Guarded

by Angela Correll

  “Has she ever been to Kentucky?” Beulah asked.

  “She’s never been out of the Northeast as far as I know,” Annie said, growing aware of how quiet Jake was.

  “Well, we’ll do all we can to make her feel welcome,” Evelyn said. “Beulah, I’ll be glad to have her over here for dinner one night. I think it’ll fall over your Sunday to cook dinner, but I can bring whatever you need me too.”

  “I hope it’s not too much of a burden on you,” she looked at her grandmother. “Janice said she’s quite self-sufficient and she loves to cook.”

  “It’ll be just fine,” Beulah said. “It’ll be nice to have another body in the house with you gone.”

  After dinner, Jake helped to clear the table while Annie and Lindy rinsed dishes and loaded Evelyn’s dishwasher. Beulah and Evelyn retired to the living room with their coffee.

  “Jake,” Lindy started. “You’ve been seeing Dad a lot lately, getting his advice on your plans. Noticed anything odd?”

  Jake was carrying the platter of roasted chicken to the counter and he cast a glance at Annie. She forgot to tell Lindy what they suspected, with everything going on.

  “He’s not quite himself. I’m worried.”

  “Lindy,” Annie said. “Evelyn’s been doing some of the same things.”

  Annie glanced at Jake for support.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s curable,” Jake said, looking back at Annie.

  Lindy looked at Jake and then Annie, obviously confused.

  “We think they like each other.” Annie smiled.

  “Dad and Evelyn?”

  ***

  After Beulah and Lindy left, Jake took Annie by the hand and led her to his cottage.

  “You did a great job,” he said, looking around the neatly organized space. “I didn’t know it could look this good.”

  Annie warmed with the praise.

  “I enjoyed it,” she said. “I wish Grandma would let me get hold of her house, but fat chance.”

  They snuggled on the couch and she was aware it would be the last time for a while.

  “I liked being in your house with all your things around me.” She thought about how different it was now than her former relationships. “It was nice to know no matter what box I opened, I wasn’t going to stumble into some secret you were keeping from me.”

  “Some secrets are good,” he said. “Finding the letters was a good secret.”

  “True, but it wasn’t always good, or else it wouldn’t have been hidden away.”

  “Since we’re talking about secrets, why don’t you tell me what’s going on,” he said.

  His eyes searched hers and the intensity forced her to drop her gaze.

  “I can’t, Jake.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s eating you up. Do you think I don’t notice?”

  Annie tried to hold it together, to push it down, but the tears came and she shook her head as if too shake them off.

  “Trust me to protect you,” she whispered.

  “Protect me? I’m here to protect you. But I can’t do it if you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

  Annie stood and paced.

  “It’s too big. And too deep.”

  Jake stood and caught her by the shoulders.

  “It’s not too big or too deep for us to deal with it together. If we’re going to have a life together, it has to be this way or it won’t work.”

  “I do want it,” Annie said, “I want you.”

  Jake’s voice was low and controlled.

  “If you can’t trust me with this, you’re not ready.”

  After an awkward silence, Jake gathered up his keys. “I should drive you home.”

  “Jake …” Annie started.

  “Annie, if you can’t talk, then we need to call it a night. Otherwise one of us will say something we’ll regret later.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “MORNING,” ANNIE SAID, as she made her way to the cupboard for a coffee mug.

  “You don’t look very chipper to be heading out on a big trip,” her grandmother said, snipping coupons as she spoke.

  “Slept awful.”

  “I can imagine,” Beulah said. “I’d be a mess if I thought I would soon be hurtling over the Atlantic Ocean for eight hours.”

  Annie tried to smile. If only that were it. The strained conversation with Jake had made for a restless night. Her troubles went far deeper than a little trip anxiety.

  “Can you think of anything else I need to do before Janice gets here with Mama DeVechio?”

  “Nothing comes to mind. Tomorrow night I’ll take her with us to the Country Diner and Sunday to church and then dinner back here. I reckon the rest will play out however it’s supposed to,” Beulah said.

