Tell Me Lies (6 page)

“Did you wash your hands, C.L.?”

C.L. jerked around to see Anna loading the kitchen table with dinner, covering the red and white checked oilcloth with thick white china plates and bowls full of steaming ham and potatoes and God knew what else. The smell registered on him, and his mouth watered at the thought of the salt and juice in the local-cured ham and the cream and the cheese that the potatoes bubbled in.

“I have died and gone to heaven,” he told her, and she said, “Not unless you’ve washed your hands, you haven’t.”

Her voice was tart, but she looked just as warm and sure as she had when Henry’d brought him home to her twenty-seven years ago. His mother had told him for the last time how worthless he was and that this time she was going to send him to a home for delinquents because that’s what he was, and he’d run off to sleep in the park, acting as if that was what all ten-year-olds did. Then Henry had pulled up beside him just as he was heading for the picnic house, and said, “Get in, kid.” C.L. had wanted to say no, that he could take care of himself, but even back then, you didn’t argue with Henry. So he’d climbed in the car, and Henry had taken him out to Anna, who’d said, “You’ll stay with us, C.L.,” and then he
had
said, “No. I can take care of myself,” because he knew what happened when people did you favors: they made you pay forever. His mother was still making him pay for giving birth to him. He didn’t want any more of that.

But then Anna had said, “Why, we know that, C.L., but who’s going to take care of us? We’re getting on, you know. We could use somebody young and strong around the house.” C.L. grinned now at the memory. Henry must have been in his forties about then, strong enough to bench-press a cow. And Anna had never had a feeble day in her life. But it had made sense to a ten-year-old who wanted to be needed, and taking care of them didn’t seem to have any strings attached to it, in fact they’d owe him, so he’d said, “Well, all right, as long as you know I’m just doin‘ it for you.” And Anna had taken him upstairs to a big bed with soft white sheets and told him he’d have pancakes for breakfast.

It had taken him twenty years to figure out that the obligations you had to people who took care of you were nothing compared to the obligations you had to the people you wanted to take care of. You could pay back the people who took care of you, but the ones you had to keep safe, well, they were with you forever. Which meant that even though he wanted nothing more than to never see Frog Point again, he had to come back to See Anna. He looked at her now with love that went bone-deep, and thought about how much she still looked like the brisk blonde woman who had saved his life so long ago. Her apron was new, something trendy pin stripes instead of her usual flowers, but her now white hair was still parted in the center and wound into a knot at the nape of her neck, as smooth and neat as ever, and her blue eyes hadn’t changed at all. Nothing important about Anna ever changed.

He grinned at her. “Yes, ma’am, I certainly have washed my hands. You trained me right.” He walked around her to his place at the side of the table and squeezed her waist as he went.

She sniffed. “I know you’re grown, C.L., but you’re my boy still.”

“You bet.” C.L. dropped into his seat and held up his hands for inspection, palms out. “See? Clean.”

Anna set another steaming bowl in front of him, green beans this time. “You clean your plate tonight, too. No argument.”

C.L. looked out over the spread: sugar-cured ham, biscuits and butter and Anna’s raspberry jam, green beans with bacon, cheese-sauced potatoes, homemade pickles, chunky hand-cut coleslaw with red peppers. Anna’s food, one of the miracles of life. “Yes, ma’am.”

The screen door slapped and Henry came in from the porch, not as gigantic as he’d seemed when C.L. was a boy but still plenty big and broad, his hair white now instead of dark but still thick and springy. He washed his hands at the sink and said, “Smells real good, Anna,” and she said, “Thank you, Henry,” and C.L. thought,
I have heard them say that to each other before every meal I’ve ever had here.
And not for the first time, he sent silent thanks to his mother for throwing him out. It was the best thing she’d ever done for him.

Henry sat down at the head of the table, and C.L. folded his hands while Anna dropped into her chair and bowed her head. Henry said, “Lord, thank you for this food, Amen.” Anna and C.L. echoed, “Amen,” and then Henry reached for the ham and Anna passed the biscuits to him, and C.L. scooped up a ladle of potatoes. “Don’t eat all of those, boy,” Henry said, and C.L. looked at the huge bowl and said, “Well, I don’t know, Henry. I’m hungry tonight.”

“Worked up an appetite asking questions all over town, did you?” Henry stared at him from under furry white eyebrows, and Anna said, “Henry, the boy’s eating.”

C.L. grinned at his uncle and shoved the potatoes across the shiny oilcloth. “I was just looking for Brent Faraday. Didn’t anybody tell you that?”

“About twenty people,” Henry growled. “You up to something?”

“Nope.” C.L. forked a piece of ham the size of Florida onto his plate. “Just doing one last favor for Sheila.”

Anna hesitated, her fork frozen over her plate. “Sheila?”

Too late, C.L. remembered that Sheila was not one of his aunt’s favorite people. “It’s all right. She just called and asked me to check into some things. She’s getting married to Stan Sawyer. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying,” Anna said, but she put her fork down.

“It’s all right,” C.L. said. “It’s just a favor, that’s all. She said if I did this for her, she’d sign away the rest of the alimony. This is all about money.” He reached over and patted her hand. “It’s all right. Eat.”

Anna gave a small humph sound and picked up her fork.

Henry picked up the attack. “So what does Sheila have to do with Brent Faraday?”

C.L. stifled a sigh and turned back to his uncle. There was no use fighting it. Henry was going to get all he knew sooner or later anyway. “Stan’s doing some kind of business deal with Brent. Sheila figured since she had an accountant for an ex-husband, I might as well make myself useful and look at the books. It’ll only take an hour or so, and I’ll be back in Columbus by Monday. This is no big deal.” C.L. looked from Henry to Anna, seeing that neither one was buying it. Time for a distraction or he’d spend the whole meal talking about Sheila and Brent. “Mrs. Banister called the cops on me for staring today. What’s the world coming to when I get busted by Vince Baker?”

