Teacup Novellas 02 - Strike the Match

by Diane Moody

  His smile faded. “Nah, I didn’t hear nothin’. My guys was all with me at my place. We was playing poker.” A lewd expression flamed his face. “Course, if you’da been there, we’da played some strip poker.”

  Keri rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m real sorry I missed that. But—”

  “Not half as sorry as I am.”

  She pinned him with a stare. “Zack, c’mon. Think. You had to hear something. You know people. Somebody in this town has talked about that fire and chances are you would’ve heard them say it. Work with me, here, would you?”

  He tugged at a curl on her shoulder. “Oh I’ll work with you all night long, sweet thing.”

  She batted his hand away. “Fine. You don’t know anything about the Blankenship fire. What about the fire at the newspaper office?”

  He ordered another brew. “You want one?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “No thank you. Ten o’clock is a little early for my taste buds. Now back to my question. Know anything about that fire? Hear anything?”

  The bartender took his empty mug, replacing it with a frost-covered full one. He slurped a long swallow, then wiped the foam from his sad excuse for a mustache. “Nope. Don’t know nothin’ about that one either. How come you askin’ all these questions? You a cop now? Where’s your uniform?”

  “I’m working for the paper.”

  “Oh, that’s a real shame. You come back to town, go to work for the paper, and it goes up in smoke.” Another grin crawled up in face. “Wait, that cabin was your daddy’s, wasn’t it? He built that one, didn’t he? Whoa. That’s a real shame. You’re two for two. I’m thinking Bud oughta be asking you all these questions. Kinda coinky-dinky, don’t you think? You got a big ol’ lighter in that fancy bag of yours?”

  What a waste of time.

  “Maybe some matches and a little kerosene?”

  She was sure of it. She quickly guarded her thoughts, masking her expression. “No, I’m afraid not. Only some lipstick and breath mints. Hey, what—”How could he know about the kerosene? Bill and Bud kept that information private. She and her dad knew about it. And Grant. But details like that hadn’t been shared in public.

  “Here’s an idea. How about tossin’ me one of them breath mints then let me sample some of that lipstick. On your lips, of course.”

  “Not happening. What kind of pickup do you drive?”

  “It’s a Ford—wait, who says I drive a pickup?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  He studied her with those bloodshot eyes. She studied him back, disgusted but undeterred.

  “Who cares what kind of truck I drive?”

  “No reason. Just curious. What color is it?”

  “Well, I guess that’s for me to know and you to find out, Keri. Course, if you’d like to come hang out at my place a while, I’d be happy to take you for a little drive in my truck. Let you find out for yourself what color it is.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, weary of the game. “You stole my backpack in sixth grade, didn’t you?”

  “Well, duh? I stole everybody’s backpack. It was one of my defining middle school characteristics. You wanna come over to my place and see if you can pick it out? I kept ‘em all, y’know.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Course. They’re called souvenirs in my line of work.” He laughed again, this one full of wheeze and phlegm.

  Keri pressed her lips together, not sure she could keep her stomach down. “Fascinating though it is, I’ve got to run. But I may stop by sometime. You still live in that double-wide out on Lynn Lane with your dad?”

  “Yeah. But just me and Duke. My dad croaked a few years ago. So the trailer’s all mine now. I own it free and clear.”

  “Who’s Duke?”

  “My rottweiler.”

  “Of course it is.”

  She turned to leave, already wondering how fast she could get home and take a hot shower to wash off the stench of this place. And him.

  “Bye now, little missy. You come on out sometime and meet ol’ Duke.”

  Sure thing. Right about the time hell freezes over . . .

  Chapter 11

  With that hot shower still front and center on her mind, Keri rounded the last corner onto her street and immediately spotted Jerry Winkler’s familiar black truck sitting in the driveway. “Must be my lucky day,” she said out loud. Grant would label it a divine appointment, but Keri simply thanked her lucky stars for making her job easier today.

