Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Molly Cannon

  “Yoo hoo, Donny Joe, wake up.”

  He leaned on the shovel and grinned. “Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time? You’re all dressed up.” It was two days until the grand opening, and he knew she’d been working her butt off for weeks to get everything ready.

  She looked down at her clothes while she stepped back, giving him room to enter the house. “Oh, no, I had a meeting at Daphne’s school, and then I stopped by Carlton’s office, and I went to the printer’s and picked up the official menus for our first dinner. Come look and see what you think.”

  He followed her over to the table where a box of printed menus sat open. She picked one up, holding it out for his perusal. The neon green paper he’d used had been replaced by the palest of pink cardstock. The ink used was a blood red burgundy and the tiniest of hearts dotted the top and bottom of the page, forming a border.

  “It’s not as snazzy as mine, but it looks pretty good, shorty.”

  He knew she hated the digs about her stature. If he wanted to win the battle of keeping his hands to himself, then keeping her riled up seemed to be his best option. Especially after the dance they’d shared the other night. The moment he’d seen her sitting at that table watching him, his whole body had come alive. The fact that she’d sought him out, come to Lu Lu’s specifically to see him, had done something to the chemical make-up of his brain. All he wanted to do was find a bed and drag her down into it. Bad idea.

  The look she gave him could have cooked his liver. She dropped the menu on the table. “Thanks. What’s with the shovel? Are you burying a body in the backyard?”

  “Sort of. And I need your help. Go change into something grubby.”

  “Like I have time for whatever foolishness you’re up to now. I’ve got a million things to do.”

  “Etta, I’ll bet you good money that everything that needs doing has been done two or three times over. Besides, this is important. Pretty please? You won’t be sorry.”

  She looked like she wanted to argue some more, but finally with a giant sigh gave in. “Since you asked so nicely.” She took her apron off and paused in the middle of hanging it on a hook by the stove. “Oh my gosh. Is this about the ham?” She suddenly seemed excited by the idea. “The Ham in the Hole? Is it, Donny Joe?”

  He nodded solemnly and with great ceremony announced. “It is.”

  She yelped and started running out of the kitchen. On her way down the hall she shouted, “Well, hold on then. I’ll change and be right back.”

  He wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so cooperative. Several times when they’d discussed the dinner he thought he detected tears in her eyes when she mentioned the ham. He understood why she’d be grateful for his help. He had saved the dinner, after all. But it was just a ham. Women were odd, God love ’em.

  She was back in no time wearing her usual jeans with the worn spot on the right thigh. She’d changed her sweater for a sweatshirt emblazoned with Yo-Yo Ma’s face, and she’d tied a yellow and red plaid kerchief over her hair. “I’m ready,” she declared, panting slightly.

  Donny Joe wanted to reach out and tug the dark curl that escaped the scarf and rested on her cheek but instead he headed out the back door. “All righty, then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Wait. Let me grab another shovel. I want to help dig, too.” She disappeared into the garage and came out brandishing her shovel like a spear. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Etta watched while he loaded up the back of the golf cart with the shovel and a bulky bag he’d filled with a variety of useful stuff. He was unnerved by the way she kept glancing at him. The looks held concern, or sympathy maybe? He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  He drove across the back pasture following one of the trails that led down to the creek. An old wooden fence served as the boundary and as they approached Etta said, “Do you know how many hours I spent playing down here when I was a kid?”

  “You did? I did, too.”

  “It was a great place to get away. Some of my first culinary masterpieces were made on this very spot.”

  “Really? What were you making?”

  “Mud pies were my specialty.”

  “Sounds delicious.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t sneak them onto the Valentine’s menu.”

  When Donny Joe stopped at the gate, she hopped out to open it while he drove through. He got out of the cart, grabbed the bag and shovels and walked down the creek to the canoe waiting on the bank. “Watch your step. It’s muddy down here.”

  She looked surprised. “We’re going somewhere in the canoe?”

  “Just across the creek. We could have driven the long way around, but this is quicker.”

  She jumped out of the cart and scrambled down the bank. “So, that’s where we’re going to dig the hole for the ham? Isn’t this inconvenient? I mean it’s sort of out of the way.”

  He helped her sit on the front seat and then sat down across from her. “That’s true, but it’s tradition. Can’t mess with tradition.”

  “So we’re going to your old house?”

  “The scene of the crime.” He took the oars and started pulling the canoe across the water.

  At his words she looked disconcerted, maybe a little ashamed. “I hope I’m not horning in or anything. I know this is your special deal.”

  “I invited you to come along, didn’t I? In fact, I insisted.” He watched her fidget around on the seat, wondering what in the hell was going on with her. “It’s a ham cooked in a hole, Etta. It’s not a sacred religious ceremony.”

  They reached the other side of the creek, and he jumped out. He helped her out and then pulled the canoe farther up onto the shore. Picking up the bag he slung it over his shoulder, and then he picked up a shovel and took off up the slight rise. “Grab your shovel and follow me.”