Anna sniffed. “Thelma Banister doesn’t have a brain in her head.” Then she cocked an eye at C.L. “I’m not surprised Sheila asked you to see about Brent Faraday. Sheila never was a stupid girl when it came to money.”

C.L. blinked at the acid in her voice when she said, “Brent Faraday.”

“Brent Faraday.” Henry scooped up some potatoes. “Interesting.”

C.L. put his fork down and surveyed both of them. “You’re kidding me. You mean this town finally caught on to Faraday?”

“Maybe not the whole town,” Henry said, and Anna murmured, “He was always such a loud boy.”

Cheered, C.L. sat back in his chair. “Well, I’ll be damned—no, sorry, Anna—darned. What did he do?”

Henry kept on eating, shooting his sentences out between bites. “Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one chasing him down. Heard you talked to his wife.”

“I stopped by the house looking for Brent. He wasn’t there.” C.L. had nothing to feel guilty about aside from a few hammock fantasies, but somehow the look Henry gave him made him uneasy. “I didn’t even go in the house, Henry. I just asked for Brent.”

“You had such a crush on her,” Anna said. “I remember when you came home from school that one day and told me about her. You couldn’t have been much more than ten because you hadn’t been with us long. Eleven maybe. Such a nice girl.”

“I swear I spent five minutes on her front porch. That’s it.” C.L. tried to look innocent since he was, but Henry was still glaring. “I swear, Henry.”

“She’s married,” Henry said.

C.L. held his hands up. “Henry, I’m innocent. She slammed the door in my face. I was looking for Brent, not Maddie.”

“Why?” Henry said, and threw C.L. off track again.

“Well, Brent appears to have sold him a quarter partnership in the construction company. That would be half of his half, so they’d each have a quarter, and Howie would have the controlling interest. Sheila isn’t too happy about that.”

“Howie Basset is a nice boy,” Anna said. “He wouldn’t do anything crooked.”

C.L. sighed. Maddie was a nice girl, Howie was a nice boy, and the fact that they were both pushing forty and could have stopped being nice over the years was irrelevant to Anna. She should know better. After all,
he
had changed. He was responsible now. He hadn’t wrecked a car since 1983. And he hadn’t hit anybody since high school. Of course, Howie really was a nice guy, so Anna wasn’t far off the mark, but still—

Henry reached for the biscuits. “So why are you chasing Brent Faraday?”

“I want to look at the books. And I need his permission to do it. He almost has to give it to me since I’m acting as Sheila’s accountant, but—”

Henry stabbed some green beans. “How’s Stan feel about Sheila worrying about his money before it’s hers?”

“It wouldn’t be just the money,” Anna said. “C.L., you’re not eating. Henry, you be quiet now until he eats.”

C.L. obediently picked up his fork again. “What do you mean, it’s not just the money?”

Anna pointed at his plate, and he cut into the ham before she answered him. “Well, she’s not going to want him looking like a fool in front of the whole town.”

Henry snorted.

C.L. grinned at him. “Not a fan of Stan’s?” Anna pointed at him again, and he ate some ham.

Henry shook his head in disgust. “Woman would have to be a damn fool to think he’s a better catch than you.”

C.L. stopped chewing and swallowed his ham whole in surprise. “Me?”

Henry glowered at him. “You’ve done real well, C.L. We’re proud.”

C.L.‘s chest went tight and for an awful moment he thought he was going to tear up. Of course, Henry would disown him if he did, so he didn’t, but it was touch and go there for a minute. “Oh,” he said. “Thanks.”

Anna picked up the bread basket. “You need a biscuit, C.L.” She put two on his plate.

C.L. nodded, his head still wobbling from the shock of Henry’s spoken approval.

“You don’t eat enough in the city,” Anna went on, passing him the butter. “You’re just thin, that’s all there is to it.”

C.L. buttered a biscuit and bit into it to oblige her.

“If you were here more often, I’d fatten you up,” Anna went on. “You know, Frog Point only has one accountant.”

C.L. choked on his biscuit.

“Leave the boy alone, Anna,” Henry said.

“Just thought I’d mention it.” Anna picked up the bowl of green beans. “Be real nice to have him home again. Beans, C.L.?”

C.L. swallowed the last of his biscuit, took the bowl, and changed the subject. “You know I never did find Brent. Did he leave town while I wasn’t looking?”

Henry speared himself another slice of ham. “Nope. Spent the afternoon at the hospital.”

C.L. tried not to grin. “Somebody get as fed up with him as I am?”

“Nope.” Henry sat back and began to carve into the ham. “His wife was in an accident.”

C.L. lost his grin while Anna made a soft sound of distress and said, “Not that nice Maddie. Is she all right?”

“Hit her head pretty hard.” Henry stabbed his fork into his ham. “The little girl is fine. That dumbass Webster kid came around a corner and rear-ended them. She was stopped in the middle of the street. Said she stopped for a dog.”

“That’s Maddie, all right,” Anna said. “Wouldn’t hurt a soul. I’ll make her some cookies.” ,

“I think she likes brownies,” C.L. heard himself say. “I’ll take them to her.”

Henry shot him a sharp glance. “Thought you were looking for Brent.”

“Just being neighborly,” C.L. said, kicking himself. “Somebody should make sure she’s all right. You planning on eating the rest of those potatoes, Henry, or you just keeping an eye on them down there?”

“Oh, mercy.” Anna stood to pass the potatoes. “Henry, the boy’s hungry.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Henry said.

C.L. ignored him and ate. He was going back to town later that night to find Brent, but he had no intention of telling Henry that because Henry had a dirty mind.