Mammoth Secrets (16 page)

“Fry up that bacon. We've got the hatchery crew meeting at ten.”

“Hatchery crew?” Lilah lifted a questioning brow at Nana. “That's a new one.”

“Earl. Think. The hatchery hasn't met here in over thirty years.” Nana shook out her white curls. “Been a long morning already, and it's not even seven.” She sighed. “You sure you can handle him and the breakfast rush?”

Lilah patted her shoulder. “I can manage. Eden'll be down in an hour.” She walked Nana to the door, hesitated a moment, then wrapped arms around her grandmother's slender, brittle frame. Squeeze too hard and the little woman might just break in two. “I love you, Nana.”

“Where'd that come from?” Nana's quizzical look blended with something akin to nervousness. “You're not going away again, are you?”

“No.”

“Good.” Nana's brow relaxed with her curt nod. “See you by ten. Busy night tonight. Better hit the pharmacy for some earplugs if Ray's band's playing.”

Would her grandmother ever be comfortable with her again? Leaving town without saying goodbye had dug a canyon wider than Grand Gulf between them, when once they'd been thick as thieves.

“Rebecca!” Earl called. “You're burning the home fries.”

“I'm getting them, Papaw.” Lilah unrolled the Gazette, set it in front of him and walked to the back.

Standing in front of the cooler, she eyed the contents. Smoked salmon. Leeks. Cream cheese. Feathery green of fresh dill. A crate of farm fresh eggs. She pieced today's special ingredients together, though the real hope of her heart filled her thoughts. Jake was probably still asleep. She hoped he was coming to the diner.

The front door jangled. Two rumpled-looking young men entered. Maybe carnival folk, but not likely by the close-cropped hair and muscular builds. Military. Must be passing through on their way up north.

“Good morning,” Lilah called through the window. “Have a seat anywhere. I'll be right with you.”

“I got them, Rebecca.” Papaw pushed back from his seat, ambled over to the coffee pot.

Lilah blinked, looked to the men at the side booth, staring at menus, and Papaw approaching with two coffee mugs.

“Morning, boys.” His stubbled chin reflected the morning sun. “Coffee?”

They both mumbled thanks as he poured them each a cup without spilling a drop.

“My daughter'll be out with the cream. No getting any ideas. She's this year's Queen of the Reunion Carnival.” He shuffled back to his spot, then reached behind the bar for a cup of his own and settled down to read the sports section.

Lilah was entranced as she rounded the corner to sketch out the day's special. “Morning, Papaw.”

“Hey, sweetie.” He kissed her cheek, his whiskers scratching. “Gotta get crackin'. Gonna be a busy day when the carnies get here.”

“You want the carnival people here?” Lilah palmed the counter with both hands.

“Every year they bring us some of our best receipts, save for the hatchery meetings, a'course.” He shook his head. “Your Nana thinks they're riffraff, but someone's gotta feed them. Gotta show them God's good grace and welcome. If not us, who?”

Lilah finished “Smoked Salmon Omelet” in her flourishing script and propped the sign against the wall. “If not us, who,” she repeated. “Hey, what year is it, anyway?”

“What're you? Soft in the head?” He chuckled. “Nineteen-eighty-seven.”

The year before she was born.

“And Rebecca?”

“Carnival queen, light of my life, apple of my eye.” His pride welled with the straightening of his spine. “Can't believe that little girl's seventeen. Where do the years go?” His voice trailed, his focus fixed in the middle distance. Then the light behind his watery gaze slowly, steadily extinguished and replaced with something else. A waterfall of fear overtook him in rapid blinks. His lip quivered as he turned, saw her for who she really was. “Lilah?”

“I'm here, Papaw.” She pushed around the bar and took his hands, gave them a strong rub. His fingers were ice cold.

“Something's not right.” He could have been a little boy in trouble, the tone in his voice, the way he twisted to face her. “I was doing something...and now...”

“I'll go call Nana.”

“No.” He inhaled, deep. “Get Mr. Hackleberry.”

“The pharmacist?” Lilah gaped. “You need to go to West Plains. To the doctor.”

“You mind your papaw, now.” He wrapped shaking hands around the mug. He seemed steady again. “Now, get him.”

