Choosing Charleston

by T. Lynn Ocean

  “There’s no job to finish, Robert,” I said through gritted teeth, the back of the chair cutting into my neck. “You burned out all three nests before you killed Jerry.”

  “Wrong again, bitch!” He released my hair with a jerk. “I saw another hole when I was up there, but then your Jerry fellow showed up asking questions before I could get to it.”

  He grabbed my lower lip in a vice-like grip and moved it as though I was a puppet and he was making me talk. “Say it, Carly! Say, ‘I was wrong’!”

  I jerked my head forward and bit his finger. I may have gotten two or three. Enraged, he left me to rummage through Mamma’s kitchen drawers until he found a weapon. It was a carving knife. He tested the blade’s sharpness against the side of his thumb, as though he were going to cut slices of meat from the breast of a roasted bird.

  The situation was out of control and I was helpless. I mentally begged Trent to hurry, wondering if I really had seen his truck or just wished for it. I was thinking that I might have imagined it when the door to the back screen porch opened with its signature squeak.

  “Carly?” Trent called.

  Cocking his head, Robert moved out of Trent’s view and stood silently with his back against the wall. When Trent walked into the kitchen, he’d see me but he wouldn’t see the knife coming at him.

  “Carly? Where are you?”

  By his footsteps, we could hear Trent approaching the kitchen. Robert raised the carving knife above his head.

  “Trent! Watch out!” I yelled and lunged at Robert, dragging the chair with me. My knee collapsed and I fell to the floor.

  Barking filled my ears and Taffy sailed over me at the same time Trent came into view. His attention diverted by the dog, Robert was a second late in swinging the knife and Trent deflected the pointed blade with the palm of his hand.

  Cursing, Robert swung the knife back and forth in front of him as he advanced toward Trent. I scooted across the floor like an inchworm, trying to move into a position to be of some help, but Taffy was protectively keeping herself between me and the fighting men.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way, Robert,” Trent said, barely jumping out of the way each time the blade arced in front of his gut.

  “Yeah,” Robert snarled, lunging forward with the knife. “It does.”

  Trent dropped into a squatting position and came up ramming his shoulder into Robert’s crotch. When Robert staggered, Trent threw an uppercut that caught him on the jaw, and followed it with another punch to the side of the face.

  Robert was dazed, but his grip on the knife didn’t loosen and he lunged at Trent yet again. Dodging the blade, Trent slipped on a piece of watermelon rind and went down. He tried to roll away, but his back was against the dishwasher, and there was nowhere to go. With an evil grin, Robert raised the knife high above his head.

  “Don’t do it, Robert!” Granny shouted, stepping over me and the chair I was attached to. She held a side-by-side shotgun waist high, pointed in front of her.

  Registering the gun, Robert froze for a fraction of a second.

  “Screw you all!” he yelled and spun around until the knife was poised above me.

  An explosive shot rang out and echoed through the house. Robert screamed and went down, landing just inches away from me.

  The aftermath of silence lasted only a second, but seemed like minutes passing in slow motion as I took inventory of the situation. I was alive and hadn’t been stabbed or shot. Granny and Trent were okay. And Robert was going to jail, where he could never hurt me again.

  Taffy’s wet nose was the first thing I became aware of. I was still in a tangle on the kitchen floor and she was licking the blood off my face. And then suddenly Trent was beside me, cutting my hands loose and picking me up and carrying me to the sofa. And before I could ask if she was okay, Granny was there too, peering into my eyes, asking if any of my bones felt broken. She still gripped the shotgun and a barely visible trail of smoke curled out the end of the barrel that was now pointed at the ceiling.

  “The knife…” I sputtered. I didn’t trust Robert. Wounded or not, he was crazy enough to keep coming after us.

  “The knife is in the kitchen sink. And you don’t need to worry about him anymore,” Trent said, pushing the matted hair out of my face to get a better look at my injuries. “She about tore his shoulder and arm off.”

  “I shot him good,” Granny said.

  Robert moaned and called for help.

  “I was goin’ for his chest, but Taffy got in the way,” Granny apologized. “I didn’t want to put any pellets in her!”

  I had to smile.

  Trent immobilized my knee with some pillows and retrieved a bag of frozen peas for my face before calling nine-one-one. Despite that I was battered and bloody and pain was rapidly settling in all over my body, I felt deliriously good.

  Granny sat on a chair next to the sofa and arranged the shotgun across her legs with the end of the barrel pointed at Robert.

  He moaned some more.

  “You shut your trap or I’ll shoot you again,” Granny said. “I’ve got a shell in the other barrel and I’ll bet I could blow a hole smack through your belly now that Taffy’s out of my way!”

  The moaning stopped.

  Granny was lucid and I’d never been happier to see her. She saved my life. And quite possibly, Trent’s.

