“Pam Brannan died today,” he said. The name came out of his mouth with a rush of air. “She was tired. She was ready to go.”
Caroline felt her heart drop into her stomach. “I haven’t heard from Court all day.” It was the only thing she could think of to say. She’d known this was coming. They all had. Still, she hadn’t been ready to hear it. “I need to call him.”
“He was with her at the hospital in Saint Louis when she went. His father called me. Thought we might want to know.” Max O’Conner engulfed his daughter in a hug. “Give him some time. You know he’s going to need you to be there for him.”
Caroline gripped the can of green beans she was holding so tightly that she could feel the metal grooves underneath the paper label. Pam Brannan, Court Brannan’s stepmother, had been battling cancer for years. First it was breast cancer. Then last year, it spread to her liver. Caroline was there at the Brannan house when they found out about the breast cancer, almost three years ago.
“I’m sorry, kiddo. I know this is hard for you in more ways than one.”
“I should have gone up there to see her,” Caroline said, tears welling up in her eyes. She wiped furiously at them. “I should have been there.”
“Pam knew you loved her, and you know she wouldn’t have wanted you to close the shop or leave your own mother for her.”
Caroline nodded, pushing her face further into her father’s chest. She’d stopped saying out loud when things weren’t fair long ago, but she couldn’t stop herself from thinking it. Pam Brannan had been one of the most wonderful women she’d ever known, and she’d taken care of Caroline like she was her own child when she married Court’s father when Caroline and Court were in junior high. In some ways, she’d been a better mother to them than their own mothers had, and it just wasn’t fair that they were both losing her. “I’m okay,” Caroline said, finally. “I’ve got to get back to supper before it’s ruined for all of us.”
TO CAROLINE’S RELIEF, her mother was eating everything placed on her plate. It had been difficult, even in the beginning, to deal with her mother’s illness. But she took pleasure in little things, like the way her mother would still eat three platefuls of mashed potatoes.
“How does it taste, Mom?” Caroline asked.
Maureen looked up from her plate and at her daughter. She smiled. “It’s very good. Thank you.”
Max O’Conner winked at his daughter. “How was your day, kid?”
“It was interesting,” Caroline replied. “We got ourselves a new neighbor.”
“Oh really?”
Caroline nodded, her mouth full of mashed potatoes. “Noah Cranwell,” she replied once she’d swallowed. “Apparently he’s bought Cranwell Station.”
“Noah Cranwell, eh?” her father asked. “I don’t reckon I’ve seen that boy since he was a toddler.”
“Well, he’s not a toddler anymore,” Caroline replied. “It was kind of strange to see him, you know, given all those rumors about his mom and dad and, well, his whole family.”
“Those rumors are a bunch of poppycock.” Her father snorted. “They always were. Nothing but vicious lies to make Nora look bad for leaving town after Alistair Cranwell died.”
“Nora is Noah’s mom?” Caroline asked.
“And Alistair Cranwell was his father,” Max O’Conner finished. “Ali died the way he lived—reckless and stupid. He didn’t care for anybody or anything except himself.”
“Didn’t he die in a duel or something?” Caroline probed. She’d heard lots of different stories about how Alistair Cranwell had died, and she’d always thought the duel rumor was the best one. As a general rule, her parents refused to talk about it, and she’d been shushed more than once out in public when she dared to ask questions about the Cranwell family.
“In a bar fight not two days after he got out of prison,” her father said. “There’s nothing glamorous or exciting about that and nobody but the Cranwells blamed Nora for getting out of town like she did.”
“I don’t understand why they would be mad about her leaving.” Caroline pushed at her meatloaf with her fork.
Max O’Conner sighed. “Nobody crosses Jep Cranwell. Alistair was Jep’s only son, and Noah was, and is, his only grandson. I reckon Jep felt mighty slighted when Nora ran off, warranted or not.”
“Then I guess he’ll be glad to have Noah back.”
“Jep Cranwell is never glad for anything,” Maureen O’Conner interrupted, looking up from her plate.
