Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Molly Cannon

  Chapter Nineteen

  So, she left his house and headed back to the Inn fretting about Donny Joe spending the night out in the elements and thinking about everything still left to do for the next day. One of the couples who’d booked a room was driving in from Arkansas. Ernie and Gladys Mitchell. They’d requested the Cherry Cobbler room after seeing the pictures on the website. And the Gordons, Dean and Sally, were driving over from Fort Worth. It was all starting to seem real, and Etta just hoped they could pull it off with a minimum of major fiascos.

  This wasn’t like running a restaurant. There she felt in control. But with the Inn she worried about everything that could go wrong. There was the doorknob on the upstairs bathroom. It had a tendency to stick. And the vent for the heat in the Blueberry Crumble room had been blowing cold air last week, but the repairman promised it was good as new now. She knew better. Despite all the improvements the Hazelnut Inn was still an old house and things went wrong on a regular basis. She just hoped everyone had a pleasant time and recommended it to all their friends.

  “Look, Aunt Etta.” Daphne ran up to her as she walked in the back door. “Cousin Beulah made matching aprons for us to wear during the Valentine’s dinner.”

  “Those are amazing.” Etta took the one Daphne held out and examined it closely. They were sewn out of a pale yellow cotton material and the name “The Hazelnut Inn” was embroidered in deep red thread across the top of the bib. “We are going to be the best dressed B&B operators this side of the Mississippi. We’ll look absolutely spiffy in these.”

  The little girl giggled. “What’s spiffy?”

  “Fabulous, fantastic, marvelous, groovy.”

  Daphne rolled her eyes. “You’re silly, Aunt Etta.”

  “Thank you, sweetie pie.”

  “Guess what else?”

  “What else?”

  “I’ve finished the stuffed dinosaurs, and I picked out a special one to put on each bed. I didn’t get any of the cats finished yet. But I will.”

  “That’s wonderful, Daphne. I’ll have to go take a look. I’m sure the guests will love them. And I can check that off my list. I think we’re almost ready, don’t you?”

  “I think so. I just wish Mama could be here, too.”

  “I know, sweetie. Do you want to help me make an applesauce cake?” Etta did the only thing she knew to do. Try to distract Daphne from worrying about her mother. This was the same cake she’d made with Grammy Hazel on every visit. Making it now with Daphne seemed like the right thing to do. The longer Belle was gone the harder it was to keep the girl’s mind off the fact that her mother had been gone for over two weeks. As mad as she was at her sister she would kiss her if she walked in the door this minute just because she knew how much it would mean to Daphne.

  Daphne seemed excited by the idea of baking something. “Oh yum, that sounds like fun. But I still have to fill out all those silly Valentine cards for school tonight.” They had picked out several packets at the drug store a few days before, and she’d seemed excited about it at the time.

  “You don’t want to give out Valentines at school?” She began pulling big bowls out of the cabinet. “Wash your hands first.”

  Daphne got up on the step stool by the kitchen sink and turned on the water. “No. I just don’t want to give one to Jeff Lawrence.”

  “What’s wrong with Jeff Lawrence?”

  Daphne shrugged and got down, drying her hands before climbing onto the barstool in front of the kitchen counter. “Nothing, but he said I had pretty eyes, so now Greg Norton said he was my boyfriend. If I give him a Valentine he’ll think I like him.”

  “Do you?” Etta opened a box of dried mincemeat and put it in front of her niece. “Crumble that up into little pieces in that bowl.” That had always been her job when she made this cake with Grammy.

  Daphne concentrated on making the pieces as small as possible. “I like him, but I don’t want him to know it.”

  “Aren’t you giving one to everyone in your class? They are all your friends, right?” She pulled a can of applesauce from the pantry and opened it. Then she melted a stick of butter over medium heat.

  In a resigned voice Daphne said, “I guess. That’s what Miss Lumpkins says we’re supposed to do.”

  “So, if you don’t give Jeff a card, won’t that seem odd?” Etta measured out brown sugar and regular sugar, then mixed it together with all purpose flour and baking soda.

