Jodi Thomas - Twisted Creek

The kitchen didn’t feel right without Nana and the wonderful smells of her cooking. I flipped the first cabinet door open and began following her recipe for buttermilk biscuits.

She’d always made it look so easy, but it wasn’t. I had to roll the dough into a ball and start over three times. The first time it stuck to the counter because I forgot to put flour down first, the second I rolled it almost pizza-thin. By the third try the dough felt leathery, but it at least looked right.

I’d forgotten to write down how to cut the biscuits. I knew she used an old glass, but which one? The juice glasses looked too little, the tumblers were too big. I finally settled on an old glass Nana always called the snuff glass, even though I’d never seen snuff. I used a little bacon grease from a can Nana kept on the back of the stove to oil the pan, flipped the biscuits over in the thin film of grease, and shoved them in the oven.

If I keep busy, I told myself, I won’t think about all that happened last night. The hospital told me not to show up until nine, so I had a few hours to kill. I promised myself I wouldn’t spend them crying.

I fried up sausage patties and slipped them into the hot biscuits, then set a tray on the counter ready for customers.

When I opened the front door and looked at the dried blood on the steps, the night’s horror came back to me with sledgehammer force. I grabbed the mop and ran water so hot it steamed when I stepped out into the cold morning air.

As I scrubbed the blood away, I remembered a story Nana used to tell me about when she and Flo had been playing once. Flo had fallen and cut her knee. Nana said she cried twice as hard as Flo did. Nana said, “I wished I could take the hurt from her. I wished it had been my blood pouring out.”

I knew how Nana felt. I’d give anything if this was my blood, not Nana’s, on the steps.

I glanced over at the railing where we’d taped Skidder last night and wondered what happened to him. I remembered Mary Lynn said something about Luke taking care of him last night. She said he would be all night questioning the three drug dealers, but he told her to tell me that he’d rather be with me.

I wasn’t sure I believed him. Pieces of Mary Lynn’s words drifted into my mind in no particular order.

There had been three, not one on the north shore last night. Skidder had been one more than I’d wanted to see. I couldn’t help but wonder what damage the other two had done.

As I tossed the water from the bucket into the morning glory vines at the side of the porch, I heard a car barreling down the road. It swung into my graveled drive.

The sheriff looked like a drag racer as he took the curve, then scattered rocks as he corrected, heading like a torpedo toward me.

I stepped back, fearing he didn’t have enough time to brake. Two feet from the steps, he stopped.

The sheriff jumped from his car with more speed than I thought the big man could produce. He stormed the steps of the porch like a raider. Three feet from the door, he looked up, saw me, and frowned.

“What happened here last night?” He spit the words at me.

Before I could answer he added, “Why didn’t someone let me know? This is my territory. I’m the one who should have been called, not the ATF.”

He jerked off his hat and wiped sweat from his face.

I glanced at the door, trying to figure out if I could run inside and bolt it before he could block me. Probably not. Even if I made it, he’d just bust the lock and follow me in.

I took a deep breath. “A man tried to steal my van. He held a knife on me and cut Nana bad.”

Sheriff Fletcher huffed and puffed. “I don’t give a damn about that, what about the drug bust? The dispatcher said there was a report of arrests out here last night. Said an agent was shot.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Of course you do. Every one of the fleas who hang out on this dog of a lake comes here to talk.”

I knew I should tell him all I knew, but in doing so I’d have to mention his son and I didn’t want to be around when Fletcher got that news. “Mary Lynn told me Luke had them locked up and planned to question them.”

Fletcher leaned in closer, glaring at me. “Luke who?”

This I could tell him. “Luke Morgan, the ATF agent who lives next door.” I pointed to the stand of trees. “You’ve met him.”

“That bum is an agent.” The sheriff’s face seemed to sunburn suddenly. “I knew something wasn’t right about that guy.” He turned and stormed toward his car. “I’ll straighten him out. I’m the one who should be questioning any troublemakers, not him. Luke Morgan is going to have some explaining to do.”

He glanced back at me. “I’ll want to talk to you later, so stay put.”

I hated his whole attitude. “Am I under cabin arrest?”

“Don’t get smart with me, girl, or you’ll be sorry.”

“I’m not a girl.” I almost wished he would arrest me and take me along. I had a feeling when he finally caught up with Luke, the sheriff wouldn’t be walking so tall.

He swore and climbed back in his car.

Suddenly, I could wait no longer. “Stay put” wasn’t in my vocabulary. I ran into the store and left a note by the biscuits. I grabbed the van keys Paul had left on the nail after he’d followed Mary Lynn and me home last night, and headed for the hospital.

Thirty minutes later, I walked into the ICU waiting room and spotted my mother pestering the volunteer at the help desk.

Carla looked up and saw me. “There.” She pointed to me, but spoke to the volunteer. “There is my daughter. She’ll tell you I’m kin to Edna Daniels.”

I slowly crossed the room to the desk, but didn’t say a word to anyone. A man stood with his back to me. When I reached the desk, I recognized Garrison D. Walker, even without his too-many-teeth smile.

“Pardon me.” The woman at the desk with a name tag that read “Miss Deanne” looked up at me. “Are you Allie Daniels?”

“Yes,” I said.

“We allow only immediate family in, and on Mrs. Daniels’s chart, we have only your name. This woman says she’s your mother.”

Miss Deanne looked uncomfortable. Family feuds were not in her job description.

“That’s right, she was.” I smiled at the volunteer. “She gave me up when I was three.”

Now Deanne looked like she was considering turning in her volunteer smock.

Carla braced like she was preparing to slug it out to get in to see a woman she hadn’t cared about in years.

Bless Garrison D. Walker’s heart, he stepped between us and said in a voice perfect for the courtroom, “Is there a place we can talk in private?”

Miss Deanne jumped up, happy to move the problem away from her desk. “Follow me. We have a family room.”

I thought of commenting that Carla and I didn’t belong in such a room, but I figured I’d made enough of a scene. With Deanne leading the way, we crossed the waiting room.

I was at the door when I glanced back and saw Luke storming through the crowd toward me. He didn’t seem to see anyone in the room. He walked right up to me and lifted me off the ground in a huge hug.

I melted against him. The first good thing since dawn had just happened to me.

He finally lowered me back to the ground, but his arm stayed around my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I just had a scratch last night.” I brushed my hand over his shirt. “How about you?”

“I’m fine.” He winked. “A little tired from banging heads together.” He leaned down and kissed my nose. “I missed our date last night.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay, things get in the way.” I tried to keep my words light, but there was nothing casual about the hold I had on him.