"Not finished yet," he growled low in his throat like a menacing dog.
Diane jumped, dropped her spatula, and grabbed at it as it clattered on the counter. Snatching it, she looked up. "What?"
The big man looked from her, to the griddle, and then at his empty plate.
"Oh...," she said slowly and obediently scooped up the last of the cakes and slid them onto his plate. Fascinated, she backed away, watching her breakfast disappear. How many freakin' pancakes could the guy eat?
As the last bite disappeared, Woodruff rose and announced, "Thanks for the griddle cakes ma'am. They were just like my mama used to make. In a bit, have some music out back, I reckon."
"Music?" Her mouth open, Diane watched as he strode to the door, boot heels thudding on the floor.
Footsteps sounded on the porch and there was another knock. Jesse came back in and pulled it wide, revealing three smiling faces.
"Pat. Mike. Pres." He nodded to the three newcomers. "Come in. Meet Miss Diane. She's filling in for Sandy and she's fixing a mighty nice breakfast. Kyle and I were just about to go help those boys with that tree." He started outside with his son.
On his way out the door, Kyle again winked saucily at her
She didn't return the wink. Not a chance. There's no way I'd get involved with that family.
The three men slid into chairs and introduced themselves. All three were wearing worn denim jackets and their muddy boots had left tracks across the clean kitchen floor. Pat and Mike McCorkle were tall lanky and devilishly handsome. Both had long hair and beards, but Pat was red headed while his brother was dark with little patches of gray at the temples and at the corners of his mouth. Preston Hardwick was short, and a little chubby. He was clean shaven with soft brown hair that draped across his forehead. His eyes though, were what caught her attention. They were beautiful brown doe eyes. She thought that he had the sweetest expression she'd ever seen on a man.
Preston asked, "What are you fixing there ma'am?"
"What?" asked Diane.
"Jesse said you might could have some breakfast. I'm starved." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Not much of a cook myself."
"Breakfast?" She glanced at the messy kitchen with dishes, mugs piled on the counter, and her heart sank. Sandy told me that there were no guests coming and I'd be all alone. I'm running a bed and breakfast after all!
"Toast, just toast. That's all that's left." she announced. "Sorry, but I'm out of everything but bread." Moving through the mess, she filled the big toaster and brought more butter and jam to the table. "Please help yourself.
Outside more car doors slammed. She heard more voices, laughter and the continuing buzz of the saws. From the porch came a few tentative notes from a stringed instrument. What the hell is going on here? She started to load the dishwasher.
"Ma'am? Sure could do with another cup of that coffee, if you wouldn't mind. Is there some cream and sugar?" This from the table.
Diane glared at them and pointed to the urn behind them where Kyle had set up the coffee service.
"Sandy ain't here I guess," said Preston sadly as he got up to fill his cup. His voice was as soft and sugary as his face, the words dripping out slowly like drops of sweet molasses. "Toast would be real nice though," he said.
"I'm about starved to death," added Pat. "This is neighborly of you. Sandy always had a right nice big breakfast ready for us when we come by. She didn't tell y'all we'd be here?"
"Uh no, she didn't." Looking at their crest fallen faces, she relented. "I'll scramble some eggs too." She bustled about the kitchen, cracking the last of the eggs into the bowl and turning the fire on under her skillet. She dropped more bread into the toaster. At this rate she'd soon be out of food entirely.
"Generally, Sandy has home fries too. The kind with little bits of onion. And something real nice and sweet, like a cake, or maybe cinnamon rolls?" said Pat looking hopefully around at all the kitchen counters.
"I've got eggs, toast," she said, looking over her shoulder at the three eager faces. On the table the plate that had held the bacon was empty. "I'm sorry, I did have bacon, but it's all gone."
Scratching noises at the back door told her that Bella wanted in. When she opened it, the dog trotted in, leaving muddy paw prints. Bella went straight to Preston Hardwick. He bent to croon in her ears and stroke the smooth head while her tail swept the floor.
