Star-Spangled Rejects (The Heavenly Grille Café Book 3)

by J. T. Livingston

  CHAPTER 4

  Meeting the Past

  It was five-fifteen when the ambulance driver turned on the siren and rushed the middle-aged, black woman to Floyd Medical Center—the primary medical facility that provided care for indigent patients in Floyd County, Georgia.

  Doug had, once again, been one of the first people on the scene. He ran outside the moment he heard the blaring horn and the screaming tires outside the café. He knew, immediately, that it was PJ who lay sprawled out on the pavement; one arm and one leg were bent into odd positions. Doug prayed that the splintered bones had not hit any major blood vessels. He recognized Jason right away, too, who was kneeling on the pavement, holding PJ’s head in his lap.

  Jason and Doug had stayed with PJ until the Emergency Medical Technicians had stabilized her enough for transport. The police were interviewing the nine-teen year old driver who had not seen the black woman until it was too late; she had been so inconsolable that the police had moved her car to the parking lot of the Heavenly Grille Café and driven her home.

  Doug placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder as the ambulance rushed off. “Jason? Why don’t you come inside the café and have some coffee? It’s going to be dark soon...”

  Jason shrugged off Doug’s hand and shook his head. “No. No, thanks.” He removed the black, knit cap and ran his fingers through his short hair. He stared at Doug for a long moment and shook his head. “It’s my fault.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jason closed his eyes and blew out a breath that felt like it had been trapped inside since he first heard the loud horn and squealing tires. “It’s my fault she got hurt. She was running from me.”

  “I don’t understand,” Doug shook his head. “What do you mean? Why was PJ running from you?”

  Jason shrugged again and took a backward step, away from Doug’s touch. “I just wanted to know if she knew what happened last night…to Norman.” He shook his head again. “I can’t believe it—two of us in less than twenty-four hours. What are the odds of that happening?”

  Doug took a step forward and placed a firm hand on Jason’s shoulder. The touch did not allow for any possible disconnection on Jason’s part. “We don’t know that PJ is going to die, Jason. Her injuries look bad, I will admit, but she’s a lot stronger than people give her credit for being.”

  Jason initially tensed at Doug’s firm grasp upon his shoulder, but quickly began to relax as his breathing became less labored and a sense of mental and physical restoration slowly came upon him. “I think she knows what happened to Norman, but, like the rest of us, she doesn’t want to get involved in any of it. I shouldn’t have asked her anything about it…”

  “It’s not your fault, Jason. You couldn’t have known she would run from you like that. Please…will you reconsider that cup of coffee? Let’s give them time to get PJ settled and we’ll call later to check on her condition.”

  Jason wanted to decline Doug’s invitation, but he needed to know that PJ was going to make it, too. He nodded and moved forward. “Okay.”

  “That’s great,” Doug smiled back at him.

  Anyone who saw them together might have thought that the two men were brothers. They were the same height and had the same muscular build and stance.

  Doug walked beside Jason and placed his hand upon the man’s back as they entered the café. “I know that food is probably the last thing on your mind, but Max has a huge pot of Brunswick stew on the stove, and his famous jalapeno cornbread is in the oven now. Once we check on PJ, maybe I can talk you into trying it out.”

  Jason felt a comforting shiver that started at the nape of his neck and travelled slowly down his spine, through his legs, and ended in his feet. Once the sensation ceased, he felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt something that he had not experienced in more years than he could remember—he felt—hope. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Maybe.”

  Cheryl had rented a furnished, two-bedroom, two-bath, 1950s bungalow located a couple of blocks from the high school. It was similar to other homes in the older, but well-established and quaint neighborhood, with its hardwood floors throughout, vaulted ceilings, fireplace, and, stacked-stone exterior. Cheryl’s master suite came complete with a garden tub and a massive walk-in closet. There was a small bonus room off the master suite that Cheryl and Jimmy shared as a computer room. They both, also, enjoyed the small, screened-in patio where they could look out over a tiny, yet well-manicured and fenced back yard.

