The little boy looked at Momma Peach and for the first time in his life, he saw a woman that actually cared about him—a woman filled with warmth and love; a warmth and love that he hungered to experience, for once. “Timothy. But everybody calls me Timmy.”
“Well, Timmy,” Momma Peach said and gently took his hand without him fighting her, “what say we go down to my room and get some food down your belly, okay?”
Timmy’s stomach growled audibly. He was starving. “Are you gonna call child services people on me?” he asked Momma Peach.
Momma Peach gently placed her arms around Timmy and hugged him as tears began streaming out of her eyes. “No,” she promised, “I ain't gonna squeal on you, no sir and no, ma’am.”
Sam watched in amazement. “Timmy,” he asked, “son, how did you get up into this attic?”
“I wandered into this hotel and found the attic door open,” Timmy confessed, allowing Momma Peach to hug him. He raised his little arms and slowly hugged Momma Peach back. When he felt the love inside of Momma Peach touch his heart he flung his face down into Momma Peach's shoulder, grabbed a hold of her as tight as he could, and began crying. “Don't send me back, please,” he begged. “Mrs. Fowler hits me, and Mr. Fowler calls me awful names.”
Momma Peach pulled Timmy as close as she could and placed her left hand on the back of his head. “Baby,” she whispered into his ear, “you listen to me. Ain't no one ever gonna hurt you ever again, do you hear? I am gonna take care of you from here on out.”
Timmy looked up into Momma Peach's tear-filled eyes. “Really?” he asked in a trembling voice.
Momma Peach nodded her head. “Yes. I own a bakery back home and a house of my own. I have plenty of room for you, and plenty of my famous peach pies that need a very special little boy to be a taste tester.”
“I like peach pie,” Timmy actually smiled.
“I bet you do,” Momma Peach said and wiped at her tears. “Now, let's get you down out of this dusty, drafty attic and into a warm room.”
“Okay,” Timmy agreed and allowed Momma Peach to walk him out of the attic and down to her room. Sam followed behind and shut the attic securely behind them.
When Momma Peach led him into the hotel room and he saw Rosa, he froze. “Who is that?” he asked.
Rosa stared at Timmy. “I'm Rosa. Who are you?”
“This is Timmy,” Momma Peach smiled and pointed at the small refrigerator. “Rosa, get out the food and warm Timmy up a plate while he takes a hot shower.”
“A shower?” Timmy asked. “Oh, do I have to?”
“Baby,” Momma Peach said and sniffed Timmy's hair, “you smell like a day-old mothball coming out of a bad mildew factory.”
Timmy looked down at his feet. “That bad, huh?” he asked.
Sam grinned and closed the door. “Pretty bad,” he agreed. “But hey, don't worry about smelling bad,” he said. “When a soldier is fighting a war he stays in the field a mighty long time and becomes mighty stinky. It seems to me that you've been fighting your own war, so don't you worry about being stinky. You just get yourself into that bathroom and take yourself a nice, hot, relaxing shower and when you come out your food will be ready.”
Timmy looked up into Momma Peach's loving face. “You're…gonna take me home with you, for real?” he asked in a hopeful voice. “No fooling...no games?”
Momma Peach rubbed Timmy's messy, dirty hair. A little dust stirred in the air. “The only thing you have to worry about is how you're gonna decorate your new room,” she smiled. “Also, you better start worrying about if you're going to call me Momma Peach or just plain Momma.”
Timmy melted, looking into Momma Peach's loving eyes. “I prayed for an angel,” he confessed, “and you're my angel.”
Momma Peach bent down and kissed Timmy on his forehead. The boy felt a true mother's love bathe his broken heart. “You get yourself into that bathroom and get a shower and let me get your food ready.”
Timmy smiled and hurried into the bathroom. Sam leaned back against the room door and shoved his hands down into the pockets of his pants. “Amazing,” he said.
Rosa stared at Momma Peach. “Momma Peach?” she asked in a confused voice, “is there something I should know?”
“Yes,” Momma Peach told Rosa and pointed at the bathroom door. “Tonight, we're welcoming a new child into our family, a little boy that's going to need a whole lotta love.”
Rosa looked at the bathroom door, looked at Sam, and then hurried to get the food out of the refrigerator.