Hearing low notes from the porch, Diane leaned out and saw a man in bib overalls plucking at the strings of a bass. He met her gaze and nodded solemnly in greeting, but didn't smile or speak. Strewn all over the porch were various instrument cases.
She sighed, returned to the stove, and poured more beaten eggs into the skillet. They'd better get rid of that tree. I've got to get to the store. Peeking out, she counted no less than a dozen men working away with saws. Somebody was rolling a piece of the trunk, which had to be three feet in diameter across the yard towards the woodpile.
"Okay, here you go," she said plunking down the last of the eggs and toast for the three at the table.
Pat, Mike, and Pres thanked her nodding politely and began eating.
She watched them shoveling in eggs, buttering toast, spreading jam and wiping their plates clean with crusts of bread. She sighed. At this rate I'll never eat.
"Is there something I'm missing here? I mean, it looks like there's going to be a concert or something. Oh yeah, and what about the guy in overalls on the porch? Why doesn't he come on in and have breakfast? Everyone else has," she added, sarcastically.
"That's Beau ma'am, Beau Shackleford. He's our bass player. I reckon he's just tuning up out there. We figured there's no point in trying to play until they get done with them buzz saws. Won't take long, way they're tearing into it. Beau won't come in, he's a little shy. His wife probably made breakfast before he come over and he don't drink coffee. Matter of fact she'll probably be along directly herself," said Mike as he carefully spread his toast thickly with butter and blackberry jam.
"Beau's wife?" she asked. "Who else can I expect to just drop by for breakfast?" she turned to Preston. "Where do you usually have breakfast?"
"Why, at home I guess. Today my wife made me oatmeal. She says it's healthy," answered Preston.
"You mean, you already ate? The three of you just finished a dozen eggs and most of a loaf of bread." Diane was dumbfounded.
"We always have breakfast here before we play. Now let's see, today being Saturday, old Jeremiah, Kyle's granddaddy will probably be along, and maybe Julia Blake will be here soon. She'll come with Beau's wife. Maybe three or four others. And there's some that will just come to listen. Might see some of the boys from Check. Depends on this and that, you know."
Diane drew back, shocked. "Will they all expect breakfast? And what check? Is someone writing a check?"
"No ma'am," said Mike. "Check is a place. It's just down the road a ways. Don't worry about food. Julia and Carol Ann, that's Beau's better half, they'll no doubt be bringing something tasty, cake or something. If you'd like, one of us can run down to the Slaughter's grocery for more eggs and such."
"I don't know what to do." Diane poured a mug of tea and looked around for the cream pitcher and honey jar, but couldn't find them. She shrugged and sat down with them.
Pat looked at her mug and shook his head. "Diets. I don't know how you women do it, always trying to diet and lose weight. Just a cup of coffee for breakfast? You should eat something."
She smiled weakly. "I'm all right and it's tea, not coffee."
"Where was it you said Sandy's got off too?" asked Mike, chewing thoughtfully.
"She took her mom on a cruise, somewhere down in the islands. She'll be back in about ten days."
"That's mighty nice. Sandy deserves a vacation. Real nice of her to do that for her ma," drawled Preston. "You're a friend of Sandy's?"
She didn't have an opportunity to answer. There was laughter at the back door. It opened and three women spilled into the kitchen, each of them carry
ing a cake.
Her cell phone pinged, signaling an incoming text.
"Oh my god, what now," she muttered as she slipped it out of her pocket.
Chapter 4
Ethan looked down at the ruin of his home. The first gray light of dawn revealed the massive destruction. Beyond the wrecked cabin, towards the river, a great seam had opened in the ground. On one side, the land had risen up so that several feet of raw earth was exposed. Stones and clods of dirt continued to fall and slide down this new contour of the land. Even the river itself looked closer, its banks altered.
Sobbing, he called out futilely once more to his brother, sister and parents. All remained still and silent. He was born down by an unbearable burden of sorrow and fear.
Then the earth beneath his feet began to tremble. Terrified, he jumped back from the edge of the bluff, fell to his knees, and clutching his rifle, crawled franticly away from the precipice. Praying fervently for God to spare his life, he waited for the shaking to cease.'
