Deadly Row to Hoe Page 13

  Nate’s mom was obviously still a dreamer. He had some of that quality, too. A kind of determined innocence.

  She grimaced. “Yes, by the time it all came to an end the place ran very well. Not only could we support ourselves, but we made money from excess crops, from harvesting the ocean, and from some of the items we produced.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, we had goats by then, and sold the cheese we made. And we had llamas, and they produced lots of soft, fluffy—”

  “Fiber!”

  She looked surprised. “Right.”

  “Ruth taught me to spin last year,” I explained with a nod to my fiber arts mentor. She glanced up from her knitting, obviously pleased.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I said. The more Faith talked the more I had to agree with Daphne’s assessment. The commune Nate had grown up in did sound pretty darn wonderful. Difficult, but if you weren’t afraid of hard work, still wonderful.

  “And that’s where Nate and Darla first met? You see with both of them … attacked … I thought perhaps there was something about their relationship that sparked someone to, well, that caused …” I trailed off, feeling lame and stupid and insensitive.

  Faith nodded. “I’d be happy to share whatever I can if you think it would help. Daphne told me you help the police sometimes. What would you like to know?”

  Twenty-one

  I glanced at Daphne, then back at Faith. “Okay. How did Nate and Darla meet?”

  “The Klicks were one of the original three couples. All our children were born after we started Happy Daze.”

  “Does Nate have siblings? Or Darla?”

  “Nate has a brother who’s one year older, and his sister is eight years younger. Darla had a younger sister as well—two years, I believe. She used to follow them around like a puppy. Made them crazy.” Faith smiled, remembering.

  My brother, Bobby Lee, had done that for a while when we were growing up. Now I’d give anything to have him around to bug me.

  “So Nate and Darla were more or less raised together.”

  Faith nodded. “Their whole lives, until we had to disband. They became best friends in fourth grade.”

  “Did they ever … date?” I didn’t even know if it were possible to date in a situation like that. “Or fall for each other, like romantically?”

  I sensed more than saw Daphne stiffen in her chair.

  “No,” Faith said, oblivious. A hint of regret shaded the word. “We all kind of hoped they would, and they might have eventually if—well, something happened that made that impossible.”

  Daphne looked worried, her bottom lip clamped between her teeth. I remembered her reference the night before to a sad story. And Allie had said something about an accident.

  Something flickered behind Faith’s eyes, and she turned toward Daphne. “Did Nate tell you about it?”

  The younger woman tipped her chin in the affirmative. “You mean the woman who fell out of the boat.”

  “Right. Sophie Mae, do you know about that? It tore Nate and Darla apart.”

  “Sounds pretty bad,” I said.

  Ruth nodded her agreement, concern—and curiosity—all over her face.

  Faith looked down at the floor and took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. The muscles in my neck and shoulders tightened in empathetic anticipation.

  “There were a few people in our group of college friends who liked the whole idea of Happy Daze, but couldn’t really commit to that lifestyle for any number of reasons. Most eventually lost touch, but one—Leigh Weber—visited us regularly over the years. She’d come help with harvest or when we raised a new building. Sometimes she’d bring a special friend to show the place off to. Often she’d talk about making the leap, joining us full-time. But then that would fade in the face of her work or love life or whatever. We would have welcomed her with open arms.”

  Faith paused, staring unseeing at the generic watercolor painting on the opposite wall of the ICU lounge. I could almost see the past turning over in her mind. “It was late October, eleven, no, twelve years ago. For once a spate of dry weather had been forecast over the weekend, and it seemed the perfect time for our harvest party. The date always changed according to the weather and our workload, but sometime every fall we prepared an abundance of food, built a bonfire, and celebrated another year of successfully living from the land. It was half pagan, half Thanksgiving.

