by Tonya Kappes
I picked up the carafe and poured some coffee.
“Say, why don’t you come down for some coffee. I’m not dressed for church, but you can hang out with the kids while I get ready.” By kids, I meant Rowena and Buster.
“I’ve been up for hours. I’m already dressed.” There was pause, then he admitted. “I’m actually on your front porch with Buster.”
“Gosh. I’m coming.” I hung up the phone and put it on the counter. I tried to push back some of my hair to make me a little more presentable, but nothing but some Botox, a facelift, maybe some filler, and some good makeup was going to do anything for my fifty-year-old face this early in the morning.
Buster rushed in front of Mac. My appearance didn’t stop Mac from kissing me good morning. It wasn’t just a peck either.
“I could get used to seeing you like this.” He stared lovingly into my eyes and swept his hand over my cheek. “Even in the middle of a murder investigation with no sleep, you’re gorgeous.”
“Mac Tabor, you don’t need to sweet-talk me for some coffee.” I pulled away and walked back to the kitchen. “It’s already made.”
“Why do you always change the subject when I want to talk about us and how much you mean to me?” Mac was a romantic, and I was always the skeptic.
“What do you mean?” I kept my back to him as I poured his coffee.
He walked over, took the coffeepot from me, and stuck it back on the burner. I closed my eyes when I felt him place his hands on the sides of my arms and turn me to him.
He placed his finger under my chin and lifted my face so I had to look at him and not his chest.
“Please look in my eyes.” He peered down at me, and when we locked eyes, he smiled. “Bernie, this morning coffee is something I want every morning with you.”
“You’re always welcome to walk down.” I tried my best to pretend like I didn’t know what he was getting at.
“A walk down the hall every morning?” he asked. His eyes searched my face. “See. That look. A scared look.”
I tried to put on a good poker face because I knew he was trying to see my reaction, but I was horrible at poker.
“I’m not going to live with anyone. You know that.” Not that I cared if people lived together before marriage, it just wasn’t for me. “We’ve got a good thing, me and you. We have our jobs, we have supper, we have dates, we have outings…”
“So you only see me as a companion?” he questioned. It was technically what we’d agreed upon when all of this started to bubble up inside of us. “Because I want more.”
I took a step back and held on to the counter, trying to gather my thoughts. Why was he bringing this up now?
“Mac,” I whispered. His finger met my lips.
“I’m not asking for an answer from you right now, but Bernie, we need to let everyone else take care of everyone else and go for the life we deserve.” He took my hands in his, bringing them up to his lips, kissing them. “How many years of agony did I go through watching Richard have the best of you when you deserved so much more. I sat on the sideline, loving every single bit of you every day of your marriage. Now that we…” With my hands still in his grip, he moved them between us. “We have something. You know it, and I know it. In here.” He tapped my own hands to my chest. “We have more than you and Richard ever had.”
I pulled my hands away.
“You know it.” He assured me that I did know it, but admitting it seemed like a failure on my part. A failure to my marriage. A failure as Grady’s mom. “Even though you never acted upon any feelings toward me while you were married, I knew there was something there for me.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do, Mac.” I could feel the tears stinging the inside of my body as they started to press into my nose and up to my eyes. “I like where we are at. Right here. Right now.”
“We are fifty years old. We are wasting our years not being together. Fully together.” Mac was hinting around to marriage, and I knew it.
“I can’t give that commitment right now,” I blurted it out.
His chin dropped to his chest. He gave a slow few nods. He took a couple of steps back.
“I think I’m skipping church today,” he said, finally breaking the silence, and walked past me.
The door shut quietly, leaving a slamming in my heart.
The hot shower felt so good and was a much welcomed eye-opener, or maybe it was the strong coffee I’d gulped down after Mac left. I only knew that I sat there for about an hour trying to figure out why I couldn’t take that next step with him. The step he wanted. He was a good man. He was a catch, and he was right. He’d spent all his life single because he was in love with me and didn’t let his heart try to love anyone else.