From Reelfoot Legacy, by Melinda Peters
* * *
"Honey, stopping to see Diane on our way to Tennessee was such a good idea." Vicky reached over and laid a hand on Jack's thigh. "She must be bored out of her mind by now, all alone in that big house."
"I knew you were worried about her." Jack looked over at his new wife and gave her an adoring look. "Besides, I've always wanted to drive down the Blue Ridge Parkway and see the mountains."
"They really are awesome," she said marveling at the scenery around them. "But you're right, I am concerned about Diane. She's been so down lately. I know she wanted some time to herself, but there's nothing for her to do down there. She's house-sitting that empty B & B with nobody to talk to except Sandy's dog. She's got to be lonely."
Jack signaled and moved around some trucks slowly climbing a steep grade. "I'm sure the people in Virginia are friendly. Diane's a nice person. She'll be all right. How long will she be down here?"
Vicky sighed. "I think she said it was for two weeks. She doesn't know anyone in Floyd but Sandy. Diane is used to being around a lot of people, working at the nursery and volunteering for stuff. You know how she is."
"Is that who you're texting?" asked Jack.
"Yeah." Tapping on her phone, she asked, "What's our ETA to Floyd? I want to let her know when to expect us."
"According to the GPS, we'll get there around noon."
"Want to stop and eat something?" she suggested. "I don't want her to have to make lunch for us."
"Okay by me." Jack squeezed her hand.
"I'll tell her we'll be there after lunch." She sent the message, slipped her phone into her purse and said, "Jack, aren't the mountains beautiful? Look over there." She gestured towards the rolling green hills that rose to blue peaks beyond.
"Yeah. We're in the heart of the Shenandoah Valley here. Alleghany Mountains to the west and Blue Ridge on the east."
"I'll need to spend a lot of time researching this area. There was so much action in this valley during the Civil War," said Vicky.
For a few minutes they rode in silence, looking at rolling ridges to either side. Traffic eddied and flowed around them.
"So, did you change your mind?" Jack was curious. "I thought you decided to set your Civil War novel in Tennessee. Isn't that why we're going there? Haven't you already started writing this book you're researching?"
"Well, yes, and no." She gave him a coy little grin. I'll explain."
"What's that mean?" Jack looked quickly at her, then back at the traffic.
"There's something else I'd like to do. I'm still definitely doing my Civil War research, but...I've decided to give the hot sexy romances a break. I always wanted to write something a little more, well, a little more serious." she paused, looking out the window.
"Yeah, go on. I'm listening."
"I've decided this next novel is going to be about the New Madrid earthquakes and how they changed the lives of people there in Tennessee. Actually the quakes rearranged the geography as well."
"New Madrid?" he asked.
"You know. The New Madrid earthquakes about two hundred years ago."
"Hey, I wasn't around back then. Tell me what you're talking about. I haven't got a clue."
"Do you remember, a couple of years ago, there was a relatively large quake right here on the east coast? The epicenter was right here in the middle of Virginia."
"Yeah, I remember. We felt it up in New York. It was five point something on the Richter scale. Right?"
"See, you remember because it was only two years ago and yes, it was 5.8. The New Madrid earthquakes, there were several, started in December, 1811 and they were mega-quakes. All of them had to be at least seven or eight on the Richter, with thousands of aftershocks for several months. They majorly changed everything out there. Scientists can't be sure without any way to measure earthquakes back then, but they think at least a couple were over eight on the Richter scale."
"Well then how do they know the extent of the damage and what do you mean by several? How many are we talking about?" Jack asked as he signaled and moved into the turning lane. "Where did you say this happened?"
"Out along the Mississippi River. Present day states of Arkansas, Missouri, Tennessee, places like that. They were felt all the way out to the East coast, though. There were three or actually four big ones." She paused and turned to him. "Getting back to my point, I'm still going to set my next book in Tennessee, but this one's not going to be a Civil War story. This book is going to be about the quakes, but really much more besides that. Anyway, I've come to a decision." Vicky rested a hand on his knee. "You know, I love you," she said.
