Johnny Cakes (The Rachael O'Brien Chronicles) Page 12

  “Has Patsy called?” Katie Lee asked.

  “Twenty minutes ago. Invited her over but she said y’all had plans?”

  “Since Mama’s cooking tomorrow, I figured we’d get out of her hair tonight. We’re meetin’ at The Red Cabbage for a bite.”

  News to me.

  He nudged my arm. “Sounds good, I’ll go get cleaned up.”

  “Daddy!”

  There was a loud crash and we all knew Simms had knocked the metal lid off a trashcan.

  “Y’all get going. Tell Patsy we’d be disappointed if she didn’t find the time to stop by for some dessert after she’s celebrated with her family.” Dr. Brown glanced to Katie Lee and nodded. “She can invite Mitch, too. We don’t see much of him unless Rachael is around.”

  His suggestion locked my knees. Noticing my frozen feet, he winked.

  IN DOWNTOWN NEW BERN there was a local café called The Red Cabbage. The interior was cozy with ceramic pendant vegetable lights hanging above purple-and-red-striped vinyl booths. Patsy waved to Katie Lee from a back booth. Putting the menu down, she asked “Hey, Raz, you been okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Sorry about your car. Legs healed okay?”

  “Patsy, it was a freak accident. Cars can be replaced. I’m fine.”

  The balls of her cheeks tightened and she nudged me with her elbow. “I thought y’all’d be in town hours ago. What took so long?”

  That was the Patsy I knew.

  “We were delayed in Greensboro,” I said.

  Patsy was decked out in a belted, oversized turquoise sweater with a Nordic design around the neck. She’d fashioned a striped silk necktie as a headband and wore oversized gold loop earnings. Settling back in the booth, she toyed with the stitching on the edge of the menu and I noticed a gold serpent ring that wrapped around her thumb.

  “What kind of delay?”

  I slid next to Patsy. I didn’t need a menu. I could already taste the pulled-pork sandwich with fresh slaw under the bun.

  “Francine was busy freaking out. It took awhile to calm her down. With Thanksgiving tomorrow ‘n’ all, we should probably eat a light supper. What are you having?” Katie Lee asked Patsy.

  “Breakfast. What was it this time?”

  “I know what I’m having. She thought she found remnants of something,” Katie Lee said.

  Patsy put her menu down. “What?”

  “I think her pre-law courses are stressing her out. Ever since mid term break, she’s been skittish. Seeing things,” I said.

  “Spirits, ghosts, UFO’s?” Patsy asked before chomping ice from her empty glass.

  “Naw, that’s more Rachael’s mom’s specialty. Francine thinks she saw something slitherin’ in the kitchen. Before we left, she had Roger pull the refrigerator out and in all the dust bunnies, she swore there was a piece of snakeskin. The girl went mental.”

  “Eugh.” Patsy said. “Gross. What was it?”

  “It’s November. Snakes hibernate.” I said.

  “Rachael had the vacuum hose attachment and sucked it up. Francine made Roger take the bag out back and cut it open.”

  “Why?” Patsy asked.

  “Said she wasn’t leaving until tomorrow and couldn’t sleep in the house until she knew what Rachael had sucked into the Hoover bag.”

  This conversation was pointless. It had been weeks since Francine called me in Ohio about her critter sighting. Since being back, I hadn’t seen any signs of anything out of the ordinary in the house.

  The waitress came over and asked for our order.

  “Pulled pork sandwich and a Mr. Pibb.”

  Patsy ordered an omelet with a side of grits and Katie Lee ordered a wing appetizer and a side of fries.

  “Her boyfriend had gobs of hair and dirt wuffles spread all over the back deck.”

  Patsy became distracted and looked behind me.

  “It was disgusting.” I said.

  I didn’t want to relive our morning, but Katie Lee launched into the story. “Francine went off on a tangent saying serpents are a sign of Lucifer, and insisted on us sage-burning the house and sprinkling some cinnamon powder concoction around all the walls, but not in front of any doors. Said the snake would leave on its own account.”

  Someone needed to move the story along so I cut to the shortened version. “We didn’t have the supplies in the house and had to make a run to the garden center and the fancy grocery. It put us behind.”

