Judah.
“Judah?” I said. The dog looked up perceptively, and if it hadn’t been of the four-legged variety, I’d have said it seemed shocked. Did this dog know something about Chav’s brother? Maybe this was his dog? “Did you belong to Judah?” It blinked its eyes once at me.
“Better question, are you planning on making a meal out of me?” I tried to put humor in my voice when I said it, but I was serious as hell.
It blinked twice, and I hoped like crazy once was yes and twice was no. Maybe I should have established some kind of baseline.
The door to the cafe opened. Blondina Messer was holding the door. The dining room smelled of grilled onions, hamburgers, and fries. All the stuff you’d expect in a country restaurant.
My stomach turned a little. I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat. It’s not a personal choice, more like a necessity. Now, don’t get the impression that I’m a health freak, I’m not. I’m all about Sticky Buns and Otis Spunkmeyer Chocolate Chip Muffins and glazed donuts. (Just thinking about those tasty carbs makes me salivate. Pavlov’s dog has nothing on me.) But for as long as I can remember, meat of any kind has made me physically and psychically ill. I throw up, I have visions of blood pouring from the poor creatures’ wounds, and more often than I like, I pass out. So, vegetarian.
Blondina clucked her tongue. “Well, come on in. Unless you plan on just standing around all day gathering flies.”
Stunned, I stuttered, “Uh, yes. To the coming in, not the gathering flies part.”
She laughed, and it was deep and loud, like a man’s burly laugh. It shook her all over. Even her bleached-blonde hairdo trembled. “Then come on,” she said.
I looked down at the dog, who was blocking my way and wasn’t moving, so I stepped around him and into the cafe. Blondina sat me at a table and brought over a menu. “What’d you like to start with, honey?”
I’d never been darlin’-ed, sugared, or honeyed so much in my entire life. Not even by people who knew me well enough to call me darling, sugar, or honey. Funny enough, it didn’t really bother me. It felt downright homey. “I guess I’ll start with coffee?” I made it a question.
“Good choice, Sunny. Cream or sugar?”
“Just black. Thanks.” I was rewarded with a smile. Her teeth were overly large for her mouth, but again, perfectly white and cavity free, at least superficially.
When the waitress, not Blondina, brought over the coffee, she gave me a sweet smile that beamed “how can I serve you?” She had golden-brown hair, nearly coppery, with a Marilyn Monroe figure. Ample, but with curves in all the right places. Her name tag read Selena.
When I took the coffee, our fingers brushed. I caught a glimpse of her curled up in a bed with pink ruffles, crying, as she clung to a picture of a pimply faced boy.
I nearly dropped the coffee. That had been a clearly focused vision. Much like the one I’d had with Babel earlier. Something that only happened when Chav was around. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I had to know if it was real. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Why, yes.” She smiled brightly.
“Does he have a bad case of acne?”
Her smile dimmed. “He’s growing out of it.”
Oh shit. Real! Should I warn her? My brain screamed, “Nooooo!” But my scorned lady parts said, “Definitely.”
“Be careful of that one. He’s likely to break your heart.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say.” Selena frowned. “You don’t know Bobby so shut your pie-hole.”
I was glad I already had my coffee, or it might have come with an extra shot of spit. Talk about winning and influencing people. I should have listened to my brain. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Curtly, she asked, “Can I get you anything else?”
Okay, so she didn’t like me either. What else was new? I shook my head, but before she could get away completely, I asked about my new stalker. “Do you know who that dog outside belongs to?”
Selena looked in the general direction of the door. “What dog would that be, hon?”
“He was lying down in front of the door just a minute ago. Reddish-brown fur, sharp nose, kind of skinny. White ear?” The description didn’t seem to register with her, or if it did, she was careful to keep her face blank. “I think he might have belonged to Judah Trimmel, but I can’t be certain.”
A momentary expression of surprise crossed her face, then it was gone. “I don’t believe I know of a dog like that around here.” Huh.
I had my coffee along with a chef salad with no ham, ignoring the wary glances from the other customers. A potent gamey scent wafted through the restaurant. It reminded me of the milk shed we had at the commune where I grew up. All damp and musty and animal. The smell disappeared as quickly as it had presented. No one else in the diner noticed. Or if they did, they didn’t react.
