Jodi Thomas - Twisted Creek

The only logical place was Jefferson’s Crossing, and looking for a clue wouldn’t be easy with Allie and Nana around. Allie was just starting to trust him.

Smiling, he remembered their kiss. She might not fully know him, but she was attracted to him. He could play that fact to his advantage.

Mumbling an oath, he thought of the problem in his logic. He was also attracted to her.

Luke slipped into the trees and zigzagged his way to his cabin. The place was still dark and cool, but welcoming in an old shirt kind of way. He removed his gun from his boot, locked the door, and flipped up into the loft. Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

The afternoon sun reflected off the lake and into his window when he awoke starving. All he’d eaten the two days he’d watched Sneezy, Skidder, and Tanker set up the meth lab was trail mix and bottled water. He needed food. Real food.

Without giving it much more thought, he crossed to Jefferson’s Crossing and slipped into the back door by the kitchen.

Nana looked up from molding a piecrust and said the same thing she always said when she saw him. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” he answered.

“How many eggs can you eat?”

“A dozen.”

She giggled.

He sat down and watched her scramble up a dozen eggs while she waited for the butter to melt atop bread she’d put beneath the broiler. Luke had been raised by his father and grandfather. Cooking around their house was limited to a can opener and the microwave. Her skill amazed him.

She stirred the eggs, flipped the broiler open just as the butter began to bubble atop thick slices of homemade bread. With a quick shake, she covered the butter with a cinnamon and sugar mixture and slipped the bread back inside.

A few minutes later, she passed him a plate of eggs and toast with a thin crust of heaven on top.

“Thanks.” He breathed deeply, tasting the food in his throat before he took a bite.

“I know how you like cinnamon and we ran out of the rolls before nine this morning. Hope the toast will hold you till supper. I made chicken potpies for everyone.”

“Great.” He took a bite, and by the time he’d finished chewing, a glass of milk sat beside his plate. “Nana, would you consider marrying me?” he said with a cinnamon-sparkled smile.

She shook her head. “I kind of like sleeping with a memory.”

He ate as she told him of her day. He’d learned over the weeks that Nana threaded the past into every day’s memory and once she’d called Allie by the name Carla, but he never corrected her.

After she finished and turned back to roll out another piecrust, Luke said, “It might rain tonight. Might be a few who don’t come for the dinner.”

Nana shook her head. “Nope. Rain or shine, they’ll come. We all agreed after the fire. A little storm didn’t stop them last week and it won’t this one.”

Luke agreed. The Nesters were forming a group as loyal as any supper club. If Nana cooked, they’d come.

When he crossed into the café, he found Allie putting fresh bandanas on all the tables. It took him a minute to realize something was different. “Two chairs per table,” he said, drawing her attention.

She smiled that open smile she’d started giving him. Dear God, he liked the way he felt when she smiled.

“A few of the reservations are for two tonight,” she said as if this were a fine restaurant that took reservations months in advance. “The Landry brothers said they’d come. I think mostly because Nana told them seconds were free. And Paul Madison said he and Mary Lynn would be sharing the same table.”

Luke shrugged. “I’m not surprised.”

“And…”

He laughed. “There is another ‘and.’ Now I am surprised.”

Allie laughed. “Mrs. Deals came in for her cookies yesterday and said she’d asked Timothy to sit with her. It seems she has a few computer questions for him.”

“She’ll drill him.”

“I told him as much, but he said he’d lived with barracudas all his life and Mrs. Deals was nothing more than a catfish-all mean-looking, but toothless.”

He laughed as he moved toward the door.

“Do I count you in for dinner tonight?”

“No,” he said, “but tell Nana to save me a piece of that chocolate pie.” Then he slipped out the door before she had time to ask any questions.

The wind kicked up, rustling the dried leaves still clinging to the trees along the lake. Each time I opened the door to welcome a Nester, sticks and twigs marched in uninvited.

The mood of our diners had shifted. Tonight, everyone wanted to talk. Most had been interviewed, or interrogated as Timothy called it, by Sheriff Fletcher. As near as I could tell, no one except Mary Lynn had a nice thing to say about him. She commented that he always had his shirt starched stiff.

When I brought the first of the coffee, Paul Madison was saying, “I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’t lightning.” He’d taken the seat across from Mary Lynn, but they still looked as mismatched as ever.

