Broken Trust (7 page)

The flash of blue to the side of the farm house stole Nora’s breath.

No. Not now. Not ever
.

She had left Flagstaff. Fled the mountain with its real or imagined spirits. They wouldn’t follow her here. But he had followed her, at least to Mount Evans, hadn’t he? Unless she was crazy. And of course, Nora was crazy. Still, she was an ignorant white woman lacking in any spiritual quality that might appeal to a kachina.

“What is it you and Nora were talking about?” Abigail didn’t seem to mind prying into Trust business.

Sylvia responded as if it were a simple request. “I need her to cut me a check.”

I can hear you
, Nora wanted to say.

“Good luck with that,” Abigail said and they both laughed.
They’d only known each other for a few minutes and already worked
in tandem to torque off Nora. “She can be so tight-fisted and serious.”

If by tight-fisted you mean set up a generous budget that doesn’t include world cruises every six months, then yes, I’m a tightwad.

Sylvia seemed quite taken with Abigail. “I’m glad to know it’s not just me.”

“Oh heavens, no. She’s been like this since she was a toddler. When she was six she begged me to get her a cash register. Not a toy, mind you. She settled for an adding machine. She spent days writing figures in columns and adding them up. It was cute then.”

Nora forced herself to stare at the side of the house where she’d imagined the kachina. Maybe a staffer was taking a smoke break and wore a blue shirt. Of course there was no kachina. Kachinas didn’t exist.

“At least she’s had lots of practice,” Sylvia said. More of their instant
-
bestie twittering.

“We should have lunch soon,” Abigail said.

Sylvia headed back to the house. “It’s been delightful meeting you.”

Nora faced her mother with a stern expression, folding her arms.

Abigail raised her eyebrows. “What? I just stopped by to get the key to your apartment. I’ll go there and wait for you. I know you couldn’t possibly take time from your first day to spend with your mother.”

Nora dug in her jeans for her keys and started to pull off the apartment key. “How long are you staying?”

Abigail shrugged. “That depends, dear.”

A hard fist formed in Nora’s chest. She half-considered refusing to give her key to Abigail and insisting she turn the car around and head home.

She saw it again. The blue. It appeared, then disappeared.
Damn it.

Abigail plucked the key from Nora’s limp hand. “You don’t look well, Nora. You need to take better care of yourself.”

Nora watched as Abigail strode across the brown grass. Just as Abigail disappeared along the path to the parking lot, the kachina stepped around the side of the house, heading toward Nora.

Nope. I don’t see you. You don’t exist.

Nora fought the wave of panic cresting behind her eyes. She must hang on to reality. Besides, if she blinked the kachina would disappear.

So blink.

Damn! When she opened her eyes the vision remained. But the kachina, with his plug mouth and feathers, clutching the hatchet and wearing a bright blue sash, wasn’t advancing on her. Instead, a slightly built Native American closed the last few feet to stand in front of her.

He wore a plaid shirt and jean jacket. His jet black hair combed neatly and cut short, he could be a regular guy in a regular yard.

“Hi, Nora.”

Part of her wanted to throw her arms around his neck and hug him as an old friend. Part of her wanted to turn tail and run. She pushed back the silly fear. “Benny!”

His serious face broke into a slight grin. For him, that was like bursting into song. “You are well.”

She hugged him
after all
. He was shorter than Nora and small-framed, but his answering hug felt strong.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He stepped back and tilted his head to scrutinize the huge farm house. For as long as he studied it, he might have been memorizing the architecture.

Nora waited out his sloth pace. Impatience jangled her nerves.

It was Benny’s faith and loyalty to his friends that had saved Nora’s life in Flagstaff. She’d been forced to his home on the Hopi rez and he’d given her refuge and wisdom
—
both at the speed of melting snow.

“Do you like it here?”
h
e asked by way of response.

Good question. She liked being employed. Not only was she about to start sharing Alpo with Abbey, her isolation was grinding her to a nub of insecurity and craziness. Hadn’t she been seeing the kachina and those damned blue flashes?

Blue flashes and now Benny.

