Maggie faced the fire again, then glanced over her shoulder at the darkness.
Did eyes watch from just beyond the safe aura of firelight?
TomTom called for more rocks, and the flap of the lodge was thrown back. Maggie performed the fire attendant duties. She picked up a rock with the pitchfork, and carefully carried it to the door of the lodge. It was heavy, with the long handle of her gardening tool stretched out far from her center of gravity. Sunflower helped her guide the rock to the pit dug at the center of the sweat lodge. Dropping off the first rock, Maggie went back for three more, taking them into the lodge separately. Once the rocks were settled, the flap was closed and someone poured several cupfuls of water over the hot stones, causing angry snaps and hisses.
Having never participated in a sweat, Maggie imagined it to be smaller, earthier version of a sauna. Instead of resting on cedar planks, though, the Originals sat cross-legged around the center pit, bare buns on the dirt floor.
They fasted all day in preparation.
TomTom prayed for balance and to be more solidly grounded.
Loki expressed his desire for an important project to be completed soon. He hoped aloud that his art would reach into the hearts and minds of all who witnessed it, that their lives would be forever changed when they saw what he had made.
Sunflower was silent, except to join in the occasional singing.
Maggie was growing colder and more tired by the time the ceremony came to a close. Loki emerged first, standing naked in the night, ritually reborn. He let out a whoop and proceeded to jump into the snow and roll around. The rest of the Originals came out of the lodge slowly, blinking in the bright glare of the fire. Maggie handed them blankets and boots and they made their way back to the house.
Maggie stayed for a while, watching Loki run around wildly. She dowsed the fire with water from a five gallon bucket and enjoyed the steam it let off. For good measure, she shoveled some snow over the smoldering ashes. For a moment, she thought she saw a large dog in the stand of trees next to the barn, its round eyes gleaming in a furry face.
Looking again, she saw nothing.
“Are you coming inside?” she called to Loki.
Loki breathed in deeply and nodded. He walked over to Maggie and accepted the blanket she offered. He wrapped it around himself and tried to wrap it around her, too.
“I’ve been wondering,” he said.
“About what?”
“Wondering what it’s like to make it with a pregnant lady.”
Maggie let her gaze sweep downward. The stadium blanket was draped loosely around Loki’s shoulders. Clearly, he was doing more than casual pondering.
“Keep wondering,” she said aloud.
Loki threw his head back and howled.
“Better go roll in the snow some more, wild man.”
He laughed, picked up a snowball and threw it at her. They proceeded to have a snow fight till Sunflower leaned out the back door and yelled at them.
“Maggie! Get in here! You have to take care of that kid! Loki! Consider what frostbite will do to your favorite asset!” Sun slammed the door to punctuate her sentence.
Laughing, Loki and Maggie made their way inside the house.
A feast was waiting for them; food and fellowship were the last pieces of the ceremony. All were ravenous, even Maggie, who had not fasted like her friends.
There was freshly baked sorghum bread and veggie cheese pie, stuffed squash and pecan pilaf—lots of good, filling carbs with warm cider to wash it all down.
***
While his friends lifted a cup of cider to toast the New Year, Tor was driving away from Prairie Meadows Racetrack and Casino.
Traveling west on Interstate 235, Tor jumped when he saw fireworks exploding over downtown Des Moines. The clock on the dashboard read 12:15 a.m. Though the heat was on low, sweat poured down the sides of Tor’s face. His hands shook.
Tor took the Penn Street exit and pulled into a 24-hour convenience store. Entering the store, he found it empty of life except for a bored-looking clerk.
“ATM?” Tor asked the clerk, who motioned toward the back of the store.
Standing in front of the cash machine, Tor’s hand moved to pull his wallet from a back pocket. In the wallet was a debit card he had acquired with the home equity line of credit no one but Fennel had known even existed.
It was his family’s land, Tor had reasoned, so it was his $50,000 to do with as he pleased. The bank had been happy to offer a local farmer a revolving line of credit against his mortgage. They had even given him a convenient means of withdrawing cash in the form of a debit card.