  Then her stomach tightened. Jerry’s here to talk to Dad. This can’t be good.

  Before she even opened the door, she heard her father’s voice.

  “It wasn’t me, Jerry. I swear I never said that! Not to anyone! Why won’t you listen to me?”

  A string of Jerry’s expletives peppered the air as she opened the door. They both turned as she walked into the kitchen.

  “And you can tell your stupid daughter to mind her own business!” Jerry growled.

  Tyler backed toward her, his hands raised in warning. “Leave her out of it. She’s just doing her job. Like I said before, if you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything, McMillan. Least of all you. But if one more of my guys tells me he’s heard I’m the lead suspect in the fire that burned down that Blankenship monstrosity, then it’s you and me.” He stepped into Tyler’s path, his nose not an inch from her father’s. “Just like old times, Tyler. You and me.”

  The two men glared at each other, their chests heaving with each angry breath. Finally, Jerry turned, taking a step toward Keri. He pointed an index finger in her face, closing the gap between them. “And you, young lady.” He paused, as if needing a moment to contain his wrath.

  She could feel his breath on her face. It reeked of alcohol.

  At this hour of the morning?

  “You’d better watch your step.” He lifted a curl, wrapping it around his finger. “I sure wouldn’t want to see anything happen to that pretty little face of yours.”

  She jerked her head back, dislodging the strand from his grasp. “You don’t scare me, Jerry. I know you’re just a big teddy bear underneath all that whiskey bravado.”

  He stared at her for a moment before throwing his head back to roar with laughter. “Oh Keri, you always were quite the vixen. Even as a little girl. A spitfire just looking for a fight.” His smile waned. “But like I said. Watch your step. Seems to be a lot of matchbooks around town just begging for a light.”

  He pushed passed her and left, slamming the door behind him.

  “Well, that was—” She turned only to discover her father was no longer standing where he’d been. “Daddy!”

  He fell back against his recliner before landing on the hardwood floor, his face ashen. His eyes rolled back in his head. “Keri—”

  “DADDY!”

  She dropped to his side. “I’m calling 911. Just stay still. Don’t move!”

  In less than half an hour, Keri found herself back in the ER waiting room. She paced, angry they wouldn’t let her back to see her father. The ambulance had arrived less than five minutes after she’d called, thanks to the proximity of the fire station to their home. Keri had tried to hold herself together as they strapped an oxygen mask on her father’s face and checked his vitals. Before she could even utter a prayer, they were loading him into the ambulance, rattling off all kinds of stats and informing the ER of their imminent arrival.

  Now, all she could see in her mind was the pasty white skin on his face as he’d fallen. If Jerry Winkler walked through the door right now, she was absolutely positive she could kill him. With her bare hands.

  How dare he talk to Dad like that! Dad never thought for a minute Jerry was behind the fires. After all he’s put Dad through, you’d think he might realize it’s not Dad who’s causing his life to fall apart. It’s his own fault. Nobody to blame but himself.

  “Keri, where is he? Where’s Tyler?” Nita rushed through the automated doors coming fro
m the interior of the hospital. “Have you seen him since you called me?”

  She fell into her aunt’s open arms. “No, they won’t let me go back there. I’m about to lose my mind! Oh Nita, he looked so bad . . . I thought . . . I thought I’d lost him.”

  Nita hugged her hard. “Now Keri, let’s don’t jump to conclusions. That father of yours is made of steel. He probably just let himself get dehydrated or something. Maybe he forgot to eat. You two don’t have a clue how to take care of yourselves. I’ve got a mind to move in and rule your roost with an iron fist.” Her eyes softened. “Or at least my cast iron skillet.”

  Keri pulled back, wiping her eyes. “Aunt Nita, this is serious. He didn’t just pass out because he skipped breakfast. Something is seriously wrong with him. The other night, he got all clammy and lightheaded. He kept rubbing his left arm and flexing his wrist.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because that’s when we got the call from Grant that Shep had been hurt. We got here as fast as we could. Then in all the mayhem, and then the fire . . . it just slipped my mind. And of course he never said another word about it.” She looked up, feeling the tears sting her eyes. “I’m a horrible daughter! How could I forget something like that? He’s my own father . . .”

