Copper Lake Encounter

by Marilyn Pappano

  Steps led to a screened porch, along with a ramp that Mr. Obadiah ignored. A trio of ancient rockers, plus an old wooden church pew, were sheltered inside, and a door with a nine-paned window led into the house. It was small, square, little space wasted on hallways, decorated in the style of decades past, and it felt like home the moment she walked through the door. Delectable smells drifted on the air—beef roast, potatoes, carrots and onions, the usual dinner every fourth Sunday in the Wilson house.

  “I’d have cleaned the clutter if I’d known we’d be entertaining,” Mr. Obadiah said as he hung his hat on a hook inside the door, his suit coat on another.

  “This isn’t clutter,” she disagreed. “This is just living. Besides, you’re entertaining all on your own.”

  With a laugh and a wink, he gestured toward a photograph on the nearest wall. “This here’s my boy when he come to live with me. Good thing he grew into those ears, huh?”

  “Hey, old man,” Ty said with genuine respect. “I got those ears from you.”

  “I accept complete credit for the charm and the intelligence and your way with women, but I’m pretty sure the ears came from your own daddy. Now, you two go on and make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna check on dinner.”

  Nev glanced around the room, its overstuffed furniture in muted floral prints, crocheted doilies and scarves on every table, a scarred wood floor with most of its finish gone covered by a faded fringed rug. As she circled an early American coffee table to sit in an armchair, Ty took a seat on the couch.

  “Kind of like a time capsule, isn’t it? He never wanted to change anything after Grandma died.”

  “I don’t blame him.” She gently stroked the ecru-shaded doilies draped over both arms of the chair. “The memories this room must have...”

  Chapter 3

  She said the words on a soft sigh that settled warm over Ty. He’d brought Kiki here just once, for five minutes, while he dropped off some shopping he’d done for Granddad, and she’d hated everything about it. When he dies, you should just put a match to the whole thing. God, who wants to live like that?

  He’d thought maybe it was because her family had moved a lot with her dad’s job, so she’d never gotten attached to a house, or because she’d lived out of state since high school graduation and didn’t often see them. Truth was, she wasn’t sentimental. She didn’t value old things—or old people, for that matter. She truly didn’t grasp that while Granddad’s death was inevitable, it was also the last thing in the world Ty wanted to think about. He had relatives—lots of aunts and uncles and cousins, maybe a father and half siblings—but Granddad was his real family. His role model, his mentor, his anchor in life.

  Nev got that.

  “Did you know your grandmother?”

  He shook his head. “She’s been gone forty years.”

  “PawPaw passed twenty-nine years ago. Not even two years before I was born. I still miss him.” She gestured toward the photo Granddad had pointed out. “You were six, seven, when you came to live with him?”

  “Seven. My mother died of cancer. My father wasn’t in the picture, so Granddad took me in.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Amen to that.” A sound came from the kitchen—Granddad singing an off-key rendition of “His Eye Is on the Sparrow”—and he glanced that way before looking at her again. “I never got around to asking where you’re from.”

  “Atlanta. Born and raised.”

  “Aw, a big-city girl. Has Copper Lake bored you to death yet?”

  “It’s a nice place. And it’s not that different from Atlanta. Big cities are just usually a bunch of small neighborhoods clumped together.”

  “Uh, yeah, I don’t think so. I went to college in Athens. That was about as big-city as I care to get. Your mom, YaYa and Marieka all live there?”

  Surprise flashed across her face. Surprised he’d paid attention to small details? That was what cops did.

  It was also what men did with incredibly lovely women. The Gadney men agreed Nevaeh Wilson was that.

  “They do. In fact, we all live together in the same house Marieka and I grew up in.” A flush warmed her face. “Kind of silly, isn’t it? Two grown women who haven’t yet left home?”

  “Not at all. I live a couple hundred feet down the street. I know everyone here, I like the neighborhood, the best fishing spots on the river are within a ten-minute walk, and—” he glanced through the doorway that led into the dining room and then the other that opened into the kitchen and lowered his voice “—I can keep an eye on Granddad. Your father’s gone, too?”

  She nodded. “A heart attack. Five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry. But you’ve still got the others. It must be nice to have a sister.”

  With a slight grimace, she crossed her legs, and he took a moment to admire them once again. He’d never had a foot or a shoe fetish, but damn, he noticed now how sexy the right pair of legs could look in a pair of heels.

  “Marieka and I aren’t exactly close. She’s in public relations, and she’s gorgeous—like model-gorgeous. Five foot ten, a hundred twenty pounds, perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect everything.”

  “She sounds bony and boring.”

  That startled a laugh from her, sweet and soulful, like her voice. “Oh, no, she’s beautiful and smart and elegant and witty, and everyone adores her.”

  Did everyone translate to their mother and grandmother? Did they hold up Marieka as the example of what Nev should strive to be? Or did Nev herself think she couldn’t measure up?

  “But...” A gleam of mischief entered her brown eyes. “She can’t carry a tune in a bucket with all ten fingers firmly on the handle.”

