Jodi Thomas - Twisted Creek

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Since I’ve pretty much given up sleep, I’ve had some time to analyze my life. I think our marriage starved to death over the years. I guess I was just more comfortable living with the corpse than she was.”

I nodded, trying to understand.

“I’m taking a few months off. I think Lillian will get my job in the settlement. She was always better at it than me anyway.”

He didn’t sound bitter, only hurt. The kind of hurt that runs all the way to the bone.

When we turned into my drive, I said, “Thanks for dropping me off.”

“You’re welcome.” He pulled near the dock and cut the engine. “You sell any cigarettes?”

“No.” I wouldn’t have guessed him for a smoker. “But I could make coffee.”

“All right.” He climbed from the Jeep.

Coffee was probably the last thing Paul Madison needed. He seemed wound tighter than a thin rubber band on a hot day. I got out and followed him up the porch. “Lights on in the kitchen, which means Nana is still up.”

“Mary Lynn’s car is over by the campsite. She’s probably inside, too. When we saw the fire she said she’d drive over and check to make sure Mrs. Deals called the sheriff.” He didn’t look like he planned to add any more information, but as he held the door for me, he did. “She said whenever there’s any kind of trouble, the locals gather here.”

I stepped inside. Paul was right: Several of the Nesters were there already. Mary Lynn with her tiny dog, Timothy, and Mrs. Deals. They’d pushed two tables together as if expecting others.

Mary Lynn made room for Paul and asked, “What’s happening over there?”

Paul gave everyone the facts while I poured more coffee. Nana must have brought out the leftover fried pies from this morning, but she was nowhere in sight. I sat down guessing she’d be putting on more coffee by now.

“Are you all right?” I heard Paul ask Mary Lynn.

She nodded, but she looked like she’d been crying.

“Things frighten her,” Mrs. Deals said matter-of-factly. Then, with a gesture as awkward as if an amateur puppeteer were controlling her movements, Mrs. Deals jerked forward and patted Mary Lynn’s hand. “Everything will be fine come morning, you’ll see.”

“Scared the hell out of me,” Timothy added. “I’d fallen asleep out on the deck and for a moment I woke not remembering where I was. I’ve never heard a sound like that out here.”

“It looked like the place exploded, then burned,” Paul said as I handed him his coffee. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the sheriff wants to talk to us all.”

Mrs. Deals frowned. “You think someone could have set the fire?”

Paul shrugged.

Timothy stood. “I’m out of here. That sheriff makes me nervous. I swear my dad pays him to check on me. He stops by my place weekly to harass me and give me advice on how to stop wasting my life.” He laughed. “He calls me by my last name, like he’s reminding himself who I am. I get the feeling that if he ever forgets, I’ll find out about unnecessary force personally.”

Mrs. Deals laughed. “I know how you feel. He does the same thing to me. Only he doesn’t frighten me.”

Timothy looked surprised, then winked at the old woman. “Thatta girl. Give him hell.”

Mrs. Deals raised her chin. “Believe me, I do.”

Nana pushed her way through the kitchen door with a platter of ginger pancakes. “This is all I could think to cook fast. Who wants some?”

I closed my eyes. I hadn’t had ginger pancakes in years. My mouth could already taste them. When I looked up, everyone had already helped themselves and the stack was half gone.

We talked and ate as the night aged. When everyone left I stood next to Nana and helped with the dishes. “Did the fire scare you?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I went out on the porch and watched it for a while. It reminded me of that summer I lived with my brother’s wife, Mary. We rented a place on a lake no bigger than this one. She thought it would be cooler than in town, but it was hotter than blazes that July Fourth. Someone started shooting off fireworks and burned half an acre of trees down.”

“Did you watch it with Red?”

I was thinking of the boy named Red who took her to a dance the summer she turned sixteen. Her one summer when she felt young, she once told me. That first summer after Pearl Harbor, when she’d been too young to realize the world had already changed and would never be the same.

Nana grinned. “As a matter of fact, I did. The fire didn’t seem all that terrible watching from across the lake. He held my hand in the dark and once in a while I can still feel his fingers around mine.”

I’d never heard my grandmother say anything so romantic. She might forget who came in the store an hour after they left, but she could still remember the feel of a boy’s hand after sixty years.