  “Leigh always tried to make it out to the island for those parties, and though some years she wasn’t able to, that year she did. She brought someone she’d been seeing for a while, and planned to stay for a week afterward to help us get ready for the coming winter. There was always so much to do that time of year—preserve the garden produce, erect cold frames, plant cold weather crops, lay in a supply of wood for heat, winterize our homes. And sure enough, right after they arrived Leigh began talking about staying forever.” She pressed her lips together before continuing.

  “Happy Daze was near the beach, and we harvested much of our food from Puget Sound. We dug clams and gathered oysters, fished for salmon, and set out a series of crab pots in regular locations.”

  “Nice,” I said, thinking of how many people pay big bucks for such delicacies. But talk about local and easily accessible food in the Pacific Northwest.

  Faith’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It was. And in the early days, we relied heavily on that bounty. But by that October we’d been living together on that land for almost twenty years, and we had our act together.”

  “How old was Nate?” I asked.

  “Seventeen, almost eighteen. He wanted to take a year to wander, and then planned to go to Western and study agriculture. He’s always had a green thumb.”

  “You didn’t mind him leaving?”

  “As Kahlil Gibran says, you don’t own your children. His father and I agreed that taking a year or so to explore the world would be good for him. It would be his choice whether to come back to us or not.”

  I wondered whether I’d be such a level-headed parent. I liked to think I would. Of course, I liked to think a lot of things.

  “So that October Nate and Darla—she was a year younger—went out to pull the pots so we’d have plenty of Dungeness crab to boil up for the party that night. Leigh offered to go with them.”

  The woman who fell out of the boat. Oh, dear. I exchanged glances with Daphne.

  “That wasn’t unusual—she’d gone out several other times. So the three of them went down, launched our little boat, and headed out.”

  “Little boat,” I repeated before I could stop myself.

  Faith grimaced. “Not that little. It was a sixteen-foot, aluminum fishing boat, which was perhaps a bit small to take out on the Sound. But the water was calm in our little inlet, and the crab pots were relatively close to shore. At least most of them were. The kids had gone out loads of times, and we never worried about them. What we had never known was that Leigh couldn’t swim.”

  I winced. “No life jackets?”

  “Two, actually, in the boat at all times. Usually only two people at a time went out, you see.”

  “And Nate and Darla could both swim?”

  “Oh, yes. We made sure of that.”

  Still. Puget Sound wasn’t some tropical paradise. The beaches were rocky, and the average water temperature was less than fifty degrees.

  “Everyone was so busy and excited about the party that night. No one even realized there were only two life vests and three people. And of course, Leigh, being a responsible adult, insisted that the kids wear them. Nate swears he never would have let her go out there without one if he’d known she couldn’t swim.”

  “She fell overboard,” I said.

  Faith closed her eyes. “Reaching for the buoy above a crab pot. The water wasn’t choppy when they went out, but a wind had come up as they worked. Even then the waves aren’t what most people would even call waves, but a little one rocked the boat at exactly the wrong time and she flipped into th
e water.” She was talking faster now. “Nate reached for her, but she was panicking. He realized she couldn’t swim, and the boat was drifting away from her. He dove in to save her.” Her gaze latched onto the glass door that led down the sterile hallway to the ICU, where her unconscious son lay.

  I watched her anguish in silence. This story didn’t end well for Leigh. I already knew that. But now coupled with her comatose son, I wondered at Faith’s ability to tell it.

  “He couldn’t, though. Save her. By the time he got to her, she had already drowned. By the time they got back Nate was almost delusional from hypothermia. He’d been in the water for almost ten minutes, Darla said. I was so grateful she’d stayed in the boat and could bring them both back. Otherwise, we might have lost all three.” She blinked back tears. “That was the end of our harvest festivals. A couple years later we lost the whole place.”

  Daphne slid her arm around Faith’s shoulder, and the older woman closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against the younger woman’s shoulder. Her breath was ragged as she struggled to regain control of her emotions.

  She was one tough lady.

  After a minute she sat up and met my eyes. Hers were red, but dry. Daphne kept her hand on her arm.