  The background music ended as Granddad appeared in the doorway. “Dinner’s ready. What can I fix you to drink, Miss Nevaeh? I have milk, Pepsi, sweet mint tea the way my Genevieve used to make it, or water. Though it’s just from the tap,” he warned. “I don’t pay good money for something I’m already paying good money for.”

  “Sweet mint tea, of course.” She got to her feet with grace, crossed the room and linked arms with Granddad. “What kind of Southerner would drink anything else with Sunday dinner?”

  “Indeed,” Granddad said, arching a brow at Ty before escorting her into the small dining room.

  Shaking his head, Ty followed, well aware that a tall glass of cold milk was already sitting at his place at the table. As he pulled out Nev’s chair for her—another of those ways of showing respect Granddad had taught him by example—he wondered how her gorgeous perfect sister would fit in here today. He couldn’t imagine it would be nearly as well as Nev did. Couldn’t imagine his grandfather wrapped around Ms. Perfect’s little finger the way he was around Nev’s.

  Couldn’t imagine himself thinking bony and boring was nearly as perfect as petite and curvy and sexy.

  They sat at the rectangular table, all three of them automatically bowing their heads for the blessing. That was something else Kiki could never understand. Praying over food? And doing it in public, too? The mere thought made her roll her eyes.

  The conversation came easier than during any meal he could think of in a long time. They talked about Ty’s people, about Nev’s, about church and the city versus Copper Lake. Nev shared Granddad’s taste in music—gospel, blues, jazz—and loved to cook the same dishes. They’d both taught Sunday school and worked a variety of jobs. Granddad was bemused by her current occupation.

  “Pretending to be other people on the computer and getting paid for it.” Granddad shook his head. “You aren’t one of those career women who aren’t interested in settling down and having a family, are you?” He passed the vegetable platter to Nev for a second helping. She hesitated and then took another wedge of potato and a half dozen chunks of carrot.

  “No, I’m one of those women who just
hasn’t found the right man yet,” she replied. “I like my job, but I’m probably going to work until the day I die. I want more than that in my life.”

  “The men in Atlanta must be dumb and blind to not be lined up outside your door.”

  “She didn’t say she hadn’t found a man, Granddad,” Ty pointed out. “She said she hadn’t met the right one.” Though it was hard to believe there weren’t thousands of men in Atlanta who appreciated those legs.

  Nev laughed as she speared a tender chunk of carrot. “They’re lined up at the door, but it’s to see my sister, Marieka, not me. She’s the beautiful, charming one.”

  The noise coming from Granddad’s throat was rudely disbelieving. “Take it from an old man with decades of experience. You’re certainly the most beautiful and charming woman I’ve met since my Genevieve. By the far the most charming my boy’s ever brought home.” He leaned closer conspiratorially. “You could say that last girl he dated was totally charm-free. She carried a gun.”

  Nev leaned closer, too. “But so does he.”

  “Yeah, but he knows how to be polite. She don’t.” Leaning back in his chair, Granddad rested his hands on the table. “Did I mention there’s sweet potato and pecan pies for dessert?”

  After eating her last carrot, Nev flashed a smile at him. “Sounds wonderful, but I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.”

  “Then we’ll have to keep you here until you can. Two pies is too much for Ty and me.”

  She patted his gnarled fingers. “Let me clean up the kitchen, and then we’ll talk about that.”

  Something about that action—a simple touch, gentle as if she knew his joints ached—stirred something in Ty. Their friend, Anamaria, knew the value of a touch, especially for someone older and frailer who found himself increasingly surrounded by people much younger than him. She was always patting or brushing or hugging Granddad, and though Ty hugged him every single day, there was something different about it coming from someone not related to him who valued the contact.

  Nev Wilson wasn’t just lovely. She was a nice woman. Like Genevieve. Like his mother, Rozene.

  And Ty Gadney was a huge sucker for nice women.

  * * *

  Even though Nev tried, Mr. Obadiah didn’t let her help with the cleanup. YaYa was that way, too. A person knew she was no longer a guest and was part of the family when she was allowed into the kitchen to put away leftovers and do dishes. She could probably name only five people in the past ten years granted that status in the Wilson home.

  Banished to the living room, she considered taking her leave, but truth was, she didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to return to the motel, or sightsee, or drive around, or go back to the river, or think about the dreams. She didn’t want to give up Mr. Obadiah’s company yet. Didn’t want to give up Ty’s company yet.

  “I’ve got to go home and let my dog out,” Ty said instead of settling in. Disappointment flashed through her—so much for not giving up his company yet—and then he went on. “It’s just down the street. Those shoes up to that?”

  Heat curled through her. “They may look impractical—well, they are impractical—but I’ve been wearing heels since I was thirteen. My feet are used to them now.”

  “Good. Granddad, I’m taking Nev to meet Frank,” he called before gesturing toward the door.

  The heat outside approached stifling, making her realize how comfortable and quiet Mr. Obadiah’s house had been. Central air, probably put in by Ty. He was the sort to take care of his grandfather, just as she was the sort to take care of YaYa. Her grandmother was fond of saying, Thank God for you. Marieka wouldn’t even bother putting me in a home. She’d just forget about me.

  Sad but probably true.

