Jeremiah by Kris Michaels
Chapter 6
Jeremiah rode his bike into the small town and was shocked when several people on the street lifted a hand in greeting. He couldn’t remember the last time someone he didn’t know had acknowledged him. Small towns had charm that way.
Instead of turning right and pulling behind the clinic, he veered left and drove to the back of the cafe. His sister, Genevieve, spun around from the cargo trailer that was opened behind her truck. The look of confusion on her face vanished and a smile as bright as the Alabama sun split her face.
“Remi!” She launched toward him and damn near knocked him and his motorcycle onto the gravel drive. He grabbed her and the bike, straddling the machine to keep from going over.
“Whoa, there. Give me a chance to get off my bike before you maul me.” He laughed when she jumped back and hopped up