“He deserves better than me,” I told Rowena after she curled her tail around my calf as if she knew I needed a little hug from her. I bent down and picked her up, not caring that I was going to get her cat hair all over my dress. “I know you love him. I love him too.”
“I think she doesn’t want to be a teacher and she wanted to be in the family’s charity business. Maybe she was angry about that, or the fact that Florence marrying Zeke completely altered the life Courtney had laid out for herself. She’s certainly not happy living in Sugar Creek Gap.” My foot hooked the towel from last night, and I dragged it along the hardwood floor to wipe up Buster’s wet paw prints. “Maybe they’d gotten into a fight, but I do think it happened before Harriette came over.”
There were a few minutes before I had to leave for church. I made myself another cup of coffee so I could drown my feelings. I flipped on the radio to WSCG and was surprised to hear Lucy Drake’s voice on a Sunday morning. Around the south, radio on Sundays was filled with gospel music. Today it was filled with gossip.
“Lucy, come on. If you don’t think one of those kid’s parents done her in…you need more coffee.” One of the callers sounded like they thought Lucy Drake had lost her mind.
“I’m not the sheriff. I don’t know all the facts, but I do know there was a murder committed on Little Creek Road.” Lucy’s deep radio voice dripped mysteriously through my radio. “Little Creek Road has seen a few deaths this year. Maybe we need to have the name changed to Death Row Road.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Hello, caller, you are on the air with a special Sunday edition of Coffee Chat with Lucy.” Coffee Chat? When did Lucy start calling her morning show Coffee Chat?
“Hey, Lucy. I love you. You have the most informed show out there.” The male caller sounded stupid as he gushed over her.
“It is the only show out there, goofball,” I talked to the radio. “Only show in Sugar Creek Gap, that is. And she should call it Coffee and Gossip Talk.”
“Thank you. Go ahead with what you wanted to say.” I could see Lucy right now with her new fake long blond hair extensions and her false eyelashes she’d gotten over the past couple of months.
Her talk show had really taken off, and she’d been hired to do some public appearances, even hosting a few fundraisers, so she went and got herself a complete makeover. Even dyed her hair. I wasn’t sure, but I also thought she’d gotten some alterations to her face…if you know what I mean. Not that I was jealous. She could do what she wanted, and if I had a face in the public eye, maybe I’d do something to my wrinkles.
The only thing I didn’t agree with that Lucy did was exploit what was going on in our town.
“I wanted to say Florence Gaines might not’ve been the nicest person, but once, when I was trying to give my parents a party for their anniversary, I planned for a get-together at the community center and couldn’t afford the fifty dollars to rent it. She was on the board there, and she let it slide. I will tell you that I overheard one caller on here saying something about that kid going off on Florence in the church of all places when she didn’t win that scholarship. Even threatened poor Florence in front of everyone. Her name was Tiffany—” There was a beep on Lucy’s end. “What was that?”
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“I’m sorry, caller. We aren’t allowed to say minors’ names on the air, so if you have another adult name you could use.” My jaw dropped as Lucy baited the caller to give up another name when we all knew he was talking about Tiffany Franklin.
“Fine. I’ll name her daddy,” the caller went right on, “Alvie Franklin. Now that man didn’t want Florence to let my deposit slip on by. He created all sorts of problems for me. And just like his daughter, I heard him with my own ears threaten Florence Gaines. Sheriff Hafley needs to look into them Franklins concernin’ Florence’s murder.”
“Thank you, caller.” Lucy cut him off. “Let me be clear, folks. We don’t have official word that Florence Gaines was murdered. We only have what our police scanner tells us. And to recap what I had said earlier, last night during the thunderstorm code 10-54 was called into dispatch, sending Sheriff Hafley and a few deputies to Little Creek Road to the residence of Mac Tabor. Let me clarify, Mac Tabor doesn’t live at that residence. He rents it out to a new tenant. A Courtney Gaines, who just so happens to be the niece of the deceased, Florence Gaines. One eyewitness said a deputy put a shovel in an evidence bag after Jigs Baker and Barron Long had come to take the body to the morgue, where I’m assuming an autopsy is to be performed.”
