Tattered Legacy (A Nora Abbott Mystery) (8 page)

Darrell opened his door and climbed out. “I doubt that. They’re not exactly supportive of her lifestyle.”

“You’d think the outside world of the rich and artists and all those left-leaning people moving into Moab in the last twenty years would have desensitized the locals to lesbians. But I guess it’s hard for old timers to change.”

“It’s not just her marrying Lisa.”

Nora picked up the box and climbed from the 4Runner. She let Abbey out to trot off. “They’re mad about expanding Canyonlands?”

He swung the door closed and came around the vehicle to walk with her. “To them, it feels like she’s trying to steal their land.”

Lisa’s cabin was not one of the tonier houses in Castle Valley, but Nora had loved it from the moment she saw it ten years ago. Made of native logs, the front porch ran the length of the cabin, raised from the front yard by three steps. The railing around the porch made it look like a set piece in a spaghetti western.

Lisa had given her heart to the old place, renovating it room by room. She still needed to do some work on the foundation and replace some windows, but she’d succeeded in creating a perfect home for her and Rachel.

Lisa had placed four Adirondack chairs on the porch. Before Rachel and her artistic talent, an ordinary forest green paint covered the chairs. Now they bore bright images of nature scenes and animals, sort of like useful totem poles.

Darrell’s kind eyes touched her. “Are you going to be okay?”

No. “Yes.”

“
If you’re sure, I’ll head back to town. I have to make some arrangements for a community meeting in Moab on Saturday afternoon. If you’re in town, why don’t you stop by?”

Life continues. “Of course. Thank you so much for bringing me out here.”

Darrell’s smile warmed her like a cozy fire. “I’m glad we met. I’m looking forward to working with you.” He placed a hand briefly on her arm.

She watched him climb back into the 4Runner and reverse down the rutted driveway.

A pair of hiking boots with dried mud caked on their soles sat next to the door. Nora caught her breath at the sight. She knew they were Lisa’s by the size. For a short woman, Lisa had unusually big feet. They’d been the subject of many jokes over the years. Nora stood on the grass, unable to move.

The front screen door squeaked open. Charlie appeared. “Nora?”

She forced her eyes away from the boots. “Yep. Coming.”

Charlie stepped onto the porch and waited for Nora to climb the stairs with the box. She nodded toward the door. “Is everything okay?”

Charlie rubbed his grizzled chin. He spoke in a falsetto. “There’s not a stitch of food in the house. And it’s inconceivable the neighbors haven’t brought casseroles and cookies. And not even any coffee.”

His Abigail imitation made her laugh.

“And,” he continued in the same voice, “there’s only one roll of toilet paper.”

“Sounds like Abigail will get it set straight. It’s her superpower.”

Charlie nodded. “The only good thing is that everyone will have to up and leave soon and let poor Rachel have some peace.”

Nora stared into the darkness on the other side of the screen and heard a murmur of voices. “Maybe she doesn’t want peace. It’s tough to be alone.”

Charlie followed her gaze.

The weight of Lisa’s box pressed into Nora. Maybe asking for Lisa’s film would actually be good for Rachel
—h
elp take her mind off her grief.

That was a stupid thought. Rachel didn’t want to think about the film.

“I’m being sent back to town with this.” He held a long list written in Abigail’s perfect penmanship.

Maybe Nora should help Charlie with his mission.

“Nora,” Abigail called from inside the house. “I need you.”

No escaping now. Nora raised her eyebrows to Charlie. “I’ve been summoned.”

“We live to serve,” he said. For Charlie, that was true. The moment he’d seen Abigail when she stood in the parking lot of Nora’s ski resort in Flagstaff, he’d handed over his heart.

She watched Charlie take the steps and hurry to the Buick on legs kept spry by his daily forest ramblings. He climbed into the car, looking as out of place as a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon at a champagne brunch.

Nora scanned the yard and spotted Abbey investigating the pines on the other side of the driveway.

