by Sharon Sala
Bridie frowned. “What makes you think it’s gonna snow?”
“I just know,” Jonah said, ignoring the looks of disbelief both women were giving him. “You need chicken feed, and the sack of sweet feed that you give your cow when you milk her is almost empty.”
“Well, I’ll say,” Bridie sputtered. “You sure saw a lot for the short time you’ve been here.”
“I didn’t see it. The owl who roosts in your barn—”
“Stop right there!” Bridie said. “I don’t want to know another blasted thing about how you get your information. Someone has to have some measure of sanity around here, and it looks like it’s gonna be left up to me. When you take Luce to work, stop in at Middleton’s Feed Store. Tell them you’re working for me and to load up my regular order in the truck. They’ll mail me the bill at the end of the month.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“One more thing, Jonah.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“What’s your full name?”
Jonah hesitated. The less that was known about him, the harder it was for Bourdain to find him. Still, it wasn’t in him to lie.
“My name is Jonah Gray Wolf.”
Bridie held out her hand.
“My Franklin always said that when you make a deal with a man, you should shake on it.”
Jonah extended his hand, and when they shook on it, Bridie nodded in satisfaction.
“I look forward to knowing you,” she said.
Jonah blinked; then a slow smile spread across his face.
“And I, you,” he said softly. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“I’m making custard pie today.”
“I only like two kinds of pie,” Jonah said.
Bridie’s heart skipped a beat. She was almost afraid to ask.
“What kinds of pie might that be?” she said.
“Hot pies and cold pies,” Jonah said. Then, just before he turned and walked away, he winked at her.
Bridie was still shaking as her unexpected visitors took their leave. Her heart was hammering so hard against her eardrums that she thought it would burst. This was the most remarkable morning she’d ever had, and the day was just getting started.
She lifted her hands and smoothed down the hair on her head, then looked up at the sky.
“Okay, Franklin…if that was your way of telling me I did the right thing, you could have warned me. Hearing your words come out of his mouth was a low blow.”
She stood on the porch, watching until the tail-lights of Franklin’s old truck had disappeared, and then she went inside. There were pie crusts to be made.
Jonah was just finishing the fried egg sandwich Luce had made for him when they passed the city-limit sign for Little Top. Bridie’s old truck pulled a little to the left, and Jonah guessed the tires needed to be rotated, but other than that, it ran smoothly.
“The sandwich was good,” he said, as he gave Luce a quick glance. “Thank you.”
Luce nodded. “No sense wasting good food,” she said, referring to the skillet of eggs she’d set aside when they’d gone up to Bridie’s house.
Jonah ventured another look. Luce was fussing with her clothes as he pulled up to the curb in front of Harold’s Eats.
Jonah checked the time. It was only a little after seven-thirty in the morning, but it felt like they’d been up for hours.
“What time do you get off work?” he asked.
“The diner only serves breakfast and lunch. I usually get off around three.”
“I’ll be back,” he said.
Luce nodded and started to get out of the truck, then stopped and made herself look at him.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Jonah asked.
Luce sighed. “For staying with me instead of Bridie.”
“Why do you think I did that?” he asked.
She hesitated to answer; then her shoulders slumped. “You know…don’t you?” she said.
“I know you’re afraid of something…or someone.”
“Yes.”
“Why won’t you talk about it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know who’s doing it.”
“Besides the trap, what else has he done?”
“Notes…lots of notes with ugly and threatening messages.”
“Did you tell the police?”
She rolled her eyes. “For all the good it did. Since I haven’t been attacked, there’s nothing they can do.”
“And you don’t have any suspicions at all?”
Luce shook her head. “None.”
“You realize that my presence could escalate what’s happening, rather than deter it?”
“Maybe that will be for the good. I just want it to be over.”
“Since we’re being honest with each other, there’s something you need to know about me, too,” Jonah said.
Luce rolled her eyes. “Besides being an angel who converses with animals, what else could there possibly be?”
“There’s a million-dollar bounty on me.”
Luce gasped. “By the law?”
“No. Just a man…a man who’s been after me for years.”
“A million dollars! Why?”
“I saved his life once. Now I guess he wants to live forever and thinks I can make that happen.”
“That’s some thanks for your trouble,” Luce said.
“It’s only fair that you know, and if it makes you uncomfortable, I can still go stay with Bridie.”
Luce felt the blood rush from her face. “No. Stay with me…please,” she said, hating the panic in her voice.
There was nothing in life he would rather do than stay with her—forever. But for Jonah, wanting and having were two different things.
“It’s your call,” he said.
The tension in Luce’s body eased. That was all she needed to hear.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Jonah was watching her expression closely, memorizing everything there was to know, knowing there would come a day when memories would be all he had left of her.
“Yes. Have a good day, Lucia.”
There was a smile on her face as she got out of the truck. For the first time in a long time, she felt good—and even better, she felt safe.