  “Thank you for telling me,” I said. “I know it was difficult, and I don’t have any idea how it could have any bearing on the attacks at the Turner farm, but it does tell me a lot about Nate and Darla’s relationship that they went through that together.”

  “Nothing was ever the same for those two after that,” Faith said. “The guilt about drove Nate crazy. He left to wander as he planned, but he never did go to college. He got involved with drugs for a while, and never settled down for more than a few months until he ran into Tom Turner.”

  “They knew each other from Happy Daze, right?”

  Faith nodded. “Tom and Allie joined us late. Both of them understood farming, and they fit right in. That little girl of theirs was a sweetie, too. I can’t remember her name.”

  “Clarissa,” I said.

  “Right. Thank God Tom offered Nate a job. Ever since he’s been at the Turners’ farm there in Cadyville, Nate has been on track.” She patted Daphne’s hand on her arm. “This girl has been a good influence, too.”

  Daphne smiled.

  “Did Nate ever mention Allie’s sister, Hallie?” I asked.

  Puzzled expressions from both Faith and Ruth greeted my question.

  Ruth frowned. “Why on earth would he?”

  Daphne said, “It doesn’t really matter, does it, Sophie Mae?”

  Right. Maybe better not to bring that up right now.

  I returned to my original line of questioning. “What about Darla? Allie mentioned something about an incident that involved Tom.”

  “Oh, that was just a big misunderstanding,” Faith said. “And Allie overreacted. Darla had emotional issues after the accident. Anxiety and severe depression. The Klicks sent her to rehab once, and it helped for a while. When she came back she avoided Nate. It got so each reminded the other of what had happened. After the commune broke up they lost touch, on purpose, I think.” She sighed. “If only they could have talked to each other about it instead.”

  “I think they did,” Daphne said. “Nate said he and Darla had a really good discussion about the accident and how it had affected their lives before, well, you know.”

  Before she was killed.

  How could I ever have thought she’d be jealous of Nate’s old friend? Nate had told her about Leigh drowning right before his eyes—maybe even in his arms. So Daphne knew she didn’t have anything to worry about.

  But Hallie didn’t know the nature of the bond between Nate and Darla. Hallie only thought in terms of … what did she think in terms of ? Clarissa’s comment came back to me.

  Thank God she’s got at least one person to love who loves her back.

  I couldn’t quite figure out Hallie. Was she the evil twin, or was she just lost and kind of pathetic?

  A glance at the clock on the wall reminded me of the time. I stood. “It was nice to meet you, Faith. Thank you for talking with me. We’re all sending Nate our thoughts and prayers.”

  “Thank you.” She stood and gave me a hug.

  “Daphne, can I get your cell number?” I was worried about her and wanted to be able to check in on her—and on Nate.

  She tore off a corner of a magazine on the table and scribbled it down. As she handed it to me, I remembered another question.

  “Faith? Do you know anything about Darla’s child?”

  Still another layer of sadness crossed her features. “I know she was pregnant, but she never had the baby. She lost it early on.”

  Speechless, I struggled not to react. My mouth was so dry I couldn’t swallow. Could hardly breathe.

  Ruth made a noise of sympathy and paused in her knitting. She looked up at me, eyes full of understanding, and then she gave a single, slow shake of her head. Don’t go there, Sophie Mae, it said. There’s enough to worry about without adding that to the mix.

  I blinked and returned a slight nod.

  Faith didn’t notice any of it. “Her boyfriend at the time lived in Cadyville. After the miscarriage, Darla left him. But her mother told me losing the baby triggered a turnaround for Darla. It could have so easily gone the other way, you know? But something about that time convinced her that life was too short to be unhappy all the time. She got her degree, lost a bunch of weight, and started reconnecting with old friends.” Faith tried a smile. “So perhaps it wasn’t all bad, you know?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I said.

  But as I drove out of the parking lot, I had to wonder whether reconnecting with old friends was why Darla Klick had been killed.

