Sit! Stay! Speak! (14 page)

B
Y THE TIME
A
DDIE GOT TO THE GROCERY STORE
,
THE PARKING
lot was packed. People streamed in and out of the building, baskets laden with food and supplies. She'd never seen people make such a fuss. Addie was pleased to find that the most important
provisions
she came for were still in stock—dog food and wine. Smiling to herself, she began to load her cart.

“Hey, Miss Addie.” Bobby Carter greeted her from one end of the dog food aisle. “How you doin' today?”

“Hey, Bobby,” Addie replied. “I'm great. Just trying to prepare for the storm. Last time I got a tree through my window. I'm a little nervous.”

“Well, maybe some of that work we did will hold up.”

“I'm sure it will. Thanks so much for your help.”

Bobby pushed his cart closer to Addie. “Could I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can I use you as a reference? For a job?”

“Of course you can,” Addie said. “What job?”

“There's a trucking company in Mississippi. I could drive one of their trucks till I get up the money to fix my truck. Get me outta town for a while, too.”

“Okay. Let me give you my number.”

“I already got it from Wanda. I hope that's all right. Maybe you could just tell 'em that I'm reliable?”

“You already bored with all that Eunice has to offer?”

“Nah.” Bobby gave her his throaty chuckle. “But I ain't used to spendin' so much time here. A week on and a week off. That's what life I been livin'.”

“I thought you were working for Redd Jones.”

“Not much work to be had.”

“You could be his maid,” Addie said with a grin. “Lots of work to be done inside that house of his.”

“I ain't got the gumption for that.”

“What does he do, anyway?” Addie asked. “I mean, for money?”

“Just takes care of things around the neighborhood.”

“What does he take care of?”

“People around here ain't got a lot, but Redd makes sure they got enough to survive.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds nice,” Addie replied. “But something tells me that Redd's not nice.”

Bobby scratched behind his neck. “I've known Redd since we was kids, but we just ain't got the same kind of mind for things, that's all.”

“I think that might be a good thing.”

“He ain't all bad,” Bobby said. “People don't want to come down to those parts anymore. Don't want to look at the ugly part of town. They ain't got no one else to rely on.”

“Maybe that's how Redd likes it.”

“You may be right about that, Miss Addie.” Bobby grinned broadly at her, displaying a row of crooked teeth. “I best be gettin' home. It was nice talkin' at ya.”

Addie watched him turn the corner. Bobby was so decent, so caring. How could he get mixed up with a man like Redd Jones? She knew Wanda wasn't at all happy about Bobby living with Redd, and there must be a reason other than the fact that he lived on the wrong side of town. Addie was lost in a deluge of her own thoughts until another familiar voice broke through them.

“It looks like you're planning for a wild evening.”

She knew who it was even before she turned around. “It figures that I'd run into half the people I know in this town at the grocery store.”

Jasper Floyd grinned at her. “What on earth are you going to do with a month's supply of dog kibble and alcohol?”

“I'm preparing for the zombie apocalypse,” Addie replied. “Isn't it obvious?”

“And to think the rest of the town is stocking up on candles and jugs of water.”

“I don't have time to educate everybody.”

“Is that really all you're going to buy? What if you lose power?”

“I'll drink.”

“What if another tree slams through your window?”

“I'll drink some more.”

“Eunice is tornado alley. You really ought to take this seriously.”

Addie leaned up against her cart and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you and my mother conspiring with each other?”

“Maybe being without power for an hour or two is no big deal,” Jasper said. “But around here people aren't so quick to respond. If you lose power, you'll be lucky to have it back in a day or two. Real lucky.”

Addie bit the bottom of her lip.

“You're not in the city anymore, Toto. Come on. I'll help you get what you need.”

“Fine,” Addie relented. “But I'm keeping my cart full of dog food and wine.”

“Whatever you want,” Jasper said. He grasped the handle of her cart. His hand brushed up against hers, and Addie's stomach did a flip-flop. “You look like a crazy person.”

“I wouldn't be the only one on my block.”

“True.”

“And how do you think it makes you look to be seen with the crazy person?”

“There's nothing that can be said about me that hasn't already been said.”

“I bet I could think of a few things.”

Jasper stepped in front of her, and Addie slammed into his knees with the cart. “Listen, I'm sorry about Memphis.”

“You don't have anything to be sorry about.”

“Yes, I do,” Jasper continued. “It was supposed to be your weekend. And it turned into an entire evening spent with me and my friends. I wasn't even supposed to be there.”

“I'm glad you were there.”

“You don't wish anything about that weekend had been different?”

“Well, I do wish that the cake had been chocolate instead of vanilla,” Addie replied. “But other than that”—she met his gaze—“I don't regret anything.”

Jasper seemed to accept this response, and soldiered on. It became increasingly clear that he knew everyone at the grocery store—probably in the whole town. Addie counted fifteen times that they had to stop and chat with someone, and each time she was met with a questioning look and a sweet southern smile. Jasper pretended not to notice, and people were too polite to ask. By the time they emerged from the grocery store, the rain was coming down in sheets. Groaning, Addie fished around in her pocket for her keys.

“There is no way you're going to make it home in that skateboard with a motor,” Jasper said.

“I'll be fine,” Addie replied. “It's just a little bit of rain.”

“You told me in the store that your windshield wipers didn't even work.”

“I hate to drive in this stuff. In Chicago, I walked or took the El whenever the weather turned ugly.”

Jasper threw Addie the keys to the Bronco. “Run on to the car and get in. I'll load up the groceries.”

Addie did as she was told. The rain was coming down slanted, and she was reminded of a conversation she'd had with Bryar. So far, his weather predictions had not been wrong, and he'd told her that slanted rain meant tornadoes.

