Jane's Melody Read online

  “Just keeping up with the Joneses.Getting my son a new Sig Sauer before those bastards in Washington ban them.”

  “Well, I don’t think you have to worry,” Caleb said, staying neutral. “I’d be more than a little shocked if those bastards in Washington get anything done.”

  Ralph nodded his agreement.

  “How’s that yard coming along?”

  “Slow,” Caleb replied. “Seems like those blackberries grow back faster than I can hack them down.”

  “Them things is hell on a yard,” he said. “They come on like an alien slime. You know, I seen a vine cut down in three pieces and left on the ground. Two days later there was three new blackberry bushes growing. They’re like worms. You cut one in half and you get two. You got to get the roots and all. We’ve got a poison’ll keep the new ones down, if they’re still green. Won’t do nothing for the grown ones, I’m afraid. But you should be wearing gloves anyway, you know. We sell some that go clear to the elbow and cover those arms.”

  Ralph walked Caleb through the store and loaded a basket with several jugs of Roundup spray and a pair of yellow, elbow-length leather gloves. As he rang the sale into his register, Caleb looked around and asked him:

  “You got any goat food?”

  “Goat food?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The whole point of having a goat is they’ll eat anything.”

  “Ever seen one eat dirt?” Caleb asked.

  “Shit. I seen one eat a tire right off a tractor once.”

  “Do they eat blackberries?”

  “I’m sure they would.”

  Ralph finished ringing up the supplies, and Caleb paid with two of the hundred dollar bills he’d taken from the envelope. Then he stuffed the change in his pocket, tossed the gloves in the sack with his clothes, and slung it over his shoulder again. He picked the jugs of Roundup up off the counter.

  “Is there any place I could catch a cab around here?” he asked. “Or do I need to call one?”

  “There’s always a line of them waiting at the ferry. Just back up the road there. It ain’t too far.”

  “Thanks.”

  He turned for the door.

  “You tell Jane to let me know if she’s planning on selling that place,” Ralph called. “I got my ear to the ground for her.”

  Caleb stopped and looked back.

  “I’ll be sure to let her know.”

  The cab dropped Caleb off at the house, and he paid the fare and thanked the driver. Then he set his items down on the stoop and retrieved the key from where he’d hidden it and opened the door. He picked his things back up and went inside. He emptied his clothes onto the bed in the room and placed them with the others in the dresser drawers. Then he went into the kitchen and put what remained of the $500 back in the envelope, along with the receipts for his purchases and the cab fare. He grabbed two apples from the kitchen fruit bowl and stuffed them in his pockets. Then he found Jane’s bicycle in the garage and wheeled it out to the drive.

  After checking to make sure he had the front door key in his pocket, he closed the garage door and ran out beneath it. Then he mounted up and rode off down the street.

  Once the houses gave way to trees, the roadside all looked the same, and it took him some figuring to try and find the spot again. When he did he dismounted and laid the bike in the ditch where it couldn’t easily be seen, and ducked beneath the barbed-wire fence. There was no crying now as he approached the enclosure, and he wondered if someone hadn’t come down from somewhere higher on the hill to finally free the tethered goat, or at least to move its stake to new ground. Yet he found the goat right where he had left it, lying in the dirt with no trace left of the branches he had thrown in.

  Caleb paused to look around.

  There was an overgrown path leading up the hill, but no house or other structure was visible from where he stood. He stepped inside the wire fence and held an apple out in his hand. The goat rose and walked toward him, stopping every few paces to eye him suspiciously. When it reached him, it sniffed the apple loudly before nudging it from his hand with its nose. The apple fell to the dirt with a thud, and the goat bent and ate it in three bites. It looked up, expecting more. Caleb reached out and patted its head.

  “Easy now, fella,” he said.

