Broken Trust

by Shannon Baker

  Her appearance seemed as bizarre as the kachina, but her slight build with small face and tiny hands didn’t harbor much threat. More than that, her timid gaze behind a pair of John Lennon–pink sunglasses disarmed Nora.

  “Are you okay?” she asked again.

  Nora inhaled good air. Like a child in the throes of a nightmare, she felt relief in the presence of another person. “Yes. I’m fine.”

  The girl eyed her skeptically. “Having trouble with the altitude? If you aren’t acclimated, you can get disoriented this high.”

  Of course. That explained it all. Nora could have kissed this strange mountain imp for giving her an excuse. Nora considered the parking lot several switchbacks below them. Just a small journey to safety.

  The girl helped Nora stand. “I’ll walk you to the parking lot. You’ll feel better as soon as you get lower.”

  I’ll feel better as soon as Hopi spirits quit popping out at me. But Nora smiled as best she could, for now satisfied that the kachina had retreated to the depths of her very sick mind.

  “I’m Petal,” the girl said.

  The name fit. “I’m Nora.”

  Nora ought to be embarrassed but she welcomed the steady hand on her arm. Far from an easy stroll, the trail was nothing but a pile of rocks that required concentration to navigate. Though traveled by countless tourists every summer, the trail could be easily lost. The switchbacks angled back on themselves in unexpected places and it was easy to find yourself off-trail, going around the side of the mountain with nothing below you to stop a fall.

  Someday Nora would be agile and fearless again. She had climbed the backside of Mount Evans in high school; today she’d driven. Driving to the top of a fourteener was nothing short of cheating. You should have to work to be rewarded with the view from the top of the world. But today was her test. And if the kachina hadn’t swept in, she would have passed.

  Petal walked Nora to her Jeep. She waited while Nora dug into her jeans pocket for a key. “Your first fourteener?”

  Nora unlocked the door and Abbey, her aging golden retriever opened his eyes. He sat up from napping on the driver’s seat. “No. I’ve lived in Boulder most of my life, but I haven’t been climbing recently. What about you? Did you hike the whole mountain?”

  Petal shook her head. Her voice sounded frail, as if she’d rather not speak at all. “No. I caught a ride up.”

  Abbey eased from the Jeep and nosed the tire. He lifted his leg. Abbey finished and walked back to sit by Nora. “Thanks again for helping me down.”

  Petal nodded and stood still.

  “Where is your ride?” Nora asked, mainly because Petal seemed to expect the conversation to continue. Nora motioned for Abbey to get in the Jeep.

  Petal shrugged.

  That’s what Nora suspected. “You hitched?”

  Petal nodded again, solemn.

  Nora leaned into the Jeep. She pulled a backpack and a couple of paperback books from the bench seat in back to the floor. She picked up an extra ski cap and gloves from the passenger side floor and tossed them on top of the books and waved Abbey into the backseat. “Go on, Abbey.” She turned. “If you don’t mind riding in a muddy old Jeep, climb in.”

  Petal shook her head, her dreads bouncing. “Oh no. You don’t have to do that. I’ll get a ride.”

  “I know I don’t have to. Where are you going?”

  Petal studied her Chaco sandals and thick wool socks. “Boulder.”

  “Me too. Let’s go.” Nora felt almost cheerful at being able to help someone.

  Petal seemed to argue with herself for a moment, then her thin lips turned up in a tiny smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

  She clambered into the Jeep and Nora backed out, already feeling better. Nora cranked on the heater in the rumbling Jeep, the smell of dog hair mingling with Petal’s organic odor.

  Petal turned in the seat and scratched Abbey’s ears. “Your dog is nice. Her name is Abbey?”

  “His. Named after Edward Abbey, one of the earliest conservationists.” Nora braked and eased to the inside of the narrow road as they met an SUV. She’d rather hike than drive this strip of pavement carved along the mountainside.

  Petal nodded. “I know.”

  That surprised Nora. So many people had no idea about Edward Abbey. “So what do you do for a living?” Oops. From Petal’s appearance, she might not be making a living. Nora cursed her rusty social skills.

