Something Borrowed, Something Bleu Part 4

She looked up at me with cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.

I laughed and sat down. aPretty good stuff, huh Bug?a Nodding emphatically, she reached for her fork again.

aSlow down.a Meghanas tone was mild as she turned a page of the Denver Post. She had donned a white cotton skirt and blood-red tank for their day out. Her sandals matched the tank top.

aMorning,a I said to my parents, bustling around the stove together. As I watched, they b.u.mped hips and smiled at each other. I blinked in surprise and then couldnat help grinning.

aGood morning, dear.a Anna Belle set a cup of steaming coffee in front of me. Dad, wearing a fuchsia-and-orange Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt, followed right behind with a plate of pancakes.

Tearing my gaze from the jarring color combination, I leaned forward to take a big whiff. Tried not to moan. aOh, man. Iave missed these.a aGood,a he said.

I looked up at him in surprise.

aYou should always miss something. Itas good for you.a aSome of your Buddhist philosophy?a aNah. Just a plain old Calvinism.a Smiling, I unfolded my napkin and laid it across my lap. Dad had always couched his rules for living as aCalvinisms.a I hadnat heard any new ones in a while, though.

Pancakes packed into my belly, Meghan and Erin sent on their merry way to spend the day in Estes Park, Anna Belle off to the University for a faculty meeting, and Dad in the bas.e.m.e.nt twisting his way through a yoga workout, I settled down at my laptop. My Winding Road e-mail inbox overflowed with requests, orders, and questions. Two hours later Iad dealt with the majority of them, called Cyan to talk about what she should work on for the next couple of days, and enlisted her sisteras help with a particularly large wholesale order for lip balms and bath salts which had to be packed up and sent out by the end of the week.

It was comforting to know I could leave town for a few days and, between working remotely on the computer and having reliable helpers, Winding Road Bath Products would continue with business as usual. It was with a feeling of accomplishment that I poured another cup of coffee and went out to look at the kitchen garden. Anna Belle had landscaped and planted it for aesthetics as well as edibility, interspersing herbs and flowers with the vegetables to add texture and repel pests. Basil and calendula peeked out from beneath heavy heirloom tomato vines and purple pole beans climbed a trellis behind bright red, yellow, and orange peppers. Purple, yellow, and red potatoes were hilled within small retaining walls built of red flagstone. Dark red nasturtiums tumbled over the tops of the walls, spilling down among the feet of cuc.u.mber plants tied to a teepee of bamboo poles. A border of spiky onions and blue-and-white pansies marched around the whole garden and an eggplant here, a trio of leeks there, frilly kale snugged up to a big-leaved red cabbageaall added to the effect of an ornamental perennial bed.

Bobby Lee had always loved to work in the vegetable garden with Anna Belle.

I longed to dig my hands into the soil, to gather some of the harvest for dinner, or to simply sit on the ancient wooden chaise lounge and listen to the buzzing of the bees, but a glance at my watch made me drain my cup and move back toward the house. I only had time for a quick shower before driving out to the dairy for my next lesson.

All clean and s.h.i.+ny, my hair fluffed into some semblance of order, and slathered with sunscreen, I donned a gray skort and peach-colored T-s.h.i.+rt, slipped into my most comfortable pair of sandals, grabbed my tote bag, yelled goodbye to Dad in the bas.e.m.e.nt and ran out the door. Antic.i.p.ation itched under my skin as I started the Subaru and automatically flipped on the air conditioning. In less than half an hour Iad be showing Joe Bines the copy of Bobby Leeas letter.

Maybe, just maybe, Iad learn the truth at last.

_____.

But then Barras words of warning came back to me as I made the twenty-minute drive to the T&J Dairy. What the heck was I doing? Who knew why anyone committed suicide? Maybe wead never know. And if I did uncover the reason Bobby Lee did what he did, would it change anything? What if I were churning the waters needlessly, muddying what little peace time had granted us all?

I tried to imagine turning around and going back home, dropping the whole thing. But I couldnat.

I just couldnat.

