Indivisible (22 page)

They laughed.

Piper rewrapped the candles. “I’m glad he’s not a psychopath.”

“He still has issues.” Tia forked the mane back from her face. “I’d love to work with him, get to the bottom of it. Although it might require medication I can’t prescribe.”

“What do you mean, work with him?”

“I mean therapy. I have degrees in counseling and clinical psychology.”

“You do?” Piper searched her face. “Then why aren’t you doing it?”

“I was just asking myself the same question.”

Piper shook her head. “You keep surprising me.”

“Not many people know. I had to take the courses online since I was responsible for the store. I still need clinical hours and a license to practice.”

“But you could be helping people. More than the Hopeline.”

“I see that now. I kept waiting for things to change.” Tia turned. “But only I can.”

Jonah had called in his entire force except for Officer Sue Donnelly. The conference room where they assembled smelled of bitter coffee and McCarthy, who’d just come from the gym. They looked curious and a little uneasy. He briefed them. Moser put a hand to his face when he explained about Sam.

Newly said, “They got to him? In the jail?”

“Someone got something to him.” He didn’t express what they’d all realize at some point, that Sam still made a choice to use. Unless he’d been forcibly shot up before lockdown? He’d talk to Hao, have him look beyond the obvious. Hand or fingerprints where he might have been held. Trauma at the needle site.

“This is our top priority. I want 24/7 surveillance on Tom Caldwell. I want you all through town checking vacant properties, trailers, motel rooms where there have been odor complaints.”

“That would be most of the places I’ve stayed,” Newly lightened the mood.

“Especially when you’ve had burritos.” McCarthy flicked his head with a backhand.

“Nah, that was his girlfriend.” From Moser, cracking up Beatty, the rookie.

Jonah let them get it out. They had to hate what this meant to their fellow officer. “I’ll be calling the sheriff for support. And guys? Everything by the book. I don’t want one count inadmissible because we scratched the wrong armpit. Beatty, you shadow Moser. He’s been a cop since Moses brought the tablets down from Sinai.”

“I wrote the tablets.” Moser ran his fingers down his perfect facial hair.

Jonah looked around the table. The worst they’d dealt with were domestic calls. He had a feeling they’d all be growing up.

Twenty-One

My twin and I were wombmates and then roommates. Some day our bodies will be tombmates.

—CLARA TAIPALE

S
he shouldn’t leave Lucy, miserable and distressed by her increasingly frequent absences. It broke her heart to see her confusion, but how could she explain? She couldn’t do it alone, and now there was someone else who bore others up, who carried the weak without complaint.

“It’s him,” Lucy rasped. “I know it.”

She sighed. “I won’t be long.”

Lucy didn’t believe her.

“I promise.” She pressed a hand to Lucy’s pale cheek and turned away.

It had been two and a half weeks since she bought the candle, no knowing if she’d ever give the gift. Seeing him at the creek, open once more and sharing his true feelings had been a sign, an invitation to treat him as she would any wounded creature. But a different vehicle sat beside the Bronco in Jonah’s driveway. If someone else was there, maybe she should leave.

But she grabbed her package and went to the door, her heart jumping when he hollered, “Come on in,” as though he’d been expecting her.

A less robust voice barked and swore. Curious, she moved through the cabin to the back rooms he and Jay must have completed. From a chair beside a single bed, an old man, bent like a shepherd’s crook, let loose on the young woman who held her hand just out of reach, urging him to stretch farther than it seemed he wanted to.

Providing a counterforce with a hand to the man’s chest, Jonah sent a glance over his shoulder. “Liz?”

“I didn’t realize you were busy. I can come back.”

“We have, what?” He turned to his companion. “Ten more stretches?”

“Ten more.”

The old man growled.

“Just ten more,” the woman urged.

Jonah murmured, “There’s hot chocolate in the kitchen.”

A reminder of the evening he’d opened his heart? Liz smiled. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Again.” The woman held out her hand, and the old man stretched.