I’d already opened my mouth and offended the waitress, so I kept quiet about the odor. It wasn’t worth the extra bad ju-ju. After I finished eating, I paid for lunch, left a nice tip for Selena (it was the least I could do after opening my big, fat mouth), thanked Blondina for inviting me in, and headed out.
A very tall woman in tight blue jeans, low-heeled boots, and a fitted red blouse nearly ran me over on the sidewalk. I looked at her face and recognized her instantly. Sheila of the Canadian Mist. An image of her perfect naked body straddling Babel popped into my head. It was something I didn’t think a thousand hot showers could wash away. It made me wish someone would develop a mind-bleaching pill. They could sell the shit out of something like that.
“Pardon,” I said, more polite than I felt.
She stopped and sniffed me as if I was wearing some sort of exotic perfume. Her expression became hostile. “Look where you’re going next time, bitch.”
I could have said the same to her, but the menace in her demeanor promised violence, and I was a pacifist for the most part. At least when it looked like I had no chance of winning. I waited until she’d gone into Blonde Bear Cafe before I continued my walk.
On the right, I passed the courthouse. It was big, three stories, but nothing flashy about it. It was constructed from white stone and brick, giving it that official feeling. I wondered if Neville Lutjen worked out of the building, or if the mayor’s office was located elsewhere. On down toward the end of Main Street, I saw Doe Run Automotive. Ruth Thompson’s place. She’d been nice and friendly, and, right at this moment, nice and friendly was worth a visit.
She came out of the garage in greasy overalls, wiping at a smudge on her cheek. I liked that she had a hand in the business, more than just a glorified receptionist.
“Hey Ruth,” I said cheerfully.
“Sunny!” She smiled that flawless smile of hers, and I felt warm inside. I hadn’t been mistaken about her.
“I was out walking and thought I’d take you up on your offer of pie and coffee.” The Cobb salad from lunch hadn’t filled me up, and the thought of pie made my stomach rumble.
Ruth beamed. “Well come on around back. My house is just on the other side of the shop.”
I followed her around the path leading to a small two-story house. It was painted pink with light blue trim. I fought off a giggle. Her yard was neat, freshly mowed, with a row of purple irises and yellow daffodils painting the walkway to her stoop. She stripped off the overalls and hung them on the porch before going inside. I stayed close behind.
The kitchen was small, utilitarian but tidy, like everything about Ruth, except her appearance. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you.” She blushed as if she wasn’t used to compliments. Her large brown eyes looked around her modest kitchen as if she hadn’t seen it all before. “It’ll do.” Ruth started the coffee and dug a pie out of the refrigerator. “Apple okay?”
“Sounds great.” I stared out the picturesque window. It had a great view of a well tended garden. The dog I’d been seeing walked across the yard, turning its head once toward me before strolling out of vie
w. “Hmm.”
“What was that?” Ruth asked, taking the cover off the pie tin.
“Did Judah Trimmel have a dog?”
I probably shouldn’t have asked the question as she was slicing downward on the pie because she jumped then stood frozen as a small amount of blood welled up on her left thumb.
I passed out.
When I came around, Ruth hovered over me pressing a cold cloth to my head. A bandage covered the cut. “Land sakes, girl. You damned near gave me a heart attack. Are you all right?”
“Fine. Sorry. Blood. It makes me woozy,” I managed to say. Though not to this degree. There was definitely something about the fresh country air that was upping the ante on my blood-to-fainting ratio. I sat up, then pulled myself back into a chair with Ruth’s help.
“Heavens to Betsy. It wasn’t more than a little scratch.” She put the bandaged hand in front of my face. I closed my eyes and turned away, afraid she might want to show me.
I opened them back up again when she said, “You want cream or sugar?”
“Black’s fine. Thank you.”
She placed two pieces of pie and two mugs of coffee on the table and sat opposite of me. “Judah wouldn’t have had a dog.”
I frowned. “Are you certain?”
“Positive, honey.” She chuckled. “Why’d you ask?”