  Nita gathered her back in her arms. “Now, you just stop that. We’ve all been under an enormous amount of pressure these last few weeks. It’s a wonder we aren’t all back there alongside Tyler being treated for stress. Or whatever it is he’s experiencing right now.” She leaned back, pushing Keri’s wild curls from her face. “We’ll just pray he’s going to be okay. God’s watching over him in there. He’ll take care of him.”

  Dr. Richards approached them, looping his stethoscope back around his neck.

  “Oh there he is,” Nita said. “Dr. Richards, how’s my brother?”

  He reached out, putting his arm over Keri’s shoulder and grabbing Nita’s hand. “I’m afraid it’s not good news. Tyler needs surgery. Right away.”

  “What?!” Keri cried.

  “What kind of surgery?” Nita asked.

  “He’s got major blockage in two arteries. We need to take care of those immediately. I know he’s been under a lot of pressure lately. Chances are, all that stress has just aggravated a condition that’s been going on for some time. Tyler’s not too faithful with his physicals. I haven’t seen him in more than eight years, according to my records.”

  “And don’t think he won’t be hearing about that,” Nita snapped. “You can be sure I’ll give him a piece of my mind on the subject and start making sure he sees you on a regular basis.”

  “I’m sure you will, Nita. But for now, we need to get him into surgery.” He squeezed both their hands and turned to leave. “We’ll let you back to see him before we take him upstairs to the OR. Then you can move to the waiting room up there. I’ll make sure someone keeps you updated on his progress.”

  Keri watched him walk through the doors, her vision blurred with tears.

  Nita pulled her to a nearby row of seats and gently lowered her into one. “Keri, he’ll be fine. I believe with all my heart, he’ll be just fine.”

  Keri slowly turned to look into her aunt’s worried eyes. “If only I believed that.”

  Nita’s brow deepened. “Oh sweetheart, I know it’s hard. But don’t lose faith. Don’t you let go of your faith.”

  What faith?

  Chapter 12

  Keri slowly took a seat on the weathered bench. The breeze was biting cold this morning but she didn’t care. It was like she hadn’t taken a breath all day. She’d always come here, to this bench beneath the lighthouse. It was her own personal haven where she could allow her mind to go places she normally kept carefully guarded. The steady rhythm of the waves lapping against the shore below had always soothed her soul.

  But never as much as today.

  Her father made it through surgery fine. The relief at hearing those words from Dr. Richards’ mouth had been the best news she’d ever heard. She’d spent the afternoon at her father’s bedside, though he mostly slept. Nita popped in and out, dividing her time between Tyler’s room and Shep’s. When her dad finally came around enough to talk, she wept openly, blubbering her relief that he’d made it through surgery.

  As the tears began to slow, she’d vowed to bring Jerry to justice. She’d never known such deep, consuming fury. She’d experienced heartache and sadness before. Lots of it. And she’d faced disappointment too many times to count. But this was different. There was a burning anger deep inside her toward this pathetic waste of humanity who’d come much too close to taking her father from her. Dad had learned to handle Jerry through the years. She would not be so forgiving. If it was the last thing she ever did, she would make sure he paid for all he’d done.

  “Sweetheart, please. Don’t talk like that.” He’d closed his eyes but continued. “I can’t lie here worrying about you confronting him. You have to promise me you won’t do that.”

  She’d bitten her lip, debating whether to lie or make the promise.

  “I can’t get well if I’m worrying about you stirring it up with Jerry again.”

  That’s all it took. She’d promised, knowing her father’s recovery was all that mattered.

  She’d promised. But she hadn’t liked it.