"And I love you too." Jack laughed. "What's the decision?" At a glance, he took in her shoulder length auburn hair and incredibly striking bright hazel green eyes.
She met his gaze and gave him one of her irresistible sexy looks.
"Don't do that! I'm trying to drive here."
""Don't do what?' She smiled again and stroked his thigh. "I'm not doing anything."
"You're giving me one of those looks, that says we should take the next exit and get a room," said Jack with a laugh.
"Well, anyway, this next book will be more mainstream. A serious historical novel."
"Sounds like a great idea," said Jack.
"Do you think we could take a research trip all the way out to western Tennessee, by the Mississippi next week? It would be after we spend some time with Diane."
"Sure," he answered, smiling at her. "Why the hell not? We can do whatever we want. We're not on a schedule and it's important for your next book. Since you're going to author more serious stuff, are you going public with Tori Baxter?"
"I don't think so. I'm comfortable with keeping my identity a secret. 'Torrid Tori' writes blazing hot, sexy romances. For this new book, which may evolve into a series of historical novels, I think I'll write under a new pen name. Something other than Tori Baxter." Frowning, she nestled back into her seat and sighed. I just have to come up with a great new pen name. What do you think about Melinda Peters?"
"Melinda Peters? Sounds like an author to me, but what do I know? I'm not supposed to tell you this, but there is someone else who knows your secret."
"Who did you tell?" she narrowed her eyes at him.
"Nobody!" He held up his right hand, "I swear. Your Uncle Dominick has always known. He told me just before our wedding and he said he'd never tell a soul because he knew that's the way his 'little Victoria' wanted it."
"Of course. I should have known. Uncle Dom knows everything. He's psychic. If he said he'll keep it to himself, he will." Dominick Buonadies had been like a father to her after her parents were killed in a car accident, years before.
Vicky sat up and pointed up the road. "Hey, the exit for Staunton's coming up soon. Can we stop there? I read about a great place to eat on Main Street,"
As they approached the exit, Jack slowed and headed toward Staunton. "Sounds interesting. You said this place is o
n Main Street?"
"Yes, it's in a big old mill."
"Getting back to Diane, you said she'd be down here another couple of weeks?"
"Right. She's really just house sitting for the dog, but she's doing some garden planning for her friend, Sandy. They're BFF from college, remember?"
"Right," he said. "By the way, did she ever see any more of Chris, that FBI guy who was at our wedding?"
"No, she didn't. I think that's one reason she wanted to come down here and get away. She was kind of bummed out about it," Vicky said, pulling her phone from her purse, as it signaled an incoming text.
* * *
Sighing, John Van Wart pulled away from his beautiful fiancé, disentangled himself from her arms and stared with annoyance at the ringing phone. "Let me see who it is." He sat up and reached for his cell, where it sat on the coffee table.
"Why don't we just ignore it, Babe," Theresa cooed. "Come back here." Her long dark brown tresses fell over his shoulder as she leaned into him.
"Hey, it's Ralph." He grinned apologetically. "Can't blow him off." His friend had recently sold them his historic tavern in rural New York State and headed south to retire.
"Okay Babe. We don't want to ignore Ralph. I kind of miss him, don't you?" She massaged his thighs with one hand tickling the back of his neck with the other.
"Yo! Ralph. How's sunny Florida?" He nodded and grinned at Theresa.
"John, how you doing?" came Ralph Spangenberg's gruff voice. "Are you busy? Not interrupting anything, am I?"
"Uh," he said, looking into Theresa's big dark Mediterranean eyes set in her perfect oval of a face. He swallowed as his eyes dropped to her amazing round breasts that he'd just released, peeking at him from her unfastened blouse. She batted her lashes and grinned seductively. Clearing his throat he answered, "No Ralph. No problem. How's everything in Florida?"
"Well, to tell ya the truth John, that's why I'm calling. I've gotta say, this sunshine state ain't exactly what it's cracked up to be. I can't stand the weather here. It's always humid as hell. You've got to twenty-four-seven stay in the air conditioning, and the bugs are something awful."
Finding Floyd Page 4
