by Kristie Cook
“The farther south you go in Florida, the more north the culture,” Jeric said. “And most parts of Miami are more Cuban or Haitian or Dominican than American.”
“What kind of Coke?” the woman asked again.
“Oh, uh, just make it a sweet tea,” Jeric answered.
“Alrighty then. Your menu’s on the table, and our special of the day is chicken-fried steak, gravy, mashed potatoes, corn, and collard greens.”
I pulled the paper menu from its slot between the metal napkin dispenser and the salt and pepper shakers. Traditional Southern offerings had my mouth watering, and I couldn’t decide.
“Are ya’ll ready to order?” asked another female voice, though this one was younger and right in front of our table.
When I looked up, I gasped.
“Hey,” the redhead said with a smile as she placed our drinks on the table. “I know ya’ll! You finally came back, huh?”
She looked over at Jeric and blushed, proving that she remembered more than just our faces. How could that be when the rest of the world who’d known us before the Forging had forgotten we existed? Was it because of the timing of when she’d met us—while we were in transition, so to speak? Or something else entirely?
But it wasn’t the familiarity of Bethany’s face or the fact that she’d brought Jeric to her place when he was drunk or even that she remembered us that left me speechless. It was something about the girl herself. About her soul. Once again, as I had the very first day we met in the RV park’s office, I felt a faint twinge of recognition, but that wasn’t what got to me either. Maybe our souls had met in the past, but the feeling was so weak that I was more inclined to believe that she simply reminded me of someone I’d known from a dance camp or something. Although, I had to admit, the feeling was actually stronger now than it had been last time. Maybe there was more to our mutual pasts, but still, I could barely think about that.
The sadness, the despair, the Darkness that tainted her soul mesmerized me. I’d felt a blanket of Darkness outside, but now it all seemed concentrated into her perfectly curved little body.
“You okay?” she asked me, her blue eyes darkening with concern.
I blinked.
“Are you?” I blurted. “I mean … no, you’re not. You’re not okay at all, are you?”
“Leni,” Jeric snapped in a harsh whisper. “What’s wrong with you?”
I blinked again and looked at him, then back at Bethany, then back at him. He raised his brow with a question. I closed my eyes briefly and inhaled a long breath. When I opened them, he and Bethany still stared at me, her eyes wide.
“I’m, uh, I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I just … felt …”
“It’s okay,” she said, and she smiled, although I didn’t know if it was Southern charm or real relief that brought it on. “It’s been a long day and it’s not even two, so yeah, I’m kind of draggin’. Liz’beth, the gal who took your drink order, she’s an empath, too, and knew it right away like you just did. She does it all the time—knows my feelin’s and moods and all, ya know—so I’m kinda used to it.”
I gave her a weak smile and nodded stupidly. Empath? I didn’t even know they existed outside of books and movies, but I did know what I felt was more than Bethany’s current feelings and mood. What I felt went deeper. Lasted longer. Maybe even across lifetimes.
“So ya’ll need more time?” she asked as she tapped her pen against her order pad.
“Um …” I looked to Jeric. Before she’d walked up, I’d been telling him how everything sounded good, and seeing that I was speechless, he ordered a fried chicken platter for me and the daily special for himself.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off Bethany as she wrote our order down. Something glinted in the side of her nose—a piercing. I didn’t remember that from before. She also had new ink that peeked out from the collar of her gray t-shirt, which said “Memaw’s Diner” across the front in cracked blue lettering. Another tattoo showed from under her sleeve on her upper arm. She’d been dressed so skimpily the last two times I saw her, surely I would have noticed the tats. Or would I have? I hadn’t exactly been so enthralled with her before.
She glanced at me when Jeric finished, and her brows pushed together for the briefest of moments, and for some reason, the expression made my heart stutter. Then I came to my senses: she gave me that look because I’d been staring. She was already headed for the kitchen when I snapped out of it.
“You all right?” Jeric asked when I looked back at him.
I shook my head, as though a haze had been filling it and doing so would clear it out. I leaned over the table and whispered, “I can feel something in her, and between her and the Darkness in this town, I think we do need to stay here for a while. It may even be her the Lakari are here for.”