  Cheryl had dropped out of high school so that she could take care of Jimmy when he was small, but her grandmother made sure that she had obtained her GED. She had worked mostly waitressing and retail sales jobs until her grandmother died, and, had managed to get one year of community college under her belt before she and Jimmy had made the decision to move to Rome. She was currently working two, part-time jobs until she could find a more permanent one; and, she still had all of the ten-thousand dollars she had received as beneficiary of a small life insurance policy her grandmother had taken out without her knowledge.

  It was after five o’clock when she knocked on her son’s bedroom door, and found him sprawled, on his stomach, upon his single twin bed. She stared in awe for a moment as she realized that he wasn’t her little boy any more. He was at least five inches taller than she was and outweighed her by forty pounds. She cleared her throat and said, “Hey, kiddo. It’s going to be dark soon and I was able to pick up a shift tonight at that pancake house that is open 24/7. I thought I’d swing by that little café we ate breakfast at this morning. Bertie, that waitress, told me that the cook was making Brunswick stew tonight, and—get this—your favorite, jalapeno cornbread.”

  Jimmy had ear phones plugged in, listening to one of his favorite country singers—a fairly new singer by the name of Mo Pitney. Jimmy especially liked Pitney’s style because he did not practice a lot of the vocal acrobatics that some singers felt the need to exhibit. His sound was much more of a traditional-country sound, and Jimmy’s favorite song on the singer’s debut disc was, “I Didn't Go To Sleep Last Night.” Jimmy could, most certainly, relate to that particular song today.

  He sensed, more than he heard, his mother’s presence. He turned on his side and looked back at her. He removed the ear phones and said, “Sorry, Mom…did you say something?”

  Cheryl grinned and sat on the edge of the small bed. “Let me guess…Mo Pitney, again?”

  Jimmy nodded. “He’s the best thing since the one that you’re so crazy about.”

  “Tim McGraw? Yes, he is still my favorite country male singer. Anyway, I was just saying that I’m going to run by that café we were at this morning and get something for dinner. I have to work the midnight-to-eight shift tonight at that pancake restaurant.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Mom. I can find something here to eat.”

  “I know, but that cook is making Brunswick stew and I know how much you love that.”

  Jimmy smiled. “It’s been a while since we’ve had that…since Gigi died.”

  “I know,” Cheryl closed her eyes, thinking of her grandmother. “She did make the best Brunswick stew, didn’t she?”

  “Sure did. Hey, do you want me to ride with you?”

  “You’re not going out with your friends again tonight?” Cheryl asked.

  Jimmy shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I, uh, I doubt if I’ll be hanging out with them anymore.”

  There was clearly a story there, but Cheryl knew her son well enough to know that he would talk to her about it when he was ready. She trusted him and his judgment; he must have a good reason for wanting to end the friendship with Kirk Blankenship. She would have been lying to herself if she admitted that it upset her that Jimmy would end that particular relationship. There was something about the Blankenship boy that always put Cheryl on edge. She never felt completely at ease around him and his friends. “Well, in that case, kiddo—I would love the company. Come on; if we leave now, we can get there bef
ore dark. We could even eat there if you’d like, and you could bring some leftovers home to snack on later, while I’m at work.”

  Jimmy grabbed his Mo Pitney disc and grinned. “Something to listen to on the way…you are going to let me drive, aren’t you?”

  “I probably shouldn’t,” Cheryl laughed. “I know we’ll be breaking the law, but you’ll be getting your learner’s permit at the end of April, and you’ve been practicing for months already. I know you’re a safe driver, but, just please be careful and don’t get pulled over for any reason!”