Caroline and her father looked at each other. Sometimes Caroline’s mother broke into conversations with astounding clarity.
“How come, Mom?” Caroline wanted to know.
“These potatoes are good. May I have some more?” was all her mother said.
“Sure.” Caroline picked up her mother’s plate and headed back into the kitchen.
“Don’t give me too much now,” her mother hollered. “Make sure that you save enough for Jeremy when he gets home.”
Caroline’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t want to turn around and look at her father because she knew the pain would be written all over his face. “Okay, Mom!” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “I’ll make sure and leave enough for Jeremy.”
Jeremy, Caroline’s older brother, had been dead for nearly thirty years. He’d died in a car accident when he was seventeen, five years before Caroline was born. Lately, Maureen O’Conner talked about Jeremy like he was still alive. Max O’Conner warned Caroline that something like this was likely to happen, but it didn’t make it any easier for either of them when it started to become a daily routine, and Caroline’s father became sullen, oftentimes retreating to his office to “read a book.”
Tonight was no different.
“I think I’ve had my fill,” he said, pushing his chair away from the table. “I’m going to go to my office for a bit.” He gave Caroline and his wife quick pecks on the cheek. “Caroline, if you’ll just leave those dishes, I’ll take care of them later.”
Caroline smiled up at him. She knew darn well he wasn’t going to be doing any dishes. He wouldn’t come out of his room until it was time for him to take his wife to bed. “Okay, Dad.”
“Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you, too,” Caroline replied. She watched him disappear into his office. Then she turned back to her mother who had gotten up from the table and returned to her knitting on the couch. Caroline finished the rest of the meal alone and pretended to be grateful for the silence.
CHAPTER 3
CAROLINE WAS PULLING A T-SHIRT OVER HER head when she heard a knock on her door. It was her father. “Hey, kid,” he said from the other side of the door. “You care if I come in?”
“Sure.”
“Have you heard anything from Court yet?”
“Not yet. I tried to call him earlier, but it went straight to voice mail. I don’t want to push him if he isn’t ready to talk.”
“You’re a good friend,” her father replied.
Caroline looked down at her hands. When she looked back up again she noticed her father was holding something behind his back. “Whatcha got there?”
“I forgot to give this to you at dinner.” Max O’Conner produced a small, dusty book. “I got it at the library sale. Thought you might like it.”
Caroline took the book and turned it over in her hands. “The Life and Times of Pretty Boy Floyd,” she read aloud. “I haven’t read this one. Thanks, Dad.”
“I didn’t think you had,” he replied. “It’s a pretty old book—from the ’70s, I think. You probably know everything already, but I couldn’t pass it up for a nickel.”
“Thanks,” Caroline said. She grinned up at him. Her father wasn’t often, if ever, emotional. Unlike how her mother had been, Max O’Conner chose his words wisely and preferred to say silent on most matters. Caroline appreciated small gestures such as this. “I don’t know too much about Pretty Boy Floyd. He wasn’t really part of the Dillinger or Barker gangs, so I haven’t read up on him.”
“Did they have anything on the Cranwell clan?” Caroline asked with a wry smile on her face.
“Oh, I think those stories are mostly told in whispers at the back of a smoky bar somewhere,” her father replied with a chuckle. “I hope this one will do.”
“This is perfect.”
“Try to get some sleep,” her father said, backing out of her room. “Good night, Carolina.”
Caroline settled back onto her bed. She was genuinely surprised that Cold River’s little library had a book about one of the notorious Depression era gangsters that she hadn’t read, especially one so old. For as long as she could remember, she’d been interested in the exploits of John Dillinger, Ma Barker, and the like. As a kid, she happened upon a book in the library that had accidentally been placed in the children’s section. It was a book about the Barker Gang, and told of the murder of a sheriff just a few towns away from Cold River, a murder that was supposedly perpetrated by Alvin Karpis, the real brains behind the outfit, even though the gang was named after its matriarch—Ma Barker.
