Breakfast at the Honey Creek Café Page 6

  Heading off any more questions from her, he added, “How’d you find me, and what are you doing here?” He considered making some kind of joke, but she was all business.

  “I saw you going into Walmart as I was heading home from feeding the new preacher in town.”

  He fought down a yelp as she lathered antiseptic around the wound.

  She continued, ignoring his protest. “I watched you through the store window. A man with no luggage buying bandages. No great brains needed to figure out you were hurt.” She ripped tape to place over the fresh bandage. “For a moment I thought it was my fault. I brought you here, left you alone for an hour and you’re wounded. Then I realized that couldn’t be right. You couldn’t have blown your cover that easy. Which leads me to one other conclusion. You showed up damaged.” She ran tape across the bandage. “Where is the return ticket so I can send you back?”

  Colby ignored the pain and stood. “You ever stop talking, PJ?”

  “I . . .”

  “I know. You don’t like initials, but at the rate you talk that may be all I have time to get in between your lectures.” Before she could comment, he went on. “I’m fine. Just a graze. And while we’re on the subject of secrets, why didn’t you tell me that old man Digger is in on our game?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Give me a break.” Colby pulled on his shirt. “He switched keys when he noticed the keychain you gave me.”

  “All right, he was watching for you. I may have called and told him to give you this cabin. And if he saw the key I gave you, he’d just think you were going to use some of the fishing gear my brother stores here.” She frowned. “But that’s all he knows.”

  “Maybe my cover story convinced him,” Colby added. “I’m just a man looking for love.”

  Colby went to the closet door along the back wall and unlocked it with the key she’d given him.

  Inside, three stacked file boxes had been shoved in front of random fishing gear.

  “I thought you’d like to read up on every detail we’ve found.” The mayor smiled. “Have a good night.”

  After she left, Colby locked the storage closet and lay down on the bed. He was too exhausted to take off his clothes, or even turn off the light.

  He realized he hadn’t heard a car start or even footsteps on the gravel road.

  One surprising fact. The mayor had come by boat. She was making sure no one saw her.

  Chapter 7

  Friday, almost midnight

  Pecos

  The school dance didn’t turn out to be the moneymaker Pecos Smith thought it might be. Seems Honey Creek was too small a town to support even one Uber driver. He’d put up a dozen flyers and no one called.

  Everyone knew Pecos had a pickup and no one wanted to ride in it. Over the whole month he’d had six jobs. One was to drive the Moody sisters to bingo. They were so large they wouldn’t fit on the seat with him, so he had to make two trips both ways. One ride was for an old man from the nursing home who just wanted to drive out and look at his land. Two were calls from people who couldn’t get their cars started.

  One mother said she couldn’t drive and hold her sick toddler, so she had Pecos take her to the clinic. The kid threw up all the way to the doctor and coming back. The mom didn’t even give Pecos a tip.

  He’d thought the last high school dance before summer would be his big night, but he simply sat outside watching kids go in and out of the gym that had been decorated in paper flowers and blinking lights.

  Pecos had figured out in the past few weeks that most people who need rides spend the journey complaining. The Moody sisters complained about each other on their separate rides to bingo, then refused to pay for both trips since they’d only ordered one round-trip. The old man claimed his sons were ruining his land. The guy whose car wouldn’t start swore it was his wife’s fault, and that he was being slowly driven crazy.

  Pecos had waited all night for a job to come through and not one pickup. Apparently everybody had someone to bring them and take them home.

  Every time someone walked in or out of the gym doors he could see the flashing lights and hear the music from the dance. He thought about going into the dance, just for a few minutes, but what would he do. Dance? Not likely. Pecos was too tall and too thin. His hands and feet looked like they should belong to a man two sizes bigger. If he danced, he’d look like a string puppet with a few extra joints built in.

  When his phone rang, he almost jumped high enough to hit his head on the roof of his pickup.

  “Hello.” This wouldn’t be an official Uber job because it wasn’t texted in; he hadn’t figured that out yet, but he’d take cash if someone needed his service.

  “Pecos, can you take me home?”

  The girl on the other end sounded like she was crying. Great. Another complainer.

  “I’m outside the front door ready to drive. Who is this?”

  “Kerrie Lane. I’m at the back door of the gym. Can you drive around?”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Pecos gunned the engine and circled the school. He was there before she closed the gym door.

  She looked so small in the shadows.

  He started to open his door to help her in, but she climbed up onto his bench seat before his boots hit the ground.

  “Kerrie, you all right? You’re shaking.” Pecos had never seen her like this.

  “Get me away from here,” she whispered.

  “Will do.”

  As he pulled away from the building, she took a deep breath and added, “Take the back way through the parking lots so we won’t pass the front door.”

  “I’ll do that,” he answered again. “It’s almost eleven o’clock. Except for a few fights on the parking lot, the dance is pretty much over. I’ve been watching kids leaving since ten.” He was rattling, but this quiet Kerrie made him nervous. He’d watched her for years and she was always sunshine. Not tonight, though.

