Finding Floyd

by Melinda Peters

  "That's too bad. What about your lady friend down there? You know. The one you hooked up with online?" asked John as he stroked Theresa's breasts.

  "Yeah, that's another thing. It didn't really work out between us. I'm not seeing her anymore."

  "That's too bad," said John teasing Theresa's nipples into eager little peaks.

  "I'm not sure I'm cut out for this retirement stuff anyway. I'm thinking I made a mistake coming down here, know what I mean?"

  This got John's attention. "You still okay with us buying your place?"

  "Yeah, sure. The tavern got to be too much for me."

  John felt Theresa rise off the couch. Reaching for her, he frowned and motioned for her to come back.

  Leaning in, she kissed him on the tip of his nose and whispered, "Don't forget where we left off."

  Watching Theresa reach behind to hook her bra, putting those beautiful breasts out of sight and out of reach, he sighed and asked distractedly, "So what are your plans? We miss you up here in the Grove. Are you thinking about maybe moving back, or what?"

  "Geez John, I don't know. It'll be spring up there soon and I'm gonna miss the change of seasons and all that. Down here they say there's three seasons, warm, hot, and hot as hell. We're moving right now, from warm to hot and I'm not looking forward to it."

  "Sounds like you need a vacation from retirement or something," said John absently. He stared at Theresa's incredibly sweet round ass, as she walked away.

  "I'm still renting a place, so there's nothing really tying me down. By the way, John. How's the renovation of the tavern coming along?"

  "It's right on schedule. It all should be done in about a month, new bathrooms and everything. Theresa and I are about to take a little vacation ourselves."

  "Where you going," asked Ralph.

  "We're heading south to Virginia for a few days. The work on the tavern is wrapping up and Fred can look after things while we're gone."

  "Where exactly are you going?" asked Ralph.

  "A little town called Floyd, in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Diane is taking care of a B & B for a friend who's on vacation. It's empty this time of year, so she told us to come on down if we got tired of the cold weather. So, that's what we're going to do.

  "What's it like there?"

  "It's just a small town in flyover country, probably a lot like Pippin's Grove. I want to go because it's supposed to be some big time Bluegrass and Country music place."

  "Huh, hmmmm," rumbled Ralph. "Let me just see something here. Hold the phone a minute."

  Listening to the older man's deep voice, John could picture his huge three hundred pound barrel-chested frame. For a minute he heard his friend muttering to himself and he waited, admiring Theresa's perfect figure as she walked past him.

  "Okay John, I got it. I looked it up in my atlas. This place you're going, it's in Southwest Virginia, not too far from Tennessee. That'll be a pretty long trip. Hmmm, I'm wondering..."

  "It's not too bad. Maybe nine or ten hours. We're looking forward to getting away. It's been pretty busy here. What are you thinking," he asked.

  "You said Diane is staying at a bed and breakfast there?"

  "Well, she's house sitting for a friend. The place will be empty, so the plan is that we stay there and help her out with a few things. Vicky and Jack are going too. It's a vacation for all of us. Hey, why don't you drive up and meet us there?

  "Well, I wouldn't want to invite myself, but I was thinking..."

  "Come on, Ralph. Diane would love to see you. She's probably bored out of her mind, all alone there. We'll text her and ask, but I'm sure she won't mind."

  "Yeah, well, maybe. Truth is, I've been a little down lately. Got myself into a funk. Maybe I should meet you guys there. You can tell me about what you've done to Paulding's Rest. I kind of miss the old tavern."

  "Great. You know, you shouldn't feel bad about Florida. Lots of people retire there and then realize they don't like it. They don't want to move all the way back to the northeast and the brutal winters, so they settle in North Carolina or Virginia. They call them halfbacks."

  "You sure she's got room for me?" he asked eagerly.

  "I'm sure it'll be no problem. Why don't you give Diane a call? You have her cell number?" As she walked by again, John reached out and gave Theresa's little round ass a squeeze. She slapped at his hand playfully and then gave him a firmer slap on his cheek before stepping out of his reach.

  "Ouch," he yelled.

  "What's that," asked Ralph.

