Breakfast at the Honey Creek Café

by Jodi Thomas

  In the last pew he found Daily Watts slumped over, his eyes closed. Sam put his hand on the man’s shoulder and asked, “You need any help, Daily?”

  The mechanic’s bloodshot eyes popped open. “I see them following me, but they can’t be real. I don’t know if they’re angels or devils.” His words tumbled out in a drunkard’s cry. “If I come in here and see them, I’ll know they are angels ’cause devils wouldn’t go in a church, I’m thinking. But they weren’t here.”

  Sam remembered the three little kids following Daily the first night Sam was in town.

  “All I can tell you, Daily, is that sometimes you have to face your fears.”

  “You may be right, Preacher. I used to get drunk one night a week, but lately it’s two. At the rate I’m going I won’t keep my job and that’s all I’ve got. Maybe my brother is right. I’m no good to anybody.”

  On a guess Sam asked, “Did you once have a kid?”

  “Yeah, I was going to. I killed him. My wife was big pregnant. She wasn’t wearing her seatbelt ’cause she said it rubbed on her tummy. I was going too fast and didn’t have time to stop. They both died and I walked away.”

  “Were you drinking that night?”

  “No, but have ever since. My wife always said we’d have three kids and now I’ve got three ghosts following me. I’d die if it’d bring my wife back, but it don’t work that way.” Daily stood. “I better be going. Good sermon this morning, Preacher.”

  “Thanks.” He walked Daily to the door. “Do me a favor. The next time you see those kids, stop and talk to them.”

  “Why not,” the drunk muttered. “I’ve already lost my sanity, nothing they can take from me.”

  Sam headed down to the basement where he thought he might find Anna Presley. If they were going to the Fair on the Square later today, they needed to get to know each other, or at least set some rules for not yelling.

  He wasn’t surprised to find her knee-deep in a project. “Want some help?”

  “No, Stella said she’d help.”

  “Stella left with the organ player. They were discussing where they planned to eat lunch. Paul said he’d like to backtrack down the road about thirty miles. He said there was a little place that looked good and it had a sign that claimed they were always open. I didn’t hear her answer, but she got in his car so unless the organ player is kidnapping her, I guess the answer was yes.”

  Anna tossed a box with Easter written on the side. “If she’s gone, that leaves you as my helper. We’re boxing up all the Valentine and Easter stuff in the marked boxes. Don’t get them mixed up. Then we’ll put those boxes in the back and pull forward all the fall decorating material.”

  He picked up a dozen coloring books with bunnies on the cover and put them in the box. When he tried to slip in paper hearts, she shook her head and tossed him another box, this time with Valentine’s Day on the side.

  Glue, scissors, markers, and putty had their own boxes, along with plastic eyeballs and paintbrushes. Used gum, broken toys, and chewed pencils had no box.

  For a while they worked in silence; then she said with a smile, “You do know that you’re being paid in donuts.”

  “I’ve already eaten four. I would have eaten another couple chocolate glazed, but Mr. Winston wrapped them in a paper towel and stuffed them in his coat pocket.” Sam liked her smile.

  “There will be food at the fair, Preacher. Since you’re buying, we’ll have a late lunch and dinner. I’m starving.”

  “You’re sure?” He started working faster.

  “Another hour and we’ll be on our way. We can’t stay long, though. I want to make sure I’m home before Stella gets back. She doesn’t have a cell so we can’t call her. If she comes here, you’ll bring her to my place, right?”

  “Right, but wouldn’t it be simpler to call the organ player. Surely he’s got a cell if he drives in and out every Sunday.”

  For some reason Anna hit him with another box. All he could think to say was, “His number’s on the bulletin board in the office.”

  Sam considered that hitting him with boxes was her way of showing him affection. If he ever kissed her, she’d probably stab him with rounded tip scissors. If they made love, he had no doubt, given her violent nature, she’d run over him with that old Jeep she drove.