  “I know where you live.” He wasn’t sure if that knowledge was helpful or a little creepy to admit. He just wanted to be accommodating. Let her know she didn’t have to talk if she didn’t want to. “It’s not far. I’ll get you home fast, Kerrie.” He glanced over at her, but her blond hair hid her face. “No charge for the last ride of the night. I was about to go home anyway.”

  That didn’t cheer her up. In fact, she hadn’t made a sound. She just stared out the window at the sleeping town.

  “Did you like the dance?” Dumb question. If she’d liked the dance, she wouldn’t be slipping out the back door alone. Which reminded him, where was her date? Girls like Kerrie always had a date to everything. But then, when she’d gone in, she hadn’t been with anyone.

  “I don’t want to go home yet, Pecos,” she finally whispered. “You said rides could buy fifteen minutes out by the river. I want to go there.”

  “All right.” He turned toward a spot on the Brazos where fishing boats embarked. It was small and seldom used. Only, on a night like this when the thin moon reflected off the water, the place past the bend in the river looked haunted. Probably half the kids in town had gone out there at some time to tell ghost stories.

  When he pulled off and parked, he cut the engine and took the keys. She caught his arm before he could step out. “Stay inside. Watch the water from here with me.”

  “Sure.” He closed the door and they became no more than shadows. Well, she was a stone shadow in the night. He was more like a twitchy shadow.

  To his surprise, Kerrie reached across the bench seat and took his hand. She didn’t say a word; she just sat beside him with her fingers laced in his.

  Imaginary conversations fired off like firecrackers in his brain, but he didn’t say a word. He could be her partner, her confessor, her counselor, her friend. Maybe he was just someone to be there so she wouldn’t be alone. He could be that. Company. He could be that too. Hell, he’d even kiss her if she wanted him to, though that seemed like a long shot.

  Pecos
didn’t move. He just held her hand.

  Finally, she pulled her hand away and said, “I’m ready to go home now.”

  He started the pickup and backed off the loading dock. He stared straight ahead until he pulled up to her house.

  Without a word he climbed out and walked her to her door. Just part of the service, he told himself.

  On the porch, she turned and said, “Thanks.”

  “Anytime,” he answered.

  Just before he headed back to the pickup, she leaned near and kissed him on the cheek. “You won’t say anything, will you?”

  “Nope.”

  He didn’t look back until he was at the street.

  She was gone. Had she really been there? He should have sworn he’d take her secret to the grave, but then, he wasn’t sure what her secret was. Going home alone? Being sad? Holding hands with the only senior who’d never had a date? Not a great last night of high school for her.

  Pecos closed his fingers of the hand she’d held. He thought he could still feel the warmth of her touch.

  We shared a moment, he thought. I was there for her. They might never mention it, but they’d remember. In a small way they had a bond.

  Chapter 8

  Saturday, May 26

  Dawn

  Sam

  Sunshine cut between the thin curtains like shards of crystal slicing in, then shattering into tiny bits of glass on the polished wooden floor.

  For a moment Sam Cassidy woke not knowing where he was. The facts came back one at a time.

  The mayor had walked him back to the church after dinner last night.

  She’d told him to drive around back and he couldn’t miss the church’s guest quarters. Then she waved, climbed in her huge SUV, and drove away.

  He’d found his way around to the guest cottage for visiting preachers. He remembered seeing a sign as he unlocked the front door. It said, May Your Time Be Blessed Here.

  The only blessing he wanted was peace and he doubted he’d find it anywhere, even in this little town. He’d been here one day and hadn’t felt one ounce of the peace his father talked about.

  Calling himself a preacher, or a firefighter, or even a soldier didn’t change anything inside, where his heart had once been, but he’d play this adventure out.

  The bungalow looked like it was one foot too big to be a tiny house and had way too much gingerbread trim.

  He’d been so tired he’d barely said good night to the mayor. He felt like his brain was already asleep and his feet were still walking, mindlessly searching for a bed. When he finally bumped into one, he whispered “Timber!” and was asleep before he hit.

  Now, shading his eyes, Sam rolled over and swore. He’d slept ten hours and still felt bone-tired. Hell, he had a job to do. Tomorrow he’d have to give his first sermon. He was trying to wear his father’s life and it didn’t fit.

  Slowly, he opened one eye. Last night he’d only turned on the hallway light to find the bedroom.

  He forced himself to look around. It was worse than he’d thought. Cute, crafty, heavenly stuff was everywhere. The bedspread was made of quilt squares of cherubs playing harps; the night lamp was a waterfall flowing from heavenly clouds down to forest animals praying.

  Sam flipped to his back and forced himself to look up. Yep, it was there. Creation of Adam. God touching the first man’s finger. Worst rendition of Michelangelo’s painting Sam had ever seen.

  He closed his eyes, wishing he could go back to sleep. Sometime this morning he’d have to mention how cute the cottage was, and lying wouldn’t come that easy. It did occur to him that the place had probably been decorated by the Over-the-Hill Sunday school class, and they must have all thought it was just darling.

  Or, maybe the church hated single ministers. Sam guessed staying here would drive even the most determined bachelor to marry so he could get into the family parsonage.