  “I hope it goes well. I’ll call when we get there and I’ll keep you posted on what we find out. It might be easier for me to email updates to Evelyn,” she said.

  Beulah reached across the table and put her hand over her granddaughter’s.

  “Thank you for going. It means a lot to me. God’s will be done, no matter what. Don’t be afraid to tell me anything, I want to know the truth.”

  ***

  Annie accepted Jake’s offer to drive her to Lexington and bring Mama DeVechio back to Beulah’s house. After she hugged her grandmother goodbye, he loaded her suitcase into the back of his SUV. When they pulled out of the long driveway, he reached for her hand, and the gesture comforted her.

  Sometimes a creek is too high to cross, her grandfather used to say about emotions. Have to let it go down a bit and then you can cross it.

  If only the creek would go down and not turn into a raging river, she thought.

  In front of the airport, Jake drew her close.

  “There won’t be time later for goodbyes,” he whispered. “I’m here if you need me.”

  Her chest tightened. If only she could tell him all her fears.

  “I do love you,” she whispered as Janice called her name.

  Janice stepped off the escalator. Right behind her was Mama DeVechio, a petite woman who wore a bright pink dress, with a mound of salt and pepper hair.

  Annie embraced her friend and then turned to Jake.

  “Jake, meet Janice,” she introduced them.

  Jake gave Janice a big smile and a hug.

  “Mama, this is Annie Taylor and Jake Wilder,” Janice said, nearly a head and shoulders above the tiny woman.

  “Hello,” she said, extending her arm, “I so happy to meet you,” she said to Annie. “And this eez our boyfriend? Oh my, he eez so handsome. Am I to ride with you?”

  She’s flirting, Annie thought, amused, as Janice cut her apologetic look over the top of Mrs. DeVechio’s piled-high hair. And she was an attractive woman, the dress hitting her just above the knee and a scarf tied stylishly around her neck.

  “It’s my honor, Mrs. DeVechio,” Jake said.

  “She checked two huge bags,” Janice whispered. “I have no idea what all she is bringing. I told her it was just for a week, but she waved me away.”

  Like a queen, Mrs. DeVechio directed Jake on which bags to pick up from the baggage claim area.

  “And, she’s got a handbag stuffed full of who knows what,” Janice said. They watched as Jake pulled off both of Mrs. DeVechio’s very large suitcases. Janice handed the smaller bag to her mother-in-law.

  “You’ll have to carry this, Mama; Jake’s got his hands full.”

  “He eez forte,” Mama said, smiling and nodding her approval at Annie.

  “Ready?” Jake asked. Janice kissed her mother-in-law on the cheeks. Annie brushed her lips against Jake’s but he avoided her pleading gaze. A second later, Mrs. DeVechio whisked him away.

  “Be good!” Janice called to her mother-in-law. Mrs. DeVechio answered with a wave of the back of her hand. Jake glanced over his shoulder and grinned.

  “I hope this isn’t a mistake,” Janice said as they went to the airline counter for their boarding passes. “Promise me we
will still be friends no matter what happens?”

  Annie laughed, releasing the pent up emotions.

  “I promise, but I can’t speak for my grandmother.”

  “Mama’s not been on a farm since she left Italy,” Janice said on the plane to Atlanta. “In the five years she’s lived with Jimmy’s sister in Chicago and now us in Brooklyn, we’ve hardly had the opportunity.”

  “How’re you doing with her in the house?”

  “All in all, it’s working out okay. She’s great with the kids and she loves to cook for us. The problems happen when I actually want to do something myself in the kitchen. Then it is as if I’ve offended her and not appreciated her cooking. If she decides to live with us permanently, we might need a bigger house,” Janice said. “But I don’t want to do anything until we know the airline is stable after the merger a few months ago.”

  Annie remembered well the turmoil in April when the airline she and Janice worked for, TransAir, was merged into Patriot Airlines. The months leading up to the announcement were unsettling. It was likely to take a while for the dust to settle.

  “How do you think Patriot is doing?”