  “I guess.” Daphne finished her task and pushed the bowl toward Etta. “Hey, are you going to give Donny Joe a Valentine?”

  Etta picked up the bowl of mincemeat and poured the melted butter over the top then let Daphne add the can of applesauce to the mixture. “Donny Joe? Why would I give him a Valentine? He’s just a friend.”

  “You just said I should give all my friends Valentine’s cards, and you and Donny Joe haven’t been fighting as much lately. I bet he’d like to get a card, too.” Daphne measured out one-fourth teaspoon of allspice and a cup of pecans and poured them into the batter while Etta stirred.

  Etta finished mixing the ingredients for the cake and poured it into a prepared angel food pan. “Okay. If you have an extra one left over we can make one for Donny Joe.”

  “Great. Do you need any more help, Aunt Etta?”

  She opened the oven door and slid it onto the rack. “No. It just has to bake now.”

  She jumped down from the stool. “Okay, ’cause I want to go draw a picture of Gabe on Jeff’s card. He likes cats, but he’s allergic, so he can’t have one. And I’ll bring you one for Donny Joe, too.” Apparently, she wasn’t worried about what Greg Norton thought anymore.

  “That sounds like a good idea, Daphne. Thanks for your help and don’t forget to wash your hands again.” She wasn’t going to give Donny Joe a Valentine’s card, but she wasn’t going to argue with Daphne about it, either. She watched her niece leave the room and sighed. She hadn’t thought about Valentine’s Day in a romantic way for years. She was always cooking for other people and this year would be no exception. And if things were different who would she give a card to?

  As sad as it sounded Diego was the last real boyfriend she’d had. She’d shared years of her life with him, and until recently he had still been around. The dysfunctional ex-boyfriend. The man who knew her better than she knew herself. Even after they broke up she didn’t even try to replace him with something healthier. Diego understood the world she lived in, and burying herself in her work let her avoid nice men who might want to take her out on dates. Maybe even marry her if things really clicked. Settle down. Have a few kids. She could avoid finding out if there was a part of her that wanted that.

  Donny Joe didn’t qualify as one of those nice guys, though. Sure, he’d certainly proven to be a lot nicer than she’d originally given him credit for being. But if she gave Donny Joe a Valentine’s card it would only mean one thing. Plain and simple, it would be an invitation to have sex. There’d be no hearts and flowers, and she didn’t need romantic games to justify anything. It was physical. She’d found herself finding excuses to touch him every time she was close to him the last few days. A touch of his arm. A brush of his leg. A pat on the cheek.

  The signals she’d been sending weren’t too subtle. He was a sexy man, and he woke up that pesky female side she’d been ignoring for too long now. It wasn’t terribly complicated. A roll in the hay. That was his specialty. She was startled to realize she wouldn’t mind. It probably wouldn’t even make their working relationship problematic. She’d only be here short term. And he was good at this sort of thing. From the sounds of things he practically invented the one-night stand.

  It was early evening when she saw him walk across the lawn and speak to Beulah. She was on the front porch planting some of the flowers into a group of pots she’d bought with Noah. Etta watched as she stood up and nodded her head, patted him on the shoulder and waved as he walked back to his house. Then Etta watched as he got in his truck and drove away.

  When she cal
led everyone in for supper she barely let everyone sit down before she asked Beulah what he’d said. “I saw you talking to Donny Joe. Was it about the ham?”

  “He just told me he’ll be over at his grandma’s house keeping an eye on things, but he’d have his phone if we needed him.”

  Etta took a moment to give Noah a stern look. “Well, wasn’t that nice of him. He has really gone out of his way to make sure we don’t need anything. Ever. Hasn’t he, Beulah?”

  Noah looked up from his soup. “From what Beulah’s told me, he’s been a real good neighbor.” Then he went back to eating. He never let much get between him and his food.

  “And why wouldn’t he be?” Etta was going to make sure he knew that she knew he’d treated Donny Joe unfairly. “The absolute best neighbor anyone could ask for.”

