Knowing (38 page)

Jane looked at Harlan and realized the navy blue head wrap made him look like a hardcore biker from the neck up. “Let me do all the talking,” she whispered to him.

From what she could tell from the woman’s effusive greeting, the gathering was an annual “spring event” where volunteers or those seeking agricultural internships visited the CSA and spent a three-day weekend getting a taste of farm life. The woman gave a brief overview of their property, pointing to a field next to their farm where visitors could park their vehicles and set up camp. A line of five porta-potties stood at the ready downwind. On the other side was a trio of camping showers, with an old pipe carrying water from a large tank into the cubicles. Various classes, which the woman called “learning opportunities,” would be offered throughout the three-day period, which guests could attend at their leisure. Since there were only four slots available for the eight-month internship program, it seemed to Jane that this was an audition weekend where the family could get to know each prospective trainee and vet them. The woman really got excited when she announced that everyone was invited to a “slow cooking” night of “food, festivity and friendship.” Jane had no clue what “slow cooking” was but it sounded like another gimmick to pacify the Greenies. Frankly, she was always under the impression that “slow cooking” was when the prep cook smoked too much weed. No, this was definitely not her gig but she knew she had to figure out why Gabriel sent them there.

She continued to observe the crowd and farm when she turned around and looked down the long driveway. The hood of a black car could easily be seen inching up the narrow road, stopping just short of the CSA. The trees and bushes along the road blocked the full view but Jane could hear the throaty motor running in the distance. She hadn’t recalled hearing the same sound coming from the black sedan that Rudy drove but it didn’t matter. Moving nonchalantly, Jane gently encouraged Harlan to walk to their right and obscure themselves in front of a stack of hay bales. But the movement seemed to catch the eye of the woman standing in front of the crowd. She turned to Jane and clasped her palms together with a huge smile on her face.

“Oh, my!” She waved enthusiastically toward Jane and Harlan. “So happy to see you here!”

Jane managed a weak smile as the crowd turned around in unison and stared. Harlan was just finishing off his last fistful of the finger sandwiches while Jane gave a little wave to the woman. The woman wrapped up her presentation as Jane turned around. The black car was gone. A pitter-patter of applause issued forth as the group streamed toward the food table. Jane was just about to step aside when the woman in the pink cowboy shirt and overalls walked up to her.

“Iris!” the woman exclaimed, holding out her hands to Jane. “I am
so
glad you finally came to visit us!”

Jane stared at the woman. “Well, why not?!”

“Your brother described you to a tee! Right down to your outfit and your cute hairstyle and jet black hair! That’s what he called it. Jet black, just like Cleopatra’s.”

Jane’s heart pounded.

The woman took Jane’s hand in hers. “How is your brother doing? I have to tell you that Werner was one of our favorite interns!”

“Yes, well, he thinks a lot of you too. He made a point of sending me a postcard of your place—”

“I know! I’m the one who gave it to him, silly! He said he wanted to send it to his big sister, Iris. Although, in all fairness, he made a point to say you were
much
more like a mother to him.”

“Did he?” Jane countered. “Well…that Werner…we’re not that far apart in age, you know?”

“I think it had more to do with your mothering vibe,” she said with a sweet smile.

Harlan stepped forward. “I can vouch for that one!”

The woman was a bit taken back as she looked at Harlan. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

Jane spoke up. “He’s my—”

“Husband,” Harlan said, extending his hand to the woman. “My name’s Hank.”

Jane froze but her neck was still able to turn to him and glare.

The woman shook his hand. “Well, Hank! Nice to meet you. My name’s Blythe.” She observed him a little more carefully. “I don’t mean to be rude, but did anyone ever tell you that you look a lot like that—”

“Actor John Goodman?” he quickly interjected.

“Well, no, actually I meant—”

“I get it
all
the time,” Harlan interrupted. “’Can I have your autograph, John?’ Sometimes, I just sign it to get rid of them.”

Blythe offered a warm smile to Harlan, quite taken by his charm. “Oh, Hank. You’re just a big teddy bear, aren’t you?”

Harlan wrapped his big arm around Jane’s shoulder. “Well, ain’t that somethin’, honey. That’s what you call me too!”