  Petal didn’t seem offended. “I work at Loving Earth Trust.”

  Nora knew the name. “That’s great. They—you—have done some good work, especially with open space in Boulder.”

  Petal turned from Abbey and pulled her feet under her. “What do you do?”

  Nora maneuvered the Jeep around a tight corner, holding her breath and avoiding glancing at the edge of the road that slid into oblivion. “I’d love to work for an environmental group.”

  “Really? Why?”

  Why. The answer involved so much history, so many regrets. “Redemption.”

  Petal’s soft voice sounded shocked. “You’re such a nice person, I can’t believe you’ve done something you need to atone for.”

  “I’m not that nice, believe me.”

  Petal shook her head, sending the dreads waving again. “I can read auras. They don’t lie, and yours tells me how good you are.”

  Nora smiled at her. Clouds scuttled across the sun and the Jeep felt chilly even with the heater blasting.

  “No, I mean it,” Petal said. “Yours is deep red. That means you’re grounded and realistic and a survivor.”

  Not too long ago Petal’s words would have made Nora scoff—not to someone’s face, but inside, at least. Now dead Hopi leaders visited her on mountaintops and spoke to her in dreams. Who was she to judge?

  Petal regarded her. “What is a kachina?”

  Nora’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Why do you ask?”

  Petal cast her eyes down at the floor. “You said something about a kachina when you were on the mountain.”

  Raving. Super. They ought to lock me up.

  “A kachina is a Hopi spiritual being of sorts. Hopi are a tribe in Northern Arizona. The kachinas aren’t really gods, but they’re not human, either. There’s about three hundred of them and they can represent things in nature or”—she forced her voice to remain neutral—“they can be spirits of ancestors.”

  Petal accepted the explanation as if Nora had described an interesting recipe. “Oh.”

  They rode in silence for a while, Nora holding her breath at every tight switchback. It seemed like walking down would not only be safer, it would be quicker. Finally, Petal asked. “What do you think you should do for your redemption?”

  Nora shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m an accountant and I’ve been applying at environmental places all over town with no luck. I hate to give up and go corporate. But I need a job.”

  Petal’s face lit up. At least it seemed to, from what Nora could tell behind the rose glasses and that bird’s nest of hair. “Accountant?”

  “Business manager, MBA, accountant—all that left-brain stuff.”

  Petal squirmed like an excited child. “I knew there was a reason I met you up there. The universe introduced us to each other.”

  Nora raised her eyebrows at Petal.

  Petal clapped her hands. “I think we have an opening for Financial Director.”

  Nora wanted to feel optimism and excitement at an opportunity, but she held back. “I already applied to Loving Earth Trust a month ago.”

  “It’s a new opening,” Petal said, but the delight evaporated from her face. “Our Financial Director disappeared a few days ago and no one knows where she went.”

  “She just disappeared?” Like the kachina on the trail?

  Petal hung her head. “I think it might have been my fault.”
>
  “I’m sorry,” Nora said and meant it.

  Petal sat upright. “But this is like my redemption. Darla left, but you’re here and I found you.”

  Nora tried not to get her hopes up. “That’s nice of you to say, but the Trust wouldn’t be hiring already, with your director only being gone for a couple of days, would they?”

  Petal’s mouth turned down. “They were getting ready to fire her. Maybe that’s why she left. Anyway, her taking off without a word to anyone was the last straw. They already have an ad set to send to the paper and post on our site.”

  Nora didn’t wish the old director ill, but this opportunity gave new meaning to the word serendipity. “Thank you for the head’s up. Will you do the hiring?”

  Petal’s eyes sparkled. “Not really. But sometimes, I can suggest things.”

  The girl’s excitement penetrated Nora. Maybe fate had jumped in and rescued her. “I’d love if you could get me an interview, Petal.”

  Petal smiled. She resembled a playful elf. “Done.”

  three

  For the first time in too long, Nora joined the morning masses on their way to jobs the following Monday morning. Constructive, worthwhile, paycheck-producing jobs. Nora needed to work, had worked since she was sixteen, even while earning top grades in college and grad school. The last year of unemployment had depleted more than her cash reserves.