There was twenty-five dollars left in the home equity account, which Tor withdrew without hesitation. He folded the twenty and the five and placed them in his right hip pocket. As he did so, Tor’s hand brushed the loaded pistol which was tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
He was surprised when he found the pistol in the attic, fifteen years ago. It had been placed in a shoe box and forgotten, stacked with all the other junk. Tor had never known his father owned a gun. Like so many things between them, it was never discussed.
Tor walked to the counter. His eyes swept over the rows of gum and cigarette lighters. He wetted his lips and brought his hand toward his waist. Now or never. Twenty five dollars was a drop in the bucket.
“Sir?” the clerk said. “Is there something I can help you find?”
Tor looked at the clerk’s face—he didn’t look a day over nineteen.
“No, thanks,” Tor said, pulling out the five dollar bill. “I’ll take five scratch-off tickets. Luck of the New Year, right?”
Chapter 22
The new year began with a snowfall that seemed to go on for a month. Maggie and the Originals holed up in the house, glad for a well-stocked pantry and a plentiful firewood supply. Every time the snow let up for an hour or more, someone would go into town for provisions, in case they didn’t get the chance to do it later.
The bump on Maggie’s abdomen grew round enough to be visible. People took to rubbing her belly for good luck before venturing outside.
Due to the weather, Maggie’s meeting with the naturalist at Greystone Nature Area had to be postponed. Maggie had also been unable to make it into Des Moines to work at PhyllaSlide. Della was understanding, mostly because orders had slowed substantially.
Sunflower’s only access to her room was an outside door. Snow often drifted high up the door so that it was impossible to open without first shoveling a clear space. In addition, the basement was freezing. Sunflower dug her way through, gathered some necessities from her room and set up camp in the upstairs common room. TomTom trekked out to the barn for one of the cots used by boarders so Sun wouldn’t have to bunk on the smelly couch.
Loki called Sunflower’s new space her “winter cabin.”
One night Namasté built a fire in the fireplace of the upstairs living room to help keep Sunflower warm while she slept. Maggie popped corn over the fire with a long-handled popper. They dragged sleeping bags out of storage to sleep in the common room with Sun. Maggie felt like a kid at a slumber party. Even Tor chose to participate, though he didn’t have much to say.
Loki suggested they turn off the lights and tell ghost stories. When nobody else showed enthusiasm for the idea, he sat on the stinky couch and pouted.
The evening was calm, but for the roar of snow and wind outside.
Namasté strummed chords on a guitar.
TomTom knitted a mile-long scarf, swearing whenever she dropped a stitch.
Tor stared into the fire. Maggie wondered if it was time to push him a little and see if he would admit to anything. In a supportive environment, he might be willing to talk more freely. And there was no place for him to escape—the roads were tough to navigate, even without the wind. He was stuck in the farmhouse like the rest of them.
“Damn!” Sunflower said, digging through her duffel for the third time.
Namasté stopped strumming. “Wha
tever you are looking for, you’re not going to find it in there.”
“That sounds prophetic,” Tor said.
“I know I put my notepad in this bag.”
“It’s probably still in the basement,” TomTom said, as she undid a botched row of stitches.
“No, I’m sure I put it in here.”
Sunflower’s digging became more frantic.
“Whatcha got written?” Loki asked, perking up. “Love poems?”
Loki seemed determined to have fun—teasing was nearly as good as telling ghost stories.
But Sunflower was not into the game. She looked horrified.
“You have it. That notebook is my personal property. Give it back!”
“My God, you really have a notebook full of poetry?” Loki asked. “Who knew?”
“I’m still missing my good scissors,” Namasté said, as though this comment was perfectly at home in the conversation.
Then Maggie remembered something.
“I have an idea where all your lost things may be.”
Ten eyes turned to look at her. Loki hopped over and began rubbing her back, as though Maggie needed some encouragement to speak.
“I had a dream about Fennel the first night I stayed here. In the dream, she showed me where she kept her journals.”