The Subaru pulled a plume of road dust behind it as I navigated the lengthy gravel drive leading into the dairy. A milk delivery truck with their logoaa stylized intertwining of Tabby and Joeas first initialsadominated one corner of the small parking lot, next to the square outbuilding where Tabby had held cla.s.s the day before. A battered red truck and the Jeep Tabby had driven the day before were parked on either side of it. No milk deliveries this morning, I guessed.

Good. I crossed my fingers and dared to hope Joe Bines would tell me what had happened then and there. I could go home, tell my parents, and wead all get on with our lives.

Three small goats greeted me when I climbed out of the car, lined up in a row of pure cuteness. They trotted their adorable selves right up and let me scratch their heads and pet their soft, floppy ears. Of course, they were probably just begging for food. I knew that lookaat home Brodie was a grand master.

For once I remembered the sun shade for the front winds.h.i.+eld and abandoned the kids to find it in the backseat. I had just adjusted it the way I wanted and was backing out of the car again when something brushed against my behind.

Surprised, I whirled around. A much larger goat had joined the smaller ones. She he? I bent down. Couldnat tell. It didnat have horns though. Girl, then. She blinked at me, then let out a loud bleat. I jerked back in surprise, then smiled.

aAre these your babies? Donat worry, Iam harmless.a I turned my back to her and started walking up to the farm house.

The blow to my posterior sent me flying, arms outstretched. The tote bag sailed off my shoulder, and I landed face down in the dirt.

Well, it was mostly dirt. There was some other matter mixed in. The kind of stuff farm animals tend to leave behind, which I could see quite clearly because it was inches away from my face.

Ewwww.

I pushed myself up and managed to get back on my feet. Brus.h.i.+ng off my hands, I spun around. Rubbed my rear end and glared at Mama Goat. aWhat did you do that for?a Her response was a placid gaze.

aGit,a I said and stomped my foot.

She took a step toward me.

I ran at her, flailing my arms. She turned tail and ran off, the three little ones trotting behind.

aStupid goat,a I muttered, and began returning scattered items to my tote. The copy of the letter was streaked with dirt. I gave my mother a mental nod for taking back the original. I brushed off the muck as best I could and continued up the slight hill to the house.

Sure enough, Joe answered the door when I knocked. He wore Wranglers and a long-sleeved chambray s.h.i.+rt, even in the heat. He looked worn for a man three years younger than me. Ridden hard and put away wet, as they say. Lined, sun-damaged skin stretched across his prominent cheekbones and hooked nose. He surveyed my face for mere seconds before recognition dawned.

When he opened his mouth the same nasal tones I remembered a.s.saulted my ears. aWell, if it isnat little Sophie Mae Watson. Not as little as you used to be, though, are you? Look like you went a few rounds, too. Didja win?a Excuse me? Was Joe actually commenting on the fact that I weighed exactly seven and a half pounds more than I had in high school? I mean, maybe I wasnat quite as coltish as then, but I wasnat exactly a cow, either.

All of that must have flickered across my faceaafter all, I was terrible at maintaining any kind of a poker faceabut Joe Bines just leered and showed off the dark tobacco stains on his teeth.

aI see some people havenat changed a whit,a I said. aIs Tabby around?a aNope. Sheas helping out at our girlas school. Sheall be back in a few, though. Come on in.a He stepped back from the doorway, and I entered the house.

It was tidy and scrubbed and smelled like fresh bread. Rye bread with lots of caraway seeds, if I wasnat mistaken. I followed Joe into the kitchen, and sure enough, two lovely loaves sat cooling on the center island.

I perched on a stool and brushed at the dark smudge across the front of my T-s.h.i.+rt. aWhatas your daughteras name?a Joe leaned against the counter and continued to run his eyes up and down, finally stopping at my b.o.o.bs. aDelight,a he said to them.

aI beg your pardon?a aHer name. Delight.a aOh. Thatas, um, pretty.a aIt was Tabbyas idea. I think itas stupid.a I hoped his daughter didnat know that.

