Sinfully Delicious

by Amanda M. Lee

  “We have to talk about your drinking habits, kid.”

  I stared at him for a long moment. “We have to talk about your knocking habits.”

  “Technically this is my apartment.”

  “But I live here. What would you have done if I’d been naked?”

  He shrugged. He was no stranger to nudity now that I thought about it. In fact, if he was reading the newspaper at home, he refused to wear pants — no matter who wandered into the house. “Laughed while you ran screaming into the bedroom probably.”

  I heaved out a sigh and turned back to the Keurig. “Try not to be in there all day.” The conversation Alice and I had shared on the walk back from the party last night bubbled up. “I need to shower in the next half hour or so.”

  “Big date?” Grandpa didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get to the bathroom, which didn’t bode well for the schedule I was setting in my mind.

  “If you say the name Hunter, I’ll wrestle you down and beat you with that newspaper.”

  He chuckled. “Right. Good luck with that.” His gaze was speculative as he looked me up and down. “What did you do last night?”

  “I drank in a field.” I saw no reason to lie. “Apparently everyone I went to high school with still hangs out in the same field on weekends.”

  “There’s not much to do in this town,” Grandpa conceded, moving the newspaper to his other hand. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

  Did I? Would he think I was crazy if I told him about burning Monica’s eyebrows off her face? What was I thinking? He would jump straight on the crazy train and call the men in white coats to fit me for a straitjacket before I was even caffeinated. “Nothing. Why does something have to be bothering me?”

  “You have one of those faces that expresses everything. You get that from me. You can’t hide what you’re feeling, and right now you’re feeling stressed.”

  He was good at reading people, I had to give him that. “Maybe I’m stressed because my grandfather walks into my apartment without knocking — and uses up all my toilet paper.”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “That could be it. You don’t know everything about me.”

  “I know that you’re internalizing something. You always were the worrying sort. I remember when you were a kid and there was a chickenpox outbreak at school. You were convinced you were going to get it and die.”

  “I did get it.”

  “You didn’t die. You were sick for three days, ate ice cream for every meal, and watched utter nonsense on television.”

  “Lost was not nonsense.”

  “It was an island with giant polar bears. It doesn’t get more nonsensical than that.”

  “They were from a research project.”

  He rolled his eyes. “The point is, you’re a worrier. You always have been. You get that from your grandmother.”

  I blew on my coffee to cool it before taking a sip. When I risked a glance in his direction again, I was uncomfortable with the level of scrutiny he was applying. “Speaking of Grandma, I thought I would visit with her today. She doesn’t have anything planned, does she?”

  Grandpa arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to see your grandmother?”

  “What? That’s allowed.”

  “You haven’t visited her since you came back to town. Why are you going there today?”

  “Maybe because I haven’t visited her yet. She’s stopped by the restaurant a few times. We’ve talked.” I was feeling defensive, though his comment wasn’t entirely unearned. I’d spent the better part of my time in Shadow Hills avoiding as many members of my family as I could. “I thought it would be nice to catch up.”

  “It would be nice,” Grandpa agreed. “She’s having coffee with her friends this morning. It’s a regular date.”

  “In the restaurant?” I didn’t want to ask my questions in front of an audience. That wouldn’t work.

  “She doesn’t like coming here for coffee. She jumps from house to house with her pack of beauty-parlor complainers. Today they’re at Charlotte’s house. She’ll be home by noon.”

  That was a timetable I could work with. “Then I guess you can spend as much time in the bathroom as you want.” I figured I would live to regret the offer, but it wasn’t as if I could control him. “I’ll be out here watching television while you’re ... getting caught up on the local news.”

  “Fair enough.” He turned in the direction of the bathroom and stilled. “If there was something really wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

  The question caught me off guard. “There’s nothing wrong.”

  “You keep saying that, but you’re acting out of sorts.”

  “I’m not. This is how I act.”

  “Like a loon?”

  “Yeah. I’m a loon. I get it from my grandfather.”

  “On your dad’s side maybe. I’m the smartest man you know.”

  “If you say so.” I grabbed the remote and pointed it at the flat screen. “If that’s all ... .”

  “I guess.” He grumbled as the kitten padded out of the bedroom and stopped in the middle of the room. The ball of fluff seemed confused by our guest. “Are you keeping this thing?”

  “I’m going to take him to the shelter.”

  “It’s been about a week.”

  I made a face. “It hasn’t even been two days.”

  “That’s like a week.” He glanced at the flower box the kitten was using. “You need to at least get him a proper litter box. That box will be gross before you know it.”

  “Well, the faster you do your business, the faster I can shower and make a run to the store. He needs regular food, too. He can’t have tuna for every meal.”

  “So you’re going to buy a litter box and cat food for a kitten you’re not going to keep.”

  “It’s the weekend. The shelter isn’t open weekends.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “I don’t feel like taking him there today.” I was feeling cross. “Why do you even care? You said I could keep him.”

  “You can. He doesn’t seem destructive, and I think it’s good for you to have a friend who doesn’t go by the name Jim, Johnny, or José.”

