Riding the Thunder

by Deborah MacGillivray

  “Is this a test? No one said anything about a test. I’m really good on killer leeches, Vincent Price and Boris Karloff. Did you know Karloff’s real name was William Henry Platt? Remember the old Song “Monster Mash,” where the guy sounded like Karloff? Karloff actually sang the song himself on television once! Now how many people know that?” The man beamed at his esoteric acumen.

  “I’m sure you are a killer at Trivial Pursuit.”

  Colin fetched a Dr Pepper and twisted off the top. “So why do you need the lock changed?” Using the cap, he arched it into the trashcan. “He shoots! He scores!”

  Observing the strange man with the irritating, yet oddly likable personality, Jago shook his head. In his role for Mershan International, it was commonplace for him to look high-powered corporate executives in the eye, wait for them to ‘blink,’ then walk away with whatever Desmond had wanted from the negotiations. His incisive mind, the ability to assess quickly another’s strengths and weaknesses served him well, thus saw him a good judge of character. It didn’t ring true Colin would break into his bungalow simply to steal a letter that had little value to him. Except . . . except he could use it to show Asha that her lover was lying to her. It was clear Colin was in love with Asha: only was it puppy love or obsession? Would the need to discredit Jago push him to follow them around, spy on them and look for damning evidence to use?

  Damn it! His suspicions all followed a chain of logic, yet as he studied the oddball it was hard to reconcile Colin the Stalker with Colin the ‘Basketball Superstar.’ The two profiles were in such conflict; he liked Colin and that alone made him want to trust him, despite circumstances piling up.

  “Someone broke into my bungalow. Bunged up the lock. It will need another. Can you do that, or will we need to call for a locksmith—provided Leesburg has one.”

  Asha came from the office, scowling. “Did I hear right? Your cabin was broken into?”

  Colin rolled his eyes. “City boy shows up and we have a crime wave. Mwahaha. I leave the keys to my truck on the floorboard so I know where they are at all times. That’s how scared I am about someone around here stealing anything.”

  Asha stalked out of the diner, obviously heading to the cabins. Jago looked at Colin and then Sam, peeking through the serving window, then followed her.

  “Hey, wait for me! I’m the one with the screwdriver!” Colin called, rushing to catch up.

  Asha stood frowning at Jago’s door, hands on her hips, the fat cat dancing around her ankles wanting attention. A hot autumn wind whipped through the trees, sending the dry leaves to the ground, forecasting bad weather. She pulled her long hair over one shoulder and held on to the ends to keep it from flying about her face. “You’re right. Someone forced the lock. When did this happen?”

  Jago shrugged. “I locked it when I went off with Derek. It was this way when I came back. Of course, with that damn juke box screaming ‘bird is the word,’ someone could blow the place up and you might not hear.”

  Colin scratched his head, looked at the other bungalows. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out. Marlboros. Jago groaned. Colin took Jago’s scowl as censure. “Hey, Asha bitches at me already for smoking. Besides, you smoke those cheesy Swisher Sweets.”

  “Yeah, I do,” he replied absently, wishing Colin smoked anything but Marlboros.

  Taking the cigarette, the handyman stuck it into his mouth, but didn’t light it. “Hey, Jago, someone have it in for you?You a drug runner or a diamond smuggler? Why would someone hit your pad and not bother any of the other cabins? I get it—Jago equals James, doesn’t it? Jago Bond! They were after your super spy secrets.” He sniggered.

  His using the word secrets caused Jago to want to hit something.

  “What was stolen? I’ll replace it even if the insurance doesn’t cover it. We’ve never had anything stolen from the motel before.” Asha sighed, looking disappointed.

  Jago’s stomach muscles tightened as if he’d taken a sucker punch. He turned to glance around—or more precisely, he pretended to look about for clues so he didn’t have to meet her beautiful eyes. “Nothing was taken.” Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a thunderclap nearly overhead. Scooping up the cat, he took Asha’s upper arm. “We’d better get inside. Storm’s going to break any minute.”

  “Hey, guys, I’ll dash up to my house, see if I have anything to repair that lock,” Colin shouted over the rising wind, then started to jog up the hill.