  But no more. Look at her: a job! Loving Earth Trust wasn’t just a job, either. It was a dream position. She’d called the Executive Director as soon as she’d returned from Mount Evans. He remembered her resume, called her in for an interview the next morning, and hired her that afternoon. Two days after her failure on the mountaintop, Nora felt her wheels gaining traction.

  Sunshine blazed from the east, sparkling on the morning. Nora turned from her apartment parking lot onto Arapahoe Street, happy to see the students with book bags strapped to their backs making their way toward campus for their first classes. There was something about people heading out for productive days, fresh from the shower, hair and clothes spiffed. Ready, expectant.

  Financial Director with Loving Earth Trust. Score!

  While not as well-known as the Sierra Club or the Nature Conservancy, Loving Earth Trust had earned a reputation in Colorado for getting results. Founded in the early seventies to spearhead open space in Boulder, they’d done good environmental and restoration work through the years. More than raising money and wringing hands, the Trust produced science that influenced lawmakers to protect wild places. They sent volunteers out in the field for trail maintenance and landscape restoration. Now she was their financial director.

  “And you get to come with me,” she said to Abbey, stroking his silky head as he sat in the passenger seat keeping a keen eye on traffic.

  Boulder’s Flatirons rose to the west and Nora felt like saluting them. Flaming maples shouted good morning with their deep scarlet leaves contrasting with the golds and oranges of the less showy trees. She loved her town in all its outdoorsy quirkiness. The People’s Republic of Boulder. The land of bicycle commuters, hippies, audacious entrepreneurs. Liberal, green, often downright weird. Right where she belonged.

  Nora’s phone vibrated and she flipped it open.

  “How are you?” Abigail. Again. Loving and smothering were the same in Abigail’s world. It didn’t help that Nora and Abigail were as alike as a Birkin bag and a North Face backpack. In Nora’s case, the backpack tended to be smattered with mud and repaired with duct tape.

  “I’m the same as I was fifteen minutes ago, just a little closer to work.” Nora waited at a stoplight on Broadway in downtown Boulder and watched a young woman and man in business suits in earnest conversation. They crossed the street in front of her, followed by a scuzzy gray-haired guy whose canvas pants barely stayed on his skinny hips. Behind them, two young women pedaled across in spandex biking shorts, colorful jackets, and helmets.

  “What did you decide to wear? Did you pack a lunch? You’re wearing makeup, right?” Despite living in the woods in Flagstaff, Arizona, for the last year, Abigail hadn’t lost her high esteem for appearance. A magician, Abigail managed to look nearly perfect at all times.

  Nora waited at the light. “Turquoise velour sweatsuit. Sauerkraut and sausage. The darkest, skankiest Goth I could shovel on.” Although Nora wore her copper hair straight around her shoulders, she’d earlier told Abigail she wore a ponytail just to irritate her.

  Abigail exhaled. “No need to get snippy. I’m only concerned.”

  Nora rolled her window down a few inches to smell the fresh morning. “Sorry. I’m nervous. I’m wearing jeans and, sorry to say, not much in the makeup department. As for lunch, Abbey and I will probably take a walk.” Although Nora admired Edward Abbey, he also served as a good excuse to use a name that would forever irritate Abigail Stoddard. Her mother would prefer she’d named her dog Fido.

  “Jeans! And you brought your dog to work? Oh Nora.” Abigail couldn’t sound any more disappointed if Nora wore a bathing suit to a cocktail party.

  “It’s an environmental trust. I’ll be hanging at the office with enviros, not power-lunching with the rich and famous.” She rubbed a pinch of Abbey’s soft hair between her fingers before pulling her hand away to shift gears. “And Abbey will probably sleep on my office floor all day.”

  Abigail’s voice sounded distracted. “I know you were desperate for a job, but that place is not up to your standards.”

  Nora pulled the hatch closed on her emotional cellar. She refused to let Abigail irritate her. “I wasn’t desperate.”

  “If you say so. I’ve told you a hundred times you should have kept more of that money from the Kachina Ski sale instead of setting up that trust for me. In fact, you shouldn’t have set up that trust at all.”

