Finding Floyd (5 page)

Shaking her head, she went back to the
kitchen, and found herself alone with the big, dark, scary man in
black.

Oh, my god! Please Mr. Evans! Come back.
Don't leave me alone with that creepy guy. She glanced anxiously at
the fierce man eyeing her over the rim of his coffee mug.
Swallowing nervously, she stepped back to the griddle and spooned
the last of the batter on. There was just enough for three
pancakes.

"I'm sorry I ran out of bacon, Mr. Woodruff,
but I hope you liked your breakfast."

He watched intently as she flipped the
pancakes making her even more nervous.

"Not finished yet," he growled low in his
throat like a menacing dog.

Diane jumped, dropped her spatula, and
grabbed at it as it clattered on the counter. Snatching it, she
looked up. "What?"

The big man looked from her, to the griddle,
and then at his empty plate.

"Oh...," she said slowly and obediently
scooped up the last of the cakes and slid them onto his plate.
Fascinated, she backed away, watching her breakfast disappear. How
many freakin' pancakes could the guy eat?

As the last bite disappeared, Woodruff rose
and announced, "Thanks for the griddle cakes ma'am. They were just
like my mama used to make. In a bit, have some music out back, I
reckon."

"Music?" Her mouth open, Diane watched as he
strode to the door, boot heels thudding on the floor.

Footsteps sounded on the porch and there was
another knock. Jesse came back in and pulled it wide, revealing
three smiling faces.

"Pat. Mike. Pres." He nodded to the three
newcomers. "Come in. Meet Miss Diane. She's filling in for Sandy
and she's fixing a mighty nice breakfast. Kyle and I were just
about to go help those boys with that tree." He started outside
with his son.

On his way out the door, Kyle again winked
saucily at her

She didn't return the wink. Not a chance.
There's no way I'd get involved with that family.

The three men slid into chairs and introduced
themselves. All three were wearing worn denim jackets and their
muddy boots had left tracks across the clean kitchen floor. Pat and
Mike McCorkle were tall lanky and devilishly handsome. Both had
long hair and beards, but Pat was red headed while his brother was
dark with little patches of gray at the temples and at the corners
of his mouth. Preston Hardwick was short, and a little chubby. He
was clean shaven with soft brown hair that draped across his
forehead. His eyes though, were what caught her attention. They
were beautiful brown doe eyes. She thought that he had the sweetest
expression she'd ever seen on a man.

Preston asked, "What are you fixing there
ma'am?"

"What?" asked Diane.

"Jesse said you might could have some
breakfast. I'm starved." He rubbed his hands together in
anticipation. "Not much of a cook myself."

"Breakfast?" She glanced at the messy kitchen
with dishes, mugs piled on the counter, and her heart sank. Sandy
told me that there were no guests coming and I'd be all alone. I'm
running a bed and breakfast after all!

"Toast, just toast. That's all that's left."
she announced. "Sorry, but I'm out of everything but bread." Moving
through the mess, she filled the big toaster and brought more
butter and jam to the table. "Please help yourself.

Outside more car doors slammed. She heard
more voices, laughter and the continuing buzz of the saws. From the
porch came a few tentative notes from a stringed instrument. What
the hell is going on here? She started to load the dishwasher.

"Ma'am? Sure could do with another cup of
that coffee, if you wouldn't mind. Is there some cream and sugar?"
This from the table.

Diane glared at them and pointed to the urn
behind them where Kyle had set up the coffee service.

"Sandy ain't here I guess," said Preston
sadly as he got up to fill his cup. His voice was as soft and
sugary as his face, the words dripping out slowly like drops of
sweet molasses. "Toast would be real nice though," he said.

"I'm about starved to death," added Pat.
"This is neighborly of you. Sandy always had a right nice big
breakfast ready for us when we come by. She didn't tell y'all we'd
be here?"

"Uh no, she didn't." Looking at their crest
fallen faces, she relented. "I'll scramble some eggs too." She
bustled about the kitchen, cracking the last of the eggs into the
bowl and turning the fire on under her skillet. She dropped more
bread into the toaster. At this rate she'd soon be out of food
entirely.

