Touch of Rain

by Teyla Branton

  “Maybe. He still wouldn’t like it, and he wouldn’t have jurisdiction here.”

  I heaved a sigh. “Okay, so we keep looking. First, I’m going to talk to Essence. I want to know about those drugs.”

  Jake nodded. “I’m going to meet with the guys about the building and then sneak off and check out the countryside.”

  “If you get a chance, go to the gate and see if Ethan left us another radio and try to contact him if he has. It really isn’t like him not to have brought the police already.”

  Jake blew out an irritated breath. “This could be exactly like him. We don’t really know the man at all.”

  “He’s okay. You know how long he’s been looking for his sister. And I told you already that I checked him out on the Internet. His name came up in connection with the university.” Though I hadn’t actually looked at the sites, the search page clearly showed he was with the math department.

  Jake shrugged. “I’m just saying something isn’t adding up here.”

  “Well, duh, but if there’s a radio there, he may be able to tell us something more. For all we know the local police are on the take.”

  Jake grimaced, but he didn’t continue the subject. “I’ll check the gate. You just be careful.”

  “I will.” He left, striding across the square with an animal-like grace, sure and powerful. The few women watching the children eyed him as he left, and I felt a little jealousy at their freedom to give him such admiring looks.

  Shaking the thoughts away, I started out between the rows of vegetables on the far side of the square. These, Harmony had explained, were the plants most commonly used for consumption at the farm—lettuce, carrots, broccoli, spinach, squash, cucumbers. I passed them all. I should have reached the potatoes and the berry patches, but somehow I ended up near the foundation of the new building, which meant I’d seriously curved to the left when I was only supposed to slightly curve. The good news was that I knew where I was, more or less, and I could cut through the trees here to the right and probably emerge in the fields near the greenhouse.

  All the while, my mind was churning with questions. Did Gabe and Harmony know about Essence’s drugs? Did the drugs work into the setup here, or were they Essence’s secret? Obviously one she at least shared with the red-haired Fox. Hopefully, she would have some answers for me.

  A movement beyond the foundation of the new house caught my eye, and instinctively, I ducked behind a tree. Then I felt silly because it was probably Jake taking a look at what they’d done so far. Fortunately, I peeked before I stepped out. Instead of Jake, I saw Gabe and Korin with the guard from last night and two others flanking them some distance away.

  My heart flipped into overdrive, making me want to flee, but I held my position because they were coming my way. Just step out and say hi, I told myself. My feet wouldn’t move.

  “Where is he now?” Gabe’s voice came into range.

  Korin replied, but I couldn’t hear his softer voice, which was odd, given that he was so good at projecting during his speeches.

  “We have to take care of this immediately,” Gabe said. “There’s too much at risk.”

  I still couldn’t hear Korin’s reply, but it sounded soft and pleading, the way I’d expect a man to sound after learning his brother was dead. Had they found Inclar’s body wherever someone had moved it?

  Gabe stopped and faced Korin, and now I couldn’t hear him clearly, either. “ . . . risk we have to take . . . snooping around . . . Harmony . . . nothing to do with us.”

  Korin was nodding, his demeanor intent and respectful. But when Gabe started walking again, a flash of something else rolled across his face. Courage? Fear? I couldn’t say.

  “Come on. Let’s do this,” Gabe said.

  They were closer to me now, flanked by the guards, and I hugged the tree, not daring to peek out. I waited until they were past me and then followed. I was quiet on my bare feet, and they were making so much noise I wasn’t worried about their hearing me. They seemed to be walking in a direction that would take them nearer the cow barn than the greenhouse.

  My heart still pounded in overtime. For no reason at all, I thought of Shannon. Did the detective feel like this when he tracked criminals—tingly, purposeful? Alive? Maybe now I would see where they had hidden both the body and Marcie. I hoped they weren’t in the same place because if Tawnia’s drawing and the imprints were correct, Marcie was already on the edge of madness.

  Their voices had faded, and I began to hurry, afraid of losing them but also afraid they’d discover my presence. I was so involved in worrying and sneaking along that I broke out into the clearing surrounding the main barn before I realized where I was. I stepped back into the trees and scanned the area, finding nothing but packed dirt and two cats lounging in the shade of the barn. Gabe and Korin were nowhere to be seen. They hadn’t been far enough ahead of me to get to the barn, but I couldn’t see where else they might have gone.

  Maybe they were somehow behind me now. Maybe they knew I’d been following them. Suddenly, I felt small and helpless and exposed, despite the trees surrounding me.

  Looking over my shoulder, I hurried in the direction of the greenhouse, hoping this time I wasn’t the one being followed.

  Chapter 20

  Nothing happened. No one emerged to confront or accuse me. I didn’t see another living thing, except a pair of birds in a tree, who took flight as I passed, sending my heart pounding again.

  After a little side trip to a big field of potatoes, I found the herb fields and the greenhouse. Essence was still there, looking rather spaced-out. This time I knew why. I sat down beside her where she was staring off into the distance, apparently having watered all the seedlings that needed daily attention.