  The money Nora received when she sold the ski resort should be enough to keep Abigail in a decent living standard for the rest of her life. The problem was that Abigail enjoyed a higher-than-decent standard; if Nora hadn’t locked it down and kept herself as executor, Abigail might run through it too fast. It had happened before.

  For her part, Nora didn’t keep much of what felt to her like blood money. She’d figured with her resume and business skills, even if she insisted on working in the environmental sector, she’d land a good job in no time. She hadn’t planned on a wrecked economy.

  “This job is about perfect for me, Mother.”

  “But the salary is so low.”

  “Sadly, I’ll have to forego the spa weekends and month-long cruises with you.”

  The sun dazzled the flower beds and brick pavers of downtown. Nora drove past the offices and shops, beyond the county buildings and library and out of town on Canyon Boulevard, along Boulder Creek.

  Abigail probably thought Nora was serious. “If you’d get a real job you wouldn’t have to make those sacrifices.”

  The paved bike trail along the creek gave way to a gravel path as the highway narrowed in the canyon. The creek rushed along, as happy as Nora to be going someplace.

  “I’m almost there. Let me talk to Charlie.” At least he was proud of Nora working for the Trust. Charlie had been Nora’s buddy long before he ended up as Abigail’s fourth husband, a situation more bizarre than anything Nora had experienced—and she’d been in a vortex of bizarre.

  “Charlie’s not …” Abigail trailed off. “Charlie’s not here.”

  Nora nodded. He probably headed out early for his day of relatively harmless eco-terrorism. After his stint in Vietnam, Charlie had returned to his cabin outside of Flagstaff and did his bit for the environment by blocking forest trails with logs and rocks to keep dirt bikes and quads from shredding the forest.

  “Tell him hi for me.” Nora’s stomach churned, like a kid on the first day of school. Where would this new adventure take her?

  “Okay.” Abigail sounded unsure. “Nora, I pro
bably should tell you …”

  A voice interrupted Abigail. It sounded like, “Can I take your order?” Since Abigail usually didn’t venture from the cabin before her lengthy morning beauty regimen, it must be the television.

  Just outside of the bustle of town heading into the canyon, a graveled clearing off to the side of the road supplied parking next to a bus stop. One person stood under the bus stop sign. Nora considered him. A shrunken old man, swallowed by a canvas work coat, he stared down the road as if watching for the bus …

  The canyon walls disappeared and ice raced through her.

  “I have a kachina for you.” She stood in a crowd in the Flagstaff courthouse lobby.

  He touched her arm. A withered slip of a Native American, he wore a long, threadbare tunic, leggings, and moccasins that reached to his knees. Deep wrinkles lined his face like wadded parchment and skin sagged around his eyes.

  “I have a kachina,” he repeated in that soft voice cracked with age.

  “I don’t want to buy a kachina,” she said.

  “Not to buy.” He reached into a canvas bag and pulled out a doll carved from cottonwood root. “For you.” The doll had a scary mask with slit eyes and a plug mouth. A bright blue sash fastened across his shoulder …

  Her two right wheels dropped off the pavement and Nora jerked the steering wheel to pull the Jeep back on the road. It fishtailed but righted itself.

  “Nora?” Abigail’s voice squawked from the phone in Nora’s lap.

  Nora grabbed the dropped phone. “Had some traffic.”

  “Where are you now?”

  Nora spotted a road side. “A couple miles past Settler’s Park. About to the Trust.”

  Nora braked and turned left. She rumbled across a wood-planked bridge over the creek. Loving Earth Trust occupied a rambling old house in Boulder Canyon, butted up to the mountainside. Gables and windows, extensions and extra rooms jutted out at weird angles giving the place a disjointed feel. The picturesque front porch descended to a sparsely grassed front yard with a rail fence separating it from the packed dirt parking area. Only three other vehicles sat there. Beyond the lot, a one-lane road ran along the creek bank, but it petered out after a couple hundred yards. A large wooden barn stood behind the house. Towering mountains and pines assured that the house stayed in shadow most of the time. It was beautiful, of course, but a chill goosed Nora’s flesh.