  Cousin Beulah was looking at her strangely, but before she could say anything Daphne interrupted. “I know something else about Donny Joe.”

  “What’s that, sweetie?” Beulah turned her attention to her great-niece.

  “He’s going to help coach my soccer team.”

  “When did that happen?” Etta was starting to worry about all the things Daphne was asking Donny Joe to do. She needed to make sure he could say no any time it became too much. She also realized how hard it was to say no to an eight-year-old little girl. She should offer to run interference for him.

  “Rose’s father said the team needed a coach, and so I asked Donny Joe. He said he would, but he doesn’t want to wear a pink shirt. Our shirts are pink, though, so he has to, doesn’t he?”

  Beulah nodded her head thoughtfully. “I’m pretty sure the coaches need to match their teams. Donny Joe will look very nice in a pink shirt.”

  Etta thought Donny Joe would look good enough to eat in a pink shirt, but that wasn’t the kinds of thoughts she should be having at the dinner table. Enough about Donny Joe.

  Daphne hopped up from her chair. “Oh, and here’s the Valentine card you wanted to give him, Aunt Etta.”

  Beulah gave Etta a meaningful look. “You’re giving Donny Joe a Valentine’s card? That’s a surprise.”

  Daphne came to her rescue. “Aunt Etta said I should give them to all my friends so no one feels left out. We didn’t want Donny Joe to feel left out, either.” She stood up and walked over to Mr. Nelson. “Here’s one for you, Mr. Nelson, and one for you, too, Cousin Beulah.”

  Noah looked flustered by the gesture and stammered out a thank you. Beulah beamed like she’d been given a set of pearl earrings. “Why, thank you so much, Daphne. I’m going to put this in my keepsake box.”

  After dinner Etta did the dishes while Daphne finished her homework. Once Daphne had her bath and was tucked into bed, Etta went to her room and put on several layers of warm clothes. Then she went to find Beulah. She was sitting in the living room having coffee with Noah. They were talking quietly and the conversation seemed intense, but they stopped and smiled when she came into the room.

  “Daphne is in bed, and I’m going out, Beulah.”

  “That’s fine, dear.”

  “I may be late.”

  “I won’t wait up.” Beulah stood and walked with her into the hallway. “Etta, don’t be like me. I was too afraid to grab happiness when I had the chance, and it passed me by.”

  Etta peered past Beulah to where Noah sat in the other room. “What happened between you and Noah?”

  “That’s just it. There was no me and Noah. We were friends, and he fell in love with someone else, while I stood by and never said a word.”

  “So, he never knew how you felt?”

  “He knows now. That’s what matters.”

  Etta wrapped Beulah in a big hug. “I love you, Beulah.”

  “I love you, too. Don’t forget a jacket.”

  “Goodnight, then.” Etta walked into the kitchen and picked up the bundle of food she’d wrapped up earlier. She put it in a backpack along with a heavy duty flashlight and put on the heaviest jacket she owned. As she headed toward the back door the little Valentine card Daphne had given her to give Donny Joe caught her eye. Daphne had drawn a yellow cat on one side. Gabe’s likeness captured forever in crayon. She walked over to a drawer and pulled out a ball point pen. She scribbled a few lines on the back, zipped it into her coat pocket, and let herself out into the cold dark night.

  Chapter Twenty

  The backyard was cast in shadows from the lights shining out from the Inn’s back parlor. Etta glanced back at the looming house as she got into one of the golf carts and headed across the back pasture. It was easy to feel small and insignificant as the nighttime gloom swallowed her up. But the cart headlights illuminated her path, bouncing along the rutted field toward the creek. It had occurred to her earlier when this plan had been incubating in her head that she didn’t know how to get to Donny Joe’s old house by driving her car, and she didn’t want to waste time wandering around trying to find it. The most direct route, the one she was familiar with, was to row across Old Town Creek. So what if it was too dark to see and so cold she might freeze her butt off trying? It wasn’t as if she was fording a raging river. She could do this, she thought with grim determination, even as the bitter cold wind whipped through her hair and battered her face, even as tears ran from the corners of her eyes.