He’d been standing at the counter in the drugstore, waiting for a prescription to be filled, when he’d turned around and seen Bridie Tuesday’s old truck pull up to the diner. When he saw Luce Andahar get out and go inside, a knot formed in his gut. He’d wanted her the day she’d shown up in town, and he’d wanted her every day since. It was a sin to want a woman like that, and since he was already married, it was an even bigger sin.
But he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He’d prayed on his knees until they’d ached to be delivered from the insanity of such lust. He’d closed his eyes when he made love to his wife and pretended she was Luce. He bought things for his wife with Luce in mind. The unholy desire had eaten at him for the past five years until his thoughts about Luce were no longer rational. He’d though that when he married his wife, this lust for other women would end. And for a while, it had. Then Luce came to town, and everything he’d tried so hard to forget had returned. He’d fought the desire until he could fight no more.
One night a few months ago, he’d had a dream. When he woke, he was convinced it had been a sign from God. In the dream, he’d finally had her. He’d used her over and over until the very sight of her naked body had been abhorrent to him. And in the dream, he’d been delivered from the lust and cleansed by God Himself for the deed, just like so many times before.
By the time he woke up, the plan was already in his head. He would have Lucia Andahar—and then, of course, he would have to kill her. He couldn’t possibly leave her behind to tell what he’d done, but the lust would be gone.
And so he’d begun what he thought of as courtship by leaving her a note. It didn’t matter that it had been more warning than promise. Over the
ensuing weeks, he’d become empowered by the “chase,” and the notes had turned into sick promises of what he was going to do.
Then, a few days ago, his mother-in-law had taken ill. He’d put his wife on a plane to Dallas, then driven home, convinced he’d been given a sign. It was time to make his move.
It was after six in the evening when he got back to Little Top, fielded all the questions and well-wishes from friends and neighbors regarding his mother-in-law’s poor health, while waiting in feverish anticipation of nightfall.
Sometime after midnight, he’d driven up to the old Tuesday place and parked a few yards down from the house. He’d reached for the duffel bag containing surgical gloves, condoms and the knife he intended to use when he was through. Just as he’d reached for the door handle, a huge dog came out of nowhere.
“Shit!” he’d gasped, and let go of the handle.
The dog was barking ferociously. If this kept up, there was no way he could get to Luce without being seen. Frustrated, he’d started the car and quickly driven away.
He’d known she had a dog, but he had forgotten to take its presence into consideration. Frustrated by this unexpected roadblock to deliverance, he’d begun making plans as to how to get rid of it.
On his way to work, he’d seen Luce enter the diner, then watched her dog meander down the block into the little park across the street from the library. Once the dog curled up and went to sleep beside a large pine, he’d known his chance had arrived.
During his workday, he’d stopped long enough to set a trap down at the creek below her house. All animals went to the creek to drink. Most wild animals would shy away from man’s scent on the trap, but a tame dog would only be curious and willing to eat the meat he’d used for bait. He’d driven away, confident that he’d taken care of the problem.
Then, last night, he’d gone up the mountain, expecting to find the dog dead, or at least incapacitated, only to find the trap sprung and empty. He’d debated about setting it again, then changed his mind. Tonight he would bring his pistol. Just a pull of the trigger and that would be the end of the dog—then the woman was his. The sooner he had her, the sooner this madness would end. So he’d gone home.
Now this.
He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Curiosity got the better of him, and he quickly walked to the front of the store just as the truck backed up and started down the street.
He tried to see who was driving, but all he could see was an indistinct figure of a man before the truck moved out of his sight. He glanced across the street. It was Bridie Tuesday’s truck, all right, but that had not been old Bridie behind the wheel.
“I’ll be back for that prescription later,” he called out, and headed for the diner, knowing he was going to be late for work, but it didn’t matter.
Luce had been almost an hour late. By the time she walked in, the diner was filling up fast. Harold was ready to fuss until she quickly explained that Bridie had taken a fall and she’d been tending to her. It seemed an easier explanation than trying to convince her boss that she’d watched a man bring Bridie back from the brink of death with nothing more than a laying on of hands.
Harold easily accepted her excuse, and so Luce’s day began. By the time she’d turned in her first two orders, the place was filled with regulars, with more coming in as fast as others were going out.
Harold slid a pair of plates onto the pickup window as Luce hurried up.
“Hey, Harold…what’s going on in town this morning? This is double our usual clientele.”
Harold slid a plate of eggs and hash browns toward her, then finished it off with a side of hot biscuits and gravy.
“Other than the first of the month, I haven’t a clue. Here…this is Junior Coker’s order. You take it on, and I’ll have Mike and Stu’s up by the time you get back.”
Luce nodded, thankful he wasn’t angry that she’d been late. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. It was all there was in this small mountain town, and the only thing she knew how to do well. She carried the order to Junior, then grabbed the coffeepot and went through the room, refilling cups and laughing at the usual teasing she got from the regulars as she went.
“Hey, Luce…top mine off, will you?”
Luce smiled at Walter Ferris, the local banker, who was waving his cup in the air, while she was emptying the pot in the pastor’s cup.
