Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Opal appeared to be in her late fifties or early sixties with long, silvery-gray hair and weathered skin. She wore an ankle-length, flowery skirt with a Bohemian top and plenty of beaded jewelry: necklace, bracelets, earrings. “Come in, come in,” she said. “Why don’t I show you Delta’s cabin?”
“I’d like that,” Huck said.
Opal smiled. “I can see her in you, Captain Rivers. You have her eyes, and there’s something about your bone structure, though definitely not her height. She was barely five foot four.”
Huck grunted.
Laurel took the lead. Was this too much for Huck? He had to be experiencing odd feelings. “How long did you know Delta?”
Opal laughed. “Fifteen years. I’ve lived here for two decades, and Delta came to us about fifteen years ago. She had been wandering through life as many of us do and finally found a community.”
“Where had she been?” Huck asked.
Opal shrugged. “We don’t really talk about our time before we join the family, but it’s my understanding that she worked as a street artist who sold drawings and paintings in Los Angeles, San Diego, I believe Sacramento, and then ultimately made her way to Las Vegas and down to Phoenix.”
“We haven’t found any sort of criminal record,” Laurel said.
“Oh, no. I don’t believe Delta ever committed any crimes. I think she was just a free spirit.”
Laurel looked around at the quiet surroundings. “Yet she joined your community?”
They walked between several trees and passed small cabins as they spoke. “Yes, you’re allowed to stay or leave or do whatever you want here. You can be who you are,” Opal said calmly.
“Who was she?” Huck asked.
Opal glanced at him. “She was one of our family members. She kept to herself very often, but she contributed when she could. She had social anxiety and worked in her cabin by herself much of the time.”
“Did she date anybody here at the co-op?” Laurel asked.
Opal moved a branch out of the way. “Not here. Not to my knowledge, anyway,” she said. “There were a couple of gentlemen through the years who I believe she may have slept with, but there was never any obvious relationship or commitment.”
“That seemed to be her style,” Huck said grimly.
Opal smiled, not appearing fazed by his statement. “I believe it was her style.” They reached a cabin, and she walked up the wooden stairs to open the door. “We haven’t changed anything because her spirit is still here with us, and we don’t want to offend it in any manner.”
“All right,” Laurel said, stepping inside. That made zero sense.
It was a one-room cabin with a twin bed against one wall, a small loveseat on the other wall, and a counter across from them that held a hot plate. Several canvases and charcoal drawings leaned against the walls. Paint splatters covered the floor in every direction.
“There’s no bathroom,” Huck noted.
Opal chuckled. “There’s a communal outhouse several yards to the north.”
“What about showers?” Laurel asked.
“There are showers there as well. We use natural rainwater and heat it when necessary,” Opal said.
Laurel moved toward the one dresser set at the edge of the bed to study several photographs. She lifted one to scrutinize.
“What is it?” Huck asked.
“I think it’s her with you.” She looked closer. A young Delta Rivers, smiling wildly, held a baby in her arms.
“Huh,” Huck said, looking over Laurel’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen that one.”
Uncertain of what to say, she remained silent.
“You can keep that if you like,” Opal offered.
Huck looked at her. “Thank you.”
Emotion passed across the captain’s face, but Laurel didn’t know how to help him right now. Maybe she could serve as a confidante for him later. Even so, she touched his arm. “I’m here for you.”
He kissed her forehead. “I know. Thank you.”
She placed the picture back and then looked at the artwork. Delta had used strong lines and abstract forms, creating appealing designs.
Huck grasped another picture. “Is this of the two of you?”
Opal smiled. “Yes. We had one of our visitors take pictures of us.”
“Visitors?” Laurel asked.
“Yes, we host weekends sometimes for people needing to get away from their busy lives. It’s a way for us to make money so we can buy the supplies we can’t grow or create ourselves, and every once in a while somebody will take some pictures. We prohibit phones and other electrical devices. But sometimes, as in the case of this man, he had one of those point-and-shoots, so we allowed it. It’s good to record our journeys once in a while.”
“I see.” Huck handed the picture to Laurel. “Who was he?”
Opal’s bracelets clanked together when she moved. “Nice guy from Toronto. His name is Bernard Netlabel, and he’s one hundred years old. Can you believe it?”
“How current is this photograph?” Huck asked.
“That was maybe last month.” Opal ruffled her silvery hair.
Laurel looked at the photograph and jerked before glancing up at Opal. “This was taken last month?”