Suddenly, he looked me in the eye. aWhy are you here?a Wow. And people said I was abrupt. Well, when in Rome aIam trying to find out why Bobby Lee killed himself.a He squinted at me. aLittle late for that, donat you think?a Stifling the urge to turn around and leave, I said, aDid Tabby tell you about the letter he wrote? The suicide note?a He stared at me. The moment stretched into thick discomfort. Finally Joe said, aHe didnat leave a note.a aTurns out he did.a I slid my hand into my bag.

Joe began emphatically shaking his head. aNo, thatas not possible.a He held up a palm. aWhat does it say? No, he wouldnat do that.a It was like he was not only talking to himself but answering himself as well. To my ear, both sides of the conversation sounded pretty darn scared.

Obviously Tabby hadnat told her husband about the note. My hand came back out of the bag, empty.

aMy parents just found it,a I said, fudging the truth a teeny tiny bit. aItas very revealing.a His Adamas apple bobbed convulsively. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Oooh. The jerk knew something, something big. I wasnat about to tell him I didnat know what the heck Bobby Lee had been talking about or that Tabby had professed ignorance.

Placing both elbows on the Formica, I leaned forward. aMaybe youad like to explain? Tell me your side of things?a I wanted to prime him with one of the newspaper stories, but if I picked the wrong one head know I was bluffing. For that matter I didnat know if any of them were relevant.

aI donat care what the h.e.l.l it says, your brotheras a liar.a Hot anger crept under my scalp, and I felt my face redden. aIs that so.a He shook his finger at me. aDonat you go around spreading any lies, either, Sophie Mae. That would be very bad for your health.a My jaw dropped. aAre you actually threatening me?a His fingers curled into fists, and my heart bucked against my ribs. Fear crawled up my neck. Joe looked ready to explode.

aOkay,a I said in a desperate, conciliatory tone. aI believe you. And it was all a long time ago. None of that matters now.a The sound of the front door opening filtered into the kitchen. It loosened his fists but did nothing for the tension in the air between us. When Tabby walked in her first words were, aWhatas going on?a We were both silent.

aJoe?a Her tone held accusation.

He glared at me for a few more moments, then turned on his heel and left the room. Tabby ran after him. I heard their voices, low but sharp in the front room. Less than a minute later the front door slammed.

Tabby came back into the kitchen, let out a whoosh of breath and put her hands on her hips. aWhat did you say to him?a aIam sorry. I had no idea head react like that. I asked him about Bobby Leeas letter.a Her nostrils flared. aI wish youad stop going around showing my letter to everyone.a aIam not showing it to everyone.a In fact, I hadnat revealed the contents to anyone. The postal supervisor had only seen the envelope.

aMy mother called me last night. She wasnat happy you dropped by and asked all those questions.a Too bad, I thought. aI went to see if she could tell me more about why the letter was returned eighteen years after it was sent. I only showed her the envelope. And I didnat show it to Joe, either. Still, he seemed to a.s.sume it said something incriminating about him.a Concern flickered across Tabbyas face, then was gone. aIall set him straight later. Now, are you going to give it to me?a aIam sorry, but itas not my decision. My mother has the original now, and you know sheall never give it up. What I want to knowaa I put steel into the words. aais why Joe became so frightened.a But she just shook her head, completely ignoring my insistent tone. aNo idea.a aLike h.e.l.l.a She shrugged. aSorry.a Right.

I tried a different tack. aIam sorry I upset him so much.a Her shoulders slumped. aYeah. Me, too,a she breathed.

aIs he does he get violent?a A pause, then she shook her head. aNot with us. Heas gotten in a few bar fights over the years.a aCharming.a She frowned. aHeas my husband. The father of my daughter. And heas a good dad, he really is.a Heas a total a.s.s, I thought but didnat say. aYou love him.a It was the only explanation I could think of for why they were still together. I may not understand it, but I could accept it.