Jeric raised a single eyebrow, glanced toward the kitchen, then back at me. “Would it really be that easy?”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if it’s easy or hard if I’m right, does it?”
Jeric studied my face for a moment, and then nodded. “True. But we should observe for a while, make sure it’s her.”
Jeric and his need for observation and knowing all the facts. “I feel it, Jeric.”
“I get it, babe. I don’t doubt you do. But we just got into town. Maybe she’s not the only one with a hurting soul. Maybe someone else is worse off. Closer to going Dark. Maybe there aren’t even Lakari here.”
The longer we were here, though, the more sure I felt about the Darkness hovering—both over the town and in this girl. If my instincts were right, it really had been this easy. Of course, I wasn’t exactly confident in my instincts yet, but I could always hope the Book would help us out.
A few minutes later, Bethany placed our food in front of us, and again, I couldn’t tear my gaze from her face. From her eyes, especially. As though they really were windows to the soul.
“Let me know if ya’ll need anything,” she said, but she stood there, with me staring at her and her staring at Jeric until it became extremely awkward. Then she blurted out, “Weren’t you deaf?”
I finally tore my eyes away from her and looked at Jeric, who shared my same momentary panic. We hadn’t planned for this. We hadn’t expected anyone to remember we existed, let alone details like Jeric’s hearing.
“Hearing aid,” I quickly replied.
“Surgery,” Jeric said at the same time. Another moment of awkwardness passed. Then he looked away from me and gave Bethany his most winning smile. “I had an operation, and they implanted a special kind of hearing aid.”
Bethany gazed at him for a long moment, then at me, and then scrunched her brows.
“Um, okay then. That’s really awesome,” she said with false excitement before turning away again. She must have been only curious, but didn’t really care. Or maybe we’d weirded her out too much for her to second-guess us.
I looked down at my plate and wrinkled my nose. “You got me collard greens?”
“Oh, crap. Sorry, babe, I forgot. Hey, Bethany?” Jeric called, and the girl turned around.
She wore an expectant smile as she returned to our table, although it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I don’t go by Bethany anymore. Too many bad memories go with it,” she said, and she tapped a fingernail against her nametag. The “thany” part had been blacked out with a permanent marker, and painted on top with what looked like white nail polish was a simple X. “It’s Bex now.”
The way she said it—her tone, the glint in her eyes, how her lips quivered with more of a smirk than a friendly smile—felt like a freightliner slamming into me. Memories of me as Jacey with her best friend Bex flooded over me, and my body trembled with the realization. She was Bex. That Bex, one and the same. She’d been murdered last time, but she hadn’t been completely Dark, so the Lakari hadn’t tak
en her soul. But from what I felt from her now, they just might be able to this time. I wondered how many lifetimes she’d been like this.
And then another thought occurred to me that made me practically jump out of my seat. I slammed back into it before making an ass of myself with some kind of nonsense she’d never understand, but not before knocking my plate and drink across the table and onto the floor … which resulted in me making an ass of myself after all.
“Ohmagosh,” Bex squealed. “Are you okay?”
My mouth was too dry to speak, but somehow I forced out a grunt that sounded like “yeah.”
“I need to clean this up, but I’ll get you a new order in.” She hurried off, probably completely freaked by my behavior.
But I couldn’t help it.
“Jeric.” I clawed excitedly at his hand, trying to grab it.
“What was that all about?”
“It’s her, Jeric. I’m almost positive.”
“Who? Bex?”
“Yeah. Jacey’s Bex. And not just that … Jeric, I had this thought that she might even be Rebethannah.”
Chapter 7
“Butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I can’t believe that just happened,” Elizabeth said as I stomped into the kitchen. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I muttered. My hands gripped the bus tray as I called out to the cook, “Aunt Faye, we need another fried chicken platter. Green beans instead of collard greens.”