“Would you bring me an order of sausage and eggs over easy?” Mark Ahern asked, as he slid into the empty chair beside Walter. “Tell Harold to put a rush on it. New phone books are out, and they’ve been added to the regular mail delivery. Today’s gonna slow me down something awful.”
“Coming up,” Luce said, and headed for the kitchen as Ferris clapped Ahern on the back and began talking to him about football.
Pastor Wagner eyed the sway of the long braid hanging down her back, then reached for the jelly.
Across the room, Hank Collins sat in his chair against the wall, watching the little waitress as she dashed about the room. But when she started his way, he quickly turned his attention back to his biscuits and gravy, too shy to say what was on his mind.
Sherman Truesdale grabbed Luce’s wrist as she moved past his table. “Hey, girlie…when are you gonna let me take you out?”
“As soon as Gertie says you can,” Luce fired back.
Everyone laughed, including Sherman. His wife, Gertie, wasn’t about to let that happen.
The bell over the door jingled, announcing the arrival of more customers. Luce turned to see who was coming in but was sidetracked by Harold calling her name. By the time she gathered up the next order and delivered it to the table, her curiosity was forgotten.
The rush of breakfast customers finally ended, and except for a couple of old-timers who were lingering at their table over their third cups of coffee, the place was empty.
“Thank goodness,” Luce said, as she moved past Harold to the storeroom to get some fresh packs of napkins.
The napkin dispensers needed refilling, as did a good portion of the ketchup bottles. She’d never understood putting ketchup on breakfast food, although her Latino roots showed through with her liberal use of salsa on her scrambled eggs, which, now that she thought about it, was pretty close to the same thing.
Now that business had slowed down, she had time to think of Jonah. In the long run, she wasn’t sure what his presence was going to mean to her personally, but she knew she would be forever blessed for having met him.
She glanced at the clock. It was almost ten o’clock. Only five more hours before she would see him again.
Seven
J onah found Middleton’s Feed Store with no problem, parked at the loading dock and walked in the side door. A couple of old men wearing flannel shirts, overalls and gimme caps from a popular implement company were sitting around a freshly blackened potbellied stove, taking advantage of the warmth emanating from it as they argued the pros and cons of the current political environment.
The man behind the counter looked up as Jonah entered. As soon as he realized it was a stranger coming in the store, he straightened up to give him the once-over.
Jonah passed the old men and went straight to the clerk. Just as he was about to introduce himself, an old gray-striped tomcat leaped up on the counter.
“Well, hello, boy,” Jonah said softly, and gave the cat a scratch under the chin.
The cat began to purr so loudly it made everybody smile.
“I’m Paul Binger,” the man said. “That there’s Tiger. He don’t like just everyone, but it’s obvious you passed inspection.”
“Acceptance is a good thing,” Jonah said, then reached across the cat and offered his hand. “I’m Jonah. Mrs. Tuesday hired me to work for her this winter. She sent me down here, said for you to load up her regular order and send her the bill.”
Paul eyed Jonah closer. “Well, now…I can’t say that I’ve ever known Miz Bridie to hire help before.”
Jonah shrugged. “Age changes things,” he
said, then hooked a thumb toward the truck. “How much chicken feed and sweet feed does she usually buy at a time?”
“A couple of sacks of each,” Paul said.
Jonah shook his head. “I think you’d better double that. It’s going to snow tonight, and I don’t want her to run out before I can get back.”
One of the old men at the stove laughed out loud and slapped the other on the shoulder.
“See! I ain’t the only one who’s predictin’ snow.”
Jonah glanced toward the stove, smiling slightly as the two old fellows resumed arguing, this time about the weather.
Paul looked out the window, then frowned. “It don’t look much like snow to me.”
“It will snow,” Jonah said.
Paul shrugged. “I’ll load you up with whatever you want.”
Jonah gave the old cat a last scratch between the ears. “Show me where it is and I’ll load the sacks,” he said.
“I won’t argue none with that,” Paul said, as they started into the storeroom. “My back ain’t what it used to be.”
Jonah followed the clerk into the back, loaded the sacks onto a dolly and wheeled them to the loading dock, before putting them in the back of Bridie’s truck.
A pair of pigeons roosting under the eaves of the roof cooed a hello. Jonah saw them, but thought better of saying anything. The less notice people took of him, the better off he would be. He signed the ticket Paul produced, then drove away. As he passed the diner, he thought of Lucia. It appeared most of the tables were full, which meant she would be busy. It occurred to him that the man who was stalking her could very easily be inside, watching her work. With a town this small, it was possible—even likely. Just the thought of her in danger made him sick to his stomach. If he ever got his hands on the man who was stalking her…
Frustrated, he shook off the thought and turned his attention to the winding road that led up the mountain to Bridie’s home. By the time he got back, unloaded the sacks, chopped some firewood for Bridie’s fireplace and fixed a gate out by the barn, it would be time for the noon meal.
He was coming from the shop building a few hours later when he saw Bridie step out on the back porch and wave a tea towel at him. He took it to mean that dinner was ready and headed for the house. Something told him that working for this old woman was going to be a gift in so many ways.
