popped his head out the door. “Done. You wanna go? You look wiped out.”
She stood. “Yeah. I am. I didn’t sleep well last night. But, would you mind swinging by Shadybrook on the way? I’d like to say a quick hello to your mother.”
“Seriously? You’re not sick to death of my family?”
“No. I’m good. Plus, I can ask the director if she’s picked up any extra funding recently.” She smiled at him. “For after my temporary job is up.”
“No problem. I was going to stop and see Mom this evening.”
He locked the house behind them—a gesture that seemed out of place in Baylorville. Probably a result of living in a big city, she thought. Although when she and Jessie had lived in Nashville, their friends knew the twins’ apartment would be open if they needed a place to crash for an hour between shifts. Mama had prided herself on always offering an open door, which probably accounted for why there were always so many women hanging around Mama’s kitchen—including, on occasion, Jonas’s mother.
“Do you remember coming to our house with your mother when you were a kid?”
“No.” He leaned forward to start the car but paused to look her way. The sunlight, filtered in a dappled effect by the giant magnolia in front of his mother’s home, made the skin of his bare arm seem to glow in a warm, peachy color that made her hungry again.
Not for food.
She forced her gaze out the window. The fields behind his home had long since been built upon. New streets and smaller, less interesting houses had cropped up like watermelons in late July. The empty well he’d fallen into was probably somebody’s basement, she thought with a shiver.
“Are you okay? Did you see something? Was it Birdie?”
“No. I don’t get messages,” she said, angrily. In all truth, she was mad at herself. For thinking things she had no business thinking. “I told you, I’m not a psychic. I do not receive sudden, trancelike revelations from above. I was thinking about something else and I shivered. That’s all.”
He turned on the car. “Sorry. I guess I’m still pissed off about getting blown off by the Memphis P.D. My friend is swamped with work and he’s gone above and beyond checking databases. He’d even called in a few favors from friends in other counties, but there’s no trace of these people, and that’s really got me worried.”
“Why?”
“This sort of traveling gospel show relies on contributions. They usually have a couple advance teams that plaster the target area with posters and give away a bunch of free admissions to drum up interest. If the GoodFriends have pulled out of the revival business, then that might mean they have to find some other source of revenue.”
“Drugs?”
“I have no idea. I’d like to think they simply disbanded and went legit but that would mean people like Cheryl would resurface at home. And there’s been no sign of that.”
They drove in silence for a few blocks then Jonas asked her, “Why did you ask about coming to your house when I was little? I’m positive the first time we met was after I was rescued.”
“Jessie and I were talking about how chaotic it was in our house growing up. Mama had lots of friends. Male and female. There was always a pitcher of sweet tea spiked with a little something—wine or moonshine, I don’t know. Jessie stole a glass one time and said it tasted like rubbing alcohol.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said.
“That our mamas were imbibing in the afternoon?”
“That you didn’t taste the cocktail. You always were the straight arrow. A good girl. You wouldn’t even kiss me good-night till we’d been dating for two weeks.”
She bolted upright. “Stop the car and let me out. That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me. You have your nerve, Jonas Galloway. Asking for my help, then insulting me before…before…” Some of her bluster left when he burst out laughing.
“You’re mad because I called you a good
She stood. “Yeah. I am. I didn’t sleep well last night. But, would you mind swinging by Shadybrook on the way? I’d like to say a quick hello to your mother.”
“Seriously? You’re not sick to death of my family?”
“No. I’m good. Plus, I can ask the director if she’s picked up any extra funding recently.” She smiled at him. “For after my temporary job is up.”
“No problem. I was going to stop and see Mom this evening.”
He locked the house behind them—a gesture that seemed out of place in Baylorville. Probably a result of living in a big city, she thought. Although when she and Jessie had lived in Nashville, their friends knew the twins’ apartment would be open if they needed a place to crash for an hour between shifts. Mama had prided herself on always offering an open door, which probably accounted for why there were always so many women hanging around Mama’s kitchen—including, on occasion, Jonas’s mother.
“Do you remember coming to our house with your mother when you were a kid?”
“No.” He leaned forward to start the car but paused to look her way. The sunlight, filtered in a dappled effect by the giant magnolia in front of his mother’s home, made the skin of his bare arm seem to glow in a warm, peachy color that made her hungry again.
Not for food.
She forced her gaze out the window. The fields behind his home had long since been built upon. New streets and smaller, less interesting houses had cropped up like watermelons in late July. The empty well he’d fallen into was probably somebody’s basement, she thought with a shiver.
“Are you okay? Did you see something? Was it Birdie?”
“No. I don’t get messages,” she said, angrily. In all truth, she was mad at herself. For thinking things she had no business thinking. “I told you, I’m not a psychic. I do not receive sudden, trancelike revelations from above. I was thinking about something else and I shivered. That’s all.”
He turned on the car. “Sorry. I guess I’m still pissed off about getting blown off by the Memphis P.D. My friend is swamped with work and he’s gone above and beyond checking databases. He’d even called in a few favors from friends in other counties, but there’s no trace of these people, and that’s really got me worried.”
“Why?”
“This sort of traveling gospel show relies on contributions. They usually have a couple advance teams that plaster the target area with posters and give away a bunch of free admissions to drum up interest. If the GoodFriends have pulled out of the revival business, then that might mean they have to find some other source of revenue.”
“Drugs?”
“I have no idea. I’d like to think they simply disbanded and went legit but that would mean people like Cheryl would resurface at home. And there’s been no sign of that.”
They drove in silence for a few blocks then Jonas asked her, “Why did you ask about coming to your house when I was little? I’m positive the first time we met was after I was rescued.”
“Jessie and I were talking about how chaotic it was in our house growing up. Mama had lots of friends. Male and female. There was always a pitcher of sweet tea spiked with a little something—wine or moonshine, I don’t know. Jessie stole a glass one time and said it tasted like rubbing alcohol.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said.
“That our mamas were imbibing in the afternoon?”
“That you didn’t taste the cocktail. You always were the straight arrow. A good girl. You wouldn’t even kiss me good-night till we’d been dating for two weeks.”
She bolted upright. “Stop the car and let me out. That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me. You have your nerve, Jonas Galloway. Asking for my help, then insulting me before…before…” Some of her bluster left when he burst out laughing.
“You’re mad because I called you a good
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