Bad to the Last Drop by Debra Lewis and Pat Ondarko Lewis Page A
Authors: Debra Lewis and Pat Ondarko Lewis
Ads: Link
why Joe chose this place—a place where he could fit in and be accepted, even if he was a little crazy. Joe,
she thought, as she turned once more to the service,
you were a p art of us, and you will be missed.
"Please join me in our Lord's Prayer, and remember that everyone is invited for a lunch and a time to share stories at the Black Cat," continued the pastor. "Our Father, who art in heaven
Pat joined in on the timeless prayer and lost herself in the words she had said so many times before.
After the gun salute, people put flowers on the casket and then hurried to get warm in their cars; Pat, too, went forward, where she whispered her own prayer: "Joe, it was too early for you. I don't know what you were into, you crazy fool, but I'm sorry you left the parade before the last float went by. I didn't know you well—I don't think many did—but know this: you will be missed." She patted his casket. And Deb, standing beside her, dropped her rose, too.
Pulling her coat closer as they walked out of the little cemetery, Pat craned her neck, trying to see the two guys in the black suits, but they had disappeared.
"What are you looking at?" Deb asked, her voice muffled behind the thick scarf she had wrapped around her mouth.
"Trying to find those two guys who stood in the back."
"What two guys?" Deb asked distractedly as she greeted people along the way to the car.
"What
two guys?" Pat echoed. "The two black suits who stood apart from everyone else. You must have seen them. Maybe they came with the army guys, but I don't think so because they would have been in uniform. If this were a movie, I'd think they were FBI or CIA."
"Pat!" Deb chided, stopping in the middle of the path. "Weren't you paying attention to the service at all?"
"I've done that service hundreds of times, I know what he said," Pat said guiltily, walking on. "But what do you really think? Remember how Joe always talked about calling the CIA over this or that?" Without waiting for Deb to answer, Pat continued. "I think they just might have been CIA. Do you know, one of them caught me watching them and stared me down! It gave me the chills."
"It's thirty degrees outside and the wind is blowing like crazy. Of course you have the chills!" Deb was starting to get a little irritated with Pat. "Come on; if you had been listening, you would know that lunch is being served at the Black Cat. Any luck and they'll be serving something hot with brandy in it, in honor of Joe."
They got into Pat's old Volvo, turned on the seat warmers, and followed the line of cars into town. There were so many people attending the lunch that the only parking space Pat could find was two blocks away from the coffeehouse.
"We could have just as well parked at home," Deb grumbled as they started walking the two blocks to the Black Cat.
"You have lived in a small town too long," Pat said, laughing. "This seems like parking close to me."
The place was already crowded and getting steamy, too, by the time Deb and Pat arrived. Anastasia and Helga stood with their brother close to the door, greeting people and shivering as the cold blew in.
Anastasia reached warmly for their hands as Deb and Pat approached her. "I am so glad you could make it," she told them. Turning to her brother, she said, "Spisibo—Jacob—you know Deb, yah? ? And this is her friend Pat. She is the other one that rescued us on Monday."
"Good to see you again, Deb. Thanks for helping us out. And Pat, thanks again for connecting the girls to us," Jacob responded, his face etched with exhaustion and grief.
Even in his grief-stricken state, Pat was struck with how much he resembled his brother, Joe; especially the identical brown eyes with the hint of a twinkle. She looked at Deb with a quick question in her eyes as they moved on to let someone else talk to the family and to find a table where they could sit.
"Don't look at me that way," Deb responded, without waiting for Pat to ask. "I was going to tell you. I
she thought, as she turned once more to the service,
you were a p art of us, and you will be missed.
"Please join me in our Lord's Prayer, and remember that everyone is invited for a lunch and a time to share stories at the Black Cat," continued the pastor. "Our Father, who art in heaven
Pat joined in on the timeless prayer and lost herself in the words she had said so many times before.
After the gun salute, people put flowers on the casket and then hurried to get warm in their cars; Pat, too, went forward, where she whispered her own prayer: "Joe, it was too early for you. I don't know what you were into, you crazy fool, but I'm sorry you left the parade before the last float went by. I didn't know you well—I don't think many did—but know this: you will be missed." She patted his casket. And Deb, standing beside her, dropped her rose, too.
Pulling her coat closer as they walked out of the little cemetery, Pat craned her neck, trying to see the two guys in the black suits, but they had disappeared.
"What are you looking at?" Deb asked, her voice muffled behind the thick scarf she had wrapped around her mouth.
"Trying to find those two guys who stood in the back."
"What two guys?" Deb asked distractedly as she greeted people along the way to the car.
"What
two guys?" Pat echoed. "The two black suits who stood apart from everyone else. You must have seen them. Maybe they came with the army guys, but I don't think so because they would have been in uniform. If this were a movie, I'd think they were FBI or CIA."
"Pat!" Deb chided, stopping in the middle of the path. "Weren't you paying attention to the service at all?"
"I've done that service hundreds of times, I know what he said," Pat said guiltily, walking on. "But what do you really think? Remember how Joe always talked about calling the CIA over this or that?" Without waiting for Deb to answer, Pat continued. "I think they just might have been CIA. Do you know, one of them caught me watching them and stared me down! It gave me the chills."
"It's thirty degrees outside and the wind is blowing like crazy. Of course you have the chills!" Deb was starting to get a little irritated with Pat. "Come on; if you had been listening, you would know that lunch is being served at the Black Cat. Any luck and they'll be serving something hot with brandy in it, in honor of Joe."
They got into Pat's old Volvo, turned on the seat warmers, and followed the line of cars into town. There were so many people attending the lunch that the only parking space Pat could find was two blocks away from the coffeehouse.
"We could have just as well parked at home," Deb grumbled as they started walking the two blocks to the Black Cat.
"You have lived in a small town too long," Pat said, laughing. "This seems like parking close to me."
The place was already crowded and getting steamy, too, by the time Deb and Pat arrived. Anastasia and Helga stood with their brother close to the door, greeting people and shivering as the cold blew in.
Anastasia reached warmly for their hands as Deb and Pat approached her. "I am so glad you could make it," she told them. Turning to her brother, she said, "Spisibo—Jacob—you know Deb, yah? ? And this is her friend Pat. She is the other one that rescued us on Monday."
"Good to see you again, Deb. Thanks for helping us out. And Pat, thanks again for connecting the girls to us," Jacob responded, his face etched with exhaustion and grief.
Even in his grief-stricken state, Pat was struck with how much he resembled his brother, Joe; especially the identical brown eyes with the hint of a twinkle. She looked at Deb with a quick question in her eyes as they moved on to let someone else talk to the family and to find a table where they could sit.
"Don't look at me that way," Deb responded, without waiting for Pat to ask. "I was going to tell you. I
Similar Books