  Since I was having trouble talking through my rapidly swelling mouth, Granny gave Trent a condensed version of events while we waited for the police and ambulances to arrive. Her explanation ended with an indignant, “I woke up in the bathtub! He hit me on the side of my head and threw me in there like some drunk at a barn brawl.”

  Even though Granny insisted she was fine, Trent convinced her to go to the hospital with me and let the doctors take a look at her head.

  As I wondered about Granny’s head, a curious thought entered mine. “How did you get the gun? I thought Daddy keeps them locked up.”

  “Of course he keeps ‘em locked up. But that don’t mean I don’t know the combination to the gun safe!”

  “I love you Granny,” I said through a puffy face. “You’re the best.”

  “I love you, too,” she told me. “You just be sure an’ pick you out a better one next time. Somebody like this here Trent boy. Now, he’s a keeper.”

  Trent gave my hand a squeeze and smiled at the compliment. “Yes, Carly Stone, your grandmother is right. I am a keeper. And I can’t tell you how thankful I am that you came into my life.”

  The sound of distant sirens entered the room and slowly grew louder.

  Listening, Granny harrumphed. “Those fireman boys sure do have tight butts,” Granny told Trent, staring curiously at him. “Have I met you before, Dear?”

  “Yes ma’am. And you liked me, too,” he answered as he gently took the gun from her and switched the safety on.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “You did it Little Girl,” Daddy said.

  “We did it!” I corrected. Even though a brace ran from my ankle to my thigh, I had the same sense of elation an athlete might experience after crossing the finish line of a marathon. In first place.

  Mamma’s kitchen table was full and my sister was busy washing dishes. She had flown in the day before with her entire family, a publicist, the president of In Home Now and Precious.

  Cheryl had accepted my invitation to fly down for a few days and meet my family, and was engrossed in a conversation with Jenny about a new do-it-yourself permanent makeup system that one of the In Home Now interns tested. The college student declared it a failure after her permanently blushed cheeks turned green, and was threatening to sue the manufacturer.

  Lori Anne had taken the day off work to be my ‘personal assistant’ at the big meeting, and was trying to convince Granny that becoming a brunette would not make her look younger.

  And, Jack, Mister Protter and Trent were at the table discussing the details of the partnership.

  After the meeting with Handyman’s Depot
, the three of them had accepted Mamma’s invitation to join us for a late lunch of grilled hotdogs with pineapple slaw and homemade banana pudding for dessert.

  Even though my teeth finally felt solid in my mouth again, I couldn’t eat. I was too excited. And I couldn’t keep my eyes off Trent. I didn’t even care if anyone caught me staring.

  The afternoon before, he and I had met up with my ornithologist friend at the construction site and found a fourth woodpecker nest. And a fifth. Both were much higher up than the first three and active with birds, despite the fire. I had been overjoyed and, jumping around on one leg, hugged Trent. He hugged back, even though the discovery could have meant trouble for him.

  We’d driven to the beach afterward, to sit and picnic and be with each other. He explained some things to me about commercial construction and I explained to him the differences between mediation, arbitration and litigation. We planned a scuba diving trip to Mazatlán as soon as my knee healed from the orthoscopic surgery, we decided to spend a week in Florida as soon as the shopping center opened and we set a date to go sailing on his boat the following week. And then we kissed like two hormone-saturated adolescents until the sun dropped and the breeze raised chill bumps on my bare arms.

  Two days later, wildlife officials determined it was in the best interest of the birds to immediately relocate them because of all the fire damage to their environment. Trent happily agreed to pay the associated costs.

  “The meeting was a smashing success,” Mamma said to her houseful of guests, radiating joy. “Jo Jo couldn’t say enough good things about a partnership with In Home Now.”

  Mister Protter laughed. “And couldn’t thank Trent enough for arranging the deal. Little did he know that it was all your daughter’s doing and that we were blackmailed into it!”

  “Blackmail is kind of a strong word,” I said, feeling drunk even though my glass only held sweet tea.

  “You’re right,” Mister Protter agreed. “How about gently persuaded?”

  “That’s better,” I said. “And anyway, wouldn’t you agree that everything worked out for the best?”

  “I’ll concede you that point, young lady. You’re going to make one fine lawyer.”

  Cheryl joined us at the table. “You’re right, she will, because she was one fine mediator. And now that she’s gotten a taste of some ‘whup-ass’, she’ll be an unstoppable lawyer!”

  I smiled.

  “Anyway, I always knew she should have been litigating instead of mediating,” Cheryl added.

  “Well,” Jack said. “I’m very pleased that she accepted the offer to work for my law firm,” Jack said.

  “She did?” Lori Anne said, plopping down at the table. Yes, Jack told her. We’d met yesterday and agreed to the terms of my employment.

  “Awesome! Of course, we’ll need to get her a new haircut before she starts. Maybe some crown highlights with reddish lowlights. We’ll go for a sexy, powerful look.”

  “She could do that look well,” Cheryl agreed.

