don’t go there, Sophie. It’s just the right thing to do. From what I’ve heard, Navajos don’t like being around the personal possessions of someone who has passed on. I figured I could help him box the stuff he doesn’t want and give it to the church.”
“Yeah, a number of people around here could use the donations,” Sophie said, nodding somberly. “You and I are the lucky ones, despite the fact that my only job is nursing Mom. At least you have your online business while you take care of your parents’ home.”
Sophie’s mother, Millie Boyer, had just turned sixty-seven. She’d broken her hip after a fall last winter and Sophie came home from Albuquerque. As her mom’s primary caregiver, Sophie was paid a small sum by the state, and between that and her mother’s social security, they got by.
Myka suspected there was a lot more to Sophie’s story, but she hadn’t pried. For now, the details of Sophie’s life in the city remained a mystery.
“Did you get a chance to talk to Joshua at Adam’s—I was going to say graveside service, but it was a burial, right?”
Myka nodded. “When his grandfather died years ago, Joshua told me burials take place as quickly as possible. It’s like the belongings of the deceased, a lot of Navajos believe it’s dangerous to be around the body, too.”
“How come?”
“Something about the person’s ghost, I think,” Myka said, bunching the edge of her shirt and tugging nervously at it. Seeing Sophie glance down and taking note of it, she stopped instantly.
“I’m sorry, Myka. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sure this brings back all kinds of memories for you. Losing your husband so young...”
“Tanner’s been gone two years.” Myka took a deep, shaky breath. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, but I try to avoid things that remind me so directly...of what happened.”
“I understand,” her neighbor said softly.
Once again, there was that haunting undertone in Sophie’s voice. Myka suspected that life hadn’t been particularly kind to Sophie, either.
“Everything is so different these days,” Sophie added. “An entire generation is disappearing. Mom warned me that things were going downhill here, but I didn’t realize the magnitude of it until I saw the town for myself.”
Their town, Independence, was dying, and too many of their residents had left already. For the past half century, theirs had been a company town. Independence Vehicle Accessories, IVA, hadn’t been the only domestic supplier of steering wheels and other vehicle interior “hardware” in the nation—far from it—but the plant’s employees had taken special pride in their work. Then, eighteen months ago, the economy took a nose dive, and IVA shut down.
Eventually the auto industry had been bailed out, but unfortunately for the residents of Independence, IVA’s jobs had been outsourced overseas. Now the ties that had made them such a strong, vibrant community were slowly and systematically breaking down.
“By the way, whatever happened to Adam’s dog, Bear?” Sophie asked, cutting into her thoughts.
“He took off the same day Adam died, though that couldn’t have been the reason he left—Adam was in the hospital at the time. I’ve put out food and water, but it hasn’t been touched, except by the birds and stray cats,” Myka said. “I promised Adam I’d take care of Bear. He was my responsibility.”
“He’ll come back. Same way he just showed up one day,” Sophie reassured her.
Myka hoped so. “The two sure hit it off instantly. Adam said that Bear chose his owners, not the other way around.”
“Do you think Josh will adopt the dog—if he comes back?”
Myka smiled. “I don’t think he even knows about Bear, but I hope so. He’s close to two hundred pounds, though, so it’s a commitment.” The mastiff and pit bull mix was really incredibly gentle.
“If Josh doesn’t want him, what’ll happen?”
“I was hoping he’d move in with me.”
“Josh or Bear?” Sophie gave her a wicked smile.
“The dog,” Myka said, laughing.
“I’ll keep an eye out for the big guy.” Sophie took a step toward her house. “I better go check on Mom. She’s having one of her bad days. Thank heavens for her knitting.”
“The sweaters she’s been making for my shop are just gorgeous. Once I post the photo online, I usually have a buyer within a day or two.”
“Her skill and your homespun yarns make an unbeatable combination,” Sophie said. “I’m doing my part by tweeting about your site every chance I get, too.”
“Thanks!”
As Sophie left, Myka glanced down the street for maybe the tenth time that day. Bertie from the post office had said that Joshua would be back this morning, and she always knew the latest. Joshua had come home last week to bury his father, but he’d returned to San Francisco almost immediately afterward to finish moving out of his apartment. This time, supposedly, he was coming home to stay—at least for a while.
Joshua’s blue pickup was still parked over in his dad’s driveway.
She looked over at the simple, well-maintained wood-framed house next door. It would be good to see Joshua again, at the home where he’d grown up. He’d be a reminder of the old days when her biggest worries had been her grade point average and keeping Tanner from getting past first base.
That all seemed like an eternity ago, long before her perfect life had shattered into a million pieces.
Sitting on her stool beside her low wheel, she picked up where she’d left off spinning the wool into yarn, working automatically, drawing out the fleece to the desired thickness and tension.
A strong gust swept across the porch, carrying a cloud of dust and sand. The wail of the wind through the trees, like that of a crying child, added to the sense of desolation. If the downward spiral continued, in another six months Independence would be nothing more than a ghost town.
The yellow van driving slowly up the street gave her a reason to smile. Maybe that was Joshua at last.
Seconds later, the van slowed at the end of the street, turned, then came to a stop in front of her house.
Joshua climbed out. He was a handsome man, around six foot one with a broad chest and a leggy stride. Today, he was wearing a black windbreaker, a dark blue T-shirt and jeans.
Myka stood up, stepped off the porch and went down the flagstone walk to meet him, reminding herself to remain casual and not walk too fast.
He strode toward her, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Myka, I’m glad to see you again. I didn’t get the chance to talk to you when we laid Dad to rest. You were there, then you were gone.”
His dark eyes shimmered with mystery and the scar that cut across his left eyebrow made him look even more masculine. “You had others waiting for you and I didn’t want to intrude.”
“You
