Linda Goodnight - Sugarplum Homecoming

“I can look around, make a list, give you some advice if you think that would help.”

“Would you?”

“Sure. No problem. Got a pencil and paper handy?”

“Now?”

“No time like the present. That is, if now works for you.”

“Of course. Thank you. Now is perfect.” If she could find a piece of paper.

Feet pounded on the floor above their heads. Both adults raised their eyes toward the ceiling.

Lana was poignantly aware of the oddity of having Davis Turner in her house. He wouldn’t have been caught dead here as a teenager. He’d been a Christian, raised in church, the boy teachers and parents put on a pedestal as the way all teens should behave.

Lana Ross had been his antithesis.

“What are they doing?” Lana asked.

“Don’t know but that floor is solid or we’d be covered in ceiling plaster.” He flashed that smile, lighting up the dim room.

The man had a killer smile. And two kids. It suddenly occurred to her that he’d never mentioned a wife. But then, half the world was divorced. She supposed he was, too, or his wife would have accompanied him on this neighborly expedition.

Lana rummaged around in the kitchen drawers, not surprised to find a dusty pad and a scattering of stubby, round-point pencils. Mother had always kept them there.

Davis took the writing materials and rose. He was considerably taller than her, even in her high-heeled boots, and filled the narrow kitchen with his masculine presence. Her awareness factor elevated. Above the kitchen’s dust and must, he smelled of men’s spice—just the faintest whiff but enough for her foolish female nose to enjoy.

Focus on the mission. Think of Sydney.

Even if she hadn’t had a date in two years, Davis Turner was way out of her league.

They started through the house talking about the structure and basic needs, as well as noting cosmetic needs. After a bit, the kids came thundering down the stairs, a breathless chattering group that made Lana’s heart glad. Sydney’s happy face said it all. She’d made friends. Being back in this awful house just got easier.

“Can we go out in the backyard?” Paige asked. “Sydney said there was a cellar.”

The cellar. Like a giant vacuum, the word sucked the pleasure from the room. “Stay out of that cellar.”

Her sharp tone stopped the children in their happy tracks. “Why?” Nathan’s eyes widened. “Is it haunted?”

Lana rubbed her suddenly cold arms. She hated that cellar, hated the darkness, the damp musty odor and the creepy crawlies inside. “I haven’t cleaned it yet. Spiders, snakes, who knows what could be in there?”

“Eww. I don’t like spiders.” Paige shivered. “Can we go outside and play in the yard? Sydney said there’s an apple tree.”

Lana nodded. “Go on. Have fun but watch out for anything broken or dangerous. I haven’t explored out there yet.”

“Okay.”

With youthful energy, voices excited, the trio zipped out the back door, leaving it standing open, spilling the sunshine and cool, clean air of Indian summer inside. Lana didn’t bother to close it. She wanted to keep a watch on Sydney. Airing the house while the weather was favorable wasn’t a bad thing either.

“Your children are really sweet.”

“Thanks, so is yours. They’re great kids, though they can be a handful at times. Paige has, shall we say, ideas that sometimes lead her and her brother into trouble.”

Lana didn’t bother to correct his mistake. It was better for everyone if he and the town assumed Sydney was her child. “But Paige seems like such a nice little girl.”

“She is. I don’t mean that.” He hunkered down to look up into the fireplace. “Don’t light this until it’s been inspected and cleaned.”

“Okay. I heard noises up there. Probably birds.”

“Or bats,” he said with male matter-of-factness.

Lana crossed her arms as she gave the fireplace an uncertain look. “You would have to mention bats.”

“Bats won’t hurt you.”

“Remind me you said that when I’m in traction with a broken leg from running out of the room.”

He laughed at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling upward. “Tough Lana Ross afraid of a bat?”

He had no idea what he was talking about. She’d never been tough. She’d only pretended to be. “Don’t tell Sydney, okay? She thinks I’m fearless.”

He dusted his hands together. Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming in from the window next to the big, old-fashioned brick fireplace. “My kids are the same. Nathan told one of his buddies I could pick up a house.”

“So what happened? Did the kid come over and ask for proof?”

“Naturally.”

“What did you do?”

“What else could I do?” His hands thrust out to each side. “I picked up the house.”

The silliness made her laugh. This was the Davis she remembered. Self-effacing, warm, kind to anyone. Even her. “Be glad he didn’t go for the ‘my dad can beat up your dad scenario.’”

“I remember saying that when I was in elementary school.”

“Like father like son?”

“Absolutely. But Paige is the same. Between the two of them, they slay me sometimes.” He leaned the notepad against the fireplace brick and scribbled something on the paper. “A few weeks ago, the kids and I went up to Whisper Falls on a picnic. I made the mistake of falling asleep.”

“What happened? Did they tie you to a tree? Douse you with water? Cover you with mayo?”

“Nothing that simple for those two. They climbed Whisper Falls.”

“No way!” Lana glanced out the grimy window at the two Turner children running across the thick brown grass. Whisper Falls was a long, slippery climb, especially for two small children. She should know. She’d climbed it plenty, usually on some stupid dare or when she’d had too much beer to be walking, much less climbing. “Why would they do that?”

“Paige says they went up there to pray. I suppose you’ve heard the rumor about praying behind the falls.”

“The moment I hit town, but it must be a new thing. No one said that when I lived here before. What started it?”

“I’m not sure. Some say Digger and Evelyn Parsons made up the story. Others say they’ve actually had prayers answered after going up there. Someone got the city council on board and they changed the name of the town to match the waterfall. Next thing we knew, tourists started making pilgrimages up the mountain.”

“Do you believe it’s true?” Because if it was, she was climbing those falls again. This time without a party—and stone cold sober.

“A rumor of that caliber is good PR, but I don’t think God needs a waterfall to answer prayers, do you?”

So, he was still a Christian.

“I agree, but maybe your daughter doesn’t.”

“Paige.” He huffed out a sound that was half frustration and half affection. “My daughter’s faith is kind of hard to explain. Sometimes she’s scary in the mature things she says about God. Other times she’s a goofy kid, like that day. My heart stopped when I looked up and saw Nathan clinging like a spider monkey to the side of the mountain.”

“What did you do?”

“What else could I do? I climbed up after them. Once we were on the ground, I hugged them, told them how scared I was and how much I loved them. Then I grounded them both from TV for a full week.”

Lana laughed. “You are a cruel father.”

“They thought so.” He stuck the stubby pencil in his shirt pocket and started across the room. His long legs ate up the floor, even though the parlor was large. “All the while, Nathan kept saying the oddest things.”

Lana followed his lead, taking a left down a dim hallway. “Such as?”