Forever My Hero, page 6
“Well then,” Oscar said.
Junior disconnected, then finished feeding the pigs before heading back to the house. He felt old. Old and used up before his time. By the time he got to the back door and cleaned his feet, he was fighting the urge to cry. Men didn’t cry. But he didn’t feel much like a man anymore, either.
Jesus Lord, I can’t find a way to forgive myself.
And with that, he opened the door and walked into the kitchen. His daddy was heating up stew at the cookstove, and he could smell corn bread baking in the oven.
“Smells good, Daddy,” Junior said.
Big Tom smiled at his elder son. “Just stew and corn bread.”
“Nothing better,” Junior said. “Soon as I wash up, I’ll help you. Is Albert asleep?”
“Not sure. Go check on him. If he’s awake, I’ll take him a tray.”
“Yes, sir. Be right back,” Junior said, and hurried down the hall to his brother’s room.
Albert was awake and watching TV when Junior came in.
“Daddy sent me to see if you were awake. He’s gonna bring your supper.”
Albert nodded. “Yes, I’ll eat some. Maybe food in my belly will help settle those pain meds. They make me have crazy dreams.”
Junior’s voice was shaky. “Sorry about your feet, Brother.”
“No worries. I did it to myself. Tell Daddy to put some sorghum molasses on one piece of that corn bread for me, will you?”
Junior gave him a thumbs-up and left, taking long, hurried strides as he returned to the kitchen.
“He’s awake, Daddy. He asks if you will put some molasses on one piece of his corn bread.”
Big Tom grinned. “I already knew that. You go ahead and dish up some food for yourself while it’s good and hot. I’ll be back soon.”
Junior nodded, but his appetite was poor. Food seemed to stick in the back of his throat, or if he did manage to swallow it, it sat in a knot in his belly. Still, Daddy would know something was wrong if he skipped a meal, so he dished up a little of everything and sat down, then reached for the salt.
He didn’t have to taste it to know Daddy’s stew always needed salt. He was buttering a piece of corn bread when Big Tom returned, and then he managed to put worries aside as he and his dad shared the food and their day.
* * *
Chief Pittman was more than happy to take Dan back to get his truck, and as they rode, Dan questioned him about Elliot Graham, since he never did get the chance to check on the old man himself as he’d planned.
“The doctor told me he has a severe concussion, but there was nothing around his body that would have caused that wound. The sheriff is investigating under the assumption that he was attacked because the painting he’d been working on had purposefully been destroyed. His wallet and money were still in his pocket, as well as the keys to his car. I think he saw something happen out on the lake, and innocently painted it into the scene. Someone saw him, found him, and destroyed the painting, but that’s all supposition.”
“That’s a reason,” Dan said. “I spent too many years in court to ignore that truth. I wouldn’t mind taking a look at those photos. Not that I think I’ll see something others don’t. Curiosity, I guess.” Dan frowned. “If there was something in the painting someone didn’t want seen, it must have been illegal.”
“Agreed,” Lon said, and then pulled up to the curb beside Dan’s truck.
“Thanks for the ride,” Dan said.
He was unlocking the truck when the chief drove off, and for a few moments he paused beside the door and looked down the main street of Blessings.
Small businesses run by good people. Granny’s Country Kitchen. The courthouse. The office building where P. Nutt Butterman, Esquire, spent his days in and out of court. Phillips Pharmacy. The florist. The gym. And farther down, the Curl Up and Dye and the bank.
Behind him there was a dress boutique. The feed-and-seed store, the quick stop/gas station, and the Blue Ivy Bar.
It wasn’t unique as small towns go. But the people in it—people like Alice Conroy—made it remarkable. He’d wondered about his decision to come here at first, but no more. No more. For better or worse, this was where he belonged.
Satisfied, he drove by the Piggly Wiggly to pick up a few things, including milk for breakfast cereal, then headed home. He had a little juggling to do financially, but he was going to make an offer on the rental properties, including the house in which he was living. It was time to put down roots again.
* * *
Elliot was hooked up to all manner of machines, and it was the incessant beeping that finally locked him into a sound to follow back to waking up. When he realized he was in the hospital, he frowned. How did this happen?
He started to call out, then felt the skin pulling on his burning lips and decided against it and lay there, waiting for someone to come in. He’d almost fallen asleep again when the door opened, and he heard the squeak of rubber shoes against a tiled floor.
A nurse!
He opened his eyes again, saw the woman adjusting his IV, and got her attention. “Hurt,” he said, pointing to his lips, then his head.
“I’ll get something for your lips,” she said. “You hurt the back of your head. Do you remember how you did it?”
“No,” Elliot said, and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to talk to her anymore. He wanted her to go get something to put on his lips.
She left quickly, and when she came back, a doctor was with her. She put the ointment on his mouth and then stepped aside so the doctor could examine him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Graham. My name is Dr. Hastings. How do you feel?” he asked.
“Hurt.”
“You have a serious head injury. Do you know how it happened?”
“No,” Elliot said.
“Why were you at Gray Goose Lake?” Hastings asked.