Aunt Faye wasn’t my aunt—she was Elizabeth’s and they owned the diner together—but we all called her Aunt Faye anyway. Memaw’s Diner was opened decades ago by Aunt Faye’s actual memaw, and the building itself had been in their family since it was built in the 1800s. The place was definitely haunted, but what just happened was no ghost. That chick was off her flippin’ rocker. And no bless her heart added to that. Not in my head, anyway. I didn’t give a shit about her heart or anything else at the moment.
As I pushed my way through the swinging door, I wished I could shoot arrows out of my eyes at the girl. Instead, I remembered Grams’ words I heard every morning for years before walking out the door: “Don’t forget to put on your smile, the mos import’nt thang you can wear.” Of course, if I walked out the door with nothing but a smile, she would have eaten her words, God rest her soul, but that was the Southern way. So I grinned ear to ear as I headed for the mess on the floor in front of the table with Mr. Hawtness and his nutters girlfriend.
Even now, she wouldn’t stop staring at me.
Weirdo. I hadn’t blamed her when she thought I’d messed with her boyfriend that one time, and I actually thought she was pretty cool in a daring kind of way when I saw her dance on the mechanical bull out at Sullivan’s Bar at the truck stop. She’d seemed pretty normal then. Now? She freaked me out. Why did she keep staring at me? I swear, there was hunger in her eyes, as if she wanted to devour me rather than the food she’d pretty much thrown on the floor. Were they wanting a threesome or something? Is that what was up?
Wow. That was new for me, and I’d done some pretty kinky shit. Girls weren’t exactly my thing, although if I did do a girl, I guess I’d do her. She was gorgeous, with big green eyes, smooth, bronze skin that I would kill for, and light brown curls that fell past her shoulders. A little curvier than mine, her body was pretty hot, too. And him? Yeah, I’d taken advantage of his drunken state before for a reason—talk about a body to die for, and those blue eyes and dimples melted bones—but I’d never been rejected by a guy before, especially not a drunk one. If she hadn’t made my day go from bad to worse, maybe I would have considered a roll in the hay with both of them. Or maybe not. Damn. I was going to hell just thinking about it.
“Here, let me help you.” Crazy girl was on her knees next to me, reaching her hands out to scoop the pile of chicken, taters and gravy, greens, and broken plate.
I moved my arm in front of her, blocking her hands. The last thing Elizabeth and Aunt Faye needed was a lawsuit because she cut her hands open. Yankee out-of-towners would be all over that shit.
“Oh, no, I’ll take care of it,” I insisted. “You just sit down and don’t worry your pretty little head over it. Your food will be out in a minute.”
The bus tray was pulled away, though, as a new pair of jean-clad legs knelt down beside me.
“I got this,” said a familiar male voice that made my belly quiver and my throat tighten even though I hadn’t heard it in years. “Go get her food.”
My eyes slowly lifted, taking in the jeans that strained across thick thigh muscles, the wide belt buckle at the narrow waist, the Stu’s Bait and Tackle tan t-shirt that stretched over pecs, shoulders, and biceps that had been smaller when the shirt was bought, and up to full lips spread into a smile and hazel eyes framed by dark lashes longer than Sissy’s fake ones staring at me from under a red baseball cap. As if I didn’t have a thing for guys in baseball caps. As if I hadn’t once had a thing for this particular guy. As if I’d thought my day couldn’t get any crappier.
“Go on now,” Ty Daniels insisted. “You’re lettin’ her food get cold.”
Without a word, I stood and strode for the kitchen, and not because crazy girl’s plate was ready yet or because I was following Ty’s orders, but because I needed a moment. Lots of moments.
“What the hell is he doin’ back?” I seethed out loud as soon as the kitchen door swung closed. I leaned against the wall and stomped my foot. Yeah, I actually stomped my foot. And my hands formed fists at my sides. My eyes stung, but with tears of anger and frustration. I will not cry over him. I will not cry over him.
“Oh, baby girl, I meant to tell ya,” Elizabeth said as she wrapped her arms around me. She’d been my boss for years, as well as a friend—as good a friend as a boss could be. Since Grams died two months ago, she’d kind of taken on a mama role because my own mama had run out years ago. Well, she’d found a way to wiggle herself back into our lives recently, but she hadn’t been a real mama to me since … since I was born, really. Grams, God rest her soul, pretty much raised my sister and me the best she could. “I heard he came in overnight.”