Caroline’s mother hadn’t been too thrilled with her daughter’s newfound interest, but her father was a bit of a history buff and was thrilled for her to learn about that era, especially if it had anything to do with the Ozarks. She supposed that was why Cranwell Station had always fascinated her. Rumors about Noah Cranwell and his parents weren’t the only rumors to circulate around that family—the elder generation supposedly ran the only speakeasy out of Cranwell Station during the Depression, supplying partygoers with their very own brand of Ozark Mountain Lightning. Of course, her father clammed up when it came to the Cranwells. Anytime she asked about them, he made a joke or told her it was impolite to gossip.
My parents weren’t the only ones, Caroline thought. Court also hated it. As a sheriff’s deputy, he was personally offended that his best friend liked to read about criminals while he fought to apprehend them. It was a running joke between them, and whenever anyone asked why they weren’t married, Court told them it was because Caroline liked men on the other side of the law.
Of course, that wasn’t really true, either. The truth was that Caroline hadn’t had much experience with men. She’d had only one serious boyfriend back in high school and dated a few boys in college. Otherwise, the only men in Caroline’s life were the paper kind—the kind whose dark eyes existed pressed between the pages of a book.
She opened the book to the first chapter and wondered if she ought to call Court just one more time before she went to sleep. She hated the thought of Court and his father alone in that house, wondering what they were going to eat for dinner without Mrs. Brannan around. Picturing the empty place at the table was almost too much for Caroline, and she felt a tear glide down her cheek and splash onto the book in her hands. She shook her head back and forth, ridding herself of those thoughts, and concentrated on the damp page in front of her.
IT WAS ALMOST 2 A.M. before Caroline felt sleepy. She was just sinking down into her bed when she heard a knock on her window.
The knocking was long and loud. The impatient foot tapping of the person knocking was no softer. Caroline rolled over and opened one eye in the direction of the noise.
“Caroline!” The knocking grew more intense. “Car-o-line!”
Caroline pulled the covers back over her head. “Use your key!” was her muffled response. “Go to the front door!”
The knocking stopped. “I forgot about my key.” There was a rustle in the bushes outside the window and then it was silent.
“Did you forget about your manners, too?” Caroline asked when a dark figure appeared in the doorway of her room.
“Hush up and scoot over.”
Caroline sighed and scooted over to the edge of the bed. “Don’t put your cold toes on my legs.”
Caroline’s cousin Ava Dawn slid in next to her. “We aren’t in junior high anymore. You don’t have to sneak out of or into the house.”
“Don’t you even want to know what I’m doing here?”
“No.”
Ava Dawn scooted closer to Caroline. “Have you ever thought about straightening your hair? Curls went out last year.”
“Go. To. Sleep.”
“I left Roy, Caroline. For good this time. I swear.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“I mean it,” Ava Dawn whispered, her voice barely audible. “I filed the papers yesterday.”
Caroline sat up in bed, squinting at her cousin. “For a divorce?”
“We had a real bad fight the other night. I just can’t do it anymore, Carolina. I just can’t.”
“Are you okay?” Caroline got up and turned on the lights. “Did he hurt you? Do I need to go get my dad?”
Ava Dawn shook her head, and a mess of blond hair fell into her eyes. “No. He was too drunk.”
“That figures.”
“I deserve better,” Ava Dawn said. She straightened up. “I do, you know?”
“I know,” Caroline replied. “I’ve been telling you that since high school.”
“Well, Brother Crow says that I’m on a spiritual journey right now, and I sorta believe him.”
“Brother Crow?”
“Yeah, you know, down at Second Coming?”
Caroline knew whom Ava Dawn was talking about. How could she not? Haiden Crow had been the preacher at Second Coming Baptist for the last two years, and he’d just about converted the whole town to his congregation. With his slicked-back hair and even slicker tongue, he reminded Caroline more of a snake oil salesman than anything else, and she didn’t trust him. So far, she seemed to be in the minority, and now, he’d even won over her cousin. “How long have you been going there?”
