Jodi Thomas - Twisted Creek

“That’s right, she was.” I smiled at the volunteer. “She gave me up when I was three.”

Now Deanne looked like she was considering turning in her volunteer smock.

Carla braced like she was preparing to slug it out to get in to see a woman she hadn’t cared about in years.

Bless Garrison D. Walker’s heart, he stepped between us and said in a voice perfect for the courtroom, “Is there a place we can talk in private?”

Miss Deanne jumped up, happy to move the problem away from her desk. “Follow me. We have a family room.”

I thought of commenting that Carla and I didn’t belong in such a room, but I figured I’d made enough of a scene. With Deanne leading the way, we crossed the waiting room.

I was at the door when I glanced back and saw Luke storming through the crowd toward me. He didn’t seem to see anyone in the room. He walked right up to me and lifted me off the ground in a huge hug.

I melted against him. The first good thing since dawn had just happened to me.

He finally lowered me back to the ground, but his arm stayed around my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I just had a scratch last night.” I brushed my hand over his shirt. “How about you?”

“I’m fine.” He winked. “A little tired from banging heads together.” He leaned down and kissed my nose. “I missed our date last night.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay, things get in the way.” I tried to keep my words light, but there was nothing casual about the hold I had on him.

Carla’s sharp voice sliced through the air. “Can we break this up? I’ve got a few important things to talk about with my daughter.” She glanced at Luke from his muddy boots to his stained shirt. “If you and mud man can pull apart long enough for me to have a few words with you.”

My hand slid down Luke’s arm to his hand. “He’s staying,” I said simply as I stepped into the room.

Garrison Walker seemed to think he had been appointed referee. He paced between us for a moment, then said, “Now, Miss Allie, I realize I’ve led you to believe that the lake property is yours, but your mother has brought a few facts to light that I didn’t consider before. It seems she is the only one of the two of you who ever met Jefferson Platt and he did name her as the person to be notified when he died. So, I feel it only fair to consider the possibility that Mr. Platt meant to leave the place to her. At his age, a mistake like that wouldn’t be impossible.”

“I don’t think so.” I made up my mind that second that I’d rather see lawyers get every inch of Jefferson’s Crossing than allow my mother to take it from me.

Walker remained calm. “She said Mr. Platt wouldn’t have even known of you if she hadn’t spent the day visiting with him. I’m sure there is some arrangement we can come to here that will be fair to all.”

I couldn’t stop myself. I had to ask, “Why’d you stop at his place, Carla? Surely it wasn’t by chance.” The fact that she’d been there had bothered me since she mentioned it.

She smiled smugly, as if giving away a secret. “Do you remember those dumb postcards Nana used to get now and then? The ones with paintings of the masters on one side and only the word ‘remember’ written next to her address?”

I closed my eyes, seeing the cards taped to the inside cabinet door. I never thought to see if anything was written on the back. That must have been where I first began to love art. I don’t remember her ever getting them in the mail, but she might have because every now and then a new one would appear.

Carla looked haughty. “My father finally made her throw them away. He said they were just clutter. But I found one she’d stuck in her Bible. I took it, thinking it must mean something to her because you know how Nana always was about her Bible. I stuck it in my high school yearbook because if she looked for the card she’d never think to look there. A few years ago, I found it, but this card didn’t just have ‘remember’ written on the back.”

She paused for effect, like some small-time actress overdoing the scene. “It had a route number out of the Lubbock post office. I figured it had to be some old family friend or relative, so I dropped by the next time I was in Dallas. I told him my father had died and my mother was all alone and having to take care of you. He seemed real interested until I told him I wasn’t sure about your address. I told him you and Nana were moving around like gypsies and I didn’t have time to keep up with you. After that, the old man almost tossed me off the place.”

I grinned. “I always knew Uncle Jefferson was a fine judge of character.”

“He was a bum,” Carla snapped. “Some friend of the family, he showed no interest in investing in a plan I had that would have made us both rich. All he wanted to do was ask questions about you and Nana.”

I never met Jefferson, but I could almost see him talking to Carla long enough to figure out what she was and then asking her to leave.

“So you see, Allie,” Walker said as he turned to me, “if it wasn’t for your mother you wouldn’t have this place.”

“I disagree,” Luke said from behind me. “I think Jefferson Platt knew and loved Allie all her life. He just lost track of her at some point.”

“Stay out of this,” Carla snapped. “This is none of your business.”

Walker raised an eyebrow at Luke. “Who are you, sir?”

“I’m Luke Morgan.” Luke reached around me and offered his hand. “Sorry for the outfit, but I’ve been dealing with a gang running drugs out at Twisted Creek. I’m an agent for the Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms.” Both Carla’s and Walker’s mouths dropped open. “But I’m here as a friend of Allie’s and because my grandfather and Jefferson were best friends.” He let the introduction sink in for a moment before he added, “I have proof Jefferson knew Allie all her life.”

“I’d like to see that.” Carla folded her arms. “The old guy never said a word to me.”

Luke tugged a picture from his vest pocket and handed it to Walker. The edges of the picture were worn and stained slightly from years of handling. “I found this, along with others, in Jefferson’s office.”

With Walker and my mother, I stared down at a picture of me in the third grade. I hadn’t seen it since the year it was taken. Nana had made me a plaid dress the week I had school pictures made. We thought I looked grand, but Henry saw no need for wasting money on pictures. This had to be the one that came free, clipped to the outside of the envelope.