His ill temper reminded her of the surly old dogs people brought her to put down. They assumed the animal preferred death, because they didn’t want to watch it live in anything less than perfection. Not Jonah. His patience and affection warmed her more than the space heater in the corner.

When they finished stretching, the woman said, “You did very well, Sergeant Beaker. Opening the upper spine allows the lower lumbar some flexibility, and building strength between the shoulders will relieve more tension.” She began to lightly massage the muscle group they’d worked, flicking Jonah a glance. “We’ll just finish up here.”

“All right.” He tipped his head, and Liz preceded him out. As they walked away, the woman murmured something Sarge responded to with a laugh. Jonah shook his head. “Nimue wooing Merlin.”

“Excuse me?” She turned, confused.

Jonah jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
“Le Morte d’Arthur
. If Sarge doesn’t watch out, he’ll end up smitten.” He searched her face. “Never mind.”

“Is he your father?”

Jonah opened his mouth, then closed it. “My dad’s dead. Sarge is an old friend.”

“Sarge, who owns the bakery?”

“You have a good memory.”

“You took him in?”

“He’s living here, yeah.”

They had reached the kitchen.

“Did you want some cocoa? SoBe? water?”

Why couldn’t she think? “Do you need to see the therapist off?”

“Lauren? She’s Sarge’s nurse. She’ll be a while.”

Liz noticed three plates next to the Crock-Pot of rich roasting meat, red-skinned potatoes, and onions. Turning, she formed a tentative smile. “I brought you something.” She held out the package.

He looked from it to her.

“A thank-you for the pups. Since you’ve collected Tia’s work, I thought …” Again she lost what she had thought.

He took the package, untied the ribbon, and let the paper fall away. The aspen leaves cascaded in a spiral to the bottom of the candle, just the way they swirled to the ground in an autumn breeze.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s great. But, Liz, you took care of Enola—”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I just wanted you to have it. Tia didn’t know you liked candles. Hers, I mean. She said she couldn’t imagine that you’d want one.”

His brow lowered. “You told her?”

“Was it a secret? They look so nice.” She looked past the café counter to the main room mantel, then turned back, heart rushing. This was what she’d come for. “She’s the one, isn’t she? The one you can’t get over?”

His face darkened dangerously. “I’m not sure what we’re doing here.”

“I’m saying I know, Jonah, and it’s all right.”

“I don’t understand.”

But he did. “You said we could start something, but it wouldn’t be fair because I didn’t know about Tia. Now I do. I understand, and I don’t care.”

He jammed his hand through his hair. “That was … a bad day. I shouldn’t have said any of it.”

“Why? You found a better choice? Sarge’s nurse, maybe?”

He stiffened. “That’s enough.”

“Jonah, I
know
you. I get it. We have … so much in common.”

“Liz.”

“You loved two sisters, and I—”

He raised his hands, palms out at her. “I need you to stop. I can’t deal with this now.” His flinty face was all sharp edges.

This wasn’t the man she’d seen hurting by the creek, who’d come to her for help, who’d needed her. He was a stranger, a liar, a thief. He had stolen her trust and thrown it back. She snatched the candle from his hands and pushed past him out the door.

He stood, fists clenched, until a hand on his arm released the tension.

“Jonah?”

When he turned, Lauren searched his face.

“Bad news?”

He controlled his breathing with difficulty.

“Do you need to sit?” The nurse taking charge.

“No.”

Her touch was gentle, her expression caring. They had shared a few meals around his table, cooking for her the least he could do after putting Sarge through his paces.

“I take it that wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Your former fiancée?”

“Not even close.”

Her gray-green eyes shimmered like shady pools. He could imagine her as the enchantress Tia had read aloud from Malory’s tales, enamored with knights and kings and magic. He’d gladly be enchanted, beguiled, bewitched, even betrayed if it meant an end.

“Your pulse is racing.”