  Sam went back to work, smiling. He was looking forward to defending himself.

  While she called the organ player, Sam stepped out on the back porch. He noticed a tall woman leaning against a car he’d seen yesterday morning. She’d said it had been out of gas.

  “Morning, Marcie. You find your secret love?”

  She nodded as she dropped her cigarette and ground it into the gravel. “I did. When he heard I was looking for him in Honey Creek he came looking for me with a can of gas. I almost didn’t recognize him in old fishing clothes and several days of beard.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  He’d walked close enough to see her face. She was a tall, beautiful woman in her twenties who seemed to have a hundred years of sadness in her eyes.

  “You all right, Marcie?”

  She shook her head. “I’m glad he’s back. He says he still loves me but we still can’t tell anyone.”

  “Why?” Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  “Oh, he’s not married or anything like that, Preacher. He has plans, big plans. He’s had some bad press lately. People digging up dirt on him, but that will be forgotten soon. He says he’s going to inherit a lot of money and we can go to Mexico and live it up.”

  Sam was confused. She didn’t seem very happy about her boyfriend’s plan. “What bothers you about that?”

  Marcie lowered her head. “Does that priest thing still apply? You can’t tell anyone what I say.”

  “Sure, but I’m not a priest.”

  “I know, but you’re as close to being one as I can find and I really need to tell someone.”

  Sam had the feeling he was on the last chapter of a terrible mystery novel. He hated the thought of what might come next, but he had to turn the page. “You can tell me. I may not be much help, but I’ll listen.”

  Marcie pulled out a tissue, wiped her nose, and whispered, “He says there’s a woman who played him along. Used him. Acted like she cared.” She blew her nose. “He said this woman might have to die for everything to work out. It was all crazy talk. I know he won’t really do it, but it scared me.”

  Sam heard the back door of the church open. Anna was bumping her way out with a cart. He moved closer to Marcie. “You’ve got to go to the sheriff, Marcie.”

  “No,” whispered. “I love him. He’ll calm down. Now I know where he is, I’ll stay with him. Maybe everything will work out as he plans. We’ll be on the beach next week.” She turned toward her car door.

  “Come back tomorrow. Promise.”

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t even look his direction as she gunned the car and raced away as if she’d left her problem at his feet.

  Chapter 22

  Sunday afternoon

  Pecos

  Pecos drove slowly back to town. This might be the last time he made this back road, maybe for years. He’d write his brothers and tell them where he landed. He doubted they’d be surprised that he left home. Tucson had once mentioned that Pecos could come live with him while he was stateside. Pecos would figure something out. He wasn’t going back; if he did, he knew his spirit, his drive, his dreams would all slowly dribble away.

  It occurred to him that this was his parents’ way of pushing their chicks out of the nest. If so, they needed some serious parenting classes.

  Pecos parked a few houses down from the Lanes’ place. Kerrie’s dad probably wouldn’t want an old pickup in his driveway. As he approached, he saw that Kerrie was sitting on the front steps waiting for him. She jumped up and ran up to him, taking his hand. She seemed nervous.

  “Let’s just have fun tonight. Be happy. We can worry about tomorrow in the morning, and please don’t tell m
y mother I cried.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “I figured out that I want everything to stay the same as it’s always been and you want it to change. Look at it this way. One of us is going to get what we want.”

  He sensed she was pretending to be the happy, popular, beautiful girl everyone loved to be around. He remembered watching her in middle school and wondering if Kerrie Lane ever got a mosquito bite or broke a sweat. She seemed so perfect. But at close range he saw the sadness in her eyes today.

  Something was bothering her, but she didn’t want to face it now.

  “Okay.” Pecos smiled down at her. “We have fun tonight. Tomorrow we’ll talk about the world changing. If it’s too much, we’ll run away.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve already thought of running away. That wouldn’t work. I’ve never been anywhere that didn’t make me want to come back to Honey Creek.”