So her sharp laugh startled me, especially juxtaposed against the sudden sadness on her face. aLove? Not really. He used to interest me. Bad boy syndrome, I guess. But I grew out of that.a She leaned on the counter and put her chin on her hand. aI was crazy in love with your brother. After he died, I swore to myself Iad never hurt like that again. But we have a bond, Joe and I, and weave built a life together. Itas a pretty good one. We get along okay, and I have the dairy. And then thereas Delight. Sheas everything to me.a This intensely personal turn of events felt uncomfortable. Still, I couldnat help repeating, aBut youare not in love.a She reached for the refrigerator door. aSometimes being in love is overrated.a My breath hissed in through clenched teeth, and I tried not to jerk my hands out of Tabbyas grasp. My palms stung where Iad broken my fall outside, but that was nothing compared to the pain from the alcohol working into the cuts.

aI canat believe Billy did this.a Tabbyas head was bent over her work as she disinfected my minor wounds. aIam so sorry.a She dabbed the cotton ball on my knee where another abrasion had drawn blood, and I sucked in my breath again. I felt like I was twelve and had fallen off my bike, the way she was mothering me. Still, her ministrations werenat that surprising. After all, she was a mom.

aItas no big deal,a I said. aI thought it was a girl goat, though. It didnat have horns, and I couldnat get a good look at its, er, other indicator.a aWe removed his horns. Billy likes to b.u.t.t,a she said. aDespite their reputation, not all goats do that. But when theyare kids they play at it, and if you push them back theyall get worse and worse.a She looked up at me from under her brows. aNaturally, Joe pushes back. Thinks itas cute.a aDo you milk them?a aSometimes, if a nanny is in season, and I have a craving for feta or chevre, but my main focus is cowas milk. There.a She stood up. aThat should keep you alive for a while. Have you had a teta.n.u.s shot?a aAbout three years ago.a aShould still be good. Have to be careful about that stuff around animals. Lockjawas nasty.a She left, shutting the door behind her. I washed my hands and face and ran a comb through my short, messy mop. Though futile, I also dabbed at the dirt smudged across the front of my T-s.h.i.+rt. Thoughts of my upcoming nuptials crowded to the forefront of my brain as Tabbyas words continued to resound in my mind. Were Barr and I rus.h.i.+ng things? We hadnat even been together a full year, and here we were getting married.

What if we fell out of love and ended up like Tabby and Joe?

I shook my head at the woman in the mirror. According to Tabby, she and Joe had never really been in love. Shead said something about a bond. Had Bobby Leeas death brought them together in the first place, and then theyad built a life on that horrible event? It seemed sad if not downright dysfunctional. But who was I to criticize?

And my fiance wasnat Joe Bines. Barr was intelligent, kind, thoughtful, strong, and handsome as all get out with those deep brown eyes and chestnut hair graying at the temples.

Relax, Sophie Mae. This is the real deal.

Now if I could only manage to get through the wedding ceremony itself without incident.

Sanitized to the best of my ability under the circ.u.mstances, I entered the kitchen again to find Tabby unloading bottles and jars from the refrigerator.

aIs Bobby Leeas letter the only reason youare here?a She asked. aOr are you actually interested in learning about cheese making and milk cultures?a Her sudden bluntness threw me for a moment, and the accuracy of her question sc.r.a.ped a nerve. Perhaps she regretted her earlier honesty about her marriage. People often say that itas easier to confide in someone you hardly know, but Iad found that inevitably a feeling of vulnerability settles in afterward.

Quickly regrouping, I answered. aI loved learning about making mozzarella yesterday. I definitely want to know more.a She held my gaze for a few moments, then gave a slight nod. aOkay. I was planning to tell you about cheese cultures and how different bacteria work to create different kinds of cheeses. But now we donat have as much time as Iad like, and youall get a lot of that information if you come to the cla.s.s tomorrow.a The last word lilted up as a question.

I inclined my head. aIall be there, and my friend is planning to come, too. Sheas a terrific cook and has quizzed me about everything Iave learned so far.a Tabby smiled. aGood.a She sounded pleased, even after our tense words. Did she actually want to teach me, or was she simply happy to get another cla.s.s fee? I wondered how lucrative a small dairy could be.

aIam going to show you how to make yogurt and kefir and piima cheese today. Quick and easy and tasty.a Now her words had taken on a teacherly tone. aDo you like kefir?a aUm, I donat know. Iave never had it.a Tabby pulled a jar of milk out of the fridge. It had a weird ma.s.s floating in it that looked like fish eyes, or tapioca pearls, all mooshed together. These were the kefir grains, she told me, and then gave me a taste of the kefir itself. I was a little hesitant at first, but the kefir was yummyakind of like drinkable yogurt.

aIt has bubbles,a I exclaimed after the first sip.