Lilah untied her apron strings and headed for the door. She hesitated a moment by the soldiers. “I'll get your orders in just a sec. Don't let him cook anything.”

The blond-headed one's jaw jogged, but he nodded.

Imagine doing such a thing in Los Angeles. What person even knew their pharmacist's name, let alone dragged one out or left a shop in care of the customers?

“How long's he been like this?” Mr. Hackleberry held the door as they pushed through and hustled back across the street to the diner.

“A few minutes.” Lilah went dry mouthed as the door jangled. “Papaw slipped out of one of his memories and got, well...scared.”

Mr. Hackleberry settled down beside Papaw. “I'll have a coffee, if you don't mind, Lilah?”

She nodded.

“Hey, Earl.” He clapped the frail man on the shoulder, his hand remained, subtle, reassuring. “Special looks, uh, interesting.”

“Lilah?” Papaw looked up, concerned. “See to the customers. I'm all right. Ron owes me a checker game.”

The man her grandfather trusted more than the local doctor nodded. “I think checkers might be just the thing. Come on, Earl.” At the door, Mr. Hackleberry hesitated. “I'll call his doctor. Give us about an hour?”

Blond-crew-cut waved her over.

Lilah plastered a pleasant look on. Too bad Eden wasn't here. She'd eat this up. “What'll it be?” she breathed. “Sorry about all that, by the way.”

“Eden?” The tall, blond man's forehead furrowed in obvious confusion.

“No.” Fighting the eye roll, she found her smile. “Lilah. I'm her sister. She'll be in at ten.”

He glared at his friend. “Told you.”

“Twins?” The dark-haired, dark-eyed man set the menu back in its chrome holder.

“That's right.” Lilah cleared her throat. “Special today's smoked salmon omelet, with string potatoes, home fries, or fresh fruit.”

“There's your solution.” His heavy brows lifted. “One for each of us.”

“Excuse me?” Alarms jangling, her pencil scratch stopped. “You are talking about the special, right?”

“Both sound awful good.” Dark-haired guy wore a shark's leer. “But I'll have steak and eggs. Easy.”

“Sausage biscuit and gravy for me.” The other shrugged. “Uh, my platoon commander, Eli here, and I've got a mutual—um—interest in your sister.”

“You. Both of you...” Lilah fought the sick laugh in her throat. “You're Eden's soldiers.”

They nodded in unison.

“This ought to be interesting.” She unfolded a fresh page. “I'll get your meals started and call her.” Phone on her shoulder, Lilah cracked the sunny-side-up eggs, got the rib eye sizzling, and informed Eden of her problem.

Eden's shriek and refusal to come down ended with a phone slammed in her ear.
You reap what you sow, kid.

The ambulance pulled into the front spot outside. Luke and his partner pushed the door open and sat at their regular table. “Morning, Lilah.” Luke waved, a sheepish look on his face, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, face sallow, as if he'd had a few too many the night before. “Eden coming in today?”

“Ten.”

He sighed, ordered up his usual, as did his partner.

Lilah kept busy as the morning rush filtered in.

Eden had a whole crop full of trouble scarfing down breakfast at the diner.

 

 

 

 

23

 

The back door to the diner didn't budge. Biting her lip, Eden raised a fist and knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.

It creaked open. Eyes wild, obviously frazzled, Raymond scooped her into his arms. “Eden! I thought you'd never get here. It's like a dance off out there.”

“Lilah can handle it.” She grabbed an apron off the stack. “I'm not serving today. I'll stay in the back.”

“You're gonna cook?” He snorted.

“I can cook.”

“Yeah. And I can knit.” Raymond snickered. “Just not well.”

“Very funny.” Eden breathed a sigh. “So, they're both here?”

“Luke, too.”

“Oh, Lord, have mercy.” She rolled her eyes, held her breath in silent prayer. “This must be that sense of humor thing they always talk about.”

“Oh, it's anything but funny, I'm afraid.” Raymond let her through. “Your grandmother's at the hair salon. Lilah just set after your papaw. Had a spell this morning.”

“Fine. I'll do it.” She ripped the pad out of his hand and charged off. She hesitated, catching sight of her reflection in the pie case Plexiglas. Of all the days not to touch-up her makeup or hair on the way out of the house!