  The floor of the greenhouse was packed earth, and I was glad for my jeans. Essence herself was wearing some wide-legged culottes made from the same brown material many of the men and women used for pants—the same cloth I’d seen in bolts in the meeting room. These were badly sewn, as though hurriedly, or perhaps the first in a homemade pattern. Her T-shirt was white with the familiar blue lettering, a copy of the one I wore.

  I pulled a few mint leaves from a plant and popped them into my mouth, savoring the flavor. Essence glanced at me, actually focusing on my face for a full two seconds, but didn’t comment on my breaking the fast.

  “Do they know?” I asked into the silence. “About the marijuana?”

  She didn’t look at me but stared at the ground, like a little child caught in a wrongdoing.

  “Come on. I just want to know.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe they know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Coming to her feet in a single graceful movement that said a lot about her physical condition, she beckoned me to the corner. “Sometimes when I come in here, some of the leaves have been cut.” She pointed to a section. “I don’t know who does it.”

  “Could it be that boy who was in here?”

  “Fox?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He might have, but I don’t know why he would. I give him all he wants.”

  I moved closer to her. “Why do you use it, Essence? Is it so bad here?”

  “Two years ago I wanted to go home. Now I don’t.”

  I studied her pointed features, her dark hair making her face appear pale and sickly. “Who gave you these plants?” I said the words slowly, deliberately, so she would be sure to understand.

  She looked at me again, a sharp, piercing stare that shot a sliver of terror into my heart. Her eyes weren’t green, as I’d thought they might be, but a light brown and frighteningly empty. “No one.” She turned away.

  I followed her. “Someone gave them to you. Who was it? Why won’t they let people leave?”

  No reply.

  “What if you didn’t have to stay? What if you could leave now?”

  She shook her head. “This is my home. I have a purpose. I love my work. And I love Fox. We’re getting married
when the new house is finished.”

  “Will Fox protect you from what’s going on here? Not that I know what’s going on because none of you will tell me anything.”

  She whirled on me. “Go away! Go away now! I don’t want to talk to you, and I don’t want to see you again.”

  I glared at her. “What are you so afraid of?”

  At my words, she crumpled into a heap on the ground, knees to her chest, head tucked, arms curled up to cover her head. Sobs broke through. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go back.”

  I knelt beside her and patted her back. “Shhh. It’s okay.” She cringed at my touch but gradually relaxed, her sobs subsiding. “Essence, where don’t you want to go back to?”

  “To the dark.”

  I’d suspected she hadn’t been talking about civilization, but the words confirmed this. “The dark place,” I said. “Where is it?”

  She curled tighter and said nothing. Maybe she didn’t know. I put my arms around her, but she seemed to have gone into some sort of trance and didn’t appear to notice me. Her breathing was shallow and irregular. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  No reply.

  I’d never felt so helpless in all my life, except at the bank of the river watching the divers search for Winter’s body. Fear grew into a tight knot in my chest. If I managed to carry her back to the houses, would they take her to a doctor? I doubted it.

  I stayed where I was, holding her, and eventually, after what seemed like forever, I felt her muscles unclench. Her breathing deepened and evened out. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I won’t ask you any more questions. But I will tell you that I’m here to help you. That’s why I’ve come. You are not alone.”

  So many promises I was making—to Victoria, Spring, and now Essence. Women I didn’t even know, not really.

  Essence didn’t reply, but I hadn’t expected her to. I squeezed her one last time before moving away. Whatever I was searching for, Essence wasn’t ready to trust me with what she might know.

  She had, however, confirmed the existence of a dark place. Where could it be?

  I had reached the door when she spoke in a faint whisper. “We grow all our own food, you know. We bottle a lot in the fall. The pantry—have you seen it? It’s always full. Of course, it’s not big enough for all the bottles and vegetables. They can last all winter if stored right. And not just onions and apples and potatoes. You can store almost anything if you wrap it right.”

  She’d finally gone over the edge. But at least she was talking again, and that was an improvement. “That’s great,” I said.

  “You never go hungry here. Never. Except on fast days.”

  I nodded. Her thin face was pinched and desperate, denying her claim. If there was so much food here, why didn’t she eat it? That made me wonder again about the drugs, but Essence didn’t seem to be avoiding food because of what was in it. Maybe her habit made it so she didn’t care to eat.

  Her eyes were wild, not really seeing me. Her head drooped. “So much food,” she whispered. “Cold.”

  She wasn’t talking about the greenhouse. It was almost stifling in here, and if not for the open doors at either end, it would have been a lot hotter. I took two steps toward her. “Can I do anything for you?”

  “Please go,” came the muffled request.

  So I left. What else could I do?

  I wasn’t above snacking in the fields as I made my way back to the houses. A little of this and a little of that. I didn’t worry about washing the produce because I figured that any fertilizer or pesticides they used here were probably natural and wouldn’t stay on the leaves long enough to hurt me. The rows of herbs and vegetables, washed by the rain and nestled in these cleared fields, were a complete opposite to the terror I’d felt with Essence. Part of me wanted to sit in these fields and stay forever, and the other part wanted to run away as fast and as far as I could. Back to my comforting antiques and my sister.