When had the anger kicked in? When he pictured Liz in Tia’s shop, describing the whole pitiful scene, and Tia wondering why he’d sent someone to buy candles for his home, surrounding himself with parts of her. Pathetic.

And Liz. He pressed a hand to his face.

“Can I help?” Lauren held his arm.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have to do everything alone.”

“Well, it’s a lot smarter that way.”

“Smarter? Or safer.”

He expelled his breath. “Yeah, that.”

The scent of butterscotch from the waxed pine cones mingled with the wood fire was one of the best mood-setting aromas she knew. Tia glanced over at Piper curled up on the opposite end of the settee with a novel. Tia would have liked to read, loved reading, but she couldn’t find solace in imagination now. It was time to face reality.

The doorbell rang. Piper pried her eyes from the page. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No.” Tia got up and opened the door to the last person she would have imagined. “Liz?” She looked from the woman to the candle she held. “Is something wrong?”

“I want my money back.”

Tia stared for a moment as a chill crawled up her back. “This is my house, not my store. How did you—”

“Jonah didn’t like it.”

Oh, the irony. “Why don’t you just come by the …”

“I paid twenty-eight dollars plus tax.” Liz looked past her at Piper.

Irritation rose, lacing the words, “That included the melts for your sister. Do you have your receipt?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You know what? Never mind. Let me get my purse.”

“Tia?” Piper sent her a disbelieving glance.

What difference did it make? As she moved toward the mud room where she kept her sling-back purse, she heard Liz saying, “Why are you here?”

And Piper, “I live here.”

This was surreal. Tia took out a twenty and a ten. Liz had stayed at the open door, and the cold that swirled in around her might have emanated from the woman’s body. Tia handed over the money, feeling invaded.

Liz thrust the candle at her. “He told me he wasn’t over you, but he is.”

Tia drew the candle to her chest. “I could have told you that.”

“He has someone there, right now.”

“That’s not my business. Or yours.”

Something shifted in the woman’s face. “When we first met, I wanted to be friends.” A fleeting poignancy touched her voice. “Before I knew.”

“Knew?”

“What you’d done to him. How you’ve wounded him.”

Tia swallowed. “Well, that’s what we do best.” She probably should have held her tongue.

Liz’s eyes narrowed. “Are you so hateful?”

Apparently. “I’m sorry I’ve offended you.”

One nostril and the side of Liz’s mouth flickered up. “You would have to matter to offend me.”

Tia barked a soft laugh. “Okay. We’re done here.” She closed the door.

“What was that?” Piper half whispered.

Tia rubbed her temples. “Fallout.”

Piper grabbed her shoulders. “You have to tell him.”

“Who?”

“Jonah.”

“Tell him what? His scorned girlfriend whacked out on me because he’s with someone else?”

“Tell him she’s … weird.”

Tia’s mouth pulled. “I imagine he knows. And so what? You know what I think, Piper? Everyone’s weird. Everyone’s got stuff. She was just hurting enough to let hers show.”

Early the next morning, Liz watched Tia set out. To the mountain, of course, passing through the chilly mist like a wraith. Pressed into the side of the house next to Tia’s, Liz stared after her. She’d heard from Catrin Draper, whose chocolate lab, Monster, had required forty stitches, that Tia had been lost in the storm on that mountain. Lost and injured. Only a sprain, Catrin assured her.
“But I’d have been terrified. Mountains are not forgiving.”

Neither were people. Confronted with Jonah’s pain, Tia had not even defended herself. Wounding each other was what they did best. Liz clenched her hands. She’d called it hateful, but could there be anything more honest? Could it be that bare honesty that drew her again and again to the woman she wanted to despise?

Appearing through the mist where the trail bent back around, Tia stopped, leaned her head back, and stretched out her arms, a mythical being who stood for long beats of the heart as the fog passed over and around her like tattered gauze. When Tia slowly raised her head and lowered her hands, Liz breathed, as though released from a trance, and saw only a woman climbing farther up the mountain.