His steady gaze seemed to read her doubts.

“I think I’m going to like it fine. Loving Earth Trust does some great environmental work.”

He nodded but didn’t act convinced. “What sort of work will you do?”

Why did he get to ask all the questions? He showed up out of the blue—literally. “What brings you from Hopiland to Boulder?”

“You.” He said it simply.

Not weird at all. A little Hopi farmer, aged anywhere from thirty to fifty, who hated to leave the Mesas and his corn, traveling 800 miles to see someone he didn’t know all that well was perfectly normal.

This was going to be trouble.

“How did you find me?” She dreaded the answer.

His eyes twinkled with humor. “It wasn’t hard.”

Whew. She feared he’d say something far worse
—

“Nakwaiyamtewa told me.”

—l
ike that.

A punch to her stomach couldn’t have stolen her air with more force. She ought to talk to him, invite him over for dinner, say something polite and normal. All she could do was swivel on her heels and run to the back door of the house.

nine

Nora pulled into the
well-lit parking lot of her apartment complex long after sunset. She located a spot between a beat-up Honda and a rusted pickup.

The complex had the ambience of a dormitory. Several buildings snugged together in a maze of two-story units with worn shingle siding. A wrought
-
iron railing lined a balcony that ran along the second story with the apartment
s’
front doors opening onto the concrete walkway. Each apartment had a deck on back
,
and many held bikes and cheap grills. Cars and motorcycles drove in and out at all hours.

Two twenty-something girls with heavy backpacks carried giant Jamba Juice cups as they chatted on their way to a first
-
floor unit. A young man whizzed behind them on a bike. He called to the girls and they hollered back.

Nora sat in her Jeep staring up at the porch light in front of her apartment. The Stress-O-Meter didn’t go high enough to measure her first day of work
,
and now she must face Abigail and try to be pleasant.

Fall’s nighttime temperatures brought enough chill
that
Nora’s fingers and cheeks tingled as she clumped up the metal outside steps to the second floor. Abbey followed acting as if this were any ordinary trip home and not one sending them into a wasps’ nest.

“With any luck, Abigail will be tucked into the spare bed.” Abbey gazed at her but, as usual, didn’t answer.

Earlier, the staffers of the Trust checked out one by one
while
Nora
had s
tayed glued to her computer screen, studying, searching, printing documents
,
and trying to understand the different projects and their fund details. Each discovery made Nora’s stomach churn until it felt like a bucket of acid.

The third
-
quarter financials Mark sent her bore little resemblance to the numbers on her computer. The climate
-
modeling program headed by Sylvia LaFever showed the largest discrepancy
; i
ts deficit tilted the entire organization into
the
red.

No wonder Mark wanted Nora to present the financials he sent
,
since they showed a much rosier view of the Trust. But Nora couldn’t lie. And when she told the board the truth, Mark would fire he
r
.

She’d balanced up as much as possible, printed and collated the copies for the board, and said goodbye to her office. Nora
had
already calculated the salary she’d receive for just one day
—
it would barely buy a bag of dog food.

She sent a fervid prayer to the universe that Abigail would not be in one of her nitpicky moods. Or one of her nagging moods.

Or, just please don’t let her harp on me about what I wore today, and what food is in the apartment, my furniture, housecleaning abil
ity, and just for tonight, let us not discuss her budget and why, as trustee of her accounts, I refuse to open up the checkbook and let her bleed it dry.

The board meeting
would start
at the Hotel
Bo
u
lderado at
eight
in the morning. She must present herself as professional and competent and a lover of the environment. Normally, none of this would be a stretch. Tonight, after a fourteen
-
hour day, it
all
seemed impossible.

She tiptoed the last few feet to her doorstep. Abbey waited behind her. With a fortifying breath
,
Nora
turned the knob and stepped into the overheated apartment.

Abigail stood in the middle of the living room, fully visible from the front door. She held her cell phone to her ear. She’d changed into black yoga pants and stylish tunic. Far from being ready for bed, her short blonde bob and makeup looked good enough for an evening out. “Oh, never mind. She just walked in.” She punched the screen and set the phone down. “Where have you been?”