As they bustled around inside, Andy Pracks shoved a gun into a black bag and threw on a heavy, black snow parka and peered into the storm. He cast his eyes east toward the inn and then studied the dark, black sky. “Not now,” he growled and walked back into his office and slammed the door shut behind him. “The storm is too strong. I'll wait until tomorrow night and then attack. There's no rush anyway. John Minski isn't going anywhere.”
Chapter Five
Momma Peach awoke and turned over in the warm bed and spotted Timmy cuddled up next to her back. “Sweet baby,” she whispered and pulled the bed covers up to Timmy's chin and smoothed out his pillow. “Momma Peach sure loves you.”
Rosa leaned up on one elbow and looked at Momma Peach. “Power is out,” she moaned in a miserable voice. “Went out about ten minutes ago when I was in the bathroom.”
Momma Peach put her hand over her mouth and yawned. “Mr. John said he has a powerful generator for such a situation,” she told Rosa and eased out of bed without Timmy noticing and aimed her body toward the bathroom. “I have gotta make a quick stop,” she told Rosa.
Before Momma Peach could reach the bathroom, Sam knocked softly on the door. Momma Peach opened the door, spotted Sam wearing a heavy brown sweater, and said: “Good morning. Nice sweater. Be right back...bathroom.”
Sam watched Momma Peach vanish into the dark bathroom. He stepped into the room and closed the door. “Good morning. How's Timmy?” he asked Rosa.
Rosa cuddled up in the blankets on her bed and made a shivering sound. “Warmer than me.”
Sam walked over to the window in the room and looked out. The world was covered in a complete white blanket of heavy, thick, and dangerous snow. Trees were down. Power lines were down. Nothing was moving except the howling winds and heavy falling snow. “We're trapped pretty good,” he said, looking at a row of parked vehicles, every one of them snowed in. “There's about two feet of snow on the ground right now and this storm is just clearing its throat.”
“I hope Mr. Minski gets the power back on soon,” Rosa told Sam.
Sam shifted his attention away from the snowed-in vehicles and focused on the truck stop across the street. He spotted lights on through the gloom of the storm. “Looks like Martha and Beth are doing okay. We'll head across the street for breakfast once everybody gets dressed.”
Rosa felt her stomach growl a little at the thought of breakfast. “Well,” she said in a pained voice, “the food we brought back with us yesterday is all gone. Timmy was a very hungry kid. I guess we really don't have a choice.”
Sam shifted his eyes to the few remaining semi-trucks parked next to the truck stop. The trucks were snowed in between tall drifts of snow. Each truck had its lights on, struggling to stay alive in order to keep its driver warm. “From the looks of it, the only people over at the truck stop are the few truckers who are parked over there.”
Momma Peach walked out of the bathroom and spotted Sam standing next to the window. “Mr. Sam, you're up awful early,” she said and eyed the pitiful coffee pot sitting on the counter. “Shameful thing, yes sir and yes, ma’am.”
Sam turned and looked at Momma Peach. “I wanted to talk to John,” he explained and motioned for Momma Peach to join him out in the hallway. Momma Peach grabbed her red coat, threw it on over her bright blue nightgown, slid on her bunny slippers, and followed Sam out into the hall. “John was already up when I walked downstairs,” he told Momma Peach.
Momm
a Peach eased the door closed to just a crack. “I have to keep an ear out in case my baby wakes up.”
“Yeah,” Sam said and rubbed the back of his neck. Momma Peach gave him a worried eye. “Momma Peach, I had to talk to John about Timmy. This is his inn and we did find Timmy in his attic. For all we know the kid could be lying—”
“That sweet little boy ain't lying—”
Sam held up a gentle hand. “I know that, Momma Peach. The point I'm trying to make is that John needed to know. He could be liable since the kid was found here. The poor guy is already up to his neck in quicksand and the last thing he needs is to be slapped with a kidnapping charge.”
Momma Peach sighed. Sam was right. “I wouldn't put it past Coplin and Morris to try and claim poor Mr. John took Timmy,” she agreed and glanced back over her shoulder. “So, what did Mr. John have to say?”
“Not much,” Sam confessed. “He seemed very glad to hear that we intend to take Timmy back home with us. He didn't seem concerned that the boy was hiding in his attic and didn't seem to know the boy. He didn’t even hint at calling the local family services authorities in this area. All John said is that boys will be boys and if Timmy didn't like the home he was living in and wanted to go home with us, well, that was his choice.”