How had I not noticed? He lived next door to me. Was he staying somewhere else? Of course, I’d left home before the butt-crack of dawn this morning, so his trailer was probably still dark. It didn’t matter. I drew in a deep breath and forced my heart to slow to normal.
“It’s okay,” I said through another breath. “I’m not gonna let him get to me. I’m over him. His loss. I’ve moved on.”
“That’s my girl,” Elizabeth said as she gave me another squeeze before letting me go. She lifted my chin with her knuckles and scrutinized my face.
“I’m serious, Liz’beth. I’m done with him.” And I was. Ty Daniels was no longer a prickly thistle stuck to my heart.
Having grown up in the same trailer park, we’d known each other for as long as we could both remember. There’d been those couple of years Mama had moved us away, but as soon as we came back, Ty was knocking on the door, ready to play, no questions asked. That’s what I’d liked about him. We’d been buddies for years, and then in high school, it became something more. But he was never right for me and I wasn’t right for him, which he pretty much told me right after his graduation and right before he took off for the Army. He left me back home to finish my own schooling a year later, never sending word, even when he went off to Afghanistan. It took me a while to realize he was right. Ty Daniels wasn’t good for me. He wasn’t The One I was sure was out there, somewhere, looking for me.
So why did I have to react to him the way I had? If only my body would realize just how bad he is … and forget just how good he is.
“The big stuff’s all cleaned up, but I need a mop to get the rest,” Ty said as he came into the kitchen with the bus tray under one arm.
Elizabeth gave him a warm smile and took the container from him. “
Thanks, Ty, but you don’t need to do that. You don’t work here anymore, remember? In fact, it’s been some time since you did.”
“Yes, ma’am, but I never forgot what you taught me. Never ignore a pretty girl’s needs.” His eyes cut over to me as one corner of his mouth lifted in a grin.
I snorted and rolled my eyes before taking the plate Aunt Faye had just placed on the counter. I’d rather put up with crazy girl than Ty and how my body betrayed me around him. My damn belly quivered with that one crooked smile. Quivered! But even with the threat of going to hell hanging over my head, a threesome with these guys would be much better for me than anything with Ty Daniels. They’d be on their way again afterward, and so would Ty, but only he would leave me with another broken heart.
Ty took a seat at a two-top table, and although Elizabeth waited on him, I was completely and fully aware of his presence. I’d barely even noticed when Mr. Hawtness and his girlfriend scooted out, although I did notice the nice tip they left me. I half expected a note to meet them at their camper, but there was none. Maybe I’d misread their intentions. Thank God and baby Jesus. The girl’s craziness had been enough to deal with when it came to those two. And with Sissy’s phone message she’d left here during this morning’s breakfast rush, then Ty’s sudden appearance, I really didn’t need anything more added to my plate today, thank you very much.
“Bethany, sweetheart,” Ty said after Elizabeth had cleared his table and disappeared into the kitchen. I’d been too busy wiping tables and checking condiments to notice we were the only two left in the dining room.
“Don’t call me that,” I said, and it came out harsher than I intended. The “sweetheart” part made my knees weak, which annoyed the crap out of me, and the “Bethany” part was like nails on a chalkboard. He was one of those bad memories tied to that name, but only a minor one. Mostly I hated it because it reminded me of the daddy I’d never really known, who’d given the name to me, and my mama, who used it against me every chance she got. I was sure she blamed me for his not being with us anymore. The way she used to draw out my name but cut it short at the same time—Bettttth’neeee—because she was too trashed to say it right still made my skin crawl. I’d gotten over it for a while—suppressed the memories, a fancy head doctor would probably say—until she called two months ago. That’s when I decided to never go by that name again. Unfortunately, in a small town, it was hard to get people who knew you all your life to change their ways. “It’s Bex now. And if you call me Bethany again, I’ll punch you in the nose.”