  Even though the Heavenly Grille Café had only been in operation for three weeks at its latest location, word-of-mouth advertising had more than done its job. People from every walk of life had stopped in to sample the soulful, comfort food for which the café was becoming known; construction workers, city employees, attorneys, nurses, truck drivers, day care workers, and even a couple of CEOs had quickly become regulars. Fortunately, for the angels, the truckers who visited them now worked for different companies and had different routes than did the truckers who had gotten to know the café staff so well back in Monticello, Florida. No doubt, some of the old truckers might find the café again, and wonder how the angels maintained their “youthful” appearance, but Max would handle that problem when and if it occurred.

  It was almost six o’clock when Jason followed Doug inside the café. All twelve tables and booths were filled to the brim, but there were a few empty seats available at the counter.

  “Grab yourself a seat, Jason,” Doug patted the counter. “Let me wash my hands and I’ll get you that coffee.”

  “Thanks,” Jason acknowledged. “I probably need to wash up, too. Is there a rest room?”

  Doug nodded to the left. “Just around the corner there…should be plenty of hand towels in there. Just toss the dirty ones in the hamper and come back out when you’re ready.”

  Max was stirring two five-gallon pots of Brunswick stew when Doug made his way back to the kitchen. Bertie was trying to reach the cabinet that held the large, ceramic bowls with angel wings painted on them.

  Doug came up behind her and reached easily above her. “Here you go, Bertie.”

  “Thanks, handsome. Old Max over there wasn’t thinking about me when he built these dang cabinets so high and out of my reach.”

  “That’s because the kitchen is my domain, Bertie…the tables and customers are yours,” Max grinned mischievously. His baritone voice seemed to echo throughout the room. He waited until Doug had retrieved at least a dozen more bowls. “We’ve been listening, Doug. Was it bad? Is PJ going to make it?”

  Doug walked over to the sink and washed his hands in steaming hot water. He shook his head. “I’ll be honest, Max…I just don’t know. She was hit pretty hard. The trooper said that the driver was going under the speed limit, but estimated impact at close to forty-five miles per hour. I don’t think PJ ever knew what hit her.”

  “We’ve already started praying,” Bertie said. “I sure wish we had some insight as to how things like this are going to turn out. If I wasn’t already turning gray, all this worrying about these mortals would surely make me completely white-headed.”

  “Well, that would be better than bald, I suppose,” Max grinned as he ran a hand over his perfectly shaped bald head. “Are you going to be with her, Doug?”

  Doug dried his hands and leaned back against the counter. “I talked Jason into coming inside for a cup of coffee. I’ll call the hospital for an update in a little bit to see if they can tell me anything about PJ. I was hoping I could talk Jason into riding to the hospital with me to see her, if they’ll allow visitors.”

  “That’s a fine idea,” Bertie chimed in. “We heard him when he said he feels guilty, and that he’s to blame for her getting hit.”

  Doug nodded. “Yeah, he does. I don’t know what went down in their camp ground last night, but I have a feeling that someone in their group knows more than what they’ve told the police. I was hoping to find Stella, but she’s nowhere to found.”

  “She’s probably going to keep a low profile for the next few days, like all the others,” Max said.

  “Maybe,” Doug agreed. “But, I think I’ll make my regular visit over there tonight, just in case. The temperature is already dropping outside. I worry about the others, especially Joe and Bernard. They were pretty tight with Norman.”

  “What will happen to Norman?” Bertie asked. “I mean, if nobody claims his body.”

  “The state has procedures in place if that happens, Bertie,” Doug explained. “I don’t know how hard the police will actually work to find the person that killed Norman, but they will need to do something with the body within a 10-day time frame. If they can’t locate any next of kin, and if Norman’s body is usable, then it could be donated to a medical school. They even have body farms that are used by law enforcement and medical school students; these are areas where the human bodies are left untreated by chemicals so that they can be studied at various stages of decomposition.”

  “Oh, that is just sick!” Bertie turned and punched Doug against the shoulder. “That poor man deserves a proper burial. There has to be somebody out there who misses him.”

  Max placed a hand on Bertie’s shoulder. “Maybe we can ask Martin to do some checking when we go Home to visit tomorrow.”

  “That’s a great idea!” Bertie nodded. “Martin has information on everybody. He can tell us all about Norman.”