“Mr. John is an old-timer,” Momma Peach reminded Sam. “He's not one of those special snowflakes floating around sucking their thumbs and waiting on every tiny little detail. Mr. John is a man who lost his legs in a war but still came out fighting with his arms, yes sir and yes, ma’am.”
Sam nodded his head. “Yeah, he didn't seem too worried about Timmy. He said boys his age find their way in this world the hard way. I guess he's right.”
Momma Peach folded her arms. “Mr. Sam, we're gonna have to call the local services and report Timmy, you know that, don't you?”
“Yeah.”
“I ain't leaving Mableville until that boy is in my full custody,” Momma Peach told Sam in a determined voice. “This here storm is putting a real damper on the business at hand, but there's no real rush. I guess it gives Timmy a few days to warm up to me.”
“That boy is already calling you Momma,” Sam smiled. “I think he's warmed up to you.”
“Well, when I call the authorities I want to be sure that my little Timothy won't think he's been betrayed and try to make a run for it.”
Sam understood. “I didn't consider that,” he told Momma Peach. “You're a smart woman, let me tell you.”
“Not smart enough to catch a killer,” Momma Peach frowned. She looked up and down the hallway. “No sign of Andy Pracks anywhere.” Momma Peach shook her head. “It sure was foolish to fall asleep last night, Mr. Sam. I should have stayed awake and kept watch.”
“You were tired,” Sam told Momma Peach and rubbed her shoulder. “And Timmy was getting fussy and wouldn't go to sleep without you. Besides, I made a few rounds throughout the night.”
Momma Peach studied Sam's tired eyes. “You need sleep, too, Mr. Sam.”
“I can't sleep,” Sam explained. “I'm too worried about John. I kept expecting to go downstairs and find him dead, but each time I went downstairs last night, John was sitting in the lobby drinking coffee.”
“He knows, then,” Momma Peach said in a worried voice. “Mr. John knows Andy Pracks is going to return to this here inn and try to kill him.”
“Yeah, he does,” Sam agreed. “But what can the man do except keep watch, Momma Peach?” Sam motioned around with his hands. “Nothing is moving out there. We're trapped in a snow globe that's being shaken up and down.” Sam shook his head. “Andy Pracks has the upper hand...for now.”
“You don’t think that ugly snake is going to try and strike anytime soon, though?”
“Not in the daylight hours,” Sam explained. “Too many eyes are awake during the daylight hours. I think Andy Pracks will try and strike when night falls.”
“You and I think alike,” Momma Peach said and tossed a thumb at the door. “Let me get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs with everybody shortly.”
Sam hesitated. “Momma Peach, we need to buy the boy some winter clothes. The clothes he has aren't fit for a stray dog. That storm outside will eat through his raggedy clothes and chew him alive. But I know that boy isn't going to leave your side, either. Where you go, he goes.”
Momma Peach thought Sam was worrying over the cold of the storm at first and then her mind caught on to the actual worry. “Where Momma Peach goes, her baby goes...which means when Andy Pracks returns to this here inn and I tangle with him...Timmy will be involved.”
Sam nodded his head. “I can wrap my coat around Timmy and keep him warm while we walk across the street, but I can't guarantee his safety if we go toe to toe with Andy Pracks.” Sam folded his arms. “You're a piece of steel, Momma Peach, and that boy is a magnet.”
Momma Peach understood Sam's worry. “We're in a mess, aren't we, Mr. Sam?” she asked.
Sam nodded his head. “A deep, ugly mess. We have a Vietnam veteran to save from a deadly killer and a lost child to protect...only John doesn't want our help and Timmy doesn't want to hold onto anyone but you.”
Momma Peach rubbed her chin. “Well…first I am going to make sure my mind is sharp,” she promised. “I didn't feel sharp up there in Vermont, no sir and no, ma’am. I played my cards by ear and prayed for the best. But we sure hit a few tangles, didn't we?”
“We sure did,” Sam replied. “But hey, we came out alright. We took down the bad guys.”
“My girl Michelle took down the bad guys,” Momma Peach reminded Sam. “Michelle used her hands and feet to knock the teeth out of two ugly warthogs, Mr. Sam.”