  “Would everybody please quit talking about me like I’m not here?” I said.

  “Everyone is just happy for you,” Jack said through a mouthful of banana pudding. “You’re fortunate to have such a great family and such good friends, Carly.”

  He had a face that could make him anyone’s grandfather. It was a face that had probably fooled many of his opponents into believing that he was a pushover. I’d done some research on the man after Trent told me about the job offer. Jack was a warrior. He was also a saint. And in court, he was unbeatable. I couldn’t wait to start work.

  “You’re right, Jack,” I said, beaming through all the makeup Jenny had artistically applied to cover my bruises, “I am fortunate.”

  “Congratulations on your new job,” Daddy said, circling behind me and eyeing what food remained on the table in much the same way that Taffy would if she could stand upright.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He stopped beside Granny and reached for her plate. “Are you finished with this?”

  “Yup,” she said. “I’m downright full.”

  He dumped the contents of her plate, a few remaining bites of hot dog and some baked beans, into a pie tin before moving on.

  “What is Daddy doing?” Jenny said.

  “He’s feeding the coons,” Sherry and Stacy answered in unison, sounding very grown up.

  “Coons!” Hunter said.

  “You feed the raccoons now?” Jenny asked Daddy. “Like a cat or a dog or something?”

  “It keeps them out of the trash,” Daddy told her, eyeing a half-eaten bowl of banana pudding that she’d put on the counter to save for later. “Were you going to finish that?”

  “Yes!” she said and stuck it in the refrigerator before he could get to it. “Besides, I thought you aroma-therapied them into passivity.”

  “It was a good theory,” Mamma said, “but your Aroma-magic Ionizer and Environment Enhancer didn’t stop them from getting into the trash at all. They just took their time about it. They got to where they wouldn’t even run off if you caught them. They’d just look at you and grin.”

  “Feeding them was actually your granny’s idea,” Daddy said. “Sometimes the simplest solution is right in front of you the whole time.”

  “Exactly!” I said. “You just have to get--”

  “Off the end of the church pew to see it,” Trent finished for me.

  We grinned stupidly at each other until we realized everyone was watching us watch each other.

  “He means that sometimes you have to look at the bigger picture,” I explained to Jack, who wasn’t familiar with Daddy’s stained glass window lesson.

  “Bigger picture, huh?” Jack said, polishing off his pudding and scanning the table for more.

  “Take me and Carly, for example,” Trent said, displaying the miniscule dimples I couldn’t get enough of. “Before I looked at the bigger picture, all I saw was a royal pain in the ass. Now I see an intelligent, incredibly beautiful woman. One I plan on spending a lot of time with.”

  I blushed. And felt like a giddy teenager.

  Precious growled at something that none of us could see.

  “That poodle-dog’s done gone and gotten itself bit by a rabid fox, I do believe,” Granny said.

  Jenny rolled her eyes and managed to look glamorous doing it. “My little Precious doesn’t have rabies.”

  “Who’s having babies?” Granny said.

  Trent leaned over and whispered into my ear, “I love your family.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I love them, too.”

  His next words were spoken loudly, boldly. “And I love you, Carly Stone.”

  My heart stopped and time stood still and every other cliché that I’d ever heard about romance came true for me at that moment.

  “So then, the two of you is having babies?” Granny asked.

  “I’ll think we’ll just date for a while first,” Trent told her, “And save the baby thing for later. After we’re married.”

  “Good grief,” was all I could think of.

  That, and me and Trent, making love. And making more love. And having babies. One baby, anyway. In two or three years.

  Granny harrumphed at a still-growling Precious and left the table.

  Daddy opened a bottle of champagne and distributed a flute to everyone, assuring my sister that bubbly did indeed go well with banana pudding.

  After filling the glasses, Mamma raised hers high in the air. “To new friends and new beginnings.”

  “And to Charleston,” Lori Anne said.

  “And to ‘lawyering’ instead of mediating!” Daddy said.

  “And looking at the bigger picture,” Trent and I added.

  The room was so full of joviality and promise, nobody noticed when Precious circled the table and stopped at Jack’s briefcase to growl at it.

  Except Granny. She’d returned to the kitchen and was pointing a pump action shotgun at the dog. The butt of the weapon was firmly pla
nted against her shoulder and the stock was tight against her cheek as she lined up the bead with her canine target.

  “Granny, no!” Jenny and I shouted in unison.

  Precious looked up to see the end of a barrel looking back and, amazingly, stopped growling.

  “I’d better change the combination on that lock,” was all Daddy said.

  Other Books by T. Lynn Ocean

  Carolina Booty

  Mayhem in Myrtle Beach

  Southern Fatality (A Jersey Barnes thriller)

  Southern Poison (A Jersey Barnes thriller)

  Southern Peril (A Jersey Barnes thriller)

  If you enjoyed T. Lynn Ocean's book, please take a moment to leave an online review

  For more information, visit www.TLynnOcean.com