“A couple of months,” Ava Dawn confessed. “Brother Crow says Roy ain’t spiritual like I am.” Ava Dawn looked at Caroline. “He says that’s why we won’t ever work. You think that’s true?”
“I think Brother Crow is saying an awful lot,” Caroline replied. “But if what he’s saying is going to keep you from being Roy Bean’s punching bag, then I can’t argue.”
“I’m sure you’d like him if you gave him half a chance,” Ava Dawn said.
“Right now I just want to go to sleep.”
“I’m sorry I woke you up.” Ava Dawn fidgeted on the bed. “I just didn’t have nowhere else to go.”
“I know,” Caroline said. Her cousin had been running away ever since Caroline could remember, since even before Ava Dawn’s daddy died and her mother ran off. Most of the time she came to stay with Caroline’s parents, who were more than happy to have her, but Ava Dawn always ran away from them, too. It wasn’t until she married Roy that she stopped taking the nearest Greyhound out of town the minute she got angry about something. “And you know you’re welcome here.”
“Thanks.”
“We’ll sort it all out during the daylight.” Caroline let go of Ava Dawn’s hand. “I have to get up in four hours.”
“Can I go with you?” Ava Dawn asked.
Caroline cocked her head to the side. Ava Dawn hated the bait shop. “Why do you want to go to work with me? The last time you were there you said the shop smelled like dirt and that you were never coming back.”
“I don’t remember that.” Ava Dawn batted her eyelashes. “Besides, I heard there was someone new taking over Cranwell Station, and I want to get a good look at him.”
“How have you already heard that?” Caroline demanded. Then, thinking better of it said, “You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know. You can go with me tomorrow as long as you promise not to cause me any trouble.”
“I promise!”
“Great, now leave me alone.”
“You care if I take a shower?” Ava Dawn didn’t wait for a response. “I feel sorta bad for wakin’ you up and all. I’ve been workin’ the night shift for so long I forget when normal pe
ople sleep.”
“Knock yourself out,” Caroline replied, crawling back underneath the covers. “Just don’t turn on the hair dryer or my dad will throw a fit.”
Ava Dawn’s muffled reply was lost on Caroline. She was already asleep.
CHAPTER 4
CAROLINE STOPPED JUST BEFORE SHE TURNED onto the gravel road that took her to the bait shop, at the last gas station for almost fifteen miles—Gary’s One Stop. Gary made the best chicken salad sandwiches in three counties, and if she got there early enough, she could nab one before the tourists heading down to the river could get to them. The tourists from the cities acted as if Gary’s was their last stop in civilization before they gave themselves to the wild, and Gary made a mint keeping that fear alive. What the tourists didn’t know was that Gary also sold the best moonshine in three counties. He kept it hidden underneath the counter behind the register, and only locals knew to ask for a jar of his granny’s finest.
“Hey, Gary,” Caroline said, pushing through the door. “I think I’m going to need a couple sandwiches today. I’ve got Ava Dawn in the car with me.”
“Caroline, is that you?” Gary stuck his head out from inside the cooler at the back of the store. “You’re early this mornin’.”
“I am?”
“Or maybe I’m runnin’ late,” Gary replied. “You got a few minutes to wait on an old man?”
Caroline grinned. Gary was no more an old man than she was an old woman. He couldn’t have been more than ten years or so older than she, but he acted like those ten years were a lifetime. “You know I’ve got plenty of time.”
She busied herself staring into the cold cases full of soda and energy drinks, trying to decide which one would go best with chicken salad. Caroline was reaching in to grab a Mr. Pibb when she heard the bell above the door ring, signaling another customer inside the store.
“Hello? Is there anyone here?” called a voice at the front of the store. “I need to pay for my gas.”
Caroline peered around an endcap full of candy to find Noah Cranwell standing impatiently at the counter. He had a baseball cap shoved down onto his head, and there were traces of morning stubble jutting about his jawline. Gone were the khakis and white shirt from the day before, and she hardly recognized him in a pair of jeans and work boots. He almost looked like he belonged.
Just Fine with Caroline Page 2