Nora missed Lisa. The girl she’d stayed up all night with, watching old movies and talking about how they’d change the world. Lisa always felt comfortable in her own skin. She knew herself and felt confident about her place in life. Lisa might not have told her parents she was a lesbian until her sophomore year at CU, but she’d never hidden it from them. It hurt Lisa that her parents couldn’t accept her, but she understood, even at that young age, everyone lives their own life.

It angered Nora that Lisa’s parents had turned away. Lisa didn’t have time for anger. She had things to do. Nora admired Lisa’s confidence.

Spring break their sophomore year Lisa had planned a backpack trip in Canyonlands. It would be her first time visiting southern Utah and she’d been talking about it for a month.

Nora sat on Lisa’s bed in the tiny dorm room while Lisa laid out her supplies and gear on the other bed. “Come with me, Nor. We’ll have a blast.”

Nora’s feet itched to be laced into her hiking boots. “I can’t. My mother and Berle have an Easter brunch planned, and Abigail commanded I attend.”

Lisa put her hands on her ample hips. “That’s Abigail’s deal. What would you rather do?”

Nora could almost feel the chill of dawn and the first burst of sun over the horizon. “You know I’d rather go backpacking.”

Lisa flipped her dark waves over her shoulder. “Then get your pack. We leave first thing in the morning.”

“Abigail would have a fit. I’d pay for this for the rest of my life.”

Lisa clicked her headlamp on to check the battery. “Only if you allow it.”

Nora leaned forward, feeling the inkling of possibility. She sat back. “You don’t know Abigail the Terrible.”

Lisa shook the canister of fuel for the camp stove. “It’s your life, chica. Abigail has her own.”

Nora stood, jumpy at the thought of outright rebellion. “Yeah. But I should
—
”

Lisa spun around. “Should? Do you want to live your life for everyone else? Who are you?” It wasn’t rhetorical. Lisa stared her down, waiting for an answer.

Nora’s face burned. If she backed down now, she’d look like a weenie. She could defy Abigail and go backpacking. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Lisa didn’t budge, didn’t smile. “Nope. You’re not invited anymore.”

“What?”

Lisa shook her head. She picked up a packet of dehydrated beef stew. “You’re only going because I bullied you into it.”

Tongues of frustration licked at Nora. “I love backpacking.”

“So why does it take me badgering you to go?”

“I’m going now. That’s good enough.”

Lisa turned back to her gear. “Of course you can come with me. I’m super excited to have you, and we’re going to love it. But you really ought to figure yourself out, chica.”

The clatter of dishes sounded from inside the cabin, and Abigail’s voice wafted through the open screen. “Why don’t you lie down, dear? You’ve been through so much today.” From the volume and tone, Abigail was sending a message to people that it was time for them to leave.

Rachel mumbled something.

Nora addressed the boots silently. “I’m still trying to figure out who I am.”

Abigail opened the screen door and stepped out on the deck. “Come in here. Rachel needs you.”

Rachel probably had tons of friends she’d rather talk to than Nora, a woman she barely knew and had never really connected with. Still, if Abigail thought Nora could help Rachel, she ought to give it her best shot. Maybe she’d be able to gently ask about the film.

Abigail met her on the porch. She lowered her voice in conspiracy. “Try to get rid of those people. Rachel needs to rest.”

“Who are they?”

Abigail threw a disgusted glance at the screen and the low voices inside. “Environmental activists, from what I can tell. They’re discussing their next meeting and protest with no consideration of Rachel.”

“Where are you going?” Nora asked.

Abigail descended a step. “I can’t send Charles to the store on his own. He gets the store brand or organic or local or who knows how he decides. It’s rarely on quality and taste.”

“So I’m supposed to clear the house and wait for you to get back?”

Abigail hurried down the remaining three stairs. “That and comfort Rachel.”

Nora balanced the box against her belly, opened the screen door, and stepped inside.

Nora hadn’t been to the cabin since Lisa and Rachel married. Significant differences from when she’d been here last jarred Nora, but once she thought about it, she realized the changes were normal. As Lisa and Rachel twined their lives together, their house would morph from simply being Lisa’s to theirs. And now, just Rachel’s.