  He needed to see her real smile. “We could join the circus. I could be a clown and you could walk the tightrope. We’d travel the world.”

  “You’d go with me?” she teased.

  “I would, even though I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to the face paint.”

  They were laughing as they entered the house together.

  Unlike last night, there were only a dozen people around. A few cousins on Kerrie’s mother’s side who drove in from Dallas for graduation—one with three noisy kids. The men mostly stood outside and smoked.

  Everyone in Kerrie’s family talked at once. Not one listener in the bunch. It was like trying to watch three or four TV shows at a time. Pecos was relieved when Kerrie grabbed his hand and pulled him to the door.

  “Time to go. Mom’s starting to tell family stories and believe me, you don’t want to hear about my great uncles.”

  He thought he might, but she pulled him out. Pecos waved and yelled thanks, then they were off to walk the two blocks to the fair. There were rides for little kids and a water slide for anyone brave enough. A dozen games with all the money going to charities. Booths to sell local goods and three food trucks.

  Pecos pulled a twenty from his pocket thinking he’d spend the whole bill on her.

  The air was still hot on the square as they circled. Her grandfather had a green booth with bees painted on the fringe. All the bees were smiling.

  Kerrie introduced Pecos to her grandfather, then went to get everyone lemonade.

  Pecos was immediately comfortable with the old guy. He’d grown up talking to the senior citizens in town and one thing he’d learned was that they like to pass their knowledge along.

  “Tell me about the bee business, sir. I’m fascinated.”

  Papa Lane laughed and slapped Pecos on the back. An hour later, Pecos had the yellow apron on and was selling honey as fast as he could count change, and Papa Lane was sipping lemonade with his granddaughter in the back of the tent.

  The day aged and finally the strings of lights between the booths came on, forming a colorful square around what would soon be the dance floor.

  Papa ate his second corn on the cob and announced that he was calling it a night.

  Pecos offered his hand. “Thanks for the wisdom, sir. I had a great time.”

  As their palms touched, a hundred-dollar bill passed. Pecos looked down. “No, sir. I didn’t do it for money. I loved it.”

  “Always do what you love, son, and you’ll never have to worry about money. You earned this today. You did all the work and I had so much fun. Sold twice what I could have and I got to sit in the shade with my granddaughter. If you ever need a job, there’ll be one waiting at the farm.”

  “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”

  Kerrie walked her grandfather to his truck while Pecos loaded the last few boxes of honey. Then, as they watched the old man drive off, Pecos put his arm around her shoulder.

  “You were great today.” She linked her arm around his waist as they walked back toward the square. “He ships all over the state. My parents don’t understand why he thinks he has to set up a booth on the square.”

  “He’s proud of his work.”

  “I guess you’re right. I think he loved teaching you the business. You might want to think about taking a job if you’re not too busy on the farm this summer.”

  He didn’t answer. Now wasn’t the time to tell her he’d left home. That would be another day. Worry clouded his good mood. They were both pushing conversations they needed to have down the road.

  Kerrie suddenly tugged on his arm. “Let’s go see how long until the dance starts.”

  As if on command, the sound system blared through the loud speaker. The singer yelled, “It’s almost dark thirty and time to do some boot scootin’. So, eat up, then join us.”

  Pecos pulled her back. “I don’t know how.” He was the worst date ever. “I’ve never danced.”

  She stopped just outside the circle of lights and smiled up at him. “I’ll teach you here in the shadows.”

  And she did.

  Chapter 23

  Late afternoon

  Colby

  Colby spent the afternoon investigating the woman he’d heard about named Marcie. Digger’s advice had been on point, but Sam’s casual comment had given him the clue he’d been waiting for since Friday. Several others backed up what the preacher told him about the dark-haired, long-legged woman looking for her secret boyfriend. She’d stopped several places in town before she ran out of gas.

  He drove thirty miles over to the tiny town Digger said she lived in. A few people in Someday Valley thought they might have seen the guy with her a few times.