  Yet how could I leave Spring and Victoria and Essence? And what about Marcie?

  I’d almost made it back to the houses when a thought hit me with the force of a truck. I actually sat down by a row of cabbages to think it through.

  Essence hadn’t been wandering in her thoughts. She’d been giving me a clue. If the pantry in the kitchen wasn’t big enough to store all these vegetables for the winter, where did they store them? Another barn? No, it would have to be somewhere cool, but deep enough not to freeze. A root cellar, maybe. A dark, musty root cellar.

  If there was one, maybe it didn’t hold just vegetables, especially now when the harvest was months away. With so many people to feed during the winter, there could even be more than one cellar. Maybe we weren’t looking for a building at all but a hole in the ground.

  The police didn’t come.

  I was beginning to worry about Ethan. Had the police refused to believe him? Was he waiting outside the gate worrying about me? Wondering about Marcie?

  Jake was also missing, but I knew he was scouting the area. I only wished I could tell him about the root cellar so he could look for that too. But what did an entrance to a root cellar look like? A few of Winter’s friends who lived in houses instead of apartments had them in their backyards, and they ranged from little hut-like structures that descended immediately into the earth to a flat door that could be hidden by a couple of bales of hay.

  We’d have to search the barns more carefully.

  Back at the main house, Scarlet trapped me and began grilling me about what I would need for the herb salves and remedies. Then she put me to work on the quilts with the other women. Spring was there, looking decidedly worse with her allergies. I tried to convince her to go lie down, but she would hear none of it. The quilts, I learned as we worked, were sold online from the factory in Rome or sometimes sent to craft fairs. They would each bring in hundreds of dollars.

  Where did the money go? Some of it went to supplies, like needles, special threads and the finer materials, but since so much was made here, there would be substantial profit, especially added to the proceeds from the other crafts. The money was likely buying materials for the new house and upgrades for the older housing, but I doubted that took everything. If I could find out where the money went, I might be a long way toward deciding who was behind the fear that lurked here.

  Harmony left the women after the first quilt was finished, carrying it in her arms. On the pretense of making more tea, I followed her. I waited until she had opened the door to her room before calling out to her.

  “Can I speak to you for a moment?” I walked toward her quickly as I spoke, hoping she wouldn’t shut her door and come to meet me in the hall.

  She turned, her face smiling. In this dim light, she was even more beautiful, and I wondered at what I had seen imprinted on the flashlight and about her relationship with her husband. He loved her deeply, I knew that, and yet last night she had been almost servile toward him, frightened.

  Of him? Or something else? I wished I knew what she felt for him because that would help me know if I could trust her. I knew I didn’t trust Gabe.

  “What is it?” The shadows under Harmony’s eyes were more noticeable here than outside, making her look not frail but human. Needy.

  “It’s about Spring.” I glanced around as though afraid of being heard.

  She gestured me into her room. I couldn’t have planned it better. During our tour, she’d only indicated the door to her room, but now I’d get to see inside. It was about half again the size of the one I shared with Essence and Victoria, holding a queen-sized bed and a dresser. The worn cherry furniture was better quality than the wooden bunks and had obviously come from a store, though none of it was sumptuous by any standard. I suspected it was the set she’d brought with her when they’d come originally. A door opened to a smaller room, and there I saw part of a wooden bunk bed. Their daughter’s room, I assumed.

  Harmony watched me, a question in her eyes. “Looks just like the married
quarters,” I said.

  She laughed. “Pretty much. Except we made the bed frames there. In fact, we made all our frames except the few metal ones we have in the singles’ rooms.”

  “Not the mattresses?”

  “No.”

  Somehow I was relieved to hear that Harmony Farms wasn’t completely independent of the world.

  “Is something wrong with Spring?” Harmony gently reminded me of my purpose.

  “I think she’s having a problem with allergies or something. She’s about had it, but I can’t get her to rest, and fasting for three days . . .” I shook my head. “She won’t even take tea.”

  Harmony set the folded quilt on her bed. “Why don’t you make her some tea, and I’ll talk with her?”

  “What about medication? I know some herbal remedies for allergies, but it’s going to take a while to find something that works for her.”

  “Korin will have some over-the-counter medicines. He keeps that sort of thing in his office. A lot of people come here addicted to different things and usually cutting that off cold turkey is best.”

  “But allergies are different, aren’t they?”

  Harmony shrugged. “We do have several people who suffer a bit for a month or so out of the year, but nothing too severe. She will adjust.”

  “I hope so. But what if she doesn’t? What then?”

  “That will be up to her.”

  The implication, of course, was that she could leave, and Harmony seemed to be sincere, but I felt a dread in my stomach that didn’t bode well for Spring.

  “I’ll go make the tea,” I said, keeping the doubt from my voice.

  “Put plenty of honey in it. That will help.”

  So Spring received the best tea I could make, and if it was slightly on the too-sweet side, she didn’t complain but drank it all down with some pills Harmony had given her. Then Harmony sent her to lie down with Silverstar, and I went back to quilting, thinking it would be better to buy a machine for all this hand-stitching than to waste so much time on the needlework. But machines cost money, and handmade quilts would bring a better price.