The screen door opened into a sunny great room. Hardwood floors stretched out, bright Navajo rugs spread at odd angles. Heavy leather furniture added to the lodge theme. Frameless canvases of desert flowers, much like Georgia O’Keeffe paintings, hung on the walls. As was evident with the porch chairs, Rachel’s painting style here was unmistakable.

The kitchen sat off to the left, a breakfast bar separating it from the great room. French doors framed an office at the far end of the room. Lisa’s massive pine desk, reclaimed from an old government office and refinished by Lisa’s determined hand, sat littered with papers and file folders. Her laptop rested amid the debris, the top up as if Lisa had momentarily walked away.

Stairs led off the left of the doorway, heading up to the three bedrooms on the second floor. Even though Lisa had bought a four bedroom, she’d ripped out a wall, installed another bathroom, added a balcony, and created a romantic master bedroom with an incredible view of Castle Rock as a wedding gift for Rachel.

Rachel stood in the kitchen, hands on the breakfast bar, staring across the great room at a window between two of the giant flower paintings. Her eyes didn’t seem to focus on the mountains in the distance.

Two thirty-something women flanked her. They seemed focused on their conversation with the two men standing in front of the mantel of the fireplace. A gray-haired woman and man sat on the leather couch.

A lively discussion filled the room. “I think we need posters showing tar sands damage and we don’t make a sound.”

“Yes! Like those pro-life posters of half-aborted babies. Demonstrate the evil. A picture is worth a thousand words.”

“That’s stupid. We should do like PETA. Remember when they splashed blood on women wearing fur?”

“It was paint. And that won’t work.”

The arguments flew around the room with everyone stepping on each other’s sentences.

Nora crossed the room, the floor creaking as she passed Rachel’s line of sight. “I’m going to set this in Lisa’s office.”

Rachel’s eyes slowly focused on Nora, and she gave a short nod.

“Why bother with a protest around here, anyway? These people have their minds made up.”

“Besides, they aren’t the people voting.”

“Heath’s got a point. We should go to D.C. and picket on the Capitol steps.”

“Not everyone is a trust funder and can fly all over the place.”

Nora entered the office. To the right, another set of French doors opened out onto a low redwood deck without rails. Abbey lay on the warm wood, dozing in the sun. He acted as though he’d been here dozens of times and knew his way around, which, of course, he had—just not in the last couple of years.

The deck was one of the first things Lisa had refinished after buying the cabin over ten years ago. The plumbing hadn’t been up to snuff, and smelly carpet had covered the floors. The windows were tiny and leaked with the slightest breeze, but Lisa installed the French doors and built the deck because she needed contact with the land and sky. She loved the view of the La Sal Mountains and, most days, wasn’t content to see them from behind the doors.

Her desk faced the doors, which she kept open in all but the worst weather. She loved watching the jagged peaks, purple in the morning, turn green and brown and black as the sun played against them. She said their grandeur reminded her to be humble.

Like the sculptor who finds the image hidden in stone, Lisa had discovered the beauty of the cabin. But Nora had to admit Rachel’s art and decorating touches made the home bright and comfortable. More than once Lisa had raved about how Rachel had improved her life: “I had no idea how much I needed a wife!”

A wood-burning stove nestled in the corner opposite the deck. An antique pine cabinet sat along the wall, its surface scattered with piles of papers. Nora pushed several file folders out of the way and set the box on the desk. Lisa couldn’t look at the view anymore, but somehow, placing her ashes there made Nora feel better.

Voices rose, reminding Nora of Abigail’s orders. She spun around and returned to the living room. Rachel no longer leaned on the counter between the two women. Nora glanced around the room and out the screen door. Rachel sat on one of the Adirondack chairs, leaning forward, her face to the mountains.

Nora held her hand up. “Thanks for being here for Rachel. I know she appreciates your concern. But it’s been a long day. Please call and visit again.”

A couple of the people looked confused. Some seemed to take Nora’s words at face value and got ready to leave. At least one woman scanned the room for Rachel, and when she realized Rachel was no longer with them, looked stricken and ashamed.

Nora ushered them out the front door. The storm clouds blotted out the sun and a few drops plopped onto the porch roof. While they said their goodbyes and offered to help Rachel in any way, lingering on the porch, Nora returned to the office.