“I don't know how it can be raining like this and still be sweltering outside,” Addie said when Jasper jumped into the driver's seat minutes later.

“That's part of the Delta's charm,” Jasper replied.

“You look like you've been swimming,” Addie said. She reached out and brushed his sopping hair out of his eyes before she could stop herself.

“It's your fault.”

Addie's eyes locked with his and her pulse quickened. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. Every time he was close to her she couldn't think of anything other than touching him. She hated it. It wasn't until Jasper started the car that he looked away from her.

The drive home was quiet. All along the road cars were pulled over, waiting out the storm. When they got to her house, Addie found Felix and let him out into the backyard while Jasper unloaded the Bronco. Felix ran around licking at the rain and sliding in the mud. He looked happier than he'd ever been.

“That's the last of it,” Jasper said, heaving two fistfuls of plastic bags onto Addie's kitchen table. “You know, you should really use recyclable bags.”

“This coming from the man who drives a tractor to community events. What's that thing get? Five miles to the gallon?” Addie smirked at him.

“Your senseless dog is in the backyard rolling around in the water.”

“I guess I'm going to have to go outside and get him.” Addie sighed, pulling on her rain boots. “Unless, of course, you wanted to drive your tractor out there?”

Felix was on the opposite side of the yard, ignoring her pleas for him to come to her. “Don't make me come get you,” Addie warned. As she spoke, one of her feet slipped out from under her and she fell backward onto the soggy grass.

Behind her, Jasper guffawed. Addie heard him sloshing over to where she lay staring up at the gray sky, droplets of slanted rain stinging her cheeks. “Need a hand?”

Felix bounded over to the two of them. “Some friend you are,” Addie grumbled to Felix, allowing Jasper to pull her up. She trudged inside and headed toward her bedroom to change out of her wet clothes. “Why don't you stay for a while?” she called out over her shoulder. For a moment, she cringed, realizing how hopeful she probably sounded.
Screw that,
she thought.
I am hopeful.
Besides, he was the one who'd offered to drive her home, anyway.

“I'm pretty sure the low-water bridge close to the house is washed out, anyway.” Jasper was standing in front of her refrigerator, staring intently inside. “There sure is a lot of food in here for one person.” He turned around to stare at Addie, who was rushing toward him, one arm still outside of her T-shirt.

“What do you need in there?” Addie asked, red-faced. She put herself between him and the fridge.

“Did I see two bowls full of mashed potatoes?” Jasper asked, looking over her head. “And collard greens? And hush puppies?”

“Maybe.”

“Lord, Adelaide. What else have you got in there?”

“I think you've about got it covered.”

“Did you have a dinner party or something?”

“No,” Addie said. She slunk away from the refrigerator, tugging at her shirt. “I was practicing.”

“For what? The invasion of Paula Deen?”

Addie avoided his stare.
For you,
she wanted to say. It sounded so ridiculous inside of her head. It was the twenty-first century. Women didn't do that anymore, did they? She eyed her aunt's
recipe box, perched precariously on the edge of the counter by the stove. Maybe some women did. “Feminism is about choices,” she mumbled.

“What?” Jasper was giving her his full attention now, the refrigerator and its contents forgotten. “What are you talking about?”

Addie sighed. There was no avoiding it now. “My aunt left me her recipe box. I've been practicing my cooking.” She sat down at the table. “I'm not very good at it.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Jasper replied. His eyes were dancing. “Those pies you made were pretty tasty.”

“That's a lie,” Addie said, not looking at him. “I tasted them myself.”

“Well, they weren't awful,” Jasper relented. “What did you make to go with the mashed potatoes and the collard greens?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Addie wished she could disappear. “I haven't worked up to main courses yet.”

This time Jasper couldn't keep from laughing, and it was contagious. Addie began laughing, too, and pretty soon they were both laughing so hard that tears were rolling down their cheeks.

Twenty minutes later, Jasper stood hunched over her stove, stirring something that was beginning to smell delicious. “This would be working out a lot better if you had a cast-iron skillet.”

“You're lucky I own any skillet at all,” Addie replied. “But I think I have one of my aunt's in a box in the closet. I thought it was junk because it was so gross-looking. What are you cooking?”

“I'm attempting to fry chicken, and we can use some of that gravy you said you made this morning.”

“Really?” Addie was impressed. She made a mental note to dig out the cast-iron skillet as soon as Jasper left.

“You sound surprised,” Jasper replied. “I'm not always the brooding jackass groping women in my hallway, you know.”

“Ah, so you do remember that.” Addie sat down at the table and took a sip of wine. “I was starting to wonder.”

“Of course I remember.”

“You can see how I might be confused.”

“I felt guilty about it. I guess I still do.”

“Why?”

“Considering what happened in Chicago. The whole reason you're here.”

“I don't remember saying that's the reason I'm here.”

“I didn't want you to think I was trying to take advantage of you,” Jasper said. “Of your vulnerability.”

“I definitely do not remember saying I was vulnerable.”

“It goes with the territory.”

“Of what? Of being the damaged ex-fiancée of a dead furniture dealer?”

“Something like that.”

“Jasper, what happened was horrible. It was worse than horrible. I swear there were days when I thought I was going to die, too. But I didn't come here to be reminded of what happened.”

“Why did you come here?” Jasper asked. “Lord knows it wasn't to stay.”

“You're one to talk about staying,” Addie shot back. “You're only here because you feel obligated. You're tied to this place, just like me.”

“At least I know why I'm here,” Jasper pressed. “Do you know why you're here?”

Addie shrugged. She didn't know the answer to that question. She knew she could have sold the house and everything that came with it without actually
moving
to Eunice. “I needed a change. I needed something that wasn't Chicago, and something that isn't stained with the memory of Jonah. I know he'd want me to move on, but I can't do that in a town that has his name written all over it.”