Elliot frowned. He had to think about that. He didn’t remember being there. Oh…wait…
“Painting,” he said.
“Did you see anyone there?”
“People in boats,” Elliot said.
“But no one around you?”
“No. Head hurts. Talked enough. Medicine.”
“Yes, I’ll order you some pain meds. I have to notify Chief Pittman that you’re awake. He wants to talk to you.”
“No talking. Medicine.”
“Nurse will bring you medicine shortly.”
“Go home?” Elliot asked.
“Not yet. Just rest for now.”
Elliot sighed, trying to remember if he had any animals depending on him for food, then decided he didn’t. He closed his eyes again, and this time his sweet wife, Helena, was there waiting for him. It didn’t seem weird to him to see her, although she’d passed away some years back, but when she put a finger to her lips to indicate quiet, he relaxed and drifted off to sleep.
The nurse came back with her laptop trolley, injected pain meds into his IV, and then ran his vitals. She made note that he still had quite a bit of fever, and then a personal observation that his poor face was so going to peel from the sunburn. She checked all the readouts on the machines, entered them into the laptop, and then wheeled it out, letting him sleep.
After Chief Pittman got the phone call from Elliot Graham’s doctor, he decided not to question him at all until tomorrow. According to Dr. Hastings, Elliot didn’t know how he’d gotten hurt, and his mouth was hurting too much to talk anyway.
Dan was in the kitchen frying up a slice of cured ham, and there was a pan of biscuits in the oven. They were the pop-out kind from the Piggly Wiggly, but eaten hot, they made good fried ham sandwiches.
He had just turned off the stove and was about to take the biscuits from the oven when the doorbell rang. Frowning, he turned off the oven and set the pan of hot biscuits on the stove to keep them warm as he hurried to answer.
When he saw the chief’s patrol car through the window, he couldn’t help but wonder why he was here. But he was about to find out. He opened the door with a smile. “Hey, Chief! Come in.”
“I won’t stay,” Lon said as he stepped over the threshold and came in just enough that Dan could close the door. “I had the sheriff send me photos of the crime scene, including the canvas Elliot was working on. Still want to see them?”
“Yes, very much so,” Dan said.
Lon pulled the photos up on his cell phone, then handed the phone to Dan and watched him slowly scanning the array.
“See anything suspicious?” Lon asked. “I can’t see anything out of place.”
“It looks like he was painting a boat on his canvas. Was there a witness?”
Lon shrugged. “Not that we know of. The lake isn’t used for water sports, just fishing.”
Dan looked and looked at the photos, even enlarging the screen on the cell phone for a closer look. Finally, he shrugged.
“I don’t see anything specific,” Dan said. “Sorry I bothered you.”
“No bother at all,” Lon said. “Always willing to do anything that might help solve a case.”
“So, are you opening an assault case on Elliot?” Dan asked.
Lon nodded. “The sheriff is, with the understanding it might turn into attempted murder if I learn anything new.”
“I’ll pass the message on to Aidan and Phoebe Payne,” Dan said, then added, “I have some biscuits and ham for breakfast. They’re canned biscuits…nothing like your Mercy makes, but if you’re hungry, I’ll gladly share.”
Lon smiled. “She is something of a magician in the kitchen, isn’t she? And I’ll pass on the offer, but I thank you.”
Moments later, the chief was out of the house and on his way back to his car, while Dan was in the kitchen, filling his plate. He added butter and jelly to the table, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down to eat.
As he did, he thought about Alice. Did she get any sleep last night? Was she in pain? Did she manage to get her children off to school? And then he let that one go, because he knew if she was unavailable, her son, Charlie, had it handled. She’d mentioned something about Charlie having to grow up too soon. And maybe he had, but he was doing a damn fine job of it.
Dan made himself a second biscuit and ham and added strawberry jam. “Umm,” he said as he took a big bite. It was like adding cranberry sauce to a Christmas turkey.
He took his time eating, but when he was finished, he stayed at the table long enough to make that call to New Orleans.
* * *
Aidan was up and on his way to the restaurant when he got Dan’s call. He answered with trepidation, afraid the news would be bad. “Hello?”
“Hey, Aidan. I have some news, most of which is good. Elliot woke up in a better-than-we-expected condition. He didn’t know how he got hurt. Unless someone comes forward with new info, or he recovers some memory, we may never have answers.”
“Well, hell. I don’t like to think of someone getting away with attempted murder,” Aidan said.
“It’s early days,” Dan said. “Don’t give up on it yet.”
“You’re right,” Aidan said. “But keep me in the loop.”
“I will,” Dan said. “And now that news was delivered, I have a bit more.”
“Oh? About what?” Aidan asked.
“Your property…the family home, the rentals. I want to buy them.”
Aidan grinned. “Seriously? That’s wonderful. I had a feeling that might be a good fit for you. Do you intend to practice law again? I would imagine Peanut Butterman would be glad to add a partner like you.”
“No to the law practice. I don’t have the heart for it anymore, and I like what I’m doing.”
“Well, make me an offer, and we’ll go from there.”