  He stepped into the circle and made his way calmly to the center. He seized the stake with both hands and braced and pulled it free from the dirt. Then he carried the stake through the fence. The goat followed. Once outside the barren pen, Caleb had to drag the goat along by the chain because it kept stopping to graze on the vegetation they passed. When he finally got it to the fence and had coaxed it safely through the barbed-wire with the remaining apple, he retrieved his bicycle from the ditch. He wrapped the chain around its frame, wedged the stake in its water bottle holder, and mounted up and pedaled off down the street, leading the goat with the apple in his hand. The goat trotted along beside him, its hooves clacking loudly on the asphalt, the extra length of chain rattling along behind them. It was a sturdy mountain bike, and Caleb pedaled slowly in a low gear. Even so the goat grew tired and began to lag behind, drawing out the slack in the chain. Finally Caleb stuffed the apple back in his pocket and rode with both hands on the bars, and they settled into a comfortable routine.

  A minivan passed them by, and Caleb could see three pale faces pressed to the back glass. They must have been a strange sight on that island lane: a man on a bike, leading a goat on a chain. The sky darkened, a misty rain began to fall, and Caleb’s thoughts drifted to Jane. He laughed, remembering the look on her face when he had opened her door and seen her with that Dorito bag suspended above her mouth. He’d knocked first, and he could’ve sworn she had said to come in. He wasn’t sure who had been more embarrassed—her or him. She had looked so cute, though, sitting there crying and covered in crumbs with that silly dating show on the TV. And hadn’t she been wearing his shirt, too? Wasn’t that a sign of her liking him?

  The bike came to a sudden and unexpected stop, and Caleb plunged headlong over the handlebars and onto the pavement. He picked himself up and brushed the bits of asphalt off his skinned forearms, grateful that he gotten them in front of his face. When he looked back, he saw the bike lying on its side and the goat standing with its feet planted in the street at the end of the chain. He marched toward it.

  “You little son-of-a-bitch!”

  The goat lowered its head and made as if it might charge. Caleb stopped and checked himself.

  “All right.Easy now. I might be a little pissed myself if I didn’t know where I was going. But that’s no reason to try and kill me. We’re almost there, and I promise it’s a whole lot better than that pen you were starving in. Here. Have another apple.”

  The goat softened its stance at the sight of the apple in Caleb’s outstretched hand. It scarfed it down, and they made their peace and set out again toward the house.

  This time Caleb walked beside the bike.

  Chapter 9

  JANE SAT AT HER COMPANY’S TABLE in the Red Lion Hotel banquet room, listening to an economist drone on about the effects of the Affordable Care Act on the supplemental health insurance business. The room was a dimly lit sea of pale faces gazing toward the podium where the economist was silhouetted against the blue glow of his PowerPoint slides. Jane wondered why he didn’t just sum up his forecast as optimistic gloom. Yet then there would be no reason to sit through his boring lecture, she guessed.

  Her thoughts drifted to Caleb, as they had almost every spare minute of the four days she’d been in Portland. She had a sinking feeling in her gut that he had taken his money and left. She knew it was a risk leaving him his earnings, but then she couldn’t bear the thought of holding him hostage with it. Besides, maybe it would be best if he was gone when she got back. Maybe it was time for her to move on, to stop replaying the end of her daughter’s life.

  But part of her hoped he had stayed. She already missed his constant presence in the yard. She missed wakin
g up excited because she knew she would see him over her morning coffee. She even missed his melancholy eyes, recalling the moments of joy they had shared that erased the sadness from his stare and gave a sense of purpose to her life. She began to feel regret. What was it Grace had said? “Don’t let fear have any place in your life. Not even a corner.” Why hadn’t she just opened his door that night? Why hadn’t she crawled into his bed?

  She imagined feeling his strong arms around her, feeling his mouth on hers. Her lips began to tingle at the thought. He had kissed her, hadn’t he? He had made the first move. What was it that had caused her to stop him? Guilt, she reminded herself. But perhaps she had overreacted. Now that she knew that Caleb and her daughter were never intimate, that he hadn’t even known her beyond a few flirtatious encounters on the corner, she wondered why she was still afraid.