"Generally, Sandy has home fries too. The
kind with little bits of onion. And something real nice and sweet,
like a cake, or maybe cinnamon rolls?" said Pat looking hopefully
around at all the kitchen counters.

"I've got eggs, toast," she said, looking
over her shoulder at the three eager faces. On the table the plate
that had held the bacon was empty. "I'm sorry, I did have bacon,
but it's all gone."

Scratching noises at the back door told her
that Bella wanted in. When she opened it, the dog trotted in,
leaving muddy paw prints. Bella went straight to Preston Hardwick.
He bent to croon in her ears and stroke the smooth head while her
tail swept the floor.

Hearing low notes from the porch, Diane
leaned out and saw a man in bib overalls plucking at the strings of
a bass. He met her gaze and nodded solemnly in greeting, but didn't
smile or speak. Strewn all over the porch were various instrument
cases.

She sighed, returned to the stove, and poured
more beaten eggs into the skillet. They'd better get rid of that
tree. I've got to get to the store. Peeking out, she counted no
less than a dozen men working away with saws. Somebody was rolling
a piece of the trunk, which had to be three feet in diameter across
the yard towards the woodpile.

"Okay, here you go," she said plunking down
the last of the eggs and toast for the three at the table.

Pat, Mike, and Pres thanked her nodding
politely and began eating.

She watched them shoveling in eggs, buttering
toast, spreading jam and wiping their plates clean with crusts of
bread. She sighed. At this rate I'll never eat.

"Is there something I'm missing here? I mean,
it looks like there's going to be a concert or something. Oh yeah,
and what about the guy in overalls on the porch? Why doesn't he
come on in and have breakfast? Everyone else has," she added,
sarcastically.

"That's Beau ma'am, Beau Shackleford. He's
our bass player. I reckon he's just tuning up out there. We figured
there's no point in trying to play until they get done with them
buzz saws. Won't take long, way they're tearing into it. Beau won't
come in, he's a little shy. His wife probably made breakfast before
he come over and he don't drink coffee. Matter of fact she'll
probably be along directly herself," said Mike as he carefully
spread his toast thickly with butter and blackberry jam.

"Beau's wife?" she asked. "Who else can I
expect to just drop by for breakfast?" she turned to Preston.
"Where do you usually have breakfast?"

"Why, at home I guess. Today my wife made me
oatmeal. She says it's healthy," answered Preston.

"You mean, you already ate? The three of you
just finished a dozen eggs and most of a loaf of bread." Diane was
dumbfounded.

"We always have breakfast here before we
play. Now let's see, today being Saturday, old Jeremiah, Kyle's
granddaddy will probably be along, and maybe Julia Blake will be
here soon. She'll come with Beau's wife. Maybe three or four
others. And there's some that will just come to listen. Might see
some of the boys from Check. Depends on this and that, you
know."

Diane drew back, shocked. "Will they all
expect breakfast? And what check? Is someone writing a check?"

"No ma'am," said Mike. "Check is a place.
It's just down the road a ways. Don't worry about food. Julia and
Carol Ann, that's Beau's better half, they'll no doubt be bringing
something tasty, cake or something. If you'd like, one of us can
run down to the Slaughter's grocery for more eggs and such."

"I don't know what to do." Diane poured a mug
of tea and looked around for the cream pitcher and honey jar, but
couldn't find them. She shrugged and sat down with them.

Pat looked at her mug and shook his head.
"Diets. I don't know how you women do it, always trying to diet and
lose weight. Just a cup of coffee for breakfast? You should eat
something."

She smiled weakly. "I'm all right and it's
tea, not coffee."

"Where was it you said Sandy's got off too?"
asked Mike, chewing thoughtfully.

"She took her mom on a cruise, somewhere down
in the islands. She'll be back in about ten days."

"That's mighty nice. Sandy deserves a
vacation. Real nice of her to do that for her ma," drawled Preston.
"You're a friend of Sandy's?"

She didn't have an opportunity to answer.
There was laughter at the back door. It opened and three women
spilled into the kitchen, each of them carrying a cake.

Her cell phone pinged, signaling an incoming
text.

"Oh my god, what now," she muttered as she
slipped it out of her pocket.