  Jago and Asha barely made it to the glassed-in porch before the rain hit, pounding on the concrete drive and walkway at the front of the restaurant, with a soothing sound. They left the kitty on the porch—much to his grumpy meowing—and went into the diner. Asha headed to the office to take a call from a supplier, leaving Jago at the counter to finish his slightly warm beer. Jago took a seat on the stool that Colin had fixed, and watched Sam carry in a stainless steel bucket filled with crushed ice, and empty it into the built-in bin under the counter.

  “Where’s the usual lunch crowd?” he asked the cook.

  “Won’t be one. Damn storm will keep everyone away. Watch. Oh, a couple might brave the rain. You’d think people around here are made of sugar. Damn shame, I’ve been cookin’ all morning,” Sam grumbled shaking his head.

  “So what’s good for lunch? I’m in the mood for Tex-Mex for some reason.”

  “Tex-Mex? Bah! You want some good eatin’, try my Cajun cookin’. I fixed my Chicken What Du Hell as the lunch special. It’ll make your soul sing.” Sam offered him a big smile as he dumped the ice shards into the bin and closed the lid.

  Jago finished the Coors. “I’d noticed your accent. You’re from New Orleans.”

  “Sure am. Katrina got me. Had my own restaurant. Nothing fancy, mind. Just good eatin’. Mama Lou’s Down-Home Authentic Cajun Cooking. That damn big-ass sign was the first thing that Katrina got. Not much longer after that, the water came. The Army Corps of Engineers and the Emergency Preparedness people did this computer mock-up to study what would happen if a Category 5 hurricane ever hit New Orleans. They even aired it on the Discovery Channel the year before it happened. They did nothing. Sat on their hands and said there was no way to evacuate the city. Didn’t rebuild the levees. Wouldn’t stop dredging the river. So, the worst happened, exactly like that computer show warned. And the poor unsuspecting people paid. Whole town paid and is still paying. When I saw the water rolling in, I got in my truck and drove north and kept going, following the Blue Highway. Finally landed here late one night. My Aunt Bessie used to work for Asha’s mama, was a cook for her. I used to come stay with her in the summers. So there I was—no home, no family, no business and too damn old for anyone to hire me. Asha did. The gal has a heart.”

  “Will you ever go back?”

  “I love the Big Easy, but that life is over. I belong here at The Windmill now.” Sam’s black eyes studied Jago closely. “What about you? You got a car, a cat and a ’cycle now. Hear you’re planning on getting a boat. You gonna keep our girl?”

  “I sure plan on it.”

  “She won’t live anywhere else, you know. You prepared for that? The Windmill is a haven for lost souls. It’s Asha’s purpose. Netta was lost. Derek was a punk headed for trouble, now he’s going to be a vet. Delbert doesn’t have anyone but us. Oo-it has been shunned all his life; no one ever looked close enough to see how smart that man is. I sure needed a home and job.” The cook paused. “Only, our gal was lost, too. She needed roots, a reason in life. All that money and that big damn house in England never gave her that. Her mama always returned home to Kentucky; ultimately it destroyed her marriage because Mac refused to give her what she needed, what she found here. Best think on that. Asha is like her mama; why she came back here to make a go of it.”

  “Strangely enough, I guess I was lost, too.” Jago admitted. “I never realized it until now. I need roots and a purpose in life, too. I’m happy here.”

  Sam huffed. “Figured that migh
t be the case—why you started collecting your toys. What about your business trying to buy her out?”

  “Sticky wicket, but I’ll handle things. We’ll work something else out.”

  “She ain’t gonna be happy if you buy that horse farm out from under her brother,” Sam counseled knowingly.

  Jago picked up a quarter from the counter and, with a magician’s practiced slight-of-hand, made it vanish. “I’ll have to work a little magic to see Liam holds onto it, don’t you think?”

  “Sounds smart to me.”

  After Sam ambled back to the kitchen, Jago stared out the window, watching the rain. The old man’s gentle prodding had summoned something he’d been hiding from—his lying to Asha. He needed to come clean with her. Soon.

  He swallowed back the rising bile, recognizing it might mess up Desmond’s plans, and by damn, he owed everything to his older brother, knew all the sacrifices Des had made, what he’d suffered. More father than brother, Des had always been there. He loved his older brother; this whole takeover of Montgomerie Enterprises would make Des a billionaire several times over—or destroy him if everything turned sour. One wrong move and their plans would come crashing down like a house of cards. His telling Asha everything might set that in motion.