  Jane felt something brush her leg beneath the table. She looked over, and the man sitting next to her smiled. He was handsome in a plucked and groomed sort of way, but his suit bulged at the waist, and his collar was tight at the neck, giving him the appearance of a man who had spent too many afternoons over steak and martini lunches.

  He leaned in and whispered to her.

  “Exciting stuff, isn’t it?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

  “Like watching paint dry,” Jane replied.

  “Are you staying here at the hotel?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m down from Seattle.”

  “I’m all the way from Phoenix. My name’s Tony.”

  “I’m Jane.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jane. I saw you in the CRM workshop yesterday. Maybe we could grab dinner together tonight?”

  The way he said it led Jane to believe that he was after much more than dinner. He was handsome, but not in a way that attracted Jane. She’d always had a hard time with men. The ladies at her Al-Anon meeting called her a serial first-dater. Men just never seemed interesting to her. There was always a sense of sad desperation hidden beneath their façades, as if they had no purpose to drive them. No fire. No life.

  “Not tonight,” she said.

  He leaned in closer.

  “Come on. You said yourself this was boring. So why not spice it up a little bit?”

  “I have a boyfriend,” she said, half wishing it were true.

  The man grinned and held up his hand to show her the wedding band on his finger. Then he winked.

  “What happens in Portland stays in Portland.”

  Jane looked at him. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to respond. Suddenly, she longed to be home with Caleb, to be sitting in the living room by the fire, listening to him play his guitar. To smell his sweat when he came in from working in the yard.To hear his voice.To see his eyes.

  “Sure,” Jane said. “Meet me in the restaurant at eight.”

  The man smiled as if he’d won a prize.

  Jane closed her day planner and slipped it inside her purse. Then she winked at the man, politely excused herself from the table, and left the banquet room.

  HER WATCH READ 8:30 P.M., and Jane was standing on the upper deck of a ferry, midway across Elliott Bay. She chuckled to think of the creep in Portland, anxiously waiting for her to show in the restaurant bar. She felt sorry for his wife.

  It was a clear night, and the sky was sprayed with stars, visible even through the wash of orange light thrown by the city behind her. She breathed in the cool night and shook her head to let the breeze tickle her hair. The ferry couldn’t carry her home fast enough. Not tonight.

  The call came on the speakers that they were approaching Bainbridge Island, and Jane returned to her car and waited for the ferry to dock. She began to feel nervous. What if Caleb wasn’t there? What if she’d come back early only to find her house empty and dark? A car honked, and she pulled forward, debarked the ferry, and headed for home.

  As she pulled into the garage, Jane noticed in the wash of her headlights that her bicycle had been moved from where she kept it. It kindled a small hope in her chest. She shut off her car and went to the door. She stopped and considered knocking. What if she startled him? Or worse, what if he had company? She shuddered at the thought. Ultimately she decided to just go inside and announce that she was home early. As soon as she opened the door, she heard the guitar music in the living room, and her face broke into a smile.

  She found him sitting beside the fire, lost in a song. Not only had he not heard her pull into the garage, but apparently he hadn’t even noticed her enter the room. She stood watching him as he hummed along to a haunting melody, seeming to search for words to match the music.

  She cleared her throat and he looked up.

  His eyes glinted in the firelight, as if he’d been crying.

  Were they tears for her, Jane wondered.

  He set the guitar in its case, calmly stood, crossed the room, and took her in his arms. She felt the longing in his tense body; she smelled the outside in his hair. When he pulled away to look at her, she saw a question in his eyes. She smiled, as if silently communicating that she had come back for him.

  He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

  A shiver ran down her spine; her knees went wobbly.

  She tilted her head back and rose into his kiss. She placed one hand behind his neck and pulled him hard against her open mouth; she reached around with her other hand and gripped his ass. He tasted sweet, like coffee and caramel, and she felt an overwhelming need to feel his naked skin against hers, and to explore every inch of his body with her tongue.

