Here With Me by Beverly Long Page A

asked, her head tilted to the side,
as if in challenge.
    The absurdity of the situation didn’t pass
him by. He’d faced down bank robbers, cattle rustlers, and more
liquored-up cowboys waving their guns than he cared to remember.
And he’d never run from any of it. But now, two old women, one
sick, the other half-crazy, had him about to tuck his tail under
and run for the hills. Or in his case, the damn beach.
    He’d never thought of himself as a coward. It
wasn’t an appealing picture. He looked them both in the eye.
Neither woman flinched nor seemed overly aware of the panic that
threatened to overtake him.
    Of course not . They’d had nothing to
do with getting him here. Any minute now he’d be seeing ghosts in
the corners. He squared his shoulders. “I’m looking forward to the
meal,” he said. “I appreciate your hospitality.”
    “It’s our pleasure,” Pearl said, as she
walked out of the room. He followed her and as he walked past Aunt
Genevieve, she said, “Welcome to the family, George.”
     
     

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    When they got to the dining room, there was
already a man sitting at the table, a half-eaten piece of buttered
bread in front of him. “What a surprise,” said Aunt Genevieve, her
voice edgy with sarcasm. “George, this is Tilly’s husband,
Louis.”
    The man took his time chewing while he looked
George up and down. Finally, he swallowed. “My wife tells me
congratulations are in order.”
    The man had said it nice enough. “Thank you,
sir,” George replied. Uncle Louis looked like he could use the
extra pounds that his wife was carrying. And with his bald head and
fair skin, George bet the thin man took red in the sun. He turned
to Pearl. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to wash up before we
eat.”
    She nodded toward the side door. “Through
there and then down the hall. It’s the second door on the
right.”
    George found the way easily enough and
slipped quietly into the small room. He’d seen the flush toilets at
the store so that didn’t surprise him but the gold handles on the
sink took him back a peg. He pulled one forward, then the other,
and when the water was warm, he squirted some fancy-smelling soap
out of a bottle that sat on the edge of what had to be a marble
sink.
    Damn, these folks were rich.
    He scrubbed his hands. Melody Song’s baby
would want for nothing. That is, nothing except a father. He rinsed
the soap off and then shut off the water.
    He eyed the green towel hanging on the hook
and almost hated to get such a fine thing wet. However, since the
alternative was his trousers, he reached for the fancy cloth. Once
his hands were dry, he reached out and flipped the switch on the
wall, the way he’d seen Melody’s grandmother do when they’d entered
the dining room.
    The small room went completely dark.
    He flipped it again. Light.
    Back off, then on, and back off again. It was
magic and it made him feel like a little child. For the hell of it,
he flipped it twice more before he opened the door.
    Melody, her arms crossed, her head cocked to
the side, stood three feet away, her back against the wall. “Having
trouble with the light?” she asked. She pointed to the quarter-inch
of space between the floor and the heavy door. “From this angle, it
looked like it was flickering.”
    “It’s fine,” he said, feeling like a fool. “I
wanted to wash up before the meal,” he added, praying that she’d
let it go.
    “Grandmother and Aunt Genevieve spirited you
away before I could introduce you to Bernard.” She stepped a foot
closer and lowered her voice. “He’s anxious to meet the man who
stole my heart.” She didn’t look happy. “This is harder than I
thought,” she whispered. “Are you sure we can pull this off?”
    He wanted to tell her that he’d spent the
last six months acting, that this was just one more performance,
one more lie.
    After all, he’d successfully posed as the
town drunk while he’d searched for the three men who had