  Twenty-two

  The complex smell of vegetables cooking together wafted through the open front door, through the yard, and all the way to the sidewalk out front. Inside, the murmur of voices drew me into the kitchen. Erin and Zoe stood on opposite sides of the butcher block table, each with a cutting board and small knife. The wet paper towels Meghan had placed under the boards so they wouldn’t slip on the smooth table surface peeped out from the edges. Erin quickly sliced kale into ribbons and reached for a red bell pepper. Her hair was still piled high on her head as if she were going to a prom, an amusing juxtaposition with her denim shorts and purple-striped T-shirt. Zoe hacked at a zucchini. Clarissa sat at the end, chin resting on one palm, looking bored. Meghan turned from the pot she was stirring on the stove, and one look told me things were still tense with the girls.

  “Whatever you’ve got stewing up in that pot is going to make the whole neighborhood hungry,” I said.

  “I know,” Erin said. “When Mom said we’d make veggie soup with all the good stuff you brought home yesterday, I thought it would be kind of boring.”

  “It is boring,” Clarissa grumped.

  “Is not. It smells good and it’s going to taste even better. Mom made bread, and we’ve even got homemade butter and jam to put on it.”

  I tried to keep from smiling. Erin wasn’t usually such an advocate for the from-scratch and local cooking Meghan and I tended toward, occasionally grumbling at the lack of mac-and-cheese from a box and day-glo orange snack crackers. Clarissa’s dismissive attitude had apparently sparked her defense mechanism.

  Zoe doggedly whacked away, ignoring them both.

  “So are we going vegetarian tonight?” I asked Meghan.

  “I thought we could add some Italian sausage, pasta, and beans, and make this into a minestrone.”

  Yum. “Kelly will be here?”

  She blinked, and a small smile turned up one corner of her mouth. “Yes.” Our eyes met, and I saw her anticipation. It was going to be an interesting evening for those two.

  “You all want to go out to a movie tonight?” I asked the girls. Meghan and Erin had been standing right there beside me when Barr asked me to marry him. Of course, they also knew it was coming, since he’d already worked out the idea of
buying into Meghan’s house and renovating it so I wouldn’t have to leave what I thought of as my family. However, my friend might want a bit more privacy for what she was about to spring on her beau, and her look of happy relief at my suggestion confirmed it.

  Erin stopped and looked at me with suspicion. “Why?”

  “I thought you liked to go to the theater,” I countered.

  “Well, I can’t go,” Zoe said. “I’ve got a riding lesson tonight.”

  Clarissa sniffed.

  “How ’bout you?” I asked. “Do you like movies?”

  “I guess. But nothing animated. Cartoons are for little kids.”

  “I’m sure we can find something appropriate.”

  “Hallie takes me to R-rated movies.”

  “Well, that won’t be happening tonight.” Get used to it, kid.

  Something croaked in Zoe’s pocket, and we all turned to stare. She grinned and pulled out her phone. It made another frog noise.

  “Mom just texted me,” she said. “I gotta go.”

  As she followed her friend to the door, Erin threw a look at her mother. It said everyone on the whole planet had a cell phone except for Erin Bly and that totally sucked. Amazing, really what a single look from that kid could say.

  Meghan sighed.

  I sliced the sausage into the tomato-based soup burbling slowly on the stovetop, grabbed an apple, and headed down to my workroom. I hadn’t eaten lunch, and any more time in that kitchen would see me ladling some of that fragrant soup into a bowl to “test.”

  A really big bowl.

  On the work island Cyan and Kalie had left neat rows of foot scrub packaged into jars with Winding Road labels. The fresh scent of mint still curled through the air. I moved the jars to the storeroom shelves next to baskets of lip balm. The lavender-basil soap I’d poured two days before had solidified enough to cut. Heavy footsteps upstairs alerted me that Kelly had arrived. As I sliced and trimmed and carefully stacked the bars to cure in the storeroom, I wondered how Meghan would pop the question. Would she come right out and ask him to marry her? Or start with a “we have to talk” style discussion that would end in a proposal?