Like everything in the complex, the apartment was nothing
more than a glorified dorm room. Just two bedrooms in what served
mainly as student housing for the University of Colorado, it suited
her purposes. The main room consisted of a galley kitchen separated from the dining space by a counter bar. The living room continued about fifteen feet from the dining area and ended with a sliding door. The balcony had an excellent view of Devil’s Thumb hitching its way off the Flatirons. The whole unit weighed in at less than 700 square feet. A kingdom fit for Nora’s command.

The weekend parties and late-night noise reassured Nora. After the frightening summer on the isolated mountain in northern Arizona, she liked knowing other people surrounded her. Though furnished mostly from Ikea, everything in the apartment was new.

“Hi, Abigail.” Nora hung her bag and coat on hooks she’d installed next to the front door. She stepped into the kitchen and opened the cabinet under the sink
to
scoop out dog food.

Wow. You know you’re hungry when the smell of dog food makes your stomach growl. She poured it into Abbey’s dish, sandwiched between the dishwasher on one side and a micro-pantry on the other.

Abigail watched her. “If you had a phone like mine I could have texted you. Or even sent you a picture. Why do you have that antique?”

“I like my phone.” Nora felt no need for a smartphone to keep her plugged in.

“You’re young and should be hip. It isn’t right to have that rusty technology.”

New topic. “Was that Charlie on the phone?” Charlie was one of Nora’s best friends. That he was also her mother’s most recent husband disturbed and delighted her in equal measure
.

“Yes. He was worried about you.”

Good. Keep Abigail off the Nora Improvement tack. “Why didn’t Charlie come with you? Are you fighting again?”

Abigail’s face hardened. “Don’t try to change the subject. Do you really think it’s wise to stay out late on your first day of work?”

“Nine o’clock isn’t late.”

“Those circles under your eyes show you’re exhausted.”

Abbey crunched happily on his food.

Nora
usually
felt like her apartment offered
cozy
sanctuary
; w
ith Abigail here, it felt crowded.
Although Nora liked the low, flat
sofa in bright red and the contrasting deep green chair, Abigail would hate the bright colors and think them garish. She might approve of the no
-
nonsense coffee table and TV stand. A smallish flat screen monitor faced the sofa.

It all reflected Nora’s effort at a fresh start. With this job, the transition into the New and Improved Nora should be complete. Why then did she still feel like the old, insecure, scared woman who left Flagstaff a year ago?

She’d be doing fine and then at random moments, like now, the memories would crash in on her. Nora’s drive to save her marriage and business had led her to push for man-made snow on peaks sacred to the Hopi tribe. By the time she’d discovered the extent of the harm she’d bring to her mountain, it was too late. In the end, she’d managed to save the mountain but she held herself responsible for the death
s
of her
unfaithful
husband, Scott, and
that of
Heather, a vibrant and passionate young girl.

Abigail stared at Nora as if expecting an answer. Oh yeah, work. “It’s okay.”

Abigail frowned. “That’s all you have to say?”

Nora opened the refrigerator with the insane hope
that
food had materialized since morning. “I’m hungry.”

Abigail pursed her lips. “There’s not much we can do about that. This pantry is nearly empty. Not even a can of soup.”

“I think there’s cereal.”

Abigail frowned. “No milk.”

Nora opened a cupboard and pulled out a box full of creamers in tiny plastic tubs. It was her one indulgence on camping and backpacking trips. She picked up the cereal box and creamers. “Voil
à
!”

“
‘
Don’t neglect the pantry of your life and leave it barren as a looted grocery store.
’
”

Nora stated at Abigail. What?

Abigail stopped as if reviewing what she’d said. She pulled a small notebook from the pocket of her tunic and slid out a matching miniature pen. She scribbled on the pad and caught Nora’s scrutiny. “I’m taking an online poetry class.”

Nora congratulated herself on keeping a straight face.

Abigail dropped the notebook and pen back into her pocket and found a bowl and spoon and they retreated around the counter bar to the small dining room table. It consumed slightly more space than a card table but was big enough to hold a basket for Nora’s mail and bills. Bright Mexican woven placemats covered most of the pine top.

