by K A Moll
“I obviously don’t know your new friend,” Marigold responded with the raise of an eyebrow, “but I did know Fergie.” She paused, and then added, “Better than I wanted to sometimes.”
“Go on,” Coy responded.
“Tell me,” Marigold continued, “can you see Fergie putting this much effort into talking with you?”
Coy held her gaze, but said nothing.
“I didn’t think so,” Marigold responded.
***
“Three-fifty-three—salisbury steak,” Diego called out. “Push!”
“Salisbury steak,” his team called back.
“Hey there, Chef,” Coby greeted as she entered through the back door.
“I thought you were gonna take the night off,” Diego answered.
“Nah,” Coby said with a shake of her head, “I feel better now. Plus, I’d just be tempted to drink if I was sitting at home.” She turned toward her station.
“Well, I’m glad you came in,” Diego said as he followed along, “because two called in and I’m short on the line.”
“The line it is then,” Coby responded, turning around. It was the only job besides dishwashing that she’d been willing to try, officially, that is. She put on an apron and took a position behind the fried chicken and mashed potatoes. She served steadily until five-fifteen when she choked.
“A breast and one scoop,” Kiley ordered, “and when you get a minute, I’d like to talk with you.” She nodded toward Coy’s table. “I’ll be right over there.”
“Sure,” Coby responded. Her stomach hardened at the thought that Kiley might have the information that she so desperately wanted. She left her waiting for a good long while before asking Diego if she could break from the line. As she crossed the dining area, she tormented herself with the thought that Kiley may have slept with Coy. She straddled a chair and sat down.
“This is awkward and probably inappropriate,” Kiley began, “but I feel like I need to talk with you.”
“So talk,” Coby responded with direct eye contact. Play nice, she told herself.
“I saw you today,” Kiley went on, “and heard you too.”
Coby took a breath. “It would’ve been hard not to,” she responded, “sorry I got so loud.”
“It’s okay,” Kiley said kindly, “you were upset.” She looked off and then looked back. “I saw you at the library too,” she added with a breath. “And, I saw the way Coy reacted.” She held Coby’s gaze and continued. “I was never a threat to you,” she admitted, “even though, at times, I wished I was.”
“Sorry I’ve been such a jerk,” Coby said.
“That’s okay,” Kiley responded, “I get it.” She took a sip of her drink. “So anyway,” she continued, “I don’t know why you didn’t just call her, but I thought you deserved to know that her dad fell ill last night and she flew out on the medevac.” She shook her head. “Sorry,” she continued, “but that’s all I know about what’s going on.”
“Oh, God,” Coby exhaled, “thank you. Thank you so much.” Her euphoria lasted for all of two minutes. It lasted just long enough for her to remember that she didn’t have enough funds left to pay for a ticket to Alabama.
Chapter Sixteen
Coby dropped two scoops of mashed potatoes next to a piece of fried chicken and ladled gravy. When the diner nodded and moved down the line, she was provided with a much-needed break. God, did she ever need a drink.
“What’s wrong with you?” Diego asked as he came up behind her. “You look like the world just ended or something.”
“It might have for all I know,” Coby mumbled.
“So Kiley didn’t know where Coy went either, huh?” Diego guessed with a pat on her shoulder.
“She knew alright,” Coby responded.
“So why the sad face,” Diego asked.
“Because it’ll be months before I have enough saved up for a ticket to get to her. I’m trapped on this fucking iceberg until she forgets me, finds someone else, or both.” She shook her head slowly. “Oh well,” she sighed, “it’s what I deserve. I did this to myself.”
“I doubt she’ll forget you,” Diego responded, “and watch your language on the line.”
Coby apologized and served a couple more diners.
“And you’re not trapped,” he added. “I’ll buy you a ticket home.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Coby said. “It’s too expensive, not to mention, you’ve done too much for me already.”
“I’ll put it on my credit card,” Diego continued, “and you can pay me back with interest. It’ll be like a business arrangement.”
“Why would you do that?” Coby asked. “It’s not like I’m anybody to you, just a friend.”