  Now, as the wind howled around her, she took deep cleansing breaths, trying to let the ocean air rid her of the toxic anger eating her up inside.

  Let it go, she told herself. You promised. You have to let it go. At least until Dad’s better.

  It took a conscious effort and wasn’t easy, but she tried to get her mind off Jerry and the fires and the losses—and near losses—they’d suffered.

  Just focus on the gratitude. Show some serious appreciation. Dad’s okay and that’s all that matters.

  Moments passed until she sensed a shift in her thoughts and feelings.

  Thank you, God.

  Her eyes popped open. Had she said that aloud?

  Where did that come from?

  But she knew. It came from a heart overflowing with gratitude. She blew out a hard breath, feeling genuine relief for owning up to the truth of it—that Nita had prayed and God had brought her father through his surgery.

  I’m here for you, Keri.

  This time she jumped up and looked around. The voice was so close, so intimate . . . but there was no one there.

  Or was there?

  I love you.

  The three words echoed over and over through her spirit. Pinpoints of heat pricked her eyes just before the tears began to fall. She didn’t even try to stop them.

  She knew exactly Who it was. And instead of putting up her customary defenses, she welcomed Him with everything inside her. Moments passed. She felt the strong breeze on her face, heard the rush of the surf below, the cry of seagulls in the distance.

  She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there when she felt something wash over her. Something different. Strange. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it or even what to think about it. But it felt good. Really good. As if she’d been covered with a soft, warm blanket wrapped in peace. How was that even possible with everything that was going on? Yet there it was. Real and comforting, filling her with a sense of security she’d never experienced. Not even close.

  The sound of footsteps approaching pulled her back to reality.

  “You know we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

  She turned, watching the wind whip those salt and peppers strands of hair peeking out beneath his ball cap. “Seems my private little hideout isn’t so private any more.”

  He stopped just before reaching her, the smile fading from his face. “Oh. Keri, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “Grant, I’m kidding.” She patted the bench beside her. “Have a seat.”

  “Whoa. You had me worried there for a minute.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean it that way. This has always been where I come when I need to think. Or just
air out my brain.” She dug her hands in her coat pockets. “But it’s hardly private property. So were you following me or just in the neighborhood again?”

  He’d sat down closer than she expected. He seemed to be searching her eyes, then slowly looped his arm through hers. “I was just heading out to Dad’s to pick up a few things for him. He gets nervous if he’s without his pipe for any length of time.”

  “His pipe? They won’t let him smoke in the hospital, you know.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem. He hasn’t lit the thing in years. Just likes the feel of it in his mouth. Maybe you’ve noticed he’s a bit on the peculiar side?”

  Keri smiled. “Your dad? Peculiar? No, I guess I never noticed.”

  “Liar.”

  She laughed quietly. “I’m glad he’s okay, Grant.”

  He snuggled closer, taking a deep breath as he looked out on the pounding surf below them. “Me too.” He stole a look sideways. “Are you okay?”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. You said you come out here to think. If you need to talk, I’m all ears.”

  A chorus of sea gulls flying by reminded her of the moments just before he showed up when a new-found sense of calm had eased all the anxieties she’d been fighting.

  “Grant, I’m not entirely sure, but I think maybe God just spoke to me.”

  He turned to face her. “Really? How do you mean?”

  She tried to explain it. The words hadn’t been audible, but she’d heard them just the same. Felt them in her heart. So real. So heartfelt.

  She wasn’t even embarrassed to tell him. Everything in his eyes, every expression on that handsome face, welcomed what she was saying.

  Almost as if he’d been waiting to hear them.

  He pulled his arm free then wrapped it over her shoulder, drawing her close to him. “Oh Keri, you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say this. I’ve been praying for you.”

  She sniffled. “You have?”

  She felt him nod his head. “As much as you pushed me off at first—wait, why exactly did you push me off so hard?” He leaned closer. “Because you must admit, you really couldn’t stand me. Barely tolerated being in the same room with me. What was all that about?”