She nodded. aThe grains ferment the milk. Itas a way to preserve it, and a tiny bit of alcohol is actually created, as well as that subtle carbonation. You can use the grains to ferment other thingsafruit juice, for example. But once you do that you canat use the same grains for milk anymore.a aWhere do you get the grains?a aThey grow slowly, and you can divide them. I got mine from a friend a long time ago. As long as you keep them active, theyall last for years. Iall sell you a batch if youare interested. Or you can find them online.a She chattered on, and I let her.

So much for intensely personal.

I thought of Bobby Lee, writing that cryptic letter to the girl he lovedaand then taking that final step.

So much for love being overrated.

_____.

It didnat take long for Tabby to show me how to make yogurtait was so easy I couldnat believe we didnat already make our own at home. All you did was heat the milk to a hundred and fifteen degrees, add a little commercial yogurt to the milk and let it sit on the counter in a thermos for six to twelve hours. At least thatas what she told me I could do, because she had a fancy yogurt maker and used a packet of starter culture.

aYouall get a thinner yogurt than you might be used to,a she said. aCommercial manufacturers add thickeners. This is the real deal, though.a The real deal sounded good to me.

aYou can always strain it through a coffee filter if you want it thicker,a she added. aStrain it for long enough and youall have yogurt cream cheese.a The piima was more of a starter culture that had to be replenished periodically, like sourdough. aItall last for years, just like the kefir grains,a she told me.

She showed me how to add a few tablespoons from a jar of cream that had already been culturedait was the consistency of thick sour cream after the piima had a chance to work its magicato a new jar of cream and mix it in.

aThen you put it in a dark cupboard for twenty-four hours to let it stew, before popping it in the fridge. Again, none of this stuff works very well with ultra-pasteurized milk, so you have to find someplace where you can get either lightly pasteurized or raw milk.a aWonat the cream sour?a I asked. Leaving it unrefrigerated for a whole day seemed kind of weird to me.

aNo, the room temperature encourages the culture to grow. Itall continue to grow, though more slowly, in the fridge. And itall last for several weeks, which the uncultured cream wouldnat.a aOur half-and-half lasts a month.a She pointed a finger at me. aItas ultra-pasteurized. That kills all the bacteria, good and bad, as well as a significant portion of the nutrition.a aYuck.a aNormally, the lactic acid in milk kills any bad bacteria, so ultra-pasteurization is kind of overkill. But itas good for s.h.i.+pping and shelf life, so it works best for the big corporations. Even light pasteurization damages many nutrients, including conjugated linoleic acid.a aConjugated what?a aCLA for short. Itas an important omega-six fatty acid. The most nutritious milk is hormone free, comes from gra.s.s-fed cows and isnat pasteurized at all. Unfortunately in a lot of states itas illegal to sell raw milk, so you have to purchase a share in a dairy cow in order to get it.a Mental note: Cheese making or no cheese making, we would find a good source for milk when we got home.

Then we made b.u.t.ter from the piima cream, using a standing mixer. Again, it was ridiculously easy. We whipped the cream in a standing mixer as if for dessert topping, but kept whipping beyond stiff peaks. After awhile it became grainy with tiny b.u.t.ter solids which soon combined and stuck to the beaters, separate from the b.u.t.termilk. Then it was a matter of rinsing the solid ma.s.s in a clean towel and squeezing out any remaining b.u.t.termilk. Finally we added a little salt and packed it into an old-fas.h.i.+oned b.u.t.ter mold.

