"Maybe because it was all I could think of," he said.
"Or maybe," Rochelle said, "because my sister told you I liked to garden, and what to get me."
"Like I said, some people find me persuasive."
"You are so . . ." she began. "Both of you."
He sighed. "One minute I'm the elevator hero. The next I'm the goat."
"Hey," she said. "Did you once try climbing out the top?"
"Nope. I sure didn't. Shared my Snickers bar, though."
She laughed at that, and he grinned back, and she told Zoe, "I'm not sure how Stacy is. Better, I guess. Up and down."
"She get a job yet?"
"I hate when you zero in on the exact thing I don't want to talk about," Rochelle complained. "Nope. She hasn't. Not too easy, when you got fired from your last one for not showing up, and it was at the university. Means I can't use my contacts, because they check no matter what I say."
"I was hearing our new waitress saying they're hiring at Macho Taco, out in the mall," Kayla put in. "She didn't want it, because it's not the best, but . . ."
"Hmm," Rochelle said. "Yeah. They might be desperate enough. Thanks. And I will haul her butt down there every day if I have to." She looked like she meant it, too.
"I could use somebody," Travis offered.
Rochelle just looked at him, and he said, "Teaching assistant. You know, do my . . ." He cast about for an idea. "Grading," he finished lamely.
"No," she said.
"Hey. Why not?"
"You know exactly why not. You've got two very small upper-division classes. If you needed a teaching assistant, you'd have asked for one."
"You know," he said, "you could make this easier. I'm just saying."
"Oh, I don't know," Luke said. "Easy might be overrated."
"Thanks," Travis said. "That's helpful."
Zoe was smiling, and then she wasn't. That's what he noticed. Her eyes widened even more, and then she was standing, and Travis was turning to see what she was looking at.
A big man in dirty jeans, work boots, and a feed cap had come through the side gate, moving fast, followed by a big, ugly dog. Everyone went quiet as the guy came up onto the patio and went straight for the baby, lifted her out of her little seat, tucked her securely into one big arm, and nuzzled the top of her head, then kept his face there.
Ah. The dad. Zoe's husband, Cal. But something was off.
"Honey," Zoe said, her hand on his arm. "What is it?"
Cal lifted his head from the baby, and Travis got a jolt down low in his gut at the bleakness in his face. "I just needed to smell her."
Silence engulfed the group as Cal looked around the table, his gaze landing on the kid.
"Eli," Kayla said quietly, "you're excused."
The boy looked from his mother to Cal, his expression much too old for his age. He didn't answer-but then, he hadn't said anything so far-just picked up his plate and left the table with Daisy trotting along behind.
Meanwhile, the ugly dog had sat himself down next to his master as if he needed to stay right there. Just like Zoe did.
"What happened?" Luke asked his brother. He, too, had stood. "Bad? The folks? Or what?"
Cal sat down, still holding the baby, who hadn't woken. He took one of her little hands in his own large one, the gesture incongruously delicate, and ran his thumb over the fragile knuckles, the tiny nails. "I found a dead girl."
Kayla's hand was at her mouth, but Zoe, who still had her hand on Cal's arm, said, "Where?"
He took a deep breath, blew it out. "Harvesting. Just finished that first lentil field over near Black Butte. She was down in that ditch, under the weeds."
"How'd you spot her?" Luke asked.
"Magpies. I just had to . . . I had . . ." Cal's Adam's apple bobbed in his strong throat as he swallowed, and the hand holding Alice's was shaking. Zoe took the baby from him, got up, and put her back in her seat. Then she scooted close to her husband and put her hand on his broad back, smoothing over it in slow circles.
Cal said, "Sorry, Kayla. I didn't get a shower." He looked down at himself as if noticing for the first time that he was still in his work clothes.
"No, you're good," Luke said. "Could you tell who it was?"
A violent shake of the head at that. "Too many birds. Coyotes, too, I'd say. But . . . a grown girl. Not a . . . not a child. Long, dark hair." His face twisted. "Sorry. I've been with the cops. Quite a while. It was just-it kinda hit me, just now." He put his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hand over his face.
Kayla uttered an inarticulate noise, and Luke put his arm around her. Next to Travis, Rochelle sat still and silent.
After a moment, Cal sat up again and took another deep breath. "Yeah. Well. I went on back and called the sheriff. Jim Lawson came out first, then all the rest of them."
"Jim's his cousin," Rochelle told Travis in an undertone. "Deputy."
"They say anything?" Luke asked.
Another shake of the head from Cal. "You know how they are," he said, sounding steadier now. "Just asked me some questions. Had I seen anybody, any rigs out there? No, but I hadn't been out there. Had I noticed the birds before today? Of course I hadn't. Wasn't harvesting there before. But she'd been there awhile."
"I haven't heard of any missing persons," Luke said. "And I'd think I would have."
"Could've been dumped there from anywhere," Cal said.
"No way of telling how she . . ." Luke began.
"No. But she didn't get there by herself. Not all the way up that farm road, then off over all that rough ground, and in the ditch, with the weeds over her. Arranged over her to hide her, I'd bet. Has to be murder. Has to be. I kept thinking, her folks . . ."
His voice cracked on the final word, and Zoe said, "Cal . . ."
He looked at her and said, "Baby, let's go home. I'm done for today. Even if I weren't, they won't let me move the combine. The whole place is a crime scene now. You about ready?"
"Of course I'm ready. And of course you're not going back to work today."
"You need to rest anyway," he told her.