  Despite that fear, he couldn’t continue to love her, couldn’t give her the words in him, the words she wanted to hear. He had no right to offer her the future he so desperately wanted until she knew all. There was no other way. He wasn’t stupid; he knew this was the necessary next step in their relationship. Only, he was so bloody scared. Scared of losing her. He’d never known true happiness. Until Asha. He didn’t want to make a choice between Des and Asha. He loved them both. Damned if he betrayed Des. Damned if he lost Asha by telling her the truth. Damned if he continued lying.

  Asha came from the office and fixed a lemonade. She gave him a smile that hit his heart. A coward, he swallowed back his need to come clean, and instead soaked up the radiant happiness she brought to him.

  “Well, that’s sorted out,” she informed him. “I have a caterer from Lexington doing the Halloween party. They were giving me a headache about orange and black cupcakes.”

  Sam stuck his head through the serving window. “About time you got in here, girl. My Chicken What Du Hell is ready. Somebody needs to eat it. Set yourselves down and enjoy. Might as well, with that storm this place will stay dead.”

  Jago laughed, following Asha to a booth by the window. He watched as the cook brought out two plates heaped with food. “Not sure what this is, but sure smells good.”

  “Tastes even better. Make you forget about Tex-Mex. Enjoy.” Sam grinned and shuffled back to the kitchen.

  The dish turned out to be big chunks of roast chicken, noodles, tomatoes and onions, in a lemon sauce with a hint of white wine. It was delicious, as Sam promised, but Jago couldn’t fully enjoy it because his guilty conscience gnawed at his mind. He cleaned his plate so didn’t really have room for cheesecake. Even so, he accepted the dessert and coffee, prolonging what he knew he must do.

  When he finished, he pushed his plate aside. “You mind if I smoke?”

  “Go ahead. I rather like that cherry smell.” Asha took another bite of cheesecake and smiled dreamily, savoring the taste.

  Jago exhaled a stream of smoke away from her, and fought off panic. His hand shook as he reached to pull the ashtray closer. Stalling. “We need to talk.”

  Lightning suddenly struck across the road, the following thunder reverberating through the whole diner. The lights flickered and then died. There was something strangely intimate being in the empty diner in the dimness. Jago hoped it was not an omen of Asha’s reaction to what he was about to tell her.

  “Asha, we’ve only known each other a few days; somehow it seems longer. As if I’ve known you for years. I think it best if I tell you a few things—”

  “Asha! Oh, Asha!” Colin ran into the restaurant. “Oo-oooo—it’s so exciting!”

  Feeling like he just escaped the hangman’s noose, Jago laughed uneasily. “Oh? I’d have never guessed.”

  “Asha . . . you are . . . not . . . going . . . to believe this. This is . . . soooooo cool.”

  Asha smiled, getting up to refill her lemonade. “I can hardly wait to hear.”

  Colin beamed proudly. “I got a phone call from Stuart Hersh.”

  Jago pushed out of the booth and followed her to perch on a stool. “Who’s Stuart Hersh? A locksmith?”

  “Funny. Nope, Hersh handles the bookings for Bobby ‘Boris’ Pickett. I’d tried several months back to see if Pickett could come to the Halloween party and perform. I mean, would that be cool or what? He was booked solid—popular time of the year for him—so it was no go. But get this—Hersh called to see if we still wanted to hire him. There was a cancellation. He said Pickett’s hosting a Halloween party in Louisville on the Friday before Halloween, and then one on Saturday and Sunday in Lexington. So, he’ll be in the area. If we give him lodging from Sunday through Thursday, he could do our Halloween gig on Wednesday. We could announce it at the drive-in. We could do some posters and handbills. So, can we?”

  The lights flickered on, then the jukebox slowly came to life and began playing “Monster Mash.” Jago stared at the shiny Wurlitzer. “Freaky.”

  “See? Even the box wants Bobby.” Colin nearly danced in place. “Can we, huh?”

  “Sure. That will be great fun,” Asha gave her consent, amusement twinkling in her amber eyes.