“That makes you very important,” Diego said.
“I love you, man,” Coby blurted out, “and I swear I’ll pay you back.”
“I know you will,” Diego said.
***
Two full days passed before Coby was able to catch a flight off the ice. In the meantime, she continued to call, and call, and call. Finally, three days before Christmas, the C-17 landed, and she climbed aboard—McMurdo to Christchurch—Christchurch to Aukland—Auckland to Houston—Houston to Pensacola. She collected her luggage, tucked away her coat, and set off on foot. The temperature was nice and she resolved to walk the forty miles to Magnolia Springs if she had to. She hoped that she wouldn’t. Her thumb hung out for a good five miles before the Kenworth pulled over.
“Hop in,” the trucker said as he turned down the squawk on his radio.
She thanked him as she climbed aboard. “That’s a lot of citrus you got back there,” she commented.
“Two-thousand cartons,” the driver responded, “each with give or take, thirty oranges, for a grand total of sixty-thousand or so.”
“Wow,” Coby said with a shake of her head, “now that’s a lot of fruit.” She didn’t know exactly where she was headed and asked to be dropped off just inside Magnolia Springs city-limits.
“How ‘bout I drop you at the diner?” the trucker suggested. “That way you can look up your people in the phonebook.”
“Sounds good,” Coby said with a nod. “I appreciate the lift.”
“Grab a carton off the back,” the trucker said. “It’ll make a good ‘hello I’ll be staying with ya’ll for a few days’ kind of gift.”
“Thanks,” Coby said with a smile, “I’ll do just that.” She figured she could strap it onto her luggage. Thank God it had wheels. She hung in place for an extra second. “You sure I can’t give you a little something on gas?”
“Nah,” the big guy answered. “It didn’t cost me no extra. I was headed your way anyway.” He tipped his ball cap. “Good luck with your girlfriend,” he added.
“Thanks, I’ll need it,” Coby said as she dropped down off the last step.
***
The sign on the front window of the small establishment read, ‘Maybelle Cooks It Finger Lickin’ Good.’ A bell tinkled as Coby tugged open the glass door.
“Have a seat wherever you like,” the thirty-something brunette called out from the far corner. She was wearing the kind of dress that you’d expect to see a waitress wear in a fifties diner, with one exception. This one was short enough that back in the fifties, it would’ve gotten her run out of town.
“Thanks,” Coby responded, settling onto a stool at the counter. She looked away when the woman bent over to wipe down a nearby table, not wanting to see as much skin as she offered. Within seconds, the waitress was at her side, poised with her pad in hand, ready to take her order. “Whatcha got a hankerin’ for, darlin’?” she asked with lingering eye contact. “Our special today’s pan fried chicken, mashed taters, and corn. For seventy-five cents extra, you can have a side of Nana’s Coleslaw.”
“Just an order of fries, thanks,” Coby responded, “and directions when you have a moment.”
Who ya lookin’ for, honey?” the b
runette asked as she brushed her thigh against Coby’s arm. “I know most everyone.”
“That’s the tricky part,” Coby answered as she put distance between their bodies. “Their last name might be Davidson, but it might not.” She shook her head. “And I think they have a bed and breakfast somewhere in town.”
“Marigold’s,” the waitress responded, “and you’re real close.” She pointed down the road. “If you look right over yonder,” she added, “you can see the top of their big ol’ magnolia tree in the yard.”
“Thanks,” Coby squeaked as her stomach took a wild tumble. She ate a couple fries and asked where the restroom was. She tugged her luggage along, parking all but the smallest outside the door. Having traveled for two days non-stop, she needed to at least change clothes. The white t-shirt that Coy liked with black jeans was her choice. She zipped the dirty ones in and stepped out to go. “Thanks again,” she called out as she gave a push on the door.
“Merry Christmas,” the waitress called back.
“Yeah, you too,” Coby responded. At two on Christmas Eve, it was sheer luck that she’d found a place open.
