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Dave gave me a small smile. “In the meantime, you can keep having lunches over at Miss Laverne’s house. How many times has it been now?”
“Not too often,” I lied.
“Uh-huh,” Dave grinned knowingly. “You’ve been struck down by nice. Don’t feel bad, it’s happened to all of us. Join the club, Graham. Joy reminds me of Ruth. I think you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
“I’m worried about her, though,” I said slowly. “There’s something about her that’s a little off. Most of the time, she’s sunny and cheerful. But Dave, occasionally, she jumps at the smallest sound. They trigger her. It has me worried.”
“What are you saying? Like some of our guys who came back from the service… like you were?”
I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah.”
Dave clapped my shoulder. “Then she couldn’t be in better hands, my friend.”
Chapter Three
The drive to my parents' house took me through the heart of Jasper Creek, past the town square where the courthouse clock chimed four o'clock. I'd made this drive a hundred times in high school, racing home before curfew, but everything felt different now that I had actually moved back to Jasper Creek, and I wasn’t just visiting.
I pulled into my parents' driveway, parking behind Mom's sedan. The house looked exactly as it had when I was here five months ago, white siding with black shutters, the porch swing Dad had hung when I was seven still swaying in the breeze. The flower beds Mom tended with religious devotion bloomed with late summer color.
Standing on the front porch, I knocked twice, a courtesy more than necessity. My parents had never locked their door during the day, not in all my almost twenty-four years. Sure enough, the knob turned easily in my hand. It used to comfort me, now it made me twitchy.
Stop it! This is Mom and Dad’s house!
“Mom?” I called out as I stepped inside.
The house smelled like home, that particular mixture of Mom's vanilla candles, the lemon oil she used on the furniture, and something savory cooking in the kitchen. Family photos lined the hallway, documenting Seth's, Randy's, and my progression from gap-toothed kids to high school graduates. I paused at one from my college graduation, Mom and Dad flanking me in my cap and gown, their faces glowing with pride.
“In the kitchen, sweetheart.”
I found her at the sink, cutting cucumbers with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd prepared a thousand family dinners. The late afternoon sun streamed through the window, catching the silver threads in her blonde hair that hadn't been there when I’d gone overseas. She wore the apron I'd given her for Christmas my junior year in high school, the one with “Queen of the Kitchen” embroidered across the front.
Without thinking, I hoisted myself onto the counter beside her, my legs swinging like I was twelve again instead of twenty-four. The familiar granite was cool through my jeans.
“Those for the salad Dad won’t eat?” I snagged four cucumber slices from the pile, biting into one with a satisfying crunch.
She swatted at my hand but smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “They were. At this rate, we'll just be having lettuce for the salad.”
I finished the cucumber slices and snagged a cherry tomato.
“Don’t you get any food at Miss Laverne’s?”
“Yeah. I had gumbo, fresh bread, and we had ice cream for dessert. But that was four hours ago,” I sighed tragically.
Mom laughed. “One day you won’t have the metabolism you have now,” she warned.
“Which is why I’m taking advantage of it now and eating to my heart’s content.”
“If you’d come by the house sooner, I could have fed you. Tonight is pot roast with potatoes au gratin. Next week will be lamb.”
“Yum.”
“Now explain to me why it took you so long to come over.”
“Hey, I came over the first day I moved in. And it’s not like you haven’t seen me since I’ve moved back from London.”
“For an hour, and that was to recruit your dad to help your brothers move your things into a storage unit. I want to know why it took you two weeks and three phone calls to get you here for a meal.”
Guilt twisted in my stomach. “Mom...”