  “I think it will come out a stronger airline, but there are lots of things to work out. I don’t want to make any big financial moves right now until we are in a better position. That’s partly why Jimmy is taking this work out West. It’s good money we can save toward a new house.”

  Once they were off the commuter flight to Atlanta, they headed to their gate in the international terminal. It was strange for Annie to be with Janice pulling suitcases in normal clothes, since their time together was usually in uniform as flight attendants.

  There was a chance they could get to Atlanta and not be able to catch the ride to Rome, despite Janice checking the passenger loads ahead of time. But when they got to the gate, all was well, and there was plenty of room on the flight. They even had a seat between them allowing a bit more comfort in economy class. They could rest better before renting a car and driving south to Naples.

  They talked with the flight attendants, neither of whom they had met before. They found out the crew had worked with Patriot prior to the merger. Janice engaged one of the attendants over some of the differences she had noticed coming from TransAir. No longer a part of that world, Annie settled down with a magazine.

  As soon as the meal service was over, she tried to sleep. Once they landed in Rome, they would have a full day ahead of them, and she wanted to be fresh for the task at hand.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  BEULAH WIPED OFF the kitchen counter and realized she was nervous. When was the last time she had a houseguest outside of family? She couldn’t remember. Here she had gone and agreed to host a woman who came from a different country altogether; and then there was the dilemma of what to call her? Certainly not Mama DeVechio.

  The house already seemed lonesome without Annie. They had fallen into a comfortable routine with each other and the arrangement seemed to work out well. I’ve grown to depend on my granddaughter, she thought, as she folded the dishtowel and placed it over the kitchen faucet to dry.

  At the sound of crunching gravel, Beulah saw Jake’s vehicle pull into her line of sight from the kitchen window.

  Beulah peered out the window and watched as a spry little woman climbed down from the passenger side of the truck. Fashionable even, with black, sling-back heels, a nicely cut dress and a scarf. Why had she pictured a gray-haired woman in a muumuu? Mrs. DeVechio put her hands on her hips and looked around, frowning. Meanwhile, Jake pulled two large suitcases out of the back of his SUV.

  “My lands,” Beulah said out loud. “I’ve never seen the like of luggage.”

  Jake carried the two bags to the back door while Mrs. DeVechio retrieved a large purse from the back seat. Beulah smoothed her hair and took off her apron before going to the back door.

  Before she pushed open the screen door, Mrs. DeVechio cried out, “Mamma Mia!” and lifted her bag high in the air with her eyes laser-focused on Booger, the old black snake who had made an unexpected appearance on the millstone. Jake, quick as a cat, saw what was happening and dropped the luggage, catching Mrs. DeVechio’s bag before it came down on the snake.

  Thank the Lord Jake had good reflexes, Beulah thought, her hand to her heart. Booger was like family.

  “It belongs here,” Jake said, smiling as he took the bag from Mrs. DeVechio. “Beulah keeps him for mice.”

  Mrs. DeVechio turned and looked at her as if she had a horn growing out of her forehead.

  “You need cats,” she said. “Not snake. Veepers eez bad.”

  Beulah looked at Jake for the translation.

  “Oh, it’s not poisonous … This is Beulah.”

  In a split second, Mrs. DeVechio changed expressions and opened her arms.

  “I so happy to be here.” She grabbed Beulah and kissed her on one cheek and then the other. “Call me Rossella,” she said, rolling her R in the way foreigners did.

  “Thank you,” Beulah said. “Welcome, please come in.”

  “Ah, the kee-chen. Beautiful. Thees eez where I work,” she said, and pointed to the largest bag Jake was pulling. “Open that,” she said. “We put here.”

  Jake placed the bag on the floor and unzipped it. Beulah was astonished to see the suitcase explode with canned goods, a tin of olive oil, produce, vegetables, and even jars wrapped in clothing.

  Item by item, Rossella placed each one on the kitchen counter while Beulah stood with her mouth hanging open. At the very bottom of the suitcase were long rolls of clothes lying side by side. Rossella knelt and peeled off undergarments and blouses to reveal a bottle of wine, which she proudly handed to Beulah.