  He glared at his watch. It may be Saturday, but by nine, people would be expecting to see the new pastor. Sam had stepped into this fantasy of glimpsing back in time. Living his father’s life for a few weeks. The problem seemed to be, everyone would be watching. He’d have to live a life that he’d once thrown away.

  He’d been educated to do this, Sam reminded himself. Five years of seminary. He’d watched his father. How hard could it be?

  No more cussing. No more three-day drunks. No more picking up a date for the night and then forgetting her name at dawn.

  For the next two weeks he needed to be always smiling. Be interested in people. Hell. That wasn’t going to be easy. He’d spent years walking among all kinds of people and being little more than a ghost in the crowds.

  Tomorrow, he’d be at the front with all the congregation staring at him.

  He stumbled out of bed and stormed toward the bathroom.

  Time to get started. Maybe a shower and shave would help him look a bit more heaven bound.

  The house had been built in a square. The living room, kitchen, and bedroom were equal fourths of the place, with the bathroom and closet taking up the last fourth. This plan made all the rooms seem small, except the bathroom, which was just about the right size for his over six feet height.

  Sam barely noticed the decorations and paintings. Every room was lined with plastic plants, statues, and colorful boxes stacked in corners so not one inch of the baseboards showed. The effect made each room look a few feet smaller than it was.

  Closing the bathroom door, Sam relaxed in the one room that had space to breathe. He’d spent so many years in dorms and barracks, anything but the basics seemed too much. He half expected to see bars of soap in the shape of crosses and Bible verses on the toilet paper.

  Surprise, nothing. Just a simple bathroom with white towels.

  He stripped and showered until the water turned cold. Then, he walked nude around the house, letting his body air-dry. He found his suitcase just inside the front door. Three changes of clothes were all he packed. One casual slacks and a white shirt. One dark suit with a proper collar, and a clean pair of jeans and western shirt with a bolo tie. One pair of boots. One pair of black shoes.

  The lean wardrobe reminded him of his father. His dad had been a traveling preacher like his father and his father before him. The first Cassidy rode a mule from town to town in Missouri; the next one started preaching in the Oklahoma Territory.

  Sam’s father would take on a congregation for a few months until they found someone, or he’d fill in during illnesses. Now and then they’d travel all day to some church having a revival. Sam had loved those times. It was like a vacation. They usually got to stay in a hotel and everyone seemed to want them to come to dinner.

  His dad never owned more than three suits or two good pair of shoes, but his parents had been happy. His mom used to say that they made friends wherever they went and she was right. At Christmas time they’d string cards all around the living room, then his mother would talk about each family they’d met along their journey as if they were kin.

  Dressed in the white shirt and slacks, Sam walked over to the back door of the church still thinking how this life must be in his blood, but he couldn’t hear the calling.

  Saints Church wasn’t anything big or fancy, but there was a polish about the place. The building had been lovingly cared for over the years.

  The office was to the right when he stepped in the back entrance, and to his surprise the rooms were empty. Sam expected to find at least one of the greeters from last night waiting.

  When he walked back into the hallway someone came through the back door loaded down with boxes. Boxes and legs were all he saw before she plowed into him.

  “You all right?” a female yelled.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Then get out of my way.” Whoever was behind the box was angry.

  Sam decided to take off the top box.

  One look and he stepped back. He hated redheads. This one was short with flaming red hair brushed tumbleweed style and anger flashing in her blue
eyes.

  “Well, don’t just hold that box. Help me carry it into the office.” She pushed past him, poking him with the corner of the box she carried. “I would have made it fine by myself if you’d had the brains to get out of the way.”

  Sam thought of saying he was sorry, but he didn’t want to show any weakness to this creature. He followed her into the office and dropped the box where she told him to.

  Finally, she turned to face him, straightening as if she could grow a foot to his height. “I’m Anna Presley and I’m on a mission to make the world a better place. Who are you and what do you do beside act like a hall monitor?”

  Sam laughed. She had to be one of the nuts in town the mayor mentioned. “I’m Reverend Cassidy and I mostly just try to talk others into saving the world.”

  Anna turned toward the door. “Well, if you ever want to make yourself useful, I run a suicide hotline weekday mornings in the basement, host AA meetings on Wednesday night, and manage an after-school program from three to five during the school year. I’m getting the fall curriculum set up today.”

  “It’s May.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You read that somewhere?”

  Sam couldn’t stop smiling. “Cut me some slack, lady. This is my first day.”

  “I don’t have time to waste my time. There is too much to do. Before long we’ll have to start the school supplies drive. Then the fall coat drive. Before that’s finished the church needs to collect presents for the . . .” She frowned. “Oh, never mind. You’ll be gone long before then.”

  “One question, Anna Presley.” Sam felt he had to get in one question. “You have a lot of suicides on weekday mornings?”

  “Not many, but I’m standing ready if they come in. Besides, that’s the only time I have open.”

  “Can I help you with the boxes?” If he believed in reincarnation he might think he was looking at Joan of Arc.