  "Theresa hit me!"

  "I'm sure you deserved it. Hey, nice talking to you. I've got Diane's number, so maybe we'll all see each other in a few days. Have a safe trip."

  John sighed, dropped the phone on the coffee table and reached for Theresa. "Come here babe."

  She fell into his arms, nuzzling him at the base of his neck. "What was that all about?" she whispered.

  "Oh, Ralph decided he doesn't like Florida. We'll talk about it later. Kiss me," he said, reaching for her buttons.

  From inside her purse on the coffee table, came the muffled ring tone of the Italian wedding song, the 'Tarantella'.

  "Oh my god! It's Ma again. This is the third time she's called me already today. She's driving me freakin' crazy with this wedding planning stuff. Enough already!"

  "Let it go to voice mail," he said, planting his lips on hers.

  Chapter 5

  All three were still in shock, not knowing what to make of the great quake. Throughout the afternoon, they told one another of the changes they’d seen in the land, marveling at the enormity of the disaster. For these believers in an all-powerful God, there was no other possibility, but that the destruction was visited upon them by their Creator.

  The three refugees sat huddled in blankets around the fire, building it into a substantial blaze. Spitting thick slices of their salvaged bacon on sharpened sticks, they held the meat over the open flames. Watching the fat drip and sizzle they burned their fingers sampling bits of the barely cooked meat.

  When the winter sun was sinking low, out over the broad Mississippi, and the shadows of late afternoon grew long, they realized they were no longer alone. Not twenty yards away an Indian dressed in buckskins stood silently watching them.'

  From Reelfoot Legacy, by Melinda Peters

  Vicky's fingers flew over her laptop keyboard. The plot was taking shape rapidly and she felt a little thrill of excitement. With new ideas fresh in her mind, she worked on the outline of her new novel. This one wouldn't be in her usual genre. Unlike her successful series of steaming hot romances, this would be a work of historical fiction. The main characters would be contemporary, living in Western Tennessee near the New Madrid fault line. Her story would connect the threads of time and memory, from their ancestors who'd lived through the destructive series of earthquakes two hundred years before, to the present.

  She stretched and leaned back in her chair, taking in the large room with its king-sized four poster bed, massive antique maple dresser, two comfortable looking easy chairs, and the roll-top desk where she sat. Sweet spring air wafted in through the open window. From the porch below came a soft haunting tune. Someone was slowly picking out notes on a guitar, while a fiddler evoked a memory of something sad from long ago. Out in the yard several men laughed as they stacked wood on a growing pile, while one man steadily chunk-chunked away rhythmically with an axe. Vicky was happiest working in a peaceful and serene country environment like this. The serenity was conducive to her writing.

  As soon as they'd arrived at the big old Victorian, Jack had carried their things up to the spacious corner room. Then after admiring the spectacular views of the mountains, he'd given her a hug and a kiss that promised more, before rushing back out to join the men gathered around the wood cutting project.

  Down on the porch the music stopped. When it resumed, the tempo had changed. The sad and sweet refrain was replaced with a faster, more aggressive tune. The guitar and fiddle were joined by a deep thu
mping bass and banjo picker. She realized that she was tapping her foot in time, the music sending a little thrill through her. Yes, this was just right, the right time and place to be working on the new book. When she heard footsteps on the stairs, she sighed and closed the laptop, hiding her work. Her writing was still her little secret. Vicky smiled to herself. She liked it that way.

  Knocking gently, Diane called, "Vicky, are you up here?" She pushed open the door.

  "Come on in." Vicky turned to smile at her friend. Dressed for something more than a casual Saturday afternoon listening to music, Diane wore a deep blue dress with a flirty skirt that revealed a healthy dose of cleavage. "Whoa! That dress was made for you, girl. It's fabulous."

  "What?" She stared at Vicky, wide-eyed and then looked down. "Oh. The dress. Thanks, but you won't believe what happened here today. Everything's freakin' crazy! All these people just showed up this morning. Expecting breakfast!"

  "Well, the word breakfast in 'Bed and Breakfast' might be the reason," Vicky teased.