  “Oh Good Lord!” Patsy exclaimed, which I thought was an overkill reaction to our morning. I watched her face turn from lightly animated to a sneer. Her eyes lasered into something over my shoulder.

  A smooth low voice cooed, “Don’t y’all look sweeter than Aunt Ginny’s plum preserves.”

  “Nash Wilson, you don’t have an Aunt Ginny,” Patsy said.

  He slid into the open seat next to Katie Lee as the waitress brought our food. Katie Lee offered Nash a fry. “Have you eaten?”

  “Thank you, darlin’.”

  Patsy leaned into my ear and whispered, “All it takes is free food for Nash to put on the feedbag.”

  A sweet barbecue steam wafted in my face. I didn’t care if Nash hadn’t eaten in a week. I wasn’t sharing.

  Patsy doused her omelets with a mixture of Ketchup and A1 sauce. “What exactly do you want?”

  “Just spotted y’all and thought I’d wish you a happy Thanksgiving ‘n’ all.”

  I sunk my teeth into a mouthful. Nash still sat across from me looking all pathetic and lonely. I knew better. He was never one to be alone for long.

  Katie Lee slid her plate between them. “I’ll never be able to eat all this. Will you help me out?”

  Patsy kicked her ankle into mine.

  “So, Nash. What have you been up to lately?” I asked.

  “This and that,” he said as he concentrated on dunking a wing into a small metal condiment dish. As he pressed the orange-glazed coating into the blue cheese dressing, white globs spilled down the sides.

  “Are you working?” Patsy asked.

  “Started my own business.”

  Katie Lee locked her lagoon blues on Patsy. Patsy rolled her coffee beans toward me, and I drilled my wise-owl browns into Nash.

  “Ladies, Ladies.” Lowering his voice, he whispered, “Nothing illegal-like.”

  Head down, Patsy feigned more interest in her dinner. “My ass.”

  “Nash has a courier business,” Katie Lee said.

  “Nash had a courier service, paid for by Billy…” I began, surprised that I said that name.

  “Tut, tut, tut. My relationship with Billy Ray is over. Haven’t seen him in a coon’s age.”

  “No one’s seen him,” Patsy said, then nodded at me. “Since Rachael busted him for violating the restraining order, it’s like he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  Some slaw lodged in my throat and I washed it down with a guzzle of soda.

  “Maybe he’s moved out of state,” Katie Lee said.

  Nash pinched three fries and dipped them in ketchup. “If he’d moved, someone would know.”

  “He could be in New Orleans. Rach, remember that creep we met there?”

  It was getting tough to maintain my appetite.

  I shrugged.

  “Jack Ray. Billy’s sleazy art dealer cousin.” Katie Lee said. “Maybe Billy’s turned a new leaf in the Big Easy.”

  Nash snorted. “Turning over leaves in New Orleans is not for the faint hearted.”

  “Maybe you should take a permanent vacation there,” Patsy said.

  “Y’all be nice,” Katie Lee said.

  Me? I didn’t offend him. His presence offended me. It pissed me off that he knew I knew about Sheila and that I obviously hadn’t told Katie Lee.

  The Red Cabbage was bustling with customers and bags of take-out were lined up behind the register. If I were preparing Thanksgiving, I’d have the same idea. No sense cooking two nights in a row.

  With half my sandwich left, I
’d lost my appetite. Patsy, Katie Lee, and Nash started hashing over town gossip. Who was home, and who wasn’t. Words like Never, and She Didn’t popped into my eardrums, but mostly I tuned out of the conversation. It had been two years since I’d first met Billy Ray. He’d guilted me into shagging a three-step with him in a farm field. You never know what you’ll find in the rural parts. I knew he couldn’t physically hurt me from the beyond. He shouldn’t have been a passing thought. But I worried that whoever shot him could come hurtling into my life and somehow trash it.

  “Hey Patsy. Hey Katie Lee,” someone I didn’t recognize shouted.

  Katie Lee waved and stood, “That’s Delany and Shelby. It’s been ages, I have to say hey.”

  “I better go with, otherwise they’ll think I’m miffed at something,” Patsy said.