  Etta trailed him up the slope, and when he reached the top he stopped and turned, waiting for her to catch up. She wondered exactly why he’d invited her along. She was curious, of course. Not about the ham, exactly. Cooking meat in a hole was as old as time. But ever since Beulah had told her the story, she couldn’t think about Donny Joe in quite the same way. He’d have folks believe there wasn’t much he took seriously. Nothing but good times, late nights, and lots of women. That was the life for Donny Joe. But from the start he’d shown a serious commitment to the fate of the Inn. A serious commitment to Grammy and Cousin Beulah. And in her heart of hearts, when she’d looked at his options objectively, she’d known if he’d been looking out only for himself he would have sold the house and saved himself a lot of headaches.

  And then when the Valentine’s Dinner looked like a total disaster he’d done the one thing he’d known would make the town show up in force. Across a small pasture she could see a small rundown house. The weeds had grown up around it and a few windows were boarded over. “What is this place?”

  He started striding across the field toward the backyard. “Welcome to what’s left of my childhood home.”

  “This is where you lived with your grandmother?” she hurried after him.

  “Home sweet home,” he said without turning around.

  “So this is where you made the ham in the hole for the town?” She looked around with new eyes.

  “You’ve heard the story?” He slowed his pace to let her catch up.

  “Beulah told me. I didn’t understand the mad rush for reservations, but then she explained things.”

  “What exactly did she say?” He turned to face her, sounding more than a little curious about her answer.

  Etta hemmed and hawed. “That you and some boys got in trouble.” She stopped talking and stared at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “That you vandalized some stores with spray paint. Beulah said you were sent away.”

  “That’s true. It was a camp for troubled youth.”

  “And you were the only one who had to go? Those other boys got off scot-free.”

  “Yep, and you can bet I was mad at the world.”

 
; “It wasn’t fair, Donny Joe.” She bristled with indignation.

  He smiled. “You’re right. School had just let out for summer, and I was set to leave for camp the next day. So, I decided to rebel and show everybody how bad I could be. I hotwired your grandmother’s Chevy convertible and took it for a joyride. My only goal was to hit the highway and drive until I ran out of gas. Beyond that I didn’t have a plan.”

  “But you wrecked the car?”

  “Yep. I ran it off into a ditch when I took the curve out on Border Road too fast.”

  “So, what happened then?”

  “I hiked all the way back to town, knowing the police would be out looking for me and that stolen car. I walked straight to Miz Hazel’s house and stood on her front porch shaking. I rang the doorbell and when she answered I confessed my crimes.”

  “That took guts.”

  “Not really. My knees were knocking. But she took me into her parlor and sat me down on her front sofa and made me a cup of tea. Hot tea, for Pete’s sake. She said she thought I’d gotten a raw deal over the spray-painting incident. And when it came to the car she wouldn’t press charges as long as I agreed to a deal.”

  “Once I got home from serving my time at camp I had to wash her car and do yard work every week for the entire school year.”

  “So, you said yes.”

  “I said hell yes. She was giving me a second chance after I’d nearly driven my future completely off the rails. Your grandmother saved my life that night. She was quite a woman.”

  Etta was quiet, trying to digest the story, and the new light it shined on Grammy and Donny Joe’s relationship. Finally she asked, “Was the camp awful?”

  He shrugged. “Nah, it wasn’t awful. I just wanted to be home hanging out with my friends. I had a lot of resentment at first. Bucked every rule they threw at me, but in the end the counselors were smarter than me. I did my time and came home. And spent the next year washing that VW van every week. The Chevy was totaled, and she traded it in for that old bus, said it was more practical. To this day I feel guilty about that.”

  Etta had been so upset when she found out the Chevy was wrecked. But that was water under the bridge, and she didn’t see the point of adding to his guilt. Instead she said, “So, you hosted a picnic for the entire town.” She thought that was a remarkable thing for a teenage boy to do.

  “I wanted a chance to change what they thought of me. Prove them wrong.” He walked ten paces away and squatted down, examining the ground.

  “What were they wrong about?”

  “Well, let’s see. I was a boy from the wrong side of the creek. They weren’t wrong about that.” He pulled some heavy duty gloves from the bag and started clearing off the spot. Picking up leaves and sticks, brushing away all the loose grass. “I was poor, sometimes dirty; sometimes my clothes were ragged. Not exactly the kind of kid they wanted their children to hang out with, if you get my drift.”

  “I remember you from those summers we spent at Grammy’s.”

  “Yeah?” He stopped clearing debris long enough to give her a penetrating look. “What do you remember?”

  “I remember you were cute and full of yourself. And you seemed like part of the in-crowd.”

  He smiled. “You thought I was cute?”

  Of course, that got his attention. “You know you were cute. You don’t need to hear it from me.”

  His smile turned into a grin like he knew he’d been caught. “Etta, I’m always interested in what you think.”

  “I think you underestimate how much the town cares about you, Donny Joe. We sold out the first night after you changed the menu.”