Jane felt the muscles in her face tighten. “Oh, yeah. I sure do.”

Blythe’s fifteen-year-old daughter bounded toward her, tears streaming down her hormonal face. “
Mom
! You said I could go to Tami’s house tonight. She just texted to say
her
mom said that
you
said
I
had to stay
here
for the dinner! That’s
not fair
!”

Blythe attempted to calm her daughter but the soothing words fell on deaf ears. The girl, named Blossom, became increasingly emotional and exaggeratedly dramatic until Jane worried she would collapse to the ground and have a full-blown temper tantrum. Jane looked off to the side. A short, wiry guy in his late sixties hung close to the main house, smoking a cigarette and peering around. Something about him sent Jane’s antenna on high alert.

“Excuse me one second, kid,” Jane said in a dismissive tone before turning to Blythe. “Who’s that?”

Blythe turned. “That’s Jude. He’s been with us for years. He lives in a small cabin out back. Jude’s a jack-of-all-trades which comes in really handy around here.” She looked at Harlan. “I bet you’re a jack-of-all-trades too, Hank!”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. You need somethin’ done, I’ll help you out.”

Jane smiled, pulling Harlan toward her. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Blythe said, “we’re like a big,
happy
family around here!”

“I hate you,
Mom
!!!” Blossom screamed. “I can’t
believe
you don’t care! What
am
I to you
anyway
? Just another person to plant another
stupid
carrot? I will
not
be your
slave
!” With that, she ran crying into the apple orchard, all pistons firing on high drama and theatrical acumen.

Blythe turned to them. “You have kids?”

“Not a chance,” Jane stated.

The rest of the day was spent visiting with the other guests and making light of the fact that Harlan looked so much like the “guy who killed that girl in the motel and died that morning.” Every time somebody made the comment, he was quick to tell them his name was Hank. And each time Jane heard that name she stiffened. But by late afternoon, Harlan had the crowd laughing with his silly jokes and card tricks. Jane observed all of it and shook her head. He never told her a silly joke. He never showed her a card trick. Suddenly, he was the belle of the ball and she was the hapless sidekick.

Finally, Jane had enough. She returned to the van to organize the vehicle and figure out how to turn it into a temporary camper. As she pulled the van into the grassy field next to the CSA, she caught sight of Jude watching her every move. He looked like one of those creepy little parasites that lurked around the soup kitchens on East Colfax in Denver. Broken by years of alcohol and drug abuse, Jude was your typical poster boy for what hard living does to a body. Happy-go-lucky Blythe and her weak-chinned husband didn’t have a clue about that reprobate. It was so typical, Jane mused. The “granola crowd,” as she called them, were deliriously unaware or simply disbelieving that people like Jude were potential liabilities. All Jane had to do was take one look at him from a distance, and she had his number. What was so startling to her was that his game was so poorly carried out. As she moved bags in and out of the back of the van, she easily saw Jude traversing the field back and forth on the other side of the fence, checking a few sprinkler heads along the way for show. Finally, he did his best “casual stroll” toward the fence line and stood there, staring at her.

“Something I can do for you?” Jane asked, with her guard up.

He said nothing at first. Now that he was closer, she realized he appeared a lot older than she first thought. He was what Jane called “an operator,” but one that hung on the bottom rung of the ladder. If he were involved in drugs, he wouldn’t be the one with the bag; he’d be the one waiting in the car to pick up the guy with the bag. Jude was not a guy motivated by morality or religious fears. His sole motive was greed and his avarice knew no bounds. She was certain he’d sold his soul, humanity and any straw of integrity to the first bidder who threw him a few bucks to buy a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes.

“So, you’re Werner’s sister, huh?” he asked, squinting even though the sun was behind him. His voice had a squirrely quality to it.

“Yeah. That’s right,” Jane replied, turning to him and closing the side door. “You knew Werner when he worked here?”

Jude didn’t answer right away. It was as if he either didn’t hear it or chose to give it a lot of thought before replying. “Yeah…I knew him…”

It seemed like a loaded answer to Jane.

“What happened to him?” Jude asked, curling his upper lip.

“He’s overseas right now. Working for a relief organization.”

