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A cup of coffee had been placed by the empty plate, which I started loading with pancakes.
“Now, tell me you get this kind of service in Savannah,” Mama said, sitting in the chair across from Daddy with her own cup.
“No one makes a better pancake than you do.” I proved my point by shoving a huge bite into my mouth. Mama overlooked bad table manners if the faux pas was preceded or followed by a compliment on her cooking. The heavens opened and angels sang hallelujah as I chewed the buttery, unnaturally fluffy goodness.
“Slow down, you’re going to choke,” Daddy chided, glancing up from the newspaper. “For God’s sake, are you even chewing?”
“Nope,” I responded cheerfully around a mouthful of pancake. He shook his head, turning his attention back to the paper.
“Well, now that you’re a little more awake,” Mama started, instantly making me nervous. I was beginning to suspect that these were bribery pancakes. “Daddy and I need to talk to you about the plan for today.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Your daddy is insisting on going to a job site today.” She paused, hitting him with her most disapproving stare. “Even though the doctortoldhim that he needed to keep his leg elevated for at least a week.”
“You should rest,” I agreed, wanting to stay on the good side of the maker of delicious breakfasts. “Rest is best.”
Daddy shot me a look that suggested this might be my last meal. “I don’t need to rest. What I need to do is make sure this job stays on track.”
“You’re not building the Taj Mahal, for goodness sake,” Mama said, holding up her hand to stop Daddy’s retort. “This is my Saturday to work, and my book is filled to overflowing with appointments today. So, if you’re in agreement, Sutton, you’ll go with Daddy to his job site. He’s agreed to use his wheelchair as much as possible, and under no circumstances is he to evenlookat a tool. Are you okay with that plan?”
“Sure. I’m here to help,” I readily agreed. The power those pancakes had over me was unreal.
“If you’re coming with me, we’re leaving in fifteen minutes.” Bold words for someone who couldn’t drive a car.
But I kept my mouth shut and did some mental math. I decided I could take the world’s fastest shower and still have time to finish breakfast. If we were going to a job site, I reasoned, it wouldn’t matter what I looked like, because Daddy would make me wear a helmet and eye protection anyway.
I shoveled food into my mouth at an alarming rate — ignoring Mama’s steady stream of admonishments — and popped up from my chair, dumping my plate in the dishwasher on my way out.
Shucking off my pajamas, I hopped in the shower, making sure to scrub last night’s makeup off my face. Washing my hair seemed like a waste of time, so I left it in the same rats’ nest it was in when I rolled out of bed. Throwing on a pair of leggings and a bright yellow oversized sweater that read “does not rise or shine” across the chest, I slid my feet into a pair of tennis shoes and scurried out of my room.
Daddy was waiting for me on the bench next to the door with two Thermoses in his hand, bless the man.
“I’ll take those,” I said, reaching out and taking the drinks so he could use his crutches. “Where’s your wheelchair?”
He grunted, maneuvering himself up off the bench awkwardly.
“It’s already in the truck.”
I shifted the drinks around in my hands so I could open the door for him, over his protests about not being helpless. I kept my mouth shut as I watched him hobble slowly off the porch and to the truck. Thankfully, he was able to pull himself up and into the backseat of the extended cab with minimal help, because Daddy was not a small man in any sense of the word, and I had been skipping arm day since birth.
Once he was all settled, I got into the front seat and took a fortifying drink of my coffee.
“Okay, big guy, let’s set some ground rules for this drive.” I met his narrowed gaze in the mirror and smiled widely. “I don’t want to hear one single word about where my hands are on the wheel, the speed limit, the space between cars, or motion sickness. Got it?”
“Sutton Louise Buchanan, I was there for the day you took your first breath and I can — ”
“Good enough.” I turned the engine on and put the truck in reverse. “Why are you working on a Saturday anyway?”
“I want to make sure my crew stays on schedule while I’m laid up.” Daddy leaned forward and reached between the seats to grab his coffee. “It’s a real big job so I don’t want to fall behind right out of the gate if it can be helped.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. Where are we headed?” I came to a stop at the sign just at the end of our street.
“To the old Bradford place.”
My eyebrows rose in surprise as I turned the truck in the right direction, memory taking over. The old farmhouse had originally been built in the mid-1800s and had been renovated sporadically until the owners abandoned it in the 1980s. It was a beautiful old house — or it had been — with big porches and a sunroom that had been added on at some point. Something about that house had always called to me. I’d daydreamed about being the one to finally breathe life back into it, restore it to its former glory. Of course, all that was before Sissy had made staying here seem impossible.
There were always lots of rumors circulating about why the Bradfords had abruptly moved away after living and farming on the land for centuries, but no one really knew the reason. Beacon Hill loved its gossip. A local favorite was that one of the Mr. Bradfords had killed his entire family, and their ghosts haunted the house. Every Halloween, high schoolers would break in and try to spend the night inside. I had never been invited.