  Beulah took it, and held the very thing she swore she would never serve in her house—the demon drink. Rossella continued to unroll bottle by bottle while Beulah was rooted to the floor in shock.

  One after another, wine bottles were placed on the counter until she counted six. Beulah finally managed to look at Jake and saw his eyes dance while he pursed his lips, as if he were fighting a grin, which made her know she would have no support from him.

  What in the world would she do if the preacher happened by and saw her harboring a gaggle of wine bottles? Pastor Gilliam was known to make surprise visits, and he often showed up in her kitchen for a slice of pie or glass of sweet tea, him being especially akin to sweets despite his struggle with weight.

  Forget Pastor Gilliam, what of the Gibson’s? Or worse, Woody Patterson. He might stumble if he thought she was partaking. She had to do something now. It was her kitchen, after all.

  “Mrs. DeVechio,” she began.

  “No, not Mrs. DeVechio,” she said. “Call me Rossella.”

  “Rose-ella,” she said.

  “No, Rossella,” she said, emphasizing the rolling R. “Try again.”

  “Rose-ella” she tried again, but her R sounding like a dying June bug. Rossella pointed to the roof of her mouth and said her name once more, getting louder with the rolling R. Out of the corner of her eye, Beulah saw Jake walk out of the kitchen, his shoulders shaking.

  “My mouth doesn’t work like that. I’m sorry.”

  “Eez okay, you try.”

  Beulah felt her face flush hot.

  “Let’s put your things in the pantry here,” she said, pushing aside the curtain that hid the wall-to-wall shelves in the small, dark room just off the kitchen. She could at least get the wine out of sight for now.

  “Okay, fine.” Rossella handed the items to Beulah and she put the wine bottles on a shelf along with some of the canned items and jars. There was nothing in her kitchen to open the bottles anyway.

  Just then, Rossella handed her a corkscrew. So much for that, she thought, and placed the gadget next to the wine.

  “How about I take these upstairs,” Jake said, grabbing the suitcases and scurrying upstairs before she could meet his eyes.

  “Maybe you would like to get settled,” Beulah said to Rossella, leading
her houseguest through the dining room to the stairs.

  “Bellissima!” she said, looking around and clapping her hands. Instead of following Beulah up the stairs, Rossella wandered into the living room where she looked at each picture, examined the hand-knit doilies from the end tables, and picked up her mother’s afghan, drawing it to her chest and squeezing it.

  “Okay,” Jake said, already back downstairs. “Is there anything else you need me to do?” Beulah wished she could think up something else to keep him here a little longer.

  Rossella grabbed his hands and kissed him on both cheeks. “Ciao. You come back. I cook for you.”

  After Jake left, Beulah attempted the stairs again.

  “Would you like to see your room?”

  “Ah, Si.” But when they got to the top of the steps, Rossella went into the other rooms, including Annie’s and her own room. Finally, Beulah led Rossella to the guest room where she left her “oohing and ahhing” over her curio cabinet. It was Annie’s suggestion to move the cabinet from the living room to the guest room, and it did please Beulah to hear Rossella enjoying her collection of ceramic figurines.

  And now, surely Rossella needed a rest. She sure did.

  ***

  Beulah didn’t know how long she had been napping, but when she awoke, it was to the pungent smell of food cooking and robust singing. She pushed herself up to the side of the bed. Had she been dreaming? No, there it was, the singing along with the distinct smell of food cooking. She opened her bedroom door and a strong smell wafted into her bedroom. Slamming the door shut, she leaned against it.

  Garlic. The one spice she never allowed in her house.

  She put on her shoes and ran a brush through her hair before taking the steps slowly, trying to be careful about her healing knee, but wanting to get to her kitchen as soon as possible.

  From the doorway, she saw Rossella taking the skins off tomatoes, a steaming bowl in front of her. On the stove, a pan of oil sizzled with what Beulah knew had to be garlic. Rossella sang loudly in Italian as she peeled the tomato skins and dropped them in another pan in the sink. When she saw her, Rossella smiled, and with a knife, motioned for her to come in.