  Max shook his head. “He can tell us all about Norman, that is true, Bertie; however, you know as well as I do that we cannot interfere by using any of the information we might discover.”

  “Come on, Bertie,” Doug offered her his arm. “We have a house full of customers out there, and I don’t see it thinning out any time soon.”

  “I know, handsome, I know. Lead the way,” she pushed Doug ahead of her. “But, I still think it’s a sick, sick idea…body farms!” She was still shaking her head when she walked through the open doorway and saw Jason sitting at the counter. She punched him on the shoulder as she walked by and said, “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  Jason rubbed his shoulder. That waitress had a pretty good punch for such a little person. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Doug moved behind the counter and poured two cups of coffee. He sat one down in front of Jason. “She won’t take no for an answer either, trust me. When she comes back by, you had best be prepared to say yes to a bowl of stew.” He saw the embarrassed, uneasy look come upon Jason’s face. “Don’t worry, my friend. After all you have been through in the last few hours, the meal is on the house.”

  “I don’t need charity,” Jason said, defensively. “I have enough for a cup of coffee.”

  Doug held up his hand. “Your money is no good in here, Jason. Please…let us do this for you.”

  Jason was about to offer up an objection when a blast of cool air hit him as the café door opened and the angel chimes above it sounded. He turned when he heard the waitress welcome two new customers.

  “Y’all just have a seat at the counter!” Bertie grinned when she saw Cheryl and Jimmy come through the door. “I knew you would be back to try Max’s Brunswick stew.”

  Cheryl stood at the front door and spoke with Bertie for a moment, while Jimmy made his way to the counter. He stopped at the vacant seat next to Jason and asked politely, “Is this seat taken, sir?”

  Jason turned to look at the young man standing behind him. The kid was almost as tall as he was, but was obviously still a minor. “No. Help yourself, kid,” he said as he turned back to his coffee. He stared straight ahead and held the cup between both his hands.

  Jimmy scooted over to the next vacant seat so that his mother would be sitting between him and the man who sat at the end of the counter. “Thanks,” Jimmy smiled. “Over here, Mom,” he motioned to Cheryl, who was still talking to the waitress.

  Cheryl made her way to the counter, removed her jacket, and hung it on the back of the stool. “Thanks, sweetie. That waitress—
Bertie—is so nice. I feel like I’ve known her all my life.”

  Doug poured two more cups of coffee and placed them in front of the Crennans. “That’s our Bertie, alright. She has a no-nonsense way of making folks feel right at home.”

  Jason smiled when he heard the woman’s soft laughter in response. It had been a while since he had heard a woman’s laughter.

  “She certainly does,” Cheryl laughed again. She squeezed in to lift herself up on the twisting stool and accidentally bumped the man beside her just as he was about to take a sip of hot coffee.

  “Oh! Please forgive me! I am so, so sorry…” She was unable to complete her sentence.

  Jason managed to keep the cup from spilling over entirely and turned to look at the woman, whose laughter had warmed his soul for a few moments. He stood up and stared down into green eyes—green eyes that he never thought he would see again in this life time.

  Cheryl’s words caught in her throat as she stared back at the tall, muscular man looking down at her. It had been fifteen years, and she had never known his name; but, she knew that she would never forget his eyes.

  She was the only thing that now separated Jimmy Crennan and his biological father.

  CHAPTER 5

  - Heaven -

  Martin Does Some Research

  Two of the three Heavenly Grille Café angels always visited Home on Sundays, while one usually remained behind to watch over things and people close to their given assignment. On this next to the last Sunday in January, Doug had offered to stay behind while Max and Bertie visited with Martin and their families in Heaven.

  Martin was Max’s primary assistant in Heaven. He was a tall, thin black man who many often described as being perspicuous and introverted. He served as mentor to a lot of the senior angels, and, to some new recruits. It was his responsibility to oversee the main data base that contained information on every living and dead soul in the universe. It was a job he took very seriously.