Sam leaned against the hallway wall. “Yeah, and I really didn't help matters much by deliberately letting myself get caught.” Sam shook his head. “I know we took down the bad guys, but I admit, I feel like we won the game by the skin of our teeth.”
“We were caught in a storm, just like this one, playing it by ear,” Momma Peach told Sam. “Me and my babies have a lot of foul characters to fight with, too. But with that said,” Momma Peach added, “I sure ain't gonna play it by ear this time, no sir and no, ma’am.”
“What do you suggest we do?” Sam asked. “All we can do, Momma Peach, is keep a close eye on John and wait for Andy Pracks to show up.”
Momma Peach rubbed her chin again. “Baby,” she said, “there's always more than one way to skin yourself an ugly, smelly, old skunk.”
Sam looked into Momma Peach's eyes and saw a plan forming. “Hey, what's going on in that head of yours?” he asked. “What kind of diabolical scheme are you forming?”
“Let me get some hot coffee down along with some warm pancakes and then I’ll tell you, Mr. Sam. Now, go fetch me one of your sweaters to wrap Timmy in. That will have to do for warm clothing for now. It's going to be a cold walk across that street.”
“You got it,” Sam said.
Momma Peach smiled and walked back into her room. She found Timmy still asleep. “Rosa,” she said, “you might want to get up and move around some.”
Rosa grabbed her warm bed covers. “Do I have to, Momma Peach?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Rosa moaned and slowly slid out from under the bed covers and stood up. “It's so cold,” she complained. “I think I'll go stand in a hot shower for, oh, a million years.”
“I like the way you think, but right now it would be better if you just got dressed, as warm as possible.”
Rosa sighed. “Okay, Momma Peach.”
Momma Peach sat down on the edge of her bed and gently began caressing Timmy's cheek. “Baby...baby? Baby boy...it's time to open those pretty eyes and leave dreamland.”
Timmy stirred and then slowly opened his sleepy eyes. When he saw Momma Peach a big smile touched his face. “You're still here, Momma. I thought for sure it was a dream.”
“No, I ain't going nowhere,” Momma Peach assured the little boy and softly kissed the tip of his nose. “We're going to
walk across the street and get us some breakfast, okay?”
Timmy listened to the winds howling outside. “Do we have to go outside, Momma?” he asked in a fearful voice. “It's so cold and scary outside.”
“I'm afraid so,” Momma Peach told Timmy and ran her fingers through his messy hair. “Ah, your hair feels clean and soft now and your face is cleaner than a shiny whistle. It would be a shame to hide you away in this room and not be able to show the world how handsome you are.”
“You are a handsome little boy,” Rosa smiled at Timmy, hoping to help Momma Peach convince the boy into going outside.
Timmy leaned up and looked at Rosa. “Rosa, are you going outside, too?” he asked in a hopeful voice. “Please come with me.”
Rosa stared at Timmy in shock. The little boy was quickly attaching himself to her. She was not sure why, but she was touched by his trusting manner. “Uh, sure, I'm going with the group,” Rosa promised and looked at Momma Peach. Momma Peach smiled. “I need to get dressed, okay?”
“Okay,” Timmy smiled. He watched Rosa grab a heavy blue sweater and a warm brown dress and vanish into the bathroom.
“Now, let's get you dressed,” Momma Peach said and looked at Timmy's raggedy clothes lying on a chair with worried eyes. “Baby, as soon as this storm ends I am going to get you some new clothes.”
Timmy raised his eyes up to Momma Peach. “I would like that,” he said and pointed at the t-shirt Sam had given him to sleep in. “This shirt is comfy, but I don't think it fits, Momma.”
“No, Mr. Sam is a tad bit larger than you,” Momma Peach smiled and kissed Timmy on his forehead. “Now, let's get you dressed.”
Across the hall, Sam dug through his suitcase and found a sweater to wrap Timmy in. “This should do it,” he said and began to leave his room. But then his cell phone rang. He checked the incoming call and smiled. “Michelle,” he exclaimed, “how is China?”
“I'm not sure how to answer that,” Michelle told Sam. Sam heard the sounds of taxi cabs honking their horns on busy streets. “Sam, is everything okay? I woke up with a bad feeling this morning. I know I promised Momma Peach I wouldn't shadow her while I'm away, but I can't shake this bad feeling that's eating away in my gut.”
Not So Peachy Day Page 7