Tabby gave me more of the b.u.t.ter, and a jar of b.u.t.termilk along with a recipe for salad dressing. Then she gave me a sample of piima cheese she had made by culturing whole milk and straining it, much like yogurt cheese. It was soft and spreadable. aAdd a few herbs and serve it with crackers,a she said. aOr spread it on bagels or sandwiches.a My big tote bulging with all those goodies, I wrote her a check and got ready to go.

aIall walk down with you. I have to get something from the cla.s.sroom and then check on the mold house.a aThe what?a aItas where I inoculate my specialty cheeses and let them age. It was tricky to get the humidity right, but now I can make a unique variety of bleu and other mold-ripened cheeses.a I wanted to know more, but by now we were walking down the driveway toward the parking lot. Time was running out.

aTabby?a Something in my voice must have telegraphed the change of subject, and she shot me a look. aWhat?a aI looked up some newspaper articles from around when Bobby Lee died, to see if I could find out what he was talking about in that letter.a I took a couple of steps before I realized shead stopped behind me. Slowly, I turned back to face her.

Tabby stood stock still, hands on her hips. Her voice was emphatic, her words carefully enunciated. aYou have no right poking your nose into something that was between your brother and me.a aSo you do know what he was talking about!a She shook her head. aI didnat say that. But whatever it was, he didnat write to you about it. He wrote to me.a Then maybe your mother shouldnat have sent the d.a.m.n letter back to us, I thought. But I keep my mouth shut.

aLeave it alone,a Tabby said. aJust let it go.a aBut he was my brotheraa aIf something happened back then, do you really think it would change anything to dig it all up? Do you somehow think you can bring him back? Because you canat. All you can do is hurt other people.a I stared at her, dismayed.

aIall see you tomorrow in cla.s.s,a she said, rotating on her heel. Without another word she walked around the back of the cla.s.sroom building where shead taught us how to make mozzarella.

What the heck? I felt closer than ever to the truth, yet strangely more reluctant to learn what it was. I was sure both Tabby and Joe knew what had happened. In fact, I bet theyad known all along and had managed to keep it a secret. What if they never told anyone? The thought was crazy-making, and I shook it off. Even if they wouldnat reveal what they knew, the truth was still there for me to discover.

Keeping an eye out for cranky goats, I continued between the delivery truck and the red pickup toward the Subaru. I had just put my tote into the backseat when Tabbyas high-pitched scream echoed off the outbuildings.

Joe Bines was sprawled on his side amidst chunks of broken gla.s.s. A thin trickle of scarlet threaded through the pool of bright white cream spread like a corona around his head. A shaft of afternoon light slanted behind the cla.s.sroom building to illuminate the waxy, translucent skin of his face.

His eyes were closed. His chest was perfectly still.

Beside me, Tabby sucked in a shuddering breath as if to compensate for her husbandas lack of respiration. Then, before I could stop her, she shouldered me aside and fell to her knees, reaching for Joeas shoulder.

I opened my mouth to say G.o.d-knows-whataDonat do that? To comfort her? To swear?abut snapped my jaw closed again in silence as she turned him over and I saw the other side of his head.

Letas just say it wasnat round anymore.

Tabby recoiled, scrabbling back like a drunken crab. She almost fell, but I grasped her arms from behind and managed to steady her. Slowly, she stood and leaned back against me. Her rapid breathing mingled with the murmurs of turtledoves in the nearby trees.

Gradually, she calmed. I released her, and she turned to face me. Her ice-blue eyes echoed a resounding sadness. aJoe really did it this time.a I raised my eyebrows. aDid what?a She closed her eyes and shook her head.

My eyes returned to the dead man, surrounded by shards of the murder weapon: a gla.s.s bottle of heavy cream, by the looks of it. I sighed. My tendency to find dead bodies had apparently followed me across state lines all the way to Colorado.

It was getting so I felt like I should come with a warning label.

_____.

The sheriffas department arrived quickly without benefit of lights and sirens. Tabby and I perched on the edge of one of the landscape timbers that defined the dairyas small parking lot. We stood up as two men simultaneously exited their respective vehicles and warily approached.

I stepped forward and nodded a perfunctory greeting. aHeas around the corner there.a The two men consulted each other with a look then turned toward the sound of a siren approaching from the west. A green-and-white ambulance roared down the road toward us. The driver slid to a stop on the gravel, barely missing the Subaru. She boiled out of the cab and started toward the deputies.

Raising my hand, I called, aThereas no big hurry.a aI think youad better let us be the judge of that,a said the first deputy.