  Jago ground out his cigarillo in the ashtray, and opened his mouth to ask Asha if they could go somewhere quiet where they could talk, but Delbert came in. The cat dashed in between the old man’s legs, sending everyone scurrying to catch him. The silly beast proved quick for a pussycat that had two speeds—waddle and stop.

  Jago smiled at the antics, watching Asha, adoring her, and realizing their talk would have to come soon. That damn letter was out there. He had to tell her himself before someone else did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It proved to be a perfect All Hallows Eve, warm, yet with a nip in the soft breeze. Asha couldn’t have conjured a more beautiful day for The Windmill’s Halloween bash. The remaining leaves of the sugar maples and oaks were still ablaze with oranges and the occasional splash of brilliant reds, setting the countryside afire with this magical time.

  Inside The Windmill, a fat jack-o’-lantern sat on the end of the counter, a sappy, toothy grin carved into the face; its softly flickering candle cast a pale amber glow across the darkened diner. Even the jukebox endlessly playing “Tell Laura I Love Her” seemed part of the delightfully supernatural ambience swirling in the air.

  Her hips softly swaying to the soulful ballad, Asha stood by the diner window, sipping a lemonade and absorbing the beauty of the landscape. She sensed a peace, a rightness in this day, in her world. Since there were still a lot of preparations for Halloween night, she had closed the diner after the lunch rush and now stood in the silent restaurant with the lights out, enjoying the tranquil moment.

  Twisting the clear rod to open the Venetian blinds, she observed Jago washing the Shelby—with a little ‘advisory help’ from Colin and the cat that still didn’t have a name. She figured any minute Jago would turn the hose on Colin, who kept pointing out each patch Jago missed. The instant Jago wiped down the car so it wouldn’t spot, the cat jumped up on it and padded across the hood. Smiling, she watched Jago pick up the pesky feline and place him down with a pat, then rewashed the tracks. The scene was nothing out of the ordinary, yet one of those instances in time she so treasured.

  Unhurried, she relished this moment of solitude; there hadn’t been many of them in the past few weeks. All had shifted and changed with Jago’s coming, with his quickly slipping into being a part—the focus—of her world. The speed with which he fit into her life, and then morphed into her heart still left her breathless, often scared. Despite the fear, she embraced the spellbinding madness of being in love, truly in love.

  Jago us
ed his bungalow as an office for his business concerns now as his days and nights were spent with her. He cheerfully helped out with all The Windmill’s businesses, and seemed genuinely to enjoy himself. Interested in every aspect, he about drove Colin nuts with questions about the drive-in’s projector system. Asha smiled, thinking how much good it did Colin’s ego that Jago wanted to hear his opinions.

  Some days after breakfast, Jago accompanied Liam to Valinor and learned about running the horse farm. That made her nervous. Still, Liam seemed happy with it, so she figured her devious brother had an ace or two up his sleeve. Being a ‘Meddling Montgomerie,’ she had to fight the urge to prod Jago and Liam both about the status of the sale; she didn’t like it hanging over their heads. At such times, she simply took a deep breath and reminded herself it was Liam’s business. He’d have to take care of the farm, just as she’d take care of The Windmill. Whatever the case, she didn’t want the situation to intrude on her relationship with Jago.

  Her brother appeared increasingly happy—at least where the farm was concerned. His romance with Netta on the other hand, oddly appeared stalled. Such a beautiful man, women were usually ready to kill simply to gain his notice; her arrogant brother wasn’t used to anyone keeping him at arms’ length. But that was precisely what Netta was doing. Asha suspected Netta had cold feet and was running scared. Again, she bit back the temptation to butt in and play matchmaker. She really felt Netta was good for Liam—or could be if she stopped throwing obstacles up between them. Asha knew she wouldn’t appreciate Liam trying to interfere between Jago and her, so no matter how hard it was, she reined in and left Netta and Liam to work matters out between themselves.

  Outside these small worries, everything was so perfect between Jago and her. The final piece to the puzzle, he completed her world. He was liked and respected by all at The Windmill. The only troubling aspect: she occasionally caught a questioning expression in her employees’ eyes when they thought she wasn’t looking. Concern. They clearly approved of her loving Jago, only they held reservations, were fearful she would be hurt if things suddenly soured.