  He stood up looking like he disagreed. “It’s not about me, not really. They feel guilty about what happened. That’s all.”

  “I don’t buy it. Not for a minute.”

  “Well, we’re here to cook a ham, not dissect my past.”

  She let it drop. “So, what do we do first?”

  “We dig a hole. Three feet deep and three feet square.”

  “That’s a big hole.”

  “We’re cooking a lot of ham.” He grabbed the shovel and dug it into the earth. She watched the muscles of his arms bunch with the effort. “But it’s not so big. Didn’t you ever try to dig to China when you were a kid? This is a cinch compared to that.”

  She grabbed her shovel and started helping. It was pretty close quarters, and she was more aware than ever of the sheer masculine heat he exuded. She nudged him with her hip. “You’re in the way, Donny Joe,” she said as she elbowed him and threw dirt on his boots. She laughed. “Sorry, but there’s no room to maneuver.”

  He stopped digging and put his shovel on his shoulder. “I’m more than willing to go take a nice long nap under that tree and let you do all the work.”

  The ground was rock hard and she managed to scoop up about a teaspoon worth of dirt with her next attempt. “That’s fine. Go take a nap. But at the rate I’m going I should have this hole finished by the middle of next week sometime.”

  He watched her make another valiant attempt and then stopped her by placing his hand on her arm. “Or you can go gather some of those limbs on the ground under that oak tree. We’ll need a lot of wood to line the bottom of the hole when we’re done.”

  The simple touch of his hand on her arm sent unexpected waves of desire through her entire body. She stumbled a bit and moved back out of reach. “Okay, but I want to dig some more, too. Later. After you have the ground softened up some.” She grinned gamely, stabbing her shovel into the hard ground.

  “Yes ma’am.” Donny Joe got back to work, making better progress now that she wasn’t practically standing on his toes.

  She started gathering as much wood as she could find, carrying armfuls of small sticks and dumping them on the ground. Then she started on the bigger branches, dragging them back toward the hole Donny Joe was digging.

  She’d just picked up a really big limb when he said, “I remember you, too, ya know.” She dropped it and turned to face him. He kept digging, not stopping to look at her.

  She took several steps in his direction. “You do not.”

  He looked up and grinned. “I do. You were even shorter way back then.” She made a face and he continued. “You were always hanging out at the edge of things with your nose stuck in a book. I noticed.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at his words. “Why? Why would you notice?”

  He grinned. “You mean because Belle was the main attraction?”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  He stopped digging. “You didn’t seem to care what anyone thought. I admired that.”

  “You’ve never seemed to be lacking in confidence, Donny Joe.”

  “Are you kidding? Back then it was all about being cool and fitting in with the crowd.”

  “Normal teenage stuff,” she agreed. “But I was never good at either of those things, and being Belle’s sister only made it worse. So, after a while I didn’t try.”

  “Well, it seems to me you did okay for yourself. You followed your dream and made it come true.”

  His words made the blood in her veins sing. “Thanks.”

  “And I could be wrong, but from what I’ve seen Belle seems to still be searching.”

  “She’s one of those women that peaked too soon.”

  “How’s that?” He climbed out of the hole and wiped his brow.

  His shirt clung to his chest and she lost her train of thought. “Uh, oh, you know. I think she always saw a more glamorous future for herself. Adoring men and exciting jobs. That sort of thing. Anyway, after she had Daphne things obviously changed.”

  “Speaking of Daphne, she asked me to come to school with her next week for ‘Take Your Father to School Day.’ ”

  “She did what?” An alarm bell went off in Etta’s head. “I’m really sorry, Donny Joe.” Etta hoped and prayed this had nothing to do with her newly announced search for her father. She hadn’t mentioned it again in over a week. “She shouldn’t h
ave done that.”

  “Heck, I don’t mind. It might be fun. She wants me to bring a couple of pink flamingos for show and tell. What’s the harm in that?”

  “None, I guess.” Etta bit her bottom lip, not sure at all if that was true. From what Etta could tell Daphne seemed happy enough on the surface. But the loneliness in her eyes when she got off the computer after talking to her mother every day was impossible to miss. Filling her time up with all sorts of activities seemed to help. Her soccer team had started practicing last week, and she seemed excited about that. She’d also gone to Rose’s slumber party and hadn’t suffered any of the dire accidents or mishaps Etta had imagined.

  On the other hand Etta hadn’t been able to sleep the entire night and hugged the poor kid like a crazy person the next morning when she’d gotten home. Daphne tolerated it, taking the excessive affection like a trooper. She seemed to know that Etta needed the hug more than she did. So getting Donny Joe to come to her school was probably just her proactive way of taking control of the situation. She wasn’t the kind of kid that sat around feeling sorry for herself.

  “Weren’t we just talking about wanting to fit in? I’m sure she doesn’t want to be the only kid in class without somebody to show off. She said not everyone’s bringing their dad. Some kids are bringing uncles or older brothers or family friends.”

  “I think you qualify in one of those categories.”