After setting the dishes on the table, Abigail pointed to the sliding glass door that opened onto the tiny deck. “What is with the plants?”

Nora tried not to wince. “Nothing. I like green things. The photosynthesis purifies the air.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Houseplants are all well and good, but this goes beyond a little color.”

Abigail was right, of course. Most people didn’t have a dozen big pots of bushy plants in their living room. Like the smaller version Nora had dragged to work, these corn plants grew in terra cotta pots decorated with Hopi designs. Six of the largest plants lined the glass slider, leaving space for one person to slip through the door to the balcony. Smaller pots formed another row inching into the living room. Nora shrugged, a response more appropriate to a teenager being asked why she didn’t turn in her homework.

“They have to do with the Hopi thing, don’t they?” Abigail asked.

“Why would you say that?”

Abigail’s hands rested on her hips. “Because I saw Benny give you a bunch of seeds when you left Flagstaff and ask you to plant them to help him out.”

Busted. “Okay. Yes. They are Hopi corn. But I think they’re pretty, and Abbey and I like the outdoor feel.” Except maybe growing the plants created a connection with more than nature. Maybe
that’s
why Benny had shown up at the Trust. Which was a ridiculous notion, of course.

Here came that slow drip of guilt down the back of her throat. In all probability, Benny had saved her life in Flagstaff and now she repaid him by running from him. She’d buried herself in work trying to forget all about him. If he was smart, he’d give up on her and head home. Maybe he was already on his way. She hoped he understood why she couldn’t see him.

Heck, w
hy would he? She didn’t understand it herself.

Abigail lowered herself to a chair opposite Nora. Abbey retreated to his bed tucked between the corn plants.

Nora peeled the tops from the little creamers and lined them up on the table. “How are you, Abigail?”

“Tell me what’s going on with you. You aren’t yourself and you’ve taken this job, which is obviously beneath you.”

Abigail normally loved talking about herself. Why wasn’t she jumping at the chance?

“I had a panic attack.” Whoa. That popped out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?” Abigail opened a creamer.

Nora dumped the little cream buckets over her cereal. “Never mind. It’s no big deal.”

“While you were in the mountains?” Abigail sounded on the verge of an attack herself.

Nora shoveled Cheerios into her mouth. Stupid to bring it up.

“You could have been hurt. Why do you insist on these dangerous sports?”

Nora swallowed. “Abbey and I love to hike.”

Abbey raised his head and flopped his tail against the floor.

Abigail leaned in, her eyes sharp. “What triggered it?”

The kachina sightings were like drug flashbacks from the worst time in her life, and she didn’t want to talk about it. But Abigail pulled the confession from her as if she were five years old again and had picked all the tulips in the garden. “I keep seeing a flash of blue, like I did in Flagstaff during all that snow-making business. Then I thought I saw the kachina and all of it came flooding back. I thought of Scott and then”—her throat closed and she had to wait a beat to let it clear—“Heather. Then I sort of shut down.”

It was easier to keep things to herself in phone conversations than when her mother sat in front of her.

Abigail sat back, a frown of concentration on her face.

Nora kept eating. When she swallowed, she felt a little more con
trol.

“Have you had a panic attack before?” Abigail asked.

Nora shook her head.

“My friend, Charlotte—
you know, she and her husband used to go on cruises with Berle and me? But her husband, what a bore. He smoked these awful cigars and the smoke always drifted to our balcony. Surprising how even the sea air didn’t—”

“Mother!”

Abigail started. “Oh, well. Charlotte had these panic attacks. Not that anything terrible ever happened. She had a weak disposition—”

Nora raised her eyebrows in warning.

Abigail huffed. “Anyhoo, she said that once you have one attack, you’re prone to have more. It’s like one episode introduces the behavior to your brain and it knows it can do it again.”

“Great.”

Abigail picked up the cereal box and poured more in Nora’s bowl. She started peeling tops off creamers
for her
. “You need to do something about it.”