  It took me a moment to grasp what he was insinuating. “It’s been a rough few days. I’m just getting back in the swing of things. I have no intention of drinking every night, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m worried that you have a tendency to cover your real feelings until things build to the point you blow.”

  “What feelings am I covering up?”

  “I’m going to say Hunter.”

  I glared at him. “I don’t want to hear his name come out of your mouth again.”

  “Well, you’re doomed to disappointment if you think you can tell me what to say. Nobody is capable of controlling me.”

  “I guess we have that in common.”

  “Not as much as you might like to believe. I have no problem expressing my feelings, good or bad, and I don’t spend my time hiding. You’re an adult now. You need to learn to deal with this stuff.”

  That was easy for him to say. “I am dealing with it.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re avoiding it. That’s what you do. Why do you think you spent years traveling even though you knew you were in trouble with the books?”

  “Because I like to see things.”

  “No, because you didn’t want to admit you needed help. That’s your biggest problem. You insist on doing everything yourself. You need to get over that.”

  I bit back a nasty retort and turned on the television. “I’ll take it under advisement.” It was as close as I could come to a dismissal without risking him kicking me out of the apartment.

  “No, you’re going to keep avoiding for as long as you can. That’s the wrong move, Stormy, but you won’t understand that until it comes back and bites you ... so have at it.”

  “I think I know how to live my own life.”

&nb
sp; “If that were true, you would’ve figured this out five years ago.”

  He had a point. There was nothing to say. My life was a mess and nobody knew it better than Grandpa.

  I WAITED UNTIL ALMOST ONE TO VISIT my grandmother. I wanted to make sure none of her friends were around. I let myself into her house without knocking — that’s the way it works in the Archer family — and searched through the kitchen and living room for her. I found her on the patio flipping through a magazine in the shade.

  “Hey, Grandma.” I greeted her with a bright smile as I walked through the sliding glass door. The pool — bigger than most — looked pristine and clear, and I made a mental note to come back when I could swim some laps. It was time to get into a fitness routine now that I no longer had a gym membership. Shadow Hills didn’t even have a gym.

  “Hello, Stormy.” She seemed taken aback to see me, but dutifully closed her magazine and gave me her full attention. “This is a nice surprise. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

  How could I broach the subject without looking like a crazy person? “I just wanted to see you.” I sank into the chair next to her, making sure my smile was firmly in place. “I’ve been busy getting settled and haven’t had much time to visit with everyone. You were first on my list.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “Have you seen your mother?”

  Of course she would ask that. My grandmother was tiny — like, four-foot-eleven — but she had a fiery disposition when she wanted something. I had no doubt my mother had been bitterly complaining about the way I’d been dodging her. My grandmother was predisposed to take my mother’s side. “Not yet.”

  “Is she next on your list?”

  “Not today. I have errands to run and stuff. You’re the only one on my list today.”

  “I see.” Grandma sipped her coffee and narrowed her eyes. She had a helmet of blond hair that she curled and sprayed into submission every morning. I couldn’t remember ever seeing a hair out of place on her head. “How are things at the restaurant?”

  That was a question I could handle without too much struggle. “They’re okay. Getting used to morning shifts is a bit of a chore, but Grandpa says he’ll give me more choice once I’m off probation.”

  “I can’t believe he put you on probation. It’s not as if you don’t know what you’re doing. You spent your teenage years in that restaurant. The skill didn’t simply fall out of your head.”

  “It’s been an adjustment,” I hedged. “I forgot how fast-paced things can get. I’m okay working with a safety net right now.”

  “At least you have a good attitude about it.”

  She was the only one in the family who thought so. “Yeah, well, Uncle Brad is still a trip. Can’t you guys take his computer away from him or something? He reads and watches some ridiculous stuff on the internet.”

  “It had better not be porn.”

  I almost choked. “I was talking about the political nonsense he spouts.”

  “Oh, that.” She waved her hand. “He likes to think he’s informed. He has anxiety, so he thinks if he knows everything he’ll be able to head off any disaster that comes his way. What he doesn’t realize is that nobody would want him to help deal with a serious situation because he can’t get his head on straight. He’s horrible in a crisis.”

  “He’s definitely not on the zombie apocalypse team,” I agreed, speaking before I thought better of it. “I just mean, you know, if there’s a zombie apocalypse, he probably wouldn’t make my team.” It was a lame explanation, but her eyes twinkled.

  “I know what a zombie apocalypse team is. I already have mine selected.”

  “You do?” I was dumbfounded. “Who’s on it?”

  “None of your business. You didn’t make the cut.”

  Part of me thought I should be offended, but I had other things to worry about. “So ... I have a question for you.”

  “I figured you weren’t here for a friendly visit. You’re not nearly bored enough for that yet. What’s your question?”

  “It’s about Great-Grandma.”

  Her eyebrows twitched upward. “My mother? I don’t ever remember you even mentioning my mother.”

  “Not your mother. Grandpa’s mother.”