  She made it through the gate without a problem. Then she steered down the bank close to the spot where the canoe waited. Gingerly, she climbed into the canoe and took her flashlight from the backpack. This was the tricky part. Rowing and trying to see where she was going at the same time. She used the backpack as a cushion on the seat and nestled the flashlight so it was shining out across the water. Then she started rowing. After a few uncoordinated splashes she wrangled control of the oars and started moving through the water. Even with the flashlight it was so dark she could barely see where she was going. Low clouds darkened the sky, hiding all evidence that the moon and stars were floating somewhere high above the earth.

  Her heart raced with adrenaline as the oars sliced through the sluggish water. Maybe she wasn’t shooting down white water rapids, but still this was quite an adventure. She took big gulps of the frigid night air and pulled on the oars steadily until, after what seemed like a long time, she bumped into the opposite shore. So far, so good, she thought as she stood up to make the hop onto the shore. The boat tilted under her, throwing her off balance. She overcorrected just as the flashlight rolled into the water. She let out a yelp and made a grab for it, but it was gone, and the little light it provided with it. The backpack had fallen to the floor of the canoe so she rescued it and jumped onto the shore. Her left foot slipped and slid into the murky water, but she caught herself before she fell on her butt. With a sigh of relief and both feet back on solid ground she started up the slope, hoping by the time she climbed to the top she’d be able to see better. Surely, Donny Joe would have a campfire or a lantern or something to help her find her way. She slipped to her knees several times and crawled part of the way before she reached level ground. She stood triumphantly, or half stood, rather. She bent over with her hands resting on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She’d made this trip easily with Donny Joe today, but then he’d done all the rowing, it had been broad daylight so she hadn’t had to guess where she was going, and her feet hadn’t been soaked clear through her shoes to the skin. Not to mention the mud that covered her hands and a good part of her clothes. She was a mess.

  She looked around and didn’t see any kind of light. Maybe she’d floated downstream and had come up at a completely different spot. It had taken way too much time to cross such a small creek. It might be better if she turned around and went back home. Or she could swallow her pride and call Donny Joe. He’d get a big kick out of how badly she’d bungled such a simple trip across the creek. But she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. She headed in what felt like the right direction. And then she saw it. A small flicker of light in the distance. She patted herself on the back for her perseverance and then stopped and made an
attempt to brush the worst of the mud from her clothes and hands. She didn’t want to appear looking like the creature from the Black Lagoon.

  And that’s when she heard it.

  The snapping of small sticks on the ground as someone walked hurriedly through the scrub brush. They were coming up behind her. Her first thought was to run, but she soon realized it was too late. Instead she turned to face her attacker, let out a blood-curdling scream, and swung the backpack as hard as she could. The backpack made contact but that didn’t prevent hard ropelike arms from wrapping around her. Her breath was sawing in and out of her chest as she kicked and wriggled to get free.

  “Let go of me, you big oaf. Get your stinking hands off of me, you no-good cowardly mugger.”

  Suddenly her attacker stilled. “Etta? Is that you?”

  She stopped kicking at the sound of the familiar voice. “Donny Joe?” Relief flooded her so quickly she felt weak and sat down on a nearby log.

  He was breathing heavily, too, and sat down beside her. “Were you expecting someone else? From what I understand muggers don’t normally hang out in the woods.”

  “Sorry. That was left over from my self-defense class. They taught us to yell and keep yelling to bring attention to our predicament.”

  “Geez, you scared the life out of me.”

  “I scared you? What were you doing sneaking around in the woods?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking. I think I told more than one person, including you, that I’d be over here tonight.”

  “And I was bringing you some food. Thought I’d see if you needed anything.” Like someone to share your sleeping bag, she thought foolishly.

  “That was very thoughtful, but you could have called first. Given me some warning. I could have walked down to meet you with the lantern instead of trying to chase you down in the dark.”

  That would have been the easy, practical thing to do. The thing she would have normally done. When had she traded in everyday practicality for high-flying adventure? “It was sort of a last minute decision. I thought I’d surprise you.”