offered the chance to beat it back, to take another step.
I’m—still—walking.
She didn’t know who she was telling. It didn’t matter.
Liz had laid her bare, and she was dying, had, in fact, been dying for over nine years. Or if she were truly morbid, since birth. Piece by piece.
Everyone was, she guessed, but most people managed to live in between. She had tried so many times to spread her wings, but criticism and judgment had formed bars she’d flung herself against. Now if all she could do was beat back the pain, she’d beat it back with every step. She might have no wings. But she had legs. She had will. S
he clenched her teeth against the pain. She—was—still—alive.
Walking up the street, Liz watched as Tia came into view, then vanished, then appeared and disappeared between and behind the buildings. Their progress and cadence was ironically similar, a strong step and a weak—mirror images. Though pain furrowed Tia’s face, her injury would heal. Liz had healed long ago, yet her injury remained.
She hadn’t planned to follow her, wasn’t following her now. Their paths had merely found a parallel course. She rubbed her side, her hip. The grade was steep, and Tia’s path had veered away from the businesses. Liz took the alley between two shops and paused as Tia moved farther up toward a street with turn-of-the-century houses nestled into the mountainside.
Liz frowned. She would have to climb the path behind her or simply wait to see where she went. It only mattered because understanding Tia would help to understand Jonah. She could not abide suffering, and his pain in seeing Tia had been raw.
The revelation had stung her, but only briefly. He’d given her the puppies, and in that they shared a wondrous task. What could he possibly share with anyone else that would matter so much?
Piper all but pulled Tia in the door. “I can’t believe you’re walking on that leg.”
Tia sighed. “I can’t let it beat me.” She sank onto the settee in obvious pain.
“Really?” Frustration welled up. “Or maybe you can’t let it heal.” Tia looked up, surprised.
“That’s how you are with everything, isn’t it? How you are with Jonah. You want it to hurt.”
The pain in Tia’s face spoke for itself.
Piper folded herself onto the settee beside her. “Why?”
“I don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Why can’t you and Jonah fix what’s wrong?”
Tia swallowed. “Because it hurt other people.”
“You said he broke your sister’s heart—”
“I broke my sister’s heart.” Tia’s eyes looked like wounds. “Jonah was the love of her life. They wanted to marry, have kids. He’d finished his criminology courses and become a cop. Reba was studying interior design.” Tia’s face looked almost fierce. “They had it all planned out.”
Indivisible Page 18