  She made a face. “What do you want to know about that woman?”

  Her tone told me this was going to be a short conversation. Still, I had to know. It would eat me alive if I didn’t ask, and waiting until Great-Grandma’s annual visit seemed a dangerous proposition. “Alice mentioned something odd to me.”

  “Oh, well, if this is a conversation about Alice perhaps I should add some bourbon to my coffee.”

  The response made me smile. “It’s not about Alice. It’s about me. She said something and I figured maybe you could confirm it for me.”

  “About your great-grandmother?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Lay it on me.”

  “Here’s the thing ... um ... it may sound weird. Actually, it’s going to sound totally weird. I don’t know a way around that, though. It’s one of those questions I need answered, and I think you might be the only one who can answer it. Well, Grandpa probably could, but he’s likely to have me thrown in the nuthouse after I ask it. There’s less of a chance that will happen with you.”

  “Spit it out, Stormy,” she ordered. “My stories have already started and I want to catch the tail end. There aren’t many soaps left, but I like to stick to my routine.”

  I’d forgotten about her stories. She got me into watching General Hospital when I was young. It was a habit I maintained all the way through college. It only fell by the wayside when I started traveling.

  “Okay, here’s the thing ... .” I took a long, bracing breath. “It’s come to my attention that Great-Grandma might’ve been a witch.” I felt absolutely absurd saying the words.

  Grandma blinked and sipped her coffee. When she spoke, it was with a calm that I admired. “She is a witch.”

  “Not the sort of witch who should probably have a B at the beginning of the word, but an actual witch. You know, with magic?”

  Grandma nodded. “That’s the sort of witch I’m talking about. Why is this coming up now?”

  I was floored. “I ... you ... .”

  Grandma made a big show of looking at her phone to check the time. “Witches exist, Stormy. Your grandmother isn’t exactly powerful, but apparently it runs in her family.”

  “But ... how is that possible? Wouldn’t we all know if we were witches?”

  “I’m not a witch. Your mother isn’t one. Your great-grandmother claims it skips generations. In fact, on her side of the family, I think there are only three or four witches left to propagate the gene pool. I’m perfectly fine with that, by the way.”

  I had no idea how I was supposed to respond. “But ... .”

  “Is there a reason you’re asking about this now?” She seemed puzzled. “Is this for a book? I don’t want this showing up in a book.”

  “Alice and I found an Ouija board in the apartment,” I replied dully. “We got drunk and played with it.”

  “Oh.” Grandma’s face split with a wide smile. “That’s how this all came up? I have to admit, I was a little worried there. If it’s just curiosity, it’s not a big deal. Yes, there are witches on your grandfather’s side of the family. They’re few and far between, and the trait seems to have missed our branch of the family completely.”

  She puffed out her chest, as if proud of what she was going to say next. “I think my genes saved us all. You should thank me.”

  There wasn’t a way out of it, so I merely nodded. “Thank you. You have no idea how happy I am that you saved us.”

  “Now, if there’s nothing else, it’s time for my stories. You should stay for a swim. You look as if you need to relieve some stress.”

  Oh, she had no idea. Witches were apparently real ... and I knew for certain now that I’d burned Monica’s eyebrows off the previous evening.

  19
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  Nineteen

  I was still flustered when I left Grandma to her stories. I needed to think, and I couldn’t do that at the restaurant. On a whim, I headed out to a familiar hiking trail that I visited frequently with Hunter when I was a teenager. The trails were well marked and I could wander without getting lost. I still remembered the area relatively well ... and not just because it was seared into my brain as the first spot where Hunter and I had made out.

  I parked in the lot overlooking the Jordan River Valley and trudged to the trail. There were no other cars in the parking lot. There were different spots to park along the highway and join the trail. I’d learned that a time or two as a randy teenager when Hunter and I would visit the spot to hang out in private.

  Even in the middle of summer, the view was breathtaking. It was better in the fall, when the colors were changing, but that would happen soon enough. I wanted to enjoy the mild weather when I could. The leaves wouldn’t turn for another three months. I was fine with that. There was plenty to look at before the weather made its inevitable turn.

  The first place I stopped was one of the slow-moving creeks that trickled into the river. I remembered it exactly, and other than a few bushes here and there, the spot was the same. It made me yearn for the past, which wasn’t all that surprising given everything that had happened since I’d returned. It was normal to wish for a simpler time ... and that’s what I desperately wanted now.

  I remembered spending afternoons here after school in the fall. Hunter would wait for me to get out of my last class and then drive to the lot, where we would stare at the vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow while holding hands and plotting out our future. I never once questioned why Hunter would want to come out here rather than hang out in his warm home. There was no real warmth in his home — it was all a façade — and he needed space to grow. He’d always wanted me in that space ... and I was happy to oblige.

  This place became a sanctuary of sorts, which was amusing given the name: Deadman’s Hill. There was history that went with it, but I couldn’t remember it. We spent hours laughing about the possibility of it being haunted while walking the trails. Now, given everything I’d discovered, it didn’t seem nearly as funny.