***
“Great, a friggin’ mansion on the river,” Coby muttered on her way up the walk. As if she didn’t already have enough cards stacked against her, Coy’s family had to be wealthy. She fought the urge to bolt with each step to the porch. God, what she wouldn’t give for a drink to take the edge off. No more, she told herself. You’ve got two days under your belt, and you’re not gonna blow it. You’re gonna stay sober. What in the world was she thinking, just showing up cold at the door? Women like Coy didn’t enter into relationships with women like her. If Coy had wanted to talk with her, she’d have answered her calls. Hare-brained, that’s what this plan was. With that, she took a deep breath, released it slowly, and rang the doorbell.
“May I help you?” the man with untamed gray hair asked. He was tall, with shoulders tipped back, so that he stood erect like a pencil. She supposed he’d been a military man like Coy’s brother.
“Yes, sir,” Coby said as her feet danced around on the doormat. “I’m here to see your daughter.”
“My daughter?” the man asked, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Oh,” he went on, “you must be looking for Cyrus Tobias’ daughter, Coy Annabelle.”
Coby almost smiled. “Yeah,” she responded, “I am.”
“I’m just a guest,” he said as he widened the opening of the doorway. “Step in, and you can talk to the lady who’s in charge.”
Coby glanced down to her luggage and oranges.
“Go ahead, bring those in too,” the man said. “Just drop ‘em by the door.”
Coby followed along, through one large room, and then another. “Nice Christmas tree,” she commented. It was an artificial giant, the centerpiece of the room, all decked out in lights, garland, and ornaments.
The man paused for a lingering glance and a proud smile. “We all put it up together last night,” he responded. “It didn’t seem right not to have one.”
Coby furrowed her brow, wondering why they hadn’t put it up sooner.
“I found this young lady at our door,” the man announced as he stepped across the threshold of the kitchen. It was as large as her old apartment. “She’s lookin’ for Coy Annabelle. I thought you’d be better able to explain what’s goin’ on.”
“Hey there,” the plump woman greeted. She wore a gold cross, like Coy’s. Judging from the smelly sizzle in her cast iron skillet, chicken livers were on the menu tonight. She was too young to be Coy’s mother and Coy didn’t have a sister, so she wondered who she was.
Coby’s stomach took a roll. She swallowed and extended her hand. “Coby...Coby Lee O’Brien,” she said. She’d used her middle name more since Coy, than in all of her twenty-nine years.
The bubbly woman wiped her hands on a dishtowel and took hold. “Daisy...Daisy Caroline from church,” she said. “I haven’t heard from ‘em since yesterday,” she added, “but I look for Marigold to give me a call later on.”
Coby nodded like she understood, hoping for more.
“Oh my, you don’t know, do ya?” Daisy blurted through pursed lips. She shook her head and made a tisking sound. “Cyrus Tobias hasn’t been doin’ so well. More’n once, they feared him lost. We’re all just takin’ turns, pitchin’ in, trying’ to keep the ol’ bed and breakfast goin’ ’til they can get back.” Her head kept on shaking. “Nothin’ bad ever seems to happen at a good time,” she added, giving the livers a stir. “I mean the place was totally booked, over-booked if you ask me, all the way through the week after New Year’s.”
“I’m sure they appreciate your help,” Coby commented with a hard swallow. It made her sick to think that Coy had rushed home to face what she’d feared the most. She hadn’t known her own father and considered whether she had the easier route.
“Oh, I know they do,” Daisy responded, “and they’d be the first ones in line to help if any one of us was in trouble.” She smiled and her eyes twinkled. “That’s just the kind of people that they are, you know?”
“I think I do,” Coby answered. She bit her lower lip, knowing that she came from an entirely different world.
“Chicken liver?” Daisy offered. She had one resting in her slotted spoon. “Everybody loves my cornmeal breading.” She tilted her head and smiled. “It’s got a nip of cayenne, just enough so ya remember it ’til you take your next bite.”
“Looks really good, but I don’t think so,” Coby stammered. “I just ate...and uh... I’m still stuffed.” She swallowed down the saliva that was pooling in her mouth. “What I would like,” she said, “is directions to the hospital. It’ll be dark pretty soon and I’m on foot.”