Maggie looked around. No one seemed to find the information preposterous or disturbing, so she continued.
“I’ve been reading the journals.”
Still, no response from anyone. The only change was that Loki stopped rubbing her back. They all waited for Maggie to go on.
“One of Fennel’s last entries talked about how Toby, the neighbor boy, came into her room. She thought maybe he had been there before. He was reading her journals the day she found him. Clearly, he doesn’t mind crossing boundaries. It’s possible he took your things.”
The room erupted in a tangled outpouring of speech.
“If he has my notebook, I’ll kill him.”
“I can’t believe he’d do that.”
“I’m going to check my room.”
“Mad dog,” Namasté said, suddenly, dropping the guitar to the floor where it let out a pathetic twang. “Don’t you recall, Maggie? The day we took over the cookies? Toby’s arm said ‘mad dog.’ The tattoo, remember?”
People looked confused and the chaotic chatter subsided.
TomTom let out a gasp, “Your dream! The mad dog, pulling out its teeth!”
“I thought we said no ghost stories,” grumbled Tor.
“No,” TomTom said. “You weren’t there, Tor, but at the sweat Namasté talked about her dream. There was this mad dog, pulling out its teeth, chasing her around.”
“Oh,” Tor said.
“Maggie, you’ve done it. I knew you would figure it out!” Namasté gushed.
“About the lost things?”
“Yes, the lost things and so much more. I think the autopsy must have been wrong. Fennel heard a noise and went upstairs. Maybe Toby was upstairs. He might have even pushed her.”
“But it was shock, remember? An allergic reaction,” Maggie said.
“Well, maybe he had something with him that she was allergic to. Maybe he took it with him, whatever it was. He might have snooped and found her medicine. I’ll bet he took it. He has a reputation for using drugs. He might not have meant to kill her, but I think he did it. I think Toby killed Fennel.” Namasté’s eyes were wide. She covered her mouth with both hands.
“Whoa!” Tor interjected, before Maggie could say a word. She was ready to stop the landslide of speculation, but he’d beaten her to the draw.
“You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions, Namasté. Has anyone ever seen Toby in the house?” Tor demanded
No one spoke for a moment, then Loki said in a quiet voice, “Yes.”
“You have?” Tor asked.
“Toby is a friend of mine—at least I thought of him like one. He comes over from time to time to get away from his parents. Toby’s mom treats him like a kid and his dad can’t stand the sight of him.” Loki was more serious than Maggie had ever seen him. “I don’t think he’d do anything intentionally to hurt Fennel, but I can see him leaving if things went wrong and keeping it to himself. I can also see him taking our stuff. Shit.”
“Fennel wrote about how she threatened to tell the police if Toby trespassed again, and she was definitely going to tell his parents. According to Fennel, Toby seemed really upset she might tell his father,” Maggie said. “Still, he’s only a kid. It seems so unlikely.”
“I agree with Maggie,” Tor said. “It’s kind of a stretch.”
“We should call Lyle,” Namasté said.
“And bring him out in a snowstorm for no good reason?” Tor asked.
“She had the dream, Tor,” TomTom said angrily.
“Yes, but it was just a dream,” Tor said. “It could mean anything.”
“It’s a pretty strong coincidence,” said Namasté, frowning.
“Loki, you know Toby better than any of us. What do you think?” Tor asked.
“Toby is used to getting his own way and he doesn’t like getting caught, but who does? If Fennel had reported him, he’d have been in major trouble.” Loki said. “He’s so spoiled, the little maggot. He’s got no idea how good his life is.”
“Loki.” Maggie was rubbing his back now. She hadn’t forgotten the awful story she’d heard about Loki’s childhood.
“When the snow clears up, one of us should go over and talk to Toby. Let’s see what he has to say for himself,” TomTom said.
Maggie thought this was a terrible idea, and opened her mouth to say so.
Loki spoke before she could utter a word.
“I’ll go now!”