  Colby asked if he looked anything like Boone Buchanan. None of the folks looked like the news-watching types.

  No one remembered the man’s name if Marcie had mentioned it. Only that he drove a fancy car and was usually drinking.

  One man at the gas station over in Someday Valley said he hadn’t seen her around the past few days, but everyone knew she’d be at the fair in Honey Creek to sing backup with her brother. The guy added, “Those kids had a hard life growing up. Marcie pretty much raised him. But they were lucky; they had each other.”

  Carefully Colby pieced together all he knew. The stranger who always had money, who drove a nice car, who came in once or twice a month had to be Boone. Which would explain why he wanted to keep their relationship secret. Marcie wasn’t the kind of woman a rich, powerful lawyer would date, especially one who worried about his image as much as Boone apparently had.

  There were dozens of reasons men keep affairs private. But Marcie had told the preacher that he hadn’t shown up for their date the same night as the BMW hit the river. The bartender in Honey Creek said he’d seen pictures of Boone Buchanan in the papers and swore he was the same guy who hit on one of his girls at the Pint and Pie a few months back. Apparently he’d even bragged about being engaged to Piper there as well.

  But this theory had holes. Why didn’t Boone show up after he drove into the water? What was the point of him staying out of sight? Unless he was dead at the bottom of the river. Another question. Sam had said Marcie disappeared in the time he walked to the back of the church and got his gas can. Where had she gone? Her car was out of gas and it vanished too. She hadn’t clocked in to work Saturday night. Where had she been all day and night?

  Colby had no idea if she was part of the problem or part of the solution.

  If the guy was right about her making it to the fair to support her brother, Colby might have his answers tonight when the band took the stage. Something told him if he could find her, he’d find Boone. If he was alive.

  From what he’d heard, the guy struck him as an awfully cold fish. No one around here liked him. No close friends. Even his family didn’t seem all that worried about him. No members of the Buchanan family stepped forward to make a statement. Maybe disappearing was one of Boone’s habits when things were not going his way.

  Colby’s brain was still trying to make the pieces fit together when he knocked on
the Widows Park door. It was hours later than he’d said he’d be there to pick up Piper.

  Two tiny women in flowery dresses a few sizes too big answered the door. They reminded him of the twins in Steven King’s The Shining, only they’d aged about eighty years. One was a few inches taller and the other wore glasses.

  “Afternoon, ladies, I’m here to pick up Mayor Piper and take her to the fair. I’m Colby McBride.”

  One pushed her glasses up on her nose and began to examine him, and the other leaned around him to get a long look at his Harley.

  “I’m her aunt Nancy. She’s not here,” the one with glasses announced.

  The other lady lifted her top chin. “I’m her aunt Geraldine, and I can tell you right now, young man, she won’t ride on that.” She pointed at his Harley. “Do you even have a seat belt for that thing?”

  Both took a step back as Nancy began closing the door.

  “Wait.” Colby panicked. He’d told her he’d pick her up. Piper could have waited for him. “Do you ladies know where she is? I’ve got to find her.”

  Nancy, the one with glasses, made a face and her lips disappeared. “We’ve heard about you, Mr. McBride.”

  Geraldine nodded. “Some folks say you’re crazy. Maybe you should stay away from our Piper.”

  Colby looked as sad as he could manage. “I’m crazy in love with her. She agreed to go with me to the fair, but I’m late and now she may never give me another chance.”

  Nancy frowned. “She’s at the fair, of course. She’s the mayor of this town. It’s her duty. But don’t you bother her if she says go away. The people of this town won’t stand for it, you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. If she says go away, I’ll be gone.”

  Her sister added, “She won’t ride on that thing so you might as well leave it parked here.”

  Then the door closed, and Colby was staring at polished oak. He walked toward the town square, leaving his Harley parked in front of Widows Park like they told him. No one would bother it and he doubted any of the residents would go for a ride.