“Then it’s a shut case,” another caller chirped in. “The niece did it. It was her house. Don’t be going and blaming some kid over a lost scholarship.”
I sat there literally with my mouth open. This was better entertainment than Jerry Springer. Who knew all these people had opinions this early in the morning?
“I’m sure she’s a suspect, but we can’t forget how Florence had gotten married earlier in the day to Zeke Grey, a very eligible bachelor here in Sugar Creek Gap. I understand from a reliable source that his house was about to be foreclosed on due to some financial problems Mr. Grey was having. And you know me in all these investigations. . .” She paused. “I like to follow the money. This is Lucy Drake with a special Sunday-morning edition of Coffee Chat with Lucy.” She lowered her voice into a very sexy tone. “Be sure to keep your ears open to any new information about the suspicious death of Florence Gaines and meet me right back here tomorrow at our regular time. In the meantime, listeners, have a wonderful Sunday.”
I shook my head and got up to get my purse for church. I loved how she called Florence’s death suspicious so she wouldn’t get scolded. That woman had no shame.
The only part she had right in the entire segment was the fact that Jigs Baker and Barron Long would determine Florence’s cause of death, even though Angela pretty much confirmed it was a blow to the head. And it was murder….because there was no way Florence whacked herself.
Jigs Baker was the undertaker and owner of Sugar Creek Gap’s only funeral home, and Barron Long was his only employee. Barron was a coroner, as was Jigs, so I wasn’t sure who’d be taking a look at Florence.
And from the looks of things, everyone else at Sugar Creek Gap Baptist Church also had the same thought as me.
Poor Jigs was trying to get his hymnal all prepped and ready since the choir was about to perform and he was the lead baritone, but everyone kept asking questions about Florence.
Who could miss the huge lily arrangement in the front pew where Florence Gaines had always sat perched up like a flamingo with a big fancy hat every Sunday morning. And it was just for lookies. She only wore a big hat to cover up her closed eyes, and if weren’t for her snoring a few times while Brother Don was giving his sermon, we’d have thought her bobbing head was her agreeing with him.
“Bernie, honey. What on earth?” There was worry in my mom’s eyes when she looked at me. “This is awful. You’ve got cat hair all over you.”
“Leave the girl alone.” Dad had leaned over from the other side of Mom to look down the pew at me. He winked. I loved how he still called me a girl. “What about Florence Gaines? She and Zeke were just in the diner with her niece.”
“Did you see anything?” Mom asked in a loud whisper.
“Well, I heard Courtney screaming, and I ran out there.” I kept my head down so no one would hear me.
“You saw Florence’s body?” Mom’s voice wasn’t so quiet. The people in the pew in front of us turned around.
“Mmmhmmm.” I kept my lips together and gave Mom the side-eye. “She and Zeke got married.” I knew that was going to bring a gasp as big as the day was long to my mom. And I was hoping that because of my look, she’d tone her reaction down.
What I didn’t expect was how loud it was and how long her gasp would last, which brought too much attention and began the influx of members of the church coming up to me when Jigs wasn’t giving any information.
“I have no idea,” was my standard reply when they asked me what on earth had happened, since it got out that I was the one who called 9-1-1 after hearing Courtney scream.
“Ahem.” Brother Don’s voice came over the speakers, making everyone jerk up and see he’d started church. No one had been paying a bit of attention. “We have come this morning with a heavy heart. As you’ve heard.” He looked directly at me like I was the devil.
I shifted uncomfortably and broke eye contact, but only to lock onto the Franklin family, who always sat in the pew diagonal from ours. Not that the pews had our names on them, but it was where we all sat every single Sunday for the past fifty years.