  Diane began to pace. "Apparently it's something these people do on Saturdays when the weather is good and this was the first Saturday with decent weather. Sandy told them she'd be away, but they came anyway. And that isn't even the weirdest part."

  "That's some crowd you have down there. We thought you'd be all alone."

  "I thought so too." Diane let out a sigh, and flopped into an easy chair opposite her. "Until Chris Owen showed up."

  "What?" Vicky frowned.

  "Chris was here," blurted Diane.

  "Chris? You don't mean that FBI Agent."

  "Yes, I do mean Chris Owen, the FBI Agent. He showed up here yesterday. I think," Diane said, her voice trailing off as she looked out at the rolling blue hills.

  "You think? You're not sure it was him?"

  "It was him all right." Diane sighed.

  "What would he be doing in Virginia?" She frowned, and then her voice rose. "Is he following you? If that guy arrests you again, he's in big trouble."

  "Well, he did save my life so, I'm actually glad he came."

  "Oh my god!? Was that crazy guy who threatened Terry and John with the gun here! I thought they put him in prison."

  "No." Diane smiled. "It was nothing like that. Thursday night there was a killer ice storm. It was like a skating rink outside. Anyway, I went out and somehow I slipped on the back porch steps and slid all the way down the hill to that pile of wood at the bottom."

  "Oh no! Diane, did you hurt yourself?"

  "Not really, but then all the lights went out and I couldn't drag myself back up the hill! Vic, I was so scared."

  "Oh my god Diane! So what happened?"

  "I kept trying to crawl back up, but I kept sliding back down. I was only wearing my nightie and robe. I was so cold I started shaking." Diane gave a shiver just remembering the icy night of terror.

  "You could have died, frozen to death out there!"

  "I really thought I was going to freeze. Then, out of nowhere, this guy comes along and rescues me, and it's Chris Owen. It was crazy! I hadn't seen him since your wedding."

  "You're right, that is pretty weird." Her brows rose in disbelief. "But I can't think that was a coincidence. He must be following you!" Tentatively, she asked, "So, then what happened?"

  "I was all crusted with frozen sleet and my teeth were chattering so hard I couldn't talk. My hands and feet were totally numb. Chris built up the fire, peeled off my clothes and rubbed me down with towels. He wrapped me in blankets. That much I remember. He really did save my life," she said solemnly.

  She sat back and swiveled in the desk chair, digesting Diane's story for a moment. "I want to know why that guy is still following you." She sat up, smiling and saying, "Well it's a good thing he was this time. So, the hot FBI guy got you naked in front of a roaring fire. How was that?"

  She shrugged. "Then nothing happened. The power was still out. I went to sleep in the chair."

  "Well, what about after you woke up? Did you two get cozy?" Vicky teased

  "No." Diane looked disappointed. "I haven't been with a guy in so long, I don't even remember how." She paused, looked at her hands for a minute and smiled dreamily. "In the morning everything was covered with ice out there and we watched that big tree blow over. We were totally iced in all day yesterday. Just the two of us. It was romantic. We sat together on the couch in front of the fire and he kissed me. I really wanted to drag him into my room for a night of wild, meaningless sex, but..."

  "So--did you?" she asked mischievously. "It's really not your thing Diane, but hey, the opportunity..."

  Diane sighed. "That's where it starts to get weird. He sent me to bed and slept on the couch in the living room; at least I think he did."

  "You're not sure? What's with that?"

  "I don't know. When I got up this morning, he was gone. His stuff was gone and his car was gone. The ice was melted. It was as though yesterday never happened."

  "He must have left a note or sent you a text? He didn't call?"

  "Nothing! No note no text, no call. He must have snuck out in the middle of the night to get away from me. Men are all such stupid bastards!" wailed Diane, tears filling her eyes. "Maybe I dreamed it all and he was never even here."

  "There must be some reason. Maybe there was an emergency. There must be a reason he had to leave in such a hurry," she said.

  "Oh hell, I don't know," said Diane, rising and going to look out the window at the back yard where a dozen men were talking and stacking wood on what was growing into a tremendous pile. "I never have any luck at all with men. You're so lucky to have Jack." She sighed and shrugged. "I'll never find a guy that likes me. You have Jack, my brother and Marsha are married and having a baby, and John and your cousin Terry are engaged. I'm the only one left."