Jude stared at her, cocking his head. “Is that right?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Yes. That’s right. Why do you ask?”

He regarded her with a strange glower. “Just checkin’.” He turned without saying another word and ambled back across the field toward the main house.

It was just strange enough to make Jane return to the van and remove the 9mm before holstering it in the waistband of her jeans. Covering the pistol with her leather jacket, she locked the van and headed back to the house.

For the next few hours, guests were encouraged to pitch in and help prepare the evening meal. Harlan continued to be the reliable jokester, entrancing the crowd with his genuine affable nature. Jane watched it from the comfort of a side room off the kitchen. In the space of a few hours, he’d captured them hook, line and sinker with his stories and musings on life. When he told the group that he sometimes sold firewood in the winter to make ends meet and that he got the most calls when he put an ad in the paper for “free range, grass fed firewood,” they exploded in fits of laughter. A transient sadness fell over Jane. She’d been so tuned into keeping him alive and safe that she’d never taken a spare moment to see him through the eyes of a stranger. He was very kind, she decided. She even noticed him innocently flirting with a forty-something, single woman in the group. It was clear that the group looked at him as someone who was “safe” and easy to talk to. The irony of that realization wasn’t lost on Jane.

Before sitting down to the meal later that evening, Blythe gave an ad hoc introduction to “slow cooking.” From what Jane could muster, the idea had to do with “communing” with your food, feeling “connected” to your meal, taking the time to appreciate the work that went into cultivating and harvesting the food and approaching the meal with “focused, conscious intent.” It sounded like a lot of work to Jane. She couldn’t argue that it was important to be conscious when you ate since most of the people she’d seen passed out weren’t interested in eating. For someone who was used to cooking
and
eating out of the same saucepan and then placing said saucepan on a beat up oven mitt instead of a placemat, Jane was patently aware that this dinner would force her far out of her comfort zone. She didn’t trust the “Greenies,” as she called them. She also referred to them as “Eco-Nazis” but she wasn’t going to let that one out of the bag. There was just something quite
eco-smug
, Jane decided, about people who believed in “conscious eating” and “intuitive cooking.” And when she looked up at a banner that was strung across the kitchen that read: “We support the Sustainable Eco-Aware Local Farmers co-op,” she smiled. Their acronym was SELF. To her knowledge, there was no “me” in “community.”

When Blythe happily went into way too much detail about each item on their dinner menu, Jane gazed at the family’s old time glass bottle collection and read a handful of the many homey plaques that cluttered their walls. One plaque definitely caught her eye. It was an illustration of a pointing hand aimed at an “X” and the words, “You are here.” It was similar to the postcard in Jane’s possession that came next in the sequence. Perhaps, she pondered, Gabriel mimicked the plaque on purpose when he used the same words on the postcard? If she was right, maybe there was something of worth in the plaque. It was difficult to read because part of it was hidden in the shadow of a ceiling beam. Peering at it closer, she was able to make out the wording: “You are here: 37° 59’ 56” N / 105° 54’ 36” W. Jane stared at it, trying to figure out if there was any hidden meaning.

“Iris?” a voice said.

Jane turned to the group, unaware of anything that had been said.

“Sweetheart?” Harlan said, pulling out his chair across the long table from her. “They want you to say the prayer that Werner used to recite.” His eyes showed a moment of trepidation.

Jane looked at Blythe and her husband, who looked like a wet lap dog as he stood in the background and blended in. “Which prayer was that?”

Blythe stepped forward. “He said it was a family prayer he’d learned as a child.”

Harlan regarded Jane with a look of uncertainty.

“Oh, right. That one.” She cleared her throat and waited for the prayer muse to show up. Somehow, she knew that “God is great, God is good” wasn’t going to cut it. All eyes were upon Jane, including Blythe’s young son, who stood off to the side by the stove with a curious look. Jude sat on a stool at the far end of the table, wearing a smirk on his weathered face and waited for Jane to speak. She let out a breath and closed her eyes. The words suddenly came to her. “I will face the darkness, but I will not let it become me. Fear may be present but it will not possess me. I will face the darkness, as the knowing light within my heart and mind leads me home. And once again, I will be free…Amen.” She opened her eyes. Every eye in the room was upon her.