Willie agreed. “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky last night.”

When Nana and I brought in the potpies they were talking about how the lake wasn’t as safe as it used to be. Mrs.

Deals had lived here the longest. She told of a time when the folks had big cookouts and parties for every holiday.

“Time was,” Willie said, “the only thing stolen around here was off o’ trotlines.”

“Maybe we should think about locking our doors.” Mrs. Deals didn’t look like she liked her own suggestion.

“Or putting the gate back up,” Mary Lynn suggested. “I always liked it when I was a kid and came here. We’d have to stop and open that big, gold gate like we were stepping into heaven.”

The Landry brothers nodded, but didn’t stop eating.

About the time the conversation came around to organizing a way to communicate if there was trouble, Nana brought in dessert. She served each diner a slice of the pie of their choice and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Paul picked up where we’d all paused. “We need to get the phone company out here to run more line. I’m thinking of doing business from my place.” He didn’t have to say that he had nowhere in the city to live-we all knew. “If so, I’ll need a dependable phone and Internet up twenty-four hours a day.”

“Maybe we could find a dependable cell service,” Timothy added. “Half the time I think the sheriff stops by my place because my dad tells him to check up on me. If my folks could call that might end the visits.” He shrugged. “The whole family can’t understand why I don’t want to join the company. They all think I’m hiding out and will eventually come to my senses and become an accountant.” He laughed. “I’d rather die.”

Willie jumped in, as usual a few bars behind the chorus. “If trouble came again around here, I could circle the lake and flash a spotlight in everyone’s window. Jefferson always kept one out in the shed. I’m sure if we added new batteries it would work.”

Everyone talked about the advantages and disadvantages of each kind of warning system. We all agreed none was perfect. Mary Lynn even suggested we buy a bell. She said she’d always liked the sound of a bell ringing.

In the midst of the discussion, Nana brought in a tray of pies. “It’s time for dessert,” she sang with excitement.

The room fell silent.

“Doesn’t anyone want dessert?” Nana asked, the knife in her hand ready to cut.

I opened my mouth to tell her we’d already had pie. She must have forgotten. She’d had a busy day. She…How could I say anything without hurting her feelings?

“I’d love a piece,” Willie said as he moved his empty saucer aside. “I was hoping you made buttermilk tonight.”

I relaxed, seeing him look as excited about this piece as he had been about the last one.

Nana smiled. “I did, I did.” She cut him a big slice and handed it over. “Now if that ain’t enough, you just let me know.”

Willie took a bite and made the same sounds he’d made ten minutes before when she’d served him his first piece.

“I’ll take a chocolate, ma’am.” Paul stood and stepped to the counter to wait for his piece. “And I think Miss Mary Lynn would like one of those buttermilk slices.”

“A small one,” she said. “I’m full from the potpie.”

One by one everyone ordered and said almost the same words they’d said before. I stared, meeting their eyes and hating what no one said. I’d been ignoring Nana’s lapses in memory for months. They didn’t have to tell me anything, I knew that I could turn a blind eye no longer. Nana’s mind was slipping.

A half hour later, when they all filed out, I hugged Nana so tightly, she asked me what was wrong.

“Nothing,” I lied. “I just think you are the best.”

“Ditto.” She giggled as if she were still a girl.

“How about we turn in and do the dishes tomorrow?”

Nana shook her head. “Luke’s in the kitchen eating. I thought I’d have a cup of tea and talk to him awhile, then call it a night. You go on up.”

I nodded, not wanting to face anyone else tonight. No one had said a word about Nana serving double dessert, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they did.

And once they did, I’d have to deal with it.

For the first time in a long time, my mother crossed my mind. I wondered if Carla Daniels would come home if she knew her mother needed her. Would she drive in, throw her arms around us, and say she’d help?

I knew the answer and was mad at myself for letting an old dream creep into my mind. The Landry brothers were more likely to help.

The memory of the two of them squeezed into the corner, their hats still on their heads, their forks always moving, made me smile. There was nothing I could do tonight to help Nana remember better, but I could draw. I grabbed my ledger and climbed the stairs. I’d sit by the window and feel the night cool while I tried to catch their likeness on paper.