How could I answer? Because the dog told me so. Yeah, that didn’t sound loopy or unstable at all. So, I lied. “I thought I’d smelled a dog in the apartment above the diner.”
“Oh.” She glanced up at the ceiling but didn’t elaborate.
“Did you know him well?”
“Who?” she asked, meeting my gaze. “Oh, you mean Judah. Of course.” A deep sadness turned down the corners of her brown eyes. “He was a good man.”
Was? Not is? I guess she’d given up on him along with everyone else. I wouldn’t be giving up on Chav. “What about his sister?”
“I haven’t known her for as long as Judah, but I like her all the same.” She leaned forward. “I’m really worried about Chavvie. And Babe.”
I guess no one but me had a problem calling him Babe. “So you know them all pretty well?”
“Oh, heavens no. Judah, sure. He’d been here for eight years before…” She shook her head. “Nice man. Lonely. But nice. He’d just got tired of living out there.” She made “out there” sound like a dirty word. “Wanted to be among his own—” Ruth faltered as if searching for the appropriate word. “Well, let’s just say he was a kindred spirit. He'd really settled in,” she continued. “But two years ago, he just up and vanished. After a couple of weeks, when he hadn’t shown up, the sheriff called his family in Kansas City. That’s when Babe and Chavvie came. Such a sweet girl. I was pleased as punch when she decided to stay.”
“Do you have any idea where she could be?”
“I’m afraid not, Sunny.” Her long eyelashes closed and opened in a slow blink. “Babe. That poor boy. He was frantic about finding out what happened to his brother, then time took the fight out of him. And now this with his sister. He’s got to be devastated.”
Babel had only come to Peculiar to find his brother and now to find his sister. I could understand why he didn’t want to be here. I had my own worries concerning Chav, but this town held nothing but loss for him. It would be hard for me to stay in a place where I kept losing people I loved.
I wanted to take back every mean thing I’d thought about Babel. He was grieving, and I hadn’t noticed. “Have you heard any rumors about Chav or Judah? Anything that could explain why one or both of them vanished?” Or did disappearing off the planet happen all the time around this place?
Ruth looked stricken for a moment, but she pulled herself together quick. “There are always rumors, Sunny. Usually half-truths and innuendo. You can’t take stock in such tales.”
My gaze traveled past Ruth to the hall outside the kitchen while I thought about Ruth’s aversion to straight answers. A flicker of movement caught my eye, startling me. I spilled the coffee I’d brought to my lips when I saw what looked like the back half of a deer disappear around the corner.
“What? I…” I felt silly when a small boy with buff-colored hair and holding some antlers came running into the kitchen. He flung himself onto Ruth.
“Mom!” He couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. He rubbed his face against Ruth’s and she smiled, her expression relieved. In his carefree way, the way most children are, he didn’t notice I was there—until he noticed. The boy stood stock still, his brown eyes, so much like his mother’s and stared at me.
Absently, Ruth touched his cheek. “Linus, this is my new friend, Sunny.” She’d said “new friend” with a hint of caution. I wasn’t sure if it was meant for me or Linus.
“Hi, Linus.” I held out my hand, he took it in a firm grasp. As firm as his small hands would allow. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Sunny,” he said shyly. His tone was an octave high for a boy, but his face was soft and bright like a cherub, and it seemed fitting he should have the voice of an angel.
“Linus is my baby.” Pride filled her face.
“Mom, I’m not a baby anymore.”
I suppressed a grin thinking he’d probably said that line more often than Ruth cared to hear it. “How many children do you have?”
“Nine,” she said, suddenly looking tired.
“Holy cow. You don’t look old enough to have had eight children.”
She grinned at that. “I’ve been telling myself that for years. But sure enough, eight kids all the same. Tyler and Taylor, the oldest boys, are twins. First and only set, thank the powers that be. Not an easy birth, let me tell you. Next was our oldest girl, Dakota. Ed and I had a whale of a fight over that name. Then Michele, Emma Ray, Butch—well, Leroy, but we’ve always called him Butch—then Thomas, Lisa Ann, and last but certainly not least, Linus.” Ruth hugged her son for emphasis. The boy beamed his pleasure through a toothy smile. “Go play,” she said to Linus and gave him a slight smack on the butt as he exited the kitchen.