“The pictures show that he kept up with her all through her childhood. He must have lost track of Nana and her when Allie’s grandfather died. I’ve a dozen people from the lake who remember hearing Jefferson talk about Allie.” Luke turned and stared at my mother. “You only filled him in on how they were. When you didn’t know where to locate them, he was finished talking to you.”

“You’re making this up,” Carla started, but Walker put his hand on her arm.

“I don’t think I’m prepared to call Agent Morgan a liar.” He straightened and picked up his case. “You’ll need to seek other counsel if you plan to continue.”

Carla wasn’t used to losing. If she couldn’t win, she could hurt. “Well, fine, take my property, but you’ll spend it all taking care of Nana. Something is wrong with her, real wrong.” She followed Walker out the door and slammed it hard for good measure.

I closed my eyes and said good-bye to the woman who’d never wanted to be my mother.

Luke’s arms circled me from behind and held me. He didn’t say anything. He just held tight.

Finally, I turned to face him. “Did you really find years of pictures of me?”

“I may not tell all I know sometimes, Allie, but I never lie. After the nine o’clock visit with Nana, come back to your place and I’ll show you.”

“Aren’t you going to stay around and go home with me?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m going home to clean up. Then we’ll talk.”

He kissed me gently and set me away from him. “I’ll be in Jefferson’s office waiting for you when you get home.”

I knew he was right. We had to wait. My first concern had to be Nana right now.

Luke walked me to the doors going into ICU. Without a word, I went inside. When I looked back, he was gone.

I checked with the nurse, then went into Nana’s room. She looked so weak, almost held captive by machines. The nurse told me she’d had a good night and was scheduled for tests all morning. She also said that by evening, if all went well, she might be in a regular room.

I wrapped my fingers around her arm just below the bandages and watched her sleep. “I need you so much,” I said, wondering if she could hear me.

Without opening her eyes, she covered my hand with hers and patted three times.

I smiled as tears ran. “I love you, too.”

0945 hours

Jefferson’s Crossing

Luke spread the pictures of Allie out on the old Hunter desk in Jefferson’s office. Twelve pictures, each dated, looked back at him. He also found a few letters, notes really, telling about how grand Allie was.

He read each carefully, feeling like he was trespassing on someone else’s memories. Nana had signed each note “forever, e.” Nothing more. Carla had said the postcards were signed with the same word. Maybe that was all either of them needed to say. Maybe they both knew. This was no wild affair. This was simply a shared memory, never forgotten, always cherished.

He heard Allie open the door, but he didn’t turn around. The rainy-day air blew in around him, but he could feel her warmth before she brushed her hand along his shoulder. Luke smiled, knowing he’d never tire of her touch.

“I still don’t understand,” she said as she moved around him and stared at the pictures.

“It took me awhile to put it all together,” Luke whispered, as if invading Jefferson’s privacy by discussing it. “I think it was Willie mentioning that my grandfather used to call Jefferson ‘Red’ that made the pieces finally fit together. I’d heard Nana tell her story of her week at a lake with a boy named Red. She told me over breakfast about how they’d talked until sunrise. She couldn’t remember exactly where the lake had been located. They’d met that summer and kept in touch by one note and one postcard a year.”

“Odd. Nana never mentioned anything about keeping in touch with anyone from her past. If she did, I don’t think Henry even knew about it. The postcards were just there once in a while.”

“It’s more than that.” Luke closed his fingers gently over her shoulder. “I think they lived a lifetime together in their hearts.”

“No.” Allie stopped, then whispered, “Maybe.”

“Jokingly she told me once that she couldn’t marry me because she was sleeping with a memory.” Luke pulled Allie against him. “I think they fell in love that week but life kept them apart. She wouldn’t leave your grandfather or maybe Jefferson wouldn’t ask. First she had to raise Carla, and then you. Or maybe they were both happy with the way it was. For them, they had sixty years of being sixteen in their memories.”

Allie smiled up at him. “I wish such a thing could be true. It would have made my Nana’s life so much richer. But it can’t be, and these few pictures prove only that she knew him and wrote him once in a while.”

“They might not have written hot love letters, but she wrote him of what she loved-you. They shared that.” Luke knew he was sounding like a poet, but he saw the truth. “In a way, she gave him a little part of what she loved most. She gave him you.”

Allie shook her head. “I can’t believe that. Maybe he knew Nana. Maybe he was the boy who took her to the fireworks and the fair when she was sixteen, but that was all. He had no other relatives. I was just a name to fill in on the will.”

Luke took her hand and tugged her over to the old potbellied stove. He knelt down by the safe everyone used as a stool. “What’s your birthday, Allie?”

She told him.

He entered the numbers and twisted the dial. The safe clicked open.

Allie dropped to her knees beside him and looked inside. A wind chime exactly like the one her grandmother had lay inside.

“Still think you were someone he just wrote down?”

Allie pulled the wind chime out. “But why me?”

“Maybe he knew that you’d bring Nana back here where she’d always been in her dreams.”

Luke left her staring at the wind chime and walked to the door. He locked it, then flipped off the lights. Without asking, he lifted her in his arms and carried her up to her bed. There, he lay down beside her, and pulled the covers over them both.

She was silent for a long time, then she began to talk, piecing the story of Edna and Red together as if it belonged in a love story. The wind chime and the postcards were all Nana had of him, yet she’d tossed the cards away when Henry said they were clutter. Maybe she didn’t need them as a reminder. Maybe she just knew he was still thinking of her.