  Nash and I sat silent for a moment. “You been quiet. Something on your mind?” he asked.

  I reached for the eye of Horus charm that hung on my neck. Since “things” happened to me in this town, I made sure I wore it to lessen The Bern effect.

  “Are you still seeing Sheila?” I asked.

  The waitress came to clear the plates and I asked for a to-go box.

  “Depends.”

  “On What?”

  “Your cooperation.”

  “I’m not cooperating.”

  “You haven’t told Katie Lee.”

  “It’s not worth telling.”

  He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

  I patted Nash’s hand. “In case you missed the memo, she’s in a relationship. Reality can bite. She’s over you.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  The spoon handle had a simple line design that I mindlessly traced with a finger. “Your personal conquests are not my business, and although I’d appreciate it if you conducted your business outside of my inner circle, if you cannot control your wanker, I’ll not be responsible for the consequences of your actions.”

  “Katie Lee’s a big girl.”

  “You idiot. I’m not talking about Katie Lee. I’m talking about Sheila Sinclair. She’s not your run of the mill use ‘em and lose ‘em kind of conquest.”

  The waitress came with the bill and I watched in astonishment as Nash reached in his back pocket and pulled out a credit card, which he handed her.

  “I’ll get the receipt,” she said.

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Are you trying to buy me? Drag me into some scheme?”

  He placed a hand on his chest. “I am offended at that accusation.” Reaching into his inside pocket, he pulled out a small envelope about the size of a card that would come in a flower arrangement and slid it across the table. The outside read, “Raz.”

  “What’s this?”

  The waitress came back with the credit card receipt and I watched Nash sign his name. Tight script. No gaps in loops. Didn’t dot the i. He handed the waitress her copy and tucked his portion into his jean jacket pocket.

  “Seems you have an admirer. He asked me to pass this along.”

  My nickname had been block printed in blue rollerball pen. I turned to scan the restaurant. Katie Lee and Patsy were engrossed. I glanced out the front window then back at Nash. “Is this part of your courier service business? Delivering messages for Bubba?”

  NOTE TO SELF

  Can’t go anywhere in a small town without being noticed.

  Nash cannot buy my assistance, if that’s what he was doing. The only reason I haven’t told Katie Lee is because she’s happily dating Hugh. Plus, I haven’t bumped into Nash in our house since.

  CHAPTER 15

  Turkey Shot

  We’d eaten an early Thanksgiving meal per Dr. Brown’s request. Friday was the first day of buck season and he planned to set off in the wee hours before dawn broke. The house had been filled with chattering bodies that now stretched out on anything with a cushion to succumb to turkey coma. I’d volunteered to do dishes. Mrs. Brown put up a fuss, “Oh no, Rachael darling, you are a guest,” she’d said.

  “You have a house full of relatives that you haven’t seen in months. It’s only right that you spend some time with them before they leave.”

  As the host, she’d been reluctant, so I pulled out my big guns. “Please let me do something to help out. If the only part of you that your company spends time with is your backside at the sink, I’d feel awful.” I said, and filled the sink with water and a squirt of Dawn dish soap. The sudsy water spilled over my hands as I dunked the turkey platter in and out of the hot water.

  Besides Katie Lee and her parents, I didn’t know anyone. I’d met Katie Lee’s sister, Harper, who’d driven in from Raleigh only once before, and aside from pleasantries, how moist the turkey was, how fluffy the lobster mash potato melted on my tongue, and the unseasonably warm weather we’d been having, my arsenal of conversation ran dry. I wasn’t socially awkward. Under normal circumstances I could work a small crowd, find my way to the talkers, wind them up a bit, and listen. But since I’d read the note at The Red Cabbage, my mind had tuned into a static station. Bubba, a.k.a Jackson Kimball, was in The Bern. And like a blip on his radar screen, he knew I’d arrived. In typical Jackson style, his note had been suggestive yet vague.

  Dear Raz,

  Last time you came to town, you never properly thanked me for breaking your fall. When you’re ready, so am I.

  PS: Be safe.

  Jackson

  Southern smugness! If Bubba were an animal he’d be a raccoon, big brown eyes, all cute and cuddly on the outside, but lurking underneath was a potential rabies-carrying opportunist whose bite could lead to pain and eventual insanity.