  They walked down the steps and to the street and then turned right. The beagle bayed again, but the children had gone inside, probably called in for dinner. Down toward the end of the street, another dog barked, a big, throaty sound.

  Ty loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves up his muscular forearms before flashing a grin at her. “I think Granddad has a crush on you.”

  The thought made her smile. Would YaYa consider Mr. Obadiah hot? Probably. People in their prime had a way of seeing what had once been as opposed to what was now. “That’s my fate in life. Elderly men and small children adore me while men in my age range can’t see me for Marieka.”

  Listening to her own words, she frowned. “I sound resentful, but I’m not. I love my sister, even if she did get the looks and the good genes and the ability to stick to a diet. I do date, and I’m not interested in the men who are interested in her. We’re very different people with very different tastes. I do wish we were a little closer—I’ve got friends who are best friends with their sisters—but...” She shrugged. “Like I said, we’re very different.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Ty said.

  Nev was wondering on which part—the looks, the good genes, the ability to stick to a diet. Well, not the last. That was the obvious from the curves she carried. But the huge bark sounded again, nearer this time, coming from the house they appeared to be heading for. “Is that your dog?”

  “It is. You like dogs?”

  “Yeah. My mom has a dachshund. She tries to bite me whenever Mom isn’t looking, but I don’t think she’s serious about it since she’s never succeeded.” Nev had gotten very skilled at sidestepping or carefully swatting away the animal when her mother wasn’t looking. If the mutt made Lima happy, then it had earned a place in the house.

  Besides, the dog disliked Marieka even more than it did Nev.

  “I guarantee you, Frank won’t try to bite.” Ty turned into a driveway where a black SUV gleamed under the midday sun.

  Another woof sounded, this one from the front window of a neat, square house. It was a little bigger than his grandfather’s place, but not by much, and had a similarly large porch, easily the size of the front two rooms, screened in. The yard had recently been mowed, the sidewalk edged, and bright flowers filled the beds along the front of the house.

  It wasn’t at all what she would expect of a young, single man but exactly what she would expect, she realized, of Obadiah Gadney’s grandson. Not just a house. A home.

  He took out his keys after they’d reached the porch and then rubbed his hand over his head as he looked back at her. “You might want to have a seat in one of those chairs.”

  She did as he suggested, choosing a wicker chair with stripes in bold colors, sitting primly, legs crossed.

  At the sound of the key inserted into the lock, nails scrabbled across wooden floors and a huffing sounded like a distant freight train coming nearer. A solid body hit the door, forcing Ty to open it by inches, muttering to the dog to back off until he managed to get the space wide enough for the animal to wiggle through. A black blur raced across the porch to the screen door, his big head ducking to push it open, and then he froze, sniffed the air and slowly turned in Nev’s direction.

  He was quite possibly the biggest dog she’d ever been near, solid black with paws the size of dinner plates. His ears stood straight up from his head, and his long ropy tail quivered fast enough, hard enough, to create a low hum. Big brown eyes stared at her, blinking only once before he launched at her.

  She couldn’t help it. She shrieked and twisted to one side in the chair, drawing both feet off the floor, raising both arms to ward off an attack that didn’t come.

  “Frank.” That was all it took, one word from Ty, and the animal skidded to a stop, his front feet sliding beneath her chair, his warm doggy breath fanning her face, a giant pink tongue hanging from the corner of his mouth. She would swear he was grinning at her, as if it had all been a joke; he’d never really intended to crush her to death in the chair.

  His master was grinning, too, as he came over to stroke between the upright ears. “Fran
k, meet Nev.”

  Still grinning, the dog raised his right front paw. Feeling foolish, she settled her feet on the floor again, lowered her arms, tried to pretend she hadn’t been about to curl into the fetal position and die, and she hesitantly took the dog’s paw.

  He wasn’t the prettiest dog she’d ever seen. Except for the ears, his head looked just like the Lab that lived across the street back home. His body, on the other hand, was as lean and muscular as a Great Dane’s, or maybe a pony’s, and those ears looked like giant antennae seeking signals from deep space.

  But as he pulled his tongue back into his mouth, lowered his chin to her knee and looked at her with soulful eyes, she remembered beauty wasn’t everything. Wasn’t anything, really. It was what was inside that counted.

  Hesitantly she patted the dog’s head and then scratched lightly between his ears. His eyes rolled up into his head, and his solid body leaned against the chair, moving it an inch or so on the board floor.

  “Now you’ve made a friend for life.” Ty walked to the screen door, opened it and called, “Come on, Frank. She’ll be here when you get back.”

  The dog leaped, reaching the door in one jump and then the ground in another. Head lowered, he sniffed frantically around the yard, twisting this way and that, before finding a place to pee at the base of the live oak.

  “Same search every time, and then he uses the same place every time.” Ty gave a rueful shake of his head. “Granddad says he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but hey...”

  “He’s impressive.” Nev knew better than to insult someone’s pet. Besides, it would take a colder-hearted woman than her to resist that happy wiggle, big eyes and adorable smile.

  “You want a tour?” He gestured toward the door. “I’ve been doing some work on the place, so it’s not as neat as it could be, but I promise, it’s cooler inside than out.”