The men sat still as two statues, staring at her. Across the room, Luke sipped coffee in front of a scraped-clean plate. She bustled over, took up the dishes, slanted a smile, and leaned forward, arm around his shoulder. “You get on to work now, y'hear?”

“I wanted to see you.” He swallowed. His off-shade revealed a hangover and his breath reeked. “I need to apologize.”

“I don't need apologies. We had a misunderstanding.” She tried to keep it light, sensing whispering at her back. She did her best to maintain focus on Luke's plight while her world crumbled at her back. “We're still friends. Now go away.”

“Eden. I meant what I said. I just didn't mean for…” Luke saw her glance over her shoulder. “Oh, heck. Is that what this is about? You rush your way through my apology to get to another crop of jarheads?”

“Now, why would you think that, Luke?” She inhaled, fixed her most serene expression.

Hazel swirls of hardened stone stared back at her. He wasn't buying it.

“Look—”

“We could have had something, Eden.” He pushed back and dropped a few coins to the table. “My pa always said tip the pretty waitresses a little extra. That ought to cover it.” A nod to his partner, he hightailed it out to the ambulance.

She scowled at the coins but left them and gathered a jangle of cups, plates, and crumpled napkins onto her bus tray.

“Eden?” the dark-haired soldier spoke. “Eden Dale?”

“Be with you in a second,” she snipped, stormed to the back. “Can you believe him? He left me a fist full of nickels. Nickels! Like he doesn't think I'm pretty.” For emphasis, she dumped the whole tray, napkins and all, into the sink with a clatter.

“I know it.” Ray looked over her shoulder, then back to her.

“Thinks he's so all that, just because he drives an ambulance. Wanna-be doctor.” She tossed the now-empty tray into the sink water. “You know, that boy's been sweet on me since the third grade.”

“Preach it, Edie.” Ray saluted with his spatula.

Eden jabbed a finger to his chest. “You got something to say to me, too?”

He shrugged, waved his spatula toward the dining area. “Just that your soldier boys are leaving.”

“What?” Eden turned to see them one man in, one out of the door. “Wait!”

“Eden!” Raymond interrupted. “Your eyes. You forgot your mascara...” He was right.

“Oh, crumb.” She looked around. “Where's my bag?” She remembered her purse on the peg by the front door. At home. “Of all the dumb luck...” She hurried to the desk, pulled out and slammed every drawer. Pens rolled. Paperclips slid. A pink tube, the bottom said Brown Black. When on earth had she bought such a thing? She swept the gluey stuff on anyway. Better some eyelashes than none at all. “I'll be back,” she called to Raymond and pushed past customers entering.

A young, pert-looking redhead gave her the once over, striding ahead of a tall, suntanned gentleman with a shock of white hair. “Go on and have a seat anywhere. Be with you in a jiff.”

Two men bookended a fancy red car across the street. The morning air warmed to a low simmer. She waited for a truck to pass before heading over.

“Hey.” Chin high, she managed a smile. “Sorry about that in there. Did you ask if I was Eden?”

“I did, indeed.” The dark-haired soldier looked amused, larger than life there on the patio. Arms crossed, biceps bulging, he leaned against the post. Confident. Like an action film star. Eli. Had to be…

Her heart bloomed a bit just for knowing he wasn't lying flat stomached on some rock in Afghanistan. “Your tour over?”

“Yeah.” He turned to his friend. “Both of ours.”

Eden's heart almost broke on the spot. She'd have known him anywhere. Tony twisted a ball cap. White-blonde hair, a soulful look in those pale blue eyes, a million questions behind his stare. He towered over Eli, standing six foot three. “Hello, Eden.”

“Tony...hey.” Steps away from the rail, she reached up. He didn't budge. Her outstretched hand hung midair a beat, and she drew it back. She squeezed fingers hard to keep from screaming.

The three stood a triangle—them on the porch, she just below on the sidewalk. They couldn't have been further apart if the two boys were still overseas.

“Darndest thing, really.” Eli plopped himself in one of the chairs by the checkers table. “The mail drop came through, and somehow our letters got switched. He got mine, and I got his.” Eli made a show of unfolding the creased letter from his back pocket and read aloud, mimicking her southern drawl. “Tony. How I long to grow old with you. To count the stars together every night. To greet them as they blink into the night sky, one by one…”