"Oh, Cal," she said with a broken laugh. "You're so . . ." She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and said, "Come on. We'll go home. We'll rest together."
Cal picked up Alice's car seat, and Zoe gathered her things then headed around the side of the house with her family, the big dog trotting along behind.
A short silence fell over the group still sitting at the table after their departure.
"Hell of a thing for a new dad to see," Luke finally said.
Kayla looked at him and said, "You got that?"
"Yeah," he said. "I did. He's my brother." He looked at Travis. "Takes a lot to shake Cal up."
"Yep," Travis said. "I'll bet it does. He's Cal Jackson. The Seahawks quarterback."
"Oh," Rochelle said. "I forgot that you wouldn't know who he was."
"Took me a minute to place him, in the context," Travis said. "I knew he wasn't playing anymore. Didn't realize he was farming. But I'm sure it does take a lot to shake him up. Famously cool under pressure."
"Different kind of pressure," Luke said. "Cal's pretty protective."
"I got that, too," Travis said.
ALL KINDS OF READJUSTMENTS.
Rochelle sat still, and so did everybody else. It was as if Cal had left behind a disturbance in the very air of this serene spot, a reminder not only of this latest violence, but also of all the violence that had come before. She knew without asking that everyone here was feeling it. Everyone but Travis, though he was quiet as well, his expression thoughtful. But then, it had been obvious in the elevator that he was a lot more sensitive than he let on.
"Well," Luke said after a second, "so much for dessert. I've lost my appetite. I don't know about you all. You OK?" he asked Kayla.
"Yes," she said, then got up from the table. "I'll just go check on Eli."
Luke watched her go with a frown on his good-looking face. Once she was inside, he told Travis, "Violence upsets her. Especially this kind of thing."
"Well, yeah," Travis said. "I can imagine."
Rochelle shook herself, stood up, and began to gather dishes. "We'll get out of here in a minute and let you guys regroup. Wow, what a day. Sorry, Travis. Maybe not quite what you had in mind."
He stood with her and pitched right in clearing the table. "I'm thinking maybe my original idea for the afternoon might work, though. For everybody, even."
"What's that?" Rochelle asked.
"I was going to go check out Elk Creek Reservoir. Swimming outdoors sounds real good right now. Wash the taste of this away. Plus, it's hot. Just for an hour or two. Who's in?"
"Up there in the trees," Luke said. "Great idea. Let me go check with Kayla."
He took off after his wife, and Rochelle carried a load of dishes into the house and started loading the dishwasher. Travis brought in the salad bowl and the plate of sandwiches, leaned against the counter, and said, when she didn't speak, "What? No good? Don't like to swim? Or was all that too upsetting?"
"No." She pulled out a plastic container and began to transfer the salad into it. "I mean, it's upsetting, sure. Really upsetting. But bad things happen. I know they do."
"They do." He was standing still, as usual. Watchful. Travis didn't fidget, she realized. "So . . . what?"
"Would you go get the glasses, please?"
He turned without a word and went out for them, and she tried to have a talk with herself and pretty much failed miserably.
"Right. What?" he asked when he'd brought the glasses back in and, without her asking, started loading the dishwasher himself. Which was a promising thing to see.
"Maybe I'm just thinking that swimsuits aren't the best option," she finally said. It wasn't her only reservation, of course. The truth was, she was all over the map. The elevator, Cal, that poor girl dumped in a ditch. It had been too much emotion, so much more than she wanted to show Travis. Than she wanted to show anybody. She needed to be cool to deal with him. She needed to be in control, and she was nowhere close.
His face cleared, though, and that half smile appeared. "Ah. Well, yeah. If we're going to jump back into life here-yeah. I could say I hadn't imagined what kind of suit you might have and how you might look in it, but I'd be lying. Please tell me it isn't some kind of racing tank."
She had to smile herself. "I've got more than one." Back to flirting, and back to life. She'd keep it here. She'd keep it light.
"You're just torturing me now," he said, and she laughed and felt so much better.
"Chaperones," he suggested. "Family outing, assuming the others come. We can take your sister, too, if you want. How PG can you get?"
"And you're not going to be thinking about me naked?"
"Hey. There's a limit."
She wasn't able to convince Stacy to come, though.
She'd told her sister about Cal's discovery. No way to keep that quiet, not in Paradise.
"Who was it?" Stacy asked. She was sitting on her bed, propped against the pillows, a textbook lying on the bedspread beside her. "Was it . . . was it somebody we know?"
"Cal couldn't tell," Rochelle said. "It had been a while, and the coyotes had gotten to her."
Stacy nodded. When you grew up on a farm, you knew about death, because you saw plenty of it. Death, and its consequences. Which didn't make it easier to think about. Rochelle had to swallow hard, and she could see Stacy doing the same thing.
"He didn't say much," Rochelle went on. "But you see why I want you to be careful," she couldn't help adding. "You see why I worry about who you go out with, and what you do out there. About keeping yourself safe. And when you're not sober, you're not safe. Especially if you pass out."
"What, she made it happen?" Stacy was glowering now. "Are you blaming her? Somebody killed her and dumped her in a ditch, and it's her fault?"
"No," Rochelle sighed. "Of course I'm not. I'm saying, I want you to be safe. And I want you to come with me today."
"I can't. I need to stay here. I've got too much homework."
Rochelle studied her face, and Stacy's eyes slid away under her gaze. Her sister pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. Not a good sign. "I need to stay here," she said again.