She folded the towel and brushed her fingers against the wind chime. As the tinkling sounded, she whispered, “Good night, dear.”

I walked her through the dark café and hugged her before she started up to bed. “I love you, Nana.”

She just smiled and said she knew.

The night had cooled when I walked out to the dock to see if I could still spot the cabin on the north shore burning, but the fire was out. A chill moved over me. Jefferson’s Crossing had been made of the same materials-old wood and rocks. It could burn just as fast.

I didn’t want to think about losing my place in a fire. Better to have the lawyer drive up with papers ordering me out. He’d make some official announcement that he’d found the wrong Allie Daniels and give me two days to be off the property. As I packed, I would remind myself that leaving was far better than losing the place to a fire.

If Nana were here, she’d tell me to stop thinking of trouble coming. She’d say bad times never need to be called, they’ll come on their own. But for me, thinking of what might happen-walking through the worst possible outcomes-helped. Then, I could tell myself I could survive.

A movement caught my eye. I watched as Luke swung his powerful body up on the far end of the dock and walk in my direction. He wore his wrinkled trousers, old work boots, and a black T-shirt. The T-shirt was the first clothing I’d ever seen him wear that looked like it might belong to him.

“You see the fire?”

He nodded as he moved slowly toward me.

“I went over for a closer look.” I wanted to ask where he’d been the past two days, but feared he might say that it was none of my business. “I was worried about you. I thought maybe you’d been there. I thought…”

Without a word, he stopped an inch from me and put his arms around me. For a moment I didn’t react, then I closed the distance between us.

He just held me, secure in his arms. I hadn’t realized how dearly I needed to feel safe. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on so tightly I was surprised he could breathe.

“You all right, Allie?” he whispered against my ear.

“I am now. I was afraid you’d been in the fire.” I knew I was making little sense, but when I’d been over by the fire I could almost feel him near.

He leaned away from me and tugged my face up. “You were worried about me?”

I realized I’d been a fool to even think he might have been in the old place. But I didn’t know where he lived and his behavior sometimes didn’t make all that much sense.

I thought he was going to tell me he wasn’t my problem, but he brushed his lips against mine as he whispered, “It’s been a long time since anyone worried about me.”

I closed my eyes, waiting for his kiss, but he pulled away gently and disappeared into the night, leaving me turned wrong-side out with emptiness.

I wasn’t surprised the next morning to wake up to the sheriff pounding on my door. Pulling on clothes as I walked, I managed to button everything before I opened the door.

There stood the law, all three hundred fifty pounds of him. “Good morning, Sheriff.” I squinted as the sun reflected off his badge.

He frowned. “Don’t know what’s good about it.” As usual, he stormed in without waiting for an invitation. Only this morning his son, Dillon, was right behind him. Dillon looked sleepy and bored so I guessed it hadn’t been his idea to ride along in the cop car this morning.

“Have you got any coffee?”

I took a deep breath and said, “I can smell it so Nana must have it ready. We don’t usually open the café for breakfast but I could if you need something to eat?”

Fletcher shook his head. “I’m here on official business. I’ll take the coffee and then I’ll be wanting some answers.”

I started to say that answers cost extra, but I didn’t think he’d see the joke, so I headed for the kitchen. Glancing back, I remembered his shadow. “You want anything, Dillon?”

The boy looked up, surprised I called him by name. He shook his head.

I pushed through the kitchen door, thinking the boy didn’t quite measure up to all his father’s bragging, but then if he had, he’d probably be able to walk across the lake.

Luke and Nana had their heads together at the little table. I could tell they’d been laughing about something.

“Sheriff Fletcher’s here,” I said, knowing they would have had to be deaf not to have heard him. “Why didn’t one of you answer the door?”

Nana giggled. “We were just flipping for it.”

Luke flipped a quarter. “Best ten out of nineteen.”

I frowned at him. “Why don’t you go in and talk to him. He said he had a few questions.”

Luke stood. “I’m out of here.”

“Coward,” I muttered as I watched Luke slip out the back door.

Nana sat down with her coffee and scrambled eggs. She didn’t like the sheriff and saw no need to greet him. I could smell cinnamon rolls baking and knew if the sheriff wasn’t gone by the time they were done we’d be out a few dollars’ worth of them.