  I needed a mindless task where I could hang out inside my head, and lucky for me there was an entire countertop of fine china that needed to be hand-washed and dried. His audacity! He thought that I wanted another go with him and had probably shared his trashy thoughts with Nash. The visual of Jackson, naked, wriggled my insides and I worked a Brillo pad hard into the grease drippings of a roasting pan in an attempt to eradicate his smoking-hot bad-boy looks.

  He wishes I’d slept with him on my last visit to town.

  Dr. Brown, Judge Husk Driskell, and a smattering of men stretched their legs in the dining room, while Katie Lee, her sister, and some of her cousins had roused themselves for second helpings of pecan pie and an apple strudel bake. Out on the porch, the Judge’s wife and son, Clive, relaxed on a glider where he kept company with some local friends of the Browns I’d never met before today.

  Katie Lee came into the kitchen and shimmied on to a bar stool. “Rachael, you don’t need to do the dishes.”

  “I know.”

  Sliding off, she snagged a dishtowel and began drying. “What’s going on?”

  I still nursed the Riesling from the dinner table and had topped my glass up once, maybe twice. “Nothing’s going on. I ate so much that if I sit down, I’d pass out. Just trying to keep moving.”

  “You haven’t said much since dinner last night. Did you and Nash have words?”

  “Nothing worth mentioning.”

  “It’s odd that he picked up the tab. I mean it was nice but unnecessary. Do you think he’s changed since we were together?”

  “I think we all have changed since you two were together.” I said keeping the topic of Nash vague and trying to figure out a way to talk about someone else.

  “He seems more grounded now. And we get along. We used to fight all the time.”

  I sideways glanced at her. “You get along with Nash because you’re not dating. You have Hugh to infuriate you now. The only reason Nash seems more grounded is because neither of us are in his business.”

  The noise inside the Browns stayed at a level hum until the screen on the front door slammed into the frame. Footsteps and “Hey, Happy Turkey Day,” echoed from the front of the house and the visitors entered the kitchen

  “Well, hey y’all,” Mrs. Brown said. “I hope you saved room.”r />
  Patsy’s hand landed on her stomach. “I couldn’t.”

  “I can,” Mitch said.

  “Well, come on in.” Dr. Brown shouted from behind a set of glass French doors that opened to the dining room, and Patsy’s brother joined the men.

  “Hey hey,” Patsy said. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m stuffed to my gizzards.”

  “Your mama cook?” Katie Lee asked.

  “Just the stuffing. My grandma brought the turkey and my aunts the fixings and dessert.”

  Wiping her hands, Katie Lee moved to the front of the house. Patsy slid into her spot at the sink the next to me and peered out on the porch. “Katie Lee didn’t tell me the Judge was coming for supper.”

  Patsy’s make-up was flawless and she’d taken the time to twist her hair into a French braid. The silk gypsy shirt she wore hung off one shoulder. “The Judge is in the dining room with Dr. Brown. You know damn well that’s his offspring, Clive, that you’re busy drooling over.”

  She swatted my shoulder. “Can’t blame a girl for enjoying a look at dessert.”

  “Patsy, can I ask you something?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Billy Ray. Does anyone think it’s weird that he hasn’t been around?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Just curious. Is anyone talking about where he’s gone? Wondering what happened to him?”

  Patsy turned her back to the sink and crossed her arms. “Is there something you ought to be telling me?”

  OUTSIDE TEMPERATURES WERE LOW SEVENTIES and a balmy afternoon breeze slipped off the Trent. I hadn’t seen any boats out on the water and guessed that most families celebrated Turkey Day on dry land. The crowd inside the Browns’ had thinned as most of the guests departed, mindful of not overstaying and missing the opening kick of The Oilers versus The Cowboys matchup in the comfort of their own homes. Katie Lee’s sister had to work the next day and headed back to Raleigh with tin foil-wrapped leftovers in a Styrofoam cooler. Dr. Brown had migrated to the garage where he organized his hunting gear, and Katie Lee and Patsy were on the front porch. She’d left her spot with me at the sink to mingle with the company that lingered out front , and even secured a seat next to Clive.