“If you can wait ’til after supper,” Daisy responded, “I’ll give you a lift over.”
“Thanks,” Coby said, “but I think I’d better get going.” She had every intention of hitching a ride once she got to the main road.
“Suit yourself,” Daisy responded. “Go to the corner, turn left and follow the signs. It’ll be about four miles down, on your right.” She removed a tray of biscuits from the oven. “You can leave your bags here if you want.”
Coby thanked her, saying that would help. She accepted a biscuit, for later on, sliding it into the pocket of her windbreaker.
“You ride a bike?” Daisy asked as she spooned bacon-laced collards into a serving bowl with gold and holly berries around its top.
“Yeah, all the time,” Coby said, “at home.”
“Take Cyrus’ ten-speed if you want,” she offered. “I can’t see as he’ll be usin’ it for quite a while.” She shook her head, made that tisking sound, and added, “I pray that he will again sometime. It’s in the garage, the red one without a basket on the handlebars.”
“Thanks,” Coby said, “I’ll bring it back just the way I found it.”
“Well, I know you will,” Daisy responded. “You strike me as good and honest. Ride safe now. We got storms movin’ in later on.”
“I will,” Coby responded. She called out, “Merry Christmas” as she pedaled off.
Chapter Seventeen
Coy nodded in her daddy’s direction. “I think the cardiac rehab therapist wore him out today,” she whispered to her mama.
“I think so too,” Marigold whispered back with a nod. “You think it’ll be like this every time?”
“For a while,” Coy responded. “His doc will continue to adjust his program so that he’s always working right up to his potential.” She lifted her eyebrows as her chin dropped down. “We don’t want it to be easy for him,” she added, “we want him to get stronger.” She met Marigold’s gaze. “But that’s just one part of what he’ll need to accomplish. It’s what’s left that I’m worried about, getting his diet under control.”
“I should’ve been listening to you all along,” Marigold responded with a drop of her eyes.
“What happened is not your fault,�
�� Coy assured as her phone buzzed on the table beside her. “It’s difficult to overcome a genetic predisposition, even with a perfect diet. That’s why I watch mine so closely.” She pressed her lips together. “It’s nobody’s fault, but from here on out, we have to get a handle on his intake of fat and salt.”
“I’ve never cooked low-fat before,” Marigold responded, “and neither did my mama. But I’ll learn, you just watch me.”
“I know you will,” Coy answered as her phone continued to buzz.
“Are you ever going to put that poor woman out of her misery?” she asked. “I know she has to have called a hundred times.”
“Probably more than that,” Coy mumbled, “if you count the ones during the night.”
“Maybe if you’d talk to her,” Marigold said, “you’d stop crying.”
“I doubt it,” Coy responded with a reach to the tissue box.
“What color did you say your new friend’s hair was?” Marigold asked.
“I didn’t,” Coy answered, “but it’s red.” She furrowed her brow. “Why?”
“I think you’d better look up to see for yourself,” Marigold responded with a tearful smile.
Coby stood in the doorway; her cell pressed to her ear.
Coy looked up, crying.
Neither made a move, both holding onto one another’s gaze as if they had all the time in the world.
“Go to her,” Marigold urged. “She’s come all the way from Antarctica on Christmas Eve to see you.” She touched Coy’s shoulder to give her a gentle nudge. Once again, the cell took to buzzing. “Go on, Coy Annabelle, go to her.”
***
Coy held Coby’s gaze as she reached for her phone. “Hello,” she answered. “Oh, so you want a seat next to a Packer-backer, do you?” She wiped tears with the hint of a smile. “Well, I don’t know about that,” she choked. “It’s pretty close seating in here, and you wouldn’t want her to accidently touch you.” She poked her tongue gently into the inside of her cheek, holding Coby’s eye. “I’m so angry with you, Coby Lee O’Brien,” she continued with a hard swallow, “but I guess you can come on in and meet my mama. If you stick around, maybe you can meet my daddy when he wakes up. I’ll try to make sure nobody touches you.”