  "Oh, Diane! Don't say that."

  She turned to Vicky and shrugged. "You know John and Terry are coming down tomorrow?"

  "Yes. We all needed a little spring break vacation. We thought you'd be lonely and bored with nothing to do for two weeks."

  A musical ringtone sounded from Diane's phone. She slipped it from her pocket, looked at the screen, and frowned. "It's Ralph Spangenberg. Why would he be calling me?"

  "I don't know. I hope he's enjoying retirement in Florida."

  "Hello?" said Diane. Listening, she nodded and her frown gradually thawing became a smile. She looked at Vicky and whispered, "He's driving up from Florida and wants to stay a couple of days."

  "Great," Vicky mouthed in response.

  "That would be fine, Ralph. It's good to hear from you. No no. It's all right, really. You know that Vicky and Jack are here too. John and Terry should be here tomorrow. Let me give you directions. Please don't use GPS to get here. It's not accurate and will send you all over."

  Diane gave him directions, said goodbye, and began to laugh. "I couldn't say no to Ralph. I guess I'm running a bed and breakfast after all. Do you know that man has absolutely no idea what GPS is?"

  Chapter 6

  It was chilly and damp in the thicket where Christopher Owen crouched, sipping his cold coffee from a Styrofoam cup. The thin warmth of the sun hadn't managed to penetrate the trees where he'd remained concealed all day. The gravel road to the hunting cabin they had under surveillance looked deserted. According to their sources, it hadn't been used for a few years, but there were fresh tire tracks in the mud of the rutted road. Agent Rodriguez was up there, somewhere behind the cabin. They'd been waiting all day, with arrest warrant and handcuffs ready, for their suspect.

  Owen had known worse stakeouts, but this one was no picnic. They had a tip, from a credible source, that the New Jersey mob boss they'd been sent to find was hiding in the deserted cabin. He stamped his feet to stimulate circulation and looked down at his mud caked boots. How long would they have to wait for the perp to show up this time?

  He couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting back to Diane. The girl had something that drew him irresistibly. That moment, when the wind
howled and blew powdery snow against the window panes, just before the big tree came crashing down, had been nothing less than magical. Rubbing his forearms, he shifted position, trying to make himself comfortable. He was cold, but nothing like she'd been when he'd found her out in the storm.

  Diane had clung to him, shaking, as he'd stripped the frozen robe off her icy wet body and briskly rubbed her down with dry towels. She hadn't seemed to notice that she was naked, as his hands moved over her breasts, around her slender waist, over that sweet ass and down her legs. Her teeth had chattered uncontrollably until he'd wrapped her in a blanket and held her in his arms by the fire.

  Damn the boss and damn Rodriguez. I'm an idiot. What's wrong with me? I know I was on duty, but why didn't I just climb into bed with Diane last night? I think she'd have been willing. Who knows when I'll be able to get back to see her. My texts won't even go from up here on the side of this mountain. Must be in a dead zone. At least I left her that note, telling her how I felt. As soon as I can get a signal, I'm going to call her. Thank god I have her number. I'll just have to use the damn government phone.

  He snapped his head up and looked up and down the road. I've got to stay focused on the job. His hand went to the holstered Sig Sauer 9mm pistol on his hip. I need to forget about Diane for now, and concentrate on what I'm doing.

  He turned his head slowly, peering into the woods. This time of year was when the black bears emerged hungry, from their hibernation. The last thing I need is a confrontation with a cranky bear.

  Down below on the main road, a vehicle slowed as it approached the turn. Could this be our man? Alert, he peered down the gravel road to where it disappeared between the trees.

  * * *

  Bruno Toricello was on the lam, hiding out in a hunting cabin in Floyd County, Virginia. The cabin was owned by one of his many Jersey cousins. He was vigilant as he drove the battered pickup truck along the winding mountain roads. As he rounded curves that looped up and over wooded ridges, a few houses or lonely weathered barns would appear, but he saw no people.