“Yes, I’ll get the papers drawn up with an official offer and have it faxed to you. And now I’m going to change the subject again. I assume Lee is back in college?”
“Yes, but he transferred from Savannah University to Loyola University here in New Orleans.”
Dan smiled. “That’s awesome. So that takes care of son #1… What’s the scoop on baby #2? Is Miss Phoebe well? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
Aidan’s voice echoed the joy in his life. “Phoebe is fabulous. Our baby girl is healthy, and with a delivery date that will be here before we know it.”
“That’s great,” Dan said. “I’ll tell you from experience, enjoy every moment.”
Aidan knew what Dan had lost, and what it must take for him to celebrate family when his was gone.
“Yes, I will do that,” Aidan said. “In the meantime, I’ll be waiting for your offer.”
Dan was smiling as he disconnected. It felt good to have a plan.
Chapter 5
Alice’s sleep was restless. Every time she got off to sleep, she would bump her hand turning over. She was relieved when the alarm went off to begin another day.
She got up to get the kids off to school, but Charlie took over and made their lunches while Alice set cereal and milk on the table.
Patty came into the kitchen in tears, carrying a hairbrush and an elastic band for her ponytail.
“What’s wrong?” Alice asked when she saw the tears.
“I can’t do my hair, and your hand can’t do it, either.”
“Stop crying, Patty. I’ll do it,” Charlie said. “Now sit down and eat. We’re walking to school this morning because Mama doesn’t need to be trying to drive.”
Patty minded Charlie just like she minded her mother and did as she was told.
“Do you want some banana on your cereal?” Charlie asked.
Patty nodded, watching him slice half a banana on her cereal and the other half on his. He poured milk, then scooted her up closer to the table.
“Don’t dribble any on your dress,” he said.
“’Kay,” Patty said, and politely ate her whole bowl of cereal with her chin over the bowl.
Alice stifled a grin and winked at her son. “You do know that you rock?” she said.
He grinned as he picked up the hair band and brush and quickly put his little sister’s hair up in a ponytail, then sat down to eat his cereal, too.
“Oh…Mama, I have football practice after school.”
“No problem,” Alice said. “I’ll have all day for my hand to rest, so I’ll pick Patty up when school is out. Patty, did you hear that?”
Patty nodded, still chewing. “I wait for you at school,” she said.
“That’s right,” Alice said.
“Goody. I get to ride home this afternoon,” Patty said.
“Charlie, will you be very late?” Alice asked.
“I don’t think so. We have a game on Friday. I think Coach just wants to make sure we know the plays. If we are going to be late, I’ll borrow a phone and call.”
“Thank you. Do you have milk money?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am, enough for me and Patty. Don’t worry. Just rest today and don’t try to do anything.”
“Yes, sir,” Alice said.
Charlie sighed. “I just want you to feel better, Mama.”
“I know, sweetheart. I was just teasing you,” she said, then glanced at the clock. “You both need to leave or you’ll be late.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Charlie said. “Patty, go get your jacket and backpack.”
“Okay,” she said, and ran to her room, then back to the kitchen.
Charlie put her lunch inside her backpack and put a quarter for her milk in the zippered pouch on the outside of the backpack, and then patted the top of her head.
They hugged their mother goodbye, and then they were gone. The house was immediately quiet. Alice didn’t know whether to feel lonesome or relieved, but her hand was hurting enough she’d already decided to take a pain pill and go lie back down. She rinsed the cereal bowls and drinking glasses, then slipped them into the top shelf of the dishwasher.
She wasn’t hungry, but she knew better than to take pain pills on an empty stomach, so she toasted a piece of bread and, when it popped up, smeared on some butter and ate it while she finished her coffee. She had just swallowed the pain pill when there was a knock at her door. She wiped her hands and went to answer, but when she opened the door, she smiled. Seeing Dan Amos this early in the morning was a good way to start a day.
“Hi,” he said. “I wanted to stop by and check on you before I got busy today.”
“That’s really sweet of you,” Alice said. “Come in. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Sure, but I’ll follow you and pour it for myself.”
“Kitchen is this way,” she said, then once they were there, she opened a cabinet door for him to get down a coffee mug, then stepped out of the way. “Do you need cream or sugar?” she asked.
“No, black is good,” he said. “Did your kids get off to school okay?”
“Yes. Charlie is a whiz. But I have to pick Patty up when school’s out this afternoon because Charlie has football practice.”
“I can drive you,” Dan said, eyeing the way her cheeks turned pink when he offered.
“Oh, I think I’ve already bothered you enough,” she said.
“If it was a bother, I wouldn’t have offered,” he said, and then took a quick sip of the coffee without taking his eyes off her.
He didn’t realize he was doing the thing he used to do in court before approaching a witness on the stand. He always knew if the witness was going to cooperate or not just by the way they were sitting, or if they wouldn’t look him in the eyes.
Alice was looking straight at him. He liked that. A woman who did not play games.
Alice wanted to see him again, and she wasn’t looking forward to driving, and she liked him. He was a nice man. A good-looking man. Admit it, she thought. A nice, good-looking man. And just like that, she’d sold herself on saying yes.