I clearly remember my mom telling a new family as politely as she could that they needed to move one Sunday when they were in our spot, because it was our spot. Needless to say, they’d complained to Brother Don about it, and he tried to politely tell them how families who’d been going to the church just kind of had their spot. Apparently, politely didn’t work, because I’d not seen that family since.
Tiffany Franklin sat right in between her parents. Her father had his arm around her as though he were protecting his daughter. Just a pew over was the Brotherton family. Aaron was at the end, followed up by his siblings and parents. His mother sniffled into a handkerchief. As much as I wanted to forget what that caller had said about Alvie Franklin, I couldn’t. When I looked at him, I couldn’t help picturing him towering over poor Florence with that shovel above his head.
“Amen!” There were quite a few of those being thrown out like confetti as Brother Don spoke about Florence’s good deeds. There were also a lot of mournful sighs.
“Zeke Grey would like to say a few words.” That caught my ear. I jerked back up to see him in his suit, red-eyed and a little less put together than normal.
“I’d like to thank everyone for all your calls and condolences this morning. When Florence gave me the honor of taking my name yesterday at the courthouse, I never figured she wouldn’t be beside me this morning as we introduced her as Mrs. Zeke Grey.” He was such a good speaker and a very good-looking older man. I could see why most of the widowed ladies wanted to hold his company. “Florence was a spitfire and got me moving. It was what I liked most about her. And when I was planning the wedding shower, it was Florence who came over every day and helped put the feminine touch on the shower. And I liked that. It made me feel good. She made me feel good.” He looked over at the lily. “I’m thankful for the time we did have together.”
A lot of members were crying at this point, even me. But when Jigs Baker got to singing “Amazing Grace,” no one had a dry eye.
“Why, that was near the best sermon I’ve heard in a long time.” Harriette Pearl shuffled up to the front from her usual back-row pew with Ruby Dean, Gertrude Stone, and Millie Barnes behind her like the new little ducks I’d seen this morning in Little Creek. “Me and you’ve got to have us a conversation.” She eyeballed me. She threw a thumb at Gertrude. “Gertrude heard from Tawny, who heard from Edna, who is Jig’s sister-in-law, that Florence Gaines died from injury to the head. Who do you think let that out?”
“Ladies, good morning,” Mac interrupted. I was taken by surprise. I had figured he wasn’t going to come to church after what happened.
“I saw you la
st night camped across the street.” Harriette winked at Mac. “Bernie, you sure do got you a good one.” She elbowed him. “Now I know Zeke is a bad seed, I just might steal this one here right out from under you.”
“You were camped across the street?” I questioned him and wondered why he never mentioned it this morning.
“You ladies don’t miss a thing, do you?” he joked and put his arm around me. “I’m keeping an eye on all y’all.”
The Front Porch Ladies gushed.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to Lucy.” He nodded toward the back of the church, where Lucy Drake stood in her high heels, short skirt showing off her thin legs.
“Maybe I need to make an appointment at the Curl Up and Dye Hair Salon.” Gertrude wiggled her shoulders and brows.
I couldn’t help but wonder what Mac wanted with Lucy. When I saw her throw her head back, those long fake curls shaking as she laughed at something Mac said, I nearly puked right there in the center aisle. Now, wouldn’t that’ve been pretty?
I forced myself to glance up. I noticed there was a crowd of members who’d gathered in the balcony. It appeared everyone, even the ones who only came to church on Easter, had come, and they’d opened the balcony for the overflow.
Sitting right in the front was Vince Caldwell, along with most of the seniors from the Sugar Creek Gap nursing home. He gave me a slight chin nod along with a wink. That told me he knew something.
After all, he was a former FBI guy.
By the time we’d made it out of the church, it was almost time for Iris to stop by the house and start cooking for Sunday supper. Even though it was technically Grady’s house, I still cooked and took the food. Julia had joked she’d start doing all the food once the baby was here and about fifteen years old.
I didn’t mind. But what I did mind was the time and cutting it close. I’d not been able to get my vegetables and flowers in the garden boxes behind my house, which I assumed Mac was no longer going to do.