“He’s adorable.” I was still trying to get my head around nine kids. The woman didn’t look nearly as worn out as she should have. “Incredible, five boys and three girls.”
“Yep, and two grandkids.”
“No freaking way. You must have started when you were twelve.” I realized after I’d said it that I wasn’t being very PC. So, I amended my statement. “I only mean that you look way too young to be a grandmother.”
“It’s okay, Sunny. No offense taken. I did start young, as you say. I was seventeen when I married Ed. He was just so handsome, he took my breath away. By the time I was eighteen, Tyler and Taylor had been born. Tyler’s been married two years now. And funny enough, his wife Darla had twins recently. Girls, mind you, but still.” Ruth looked wistful and happy as she thought of her grandbabies.
“So, Tyler married when he was…” I let the question hang.
“Eighteen. Just like his father.”
That made the boys twenty, which put Ruth at thirty-eight.
“Wow.” Again. Her figure was tight and compact, not like you’d expect with a woman who’d squeezed out a bunch of kids. And her face was smooth, not a wrinkle in sight. I mean, I was a little younger than Ruth, only by a couple of years, and I was already getting small lines at the corners of my eyes. “So, Taylor didn’t marry?”
“No,” she smiled again. “Taylor and Tyler are identical twins, but no two boys could be more different. Taylor’s left-handed, Tyler’s right; Taylor is rowdy and loud, Tyler’s gentle and quiet. Taylor is carefree while Tyler is serious about everything. I’ll tell you this, I’m proud of both of those boys, really I am, but Tyler was definitely easier.” Ruth chuckled. “Over the years, I’ve learned that being a mother means being adaptable. Every one of my children is different from each other, and what works for one doesn’t necessarily work for any of the others.”
Mommy wisdom. Interesting. I nodded my agreeme
nt. Mostly because there wasn’t much I could say or add. I’d never been a parent, and until you are one, you just don’t know. At least that’s what I’d been told.
Ruth got up and opened a cabinet. She pulled down a photo album and flipped through the pages, pointing out her children through different ages and stages. I nodded, smiled, and fawned when appropriate. All her boys, along with her oldest daughter, Dakota, had their father’s buff-colored hair, while the rest of the girls had their mother’s tawny-brown locks. I was a little surprised to see that Ed, her husband, had the same large brown eyes that Ruth had, and each of the children had inherited that particular trait.
The next page was a wedding photo. Tyler’s wedding. The picture included the whole party. Taylor stood next to the groom, then Leroy, and though I had no idea who he was, the third man in the groomsmen line looked familiar. Loosely kempt, medium-brown hair, except for a shock of white on the right side, square, chiseled jaw, compact build. I pointed. “Who’s that?”
“Judah.” She sighed as if the name pained her. “I think if Tyler hadn’t felt obliged to name Taylor his best man, he would have asked Judah. They were great friends.”
“Were? Did something happen between them?”
My question made Ruth pause for a moment. Then she said, “No, just, well he’s gone now is all.”
There was more she’d left unsaid, but I didn’t push. “He looks a lot like Babel.”
“No.” Ruth shook her head. “Babel looks a lot like Judah. Judah was older by twelve years.”
“How old would he be now?”
“He’d be thirty-four, give or take a few months.”
“Oh.” Inside I kicked myself hard. Judah being thirty-four put Babel at twenty-three now. I’d been literally lusting after my best friend's baby brother. I’d never asked her how old he was, but Chav was thirty-five, so that made Babel an “oops” baby. He’d just seemed more mature, the scruff on his face giving him the appearance of a man who’d done more living.
I stroked my finger over the picture of Judah. I felt buzzy again, right before a vision of Judah standing in this kitchen, holding Ruth, his lips pressed to hers. She’d pushed him away, surprise written all over her expression, and slapped him hard across the face. As I took my finger off the picture, the vision went away. The glimpse of Ruth’s past left me embarrassed. It wasn’t any of my business.
My Paranormal Valentine: A Paranormal Romance Box Set Page 61