Ethan looked down at the
ruin of his home. The first gray light of dawn revealed the massive
destruction. Beyond the wrecked cabin, towards the river, a great
seam had opened in the ground. On one side, the land had risen up
so that several feet of raw earth was exposed. Stones and clods of
dirt continued to fall and slide down this new contour of the land.
Even the river itself looked closer, its banks altered.

Sobbing, he called out
futilely once more to his brother, sister and parents. All remained
still and silent. He was born down by an unbearable burden of
sorrow and fear.

Then the earth beneath his
feet began to tremble. Terrified, he jumped back from the edge of
the bluff, fell to his knees, and clutching his rifle, crawled
franticly away from the precipice. Praying fervently for God to
spare his life, he waited for the shaking to cease.'

From Reelfoot Legacy, by
Melinda Peters

"Honey, stopping to see Diane on our way to
Tennessee was such a good idea." Vicky reached over and laid a hand
on Jack's thigh. "She must be bored out of her mind by now, all
alone in that big house."

"I knew you were worried about her." Jack
looked over at his new wife and gave her an adoring look. "Besides,
I've always wanted to drive down the Blue Ridge Parkway and see the
mountains."

"They really are awesome," she said marveling
at the scenery around them. "But you're right, I am concerned about
Diane. She's been so down lately. I know she wanted some time to
herself, but there's nothing for her to do down there. She's
house-sitting that empty B & B with nobody to talk to except
Sandy's dog. She's got to be lonely."

Jack signaled and moved around some trucks
slowly climbing a steep grade. "I'm sure the people in Virginia are
friendly. Diane's a nice person. She'll be all right. How long will
she be down here?"

Vicky sighed. "I think she said it was for
two weeks. She doesn't know anyone in Floyd but Sandy. Diane is
used to being around a lot of people, working at the nursery and
volunteering for stuff. You know how she is."

"Is that who you're texting?" asked Jack.

"Yeah." Tapping on her phone, she asked,
"What's our ETA to Floyd? I want to let her know when to expect
us."

"According to the GPS, we'll get there around
noon."

"Want to stop and eat something?" she
suggested. "I don't want her to have to make lunch for us."

"Okay by me." Jack squeezed her hand.

"I'll tell her we'll be there after lunch."
She sent the message, slipped her phone into her purse and said,
"Jack, aren't the mountains beautiful? Look over there." She
gestured towards the rolling green hills that rose to blue peaks
beyond.

"Yeah. We're in the heart of the Shenandoah
Valley here. Alleghany Mountains to the west and Blue Ridge on the
east."

"I'll need to spend a lot of time researching
this area. There was so much action in this valley during the Civil
War," said Vicky.

For a few minutes they rode in silence,
looking at rolling ridges to either side. Traffic eddied and flowed
around them.

"So, did you change your mind?" Jack was
curious. "I thought you decided to set your Civil War novel in
Tennessee. Isn't that why we're going there? Haven't you already
started writing this book you're researching?"

"Well, yes, and no." She gave him a coy
little grin. I'll explain."

"What's that mean?" Jack looked quickly at
her, then back at the traffic.

"There's something else I'd like to do. I'm
still definitely doing my Civil War research, but...I've decided to
give the hot sexy romances a break. I always wanted to write
something a little more, well, a little more serious." she paused,
looking out the window.

"Yeah, go on. I'm listening."

"I've decided this next novel is going to be
about the New Madrid earthquakes and how they changed the lives of
people there in Tennessee. Actually the quakes rearranged the
geography as well."

"New Madrid?" he asked.

"You know. The New Madrid earthquakes about
two hundred years ago."

"Hey, I wasn't around back then. Tell me what
you're talking about. I haven't got a clue."

"Do you remember, a couple of years ago,
there was a relatively large quake right here on the east coast?
The epicenter was right here in the middle of Virginia."

"Yeah, I remember. We felt it up in New York.
It was five point something on the Richter scale. Right?"

"See, you remember because it was only two
years ago and yes, it was 5.8. The New Madrid earthquakes, there
were several, started in December, 1811 and they were mega-quakes.
All of them had to be at least seven or eight on the Richter, with
thousands of aftershocks for several months. They majorly changed
everything out there. Scientists can't be sure without any way to
measure earthquakes back then, but they think at least a couple
were over eight on the Richter scale."