  She was about to pull him toward her bedroom when the knock came at the door.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, looking into his eyes and shaking her head. “What terrible timing. I hope you weren’t expecting company.”

  “Just my girlfriend,” he said, smiling.

  “Well, I hope she’s into watching,” Jane said, pushing him away playfully. “Because I’m not into sharing.”

  The knock came again, only louder this time.

  “You had better not be selling something this late,” she called out as she turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

  She found herself looking at a police officer. His partner stood behind him on the step below, and Jane could see their cruiser parked in the driveway. The officer looked over Jane’s shoulder, peering into the house as he spoke.

  “Good evening, ma’am. We’re responding to a domestic disturbance call.”

  “A domestic disturbance?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Who else is in the house with you?”

  “Just me and my ... well, my boyfriend, I guess.”

  “Would you mind if we came inside for a moment?”

  Jane looked at the officer. He was young, with a wispy blond mustache above his thin lip. He looked like a high school kid in a cadet program. She wondered when she had gotten old enough to be older than the police. Then she looked at his partner behind him, and he was even younger.

  “Hey,” she said, “aren’t you Alice McKnight’s son?”

  He looked embarrassed.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How can you possibly be old enough to be a cop already? I remember you in diapers.”

  “Ma’am,” the lead officer interrupted her, “we’d like to come inside for a moment, if it’s all right with you.”

  “Sure,” she said, stepping aside. “I think you’ve got the wrong house, but come on in and see for yourselves.”

  The officers came inside, their new leather belts squeaking loudly. The younger one’s radio squawked, and he fumbled the volume control and turned it down. Caleb appeared from the living room and looked at the officers.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Jane opened her mouth to speak but the lead officer cut her off—

  “We’re investigating a disturbance call.”

  Caleb looked confused.

  “I was playing my guitar, but there’s no way that was too loud. You sure you have the right house?”

  “Do yo
u both live here?” the officer asked.

  Jane and Caleb answered at the same time:

  “Yes—”

  “No—”

  The officer eyed them suspiciously.

  “We got a call about a woman screaming.”

  “Who called?” Jane asked.

  “Just a concerned neighbor,” the officer replied.

  “If it was Mrs. Parker next door she’s always dredging up drama where there isn’t any.”

  “You wouldn’t mind if we had a quick look around then?” the officer asked.

  “I know what it was,” Caleb said, laughing to himself. “It’s that damn goat.”

  Jane looked even more confused than the officers.

  “What goat?” she asked him.

  He jerked his thumb toward the sliding door.

  “Out in the backyard. I brought it home to help with the blackberries. I thought it was screaming because it was hungry, but I guess it doesn’t like being chained up either.”

  The officer looked from Caleb to Jane and back again.

  “Sir, would you mind stepping outside with my partner?”

  “Why?” Caleb asked.

  “Just so he can ask you a few questions.”

  “You want to question us separately to see if our stories line up, is that it?”

  “It won’t take a moment, sir,” the younger one said. “Right this way.”

  Jane briefly locked eyes with Caleb as the younger officer led him outside. The lead officer came around to Jane’s other side and turned her attention from the door.

  “Is everything okay, ma’am?” he asked.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “This is a misunderstanding. I just got home from Portland. Literally ten minutes ago.”

  “Is there anyone else in the house?”

  “No.”

  “What about this goat he’s talking about?”

  “You’ll need to ask Caleb.”

  “My partner will ask him. I’m asking you.”

  “Well, we didn’t have a goat when I left four days ago.”

  Just then a shrill cry broke out, coming from the back of the house. The officer’s hand instinctively moved to the grip of his holstered gun. He told Jane to stay put and went urgently to the door and instructed his partner to stay with Caleb. Then he passed through the house to the sliding door, opened it, and went outside into the dark.