There was an uproar of disagreement. They urged Loki to sit down and wait out the storm, at least until morning.
Back to his normal spirits, Loki declared, “I am the original unbreakable man. Never fear!” With that, he ran to his room. In a matter of minutes, he had tossed on some warm outdoor clothing, was down the stairs and out the door.
“Show off,” Sunflower muttered.
Everyone turned to glare at her.
“What?” she asked. “Nobody asked the idiot to go fact-finding in a blizzard.”
“Sun!” TomTom admonished.
Sunflower crossed her arms and scooted down in her chair.
“Oh, alright! If he isn’t back in an hour I’ll go after him.”
Maggie sat next to the fire for ten or fifteen minutes, pensive and distracted.
What have I set into motion? she wondered. I should have kept my mouth shut.
TomTom went downstairs, deciding they ought to have mashed potatoes.
“Comfort food,” she explained. “My Nanna always made potatoes during a crisis.”
Everyone relocated downstairs.
TomTom stood looking out the kitchen window, trying to pare potatoes at the same time. She had two adhesive bandages covering nicks caused by her lack of attention. Eventually, Namasté came over and took away the instrument of TomTom’s self-torture and began peeling the potatoes herself.
Tor went into his room and dug around noisily. Maggie assumed he had gone to see if anything was missing.
Sun was curled on the downstairs couch, pretending to read. She glanced at her watch every few minutes.
“I’m not waiting for something to happen to Loki,” Namasté declared. “I’m calling Lyle right now.”
No one tried to talk her out of it this time.
She was on the phone for several minutes.
“Well,” she said, after hanging up. “Lyle’s going over there.”
“He is?” Maggie was incredulous.
“Lyle knew of at least one other incident during which Toby trespassed on Original Farm property—you see? I don’t sound so crazy now do I, Tor?”
“I never said you were crazy,” Tor said gently.
“And he said that Toby has several other violations, including pushing around sma
ller kids than himself.”
“So he’s a bully and walks over property lines. That doesn’t make him a thief or a killer,” Tor responded.
Tor’s reasoned indifference had Maggie reconsidering her suspicions about him.
Why not let us think Toby did it? she wondered. Right now it doesn’t feel like Tor’s guilty of more than poor money handling and lying.
Sunflower pulled on her boots.
“No sign of our furry little friend. It’s been almost an hour.”
Before Sun could shrug into her coat the door burst open, admitting Loki and a tidal wave of snowflakes.
“Give me a minute to catch my breath,” Loki panted.
Namasté and TomTom helped pull off Loki’s ice-coated outerwear.
Tor heated milk for cocoa.
Once settled before the fire, a cup of cocoa in his hands and a blanket around his body, Loki launched into the tale of his brief adventure. Clearly, he was loving the attention and the drama his return had elicited.
“It was like swimming through snow,” he began. “Thank Odin our neighbors keep the barn light on, or I’d surely have gotten lost in the storm.”
“Knock off the man against nature routine,” Sunflower growled.
“Sun!” TomTom shushed. “We’re glad you’re back in one piece, Loki.”
“Yes. What did you find out?” Tor asked pointedly.
“Nothing. Toby wasn’t home. His truck was gone. He didn’t answer my call. I had my cell with me, thought I’d try it. Usually I give him a call from the barn, to avoid his mother.”
“Did you go up to the house? Did you knock on the door?” Namasté asked.
“No, I just turned around and came back. If Toby was around, he’d have answered his phone. Maybe he forgot to charge it again.”
Five pairs of shoulders slumped with disappointment.
“There’s still Lyle,” Namasté said.
Chapter 23
Time passed.
Lyle did not call.
Maggie kept busy by helping TomTom with the mashed potatoes. Mostly they just watched the water boil in the impossibly large stock pot.
Loki being home safe took a lot of the worry from their minds, but nobody had forgotten why he went out in the first place. And now Maggie was worried about Lyle.
Shallow Roots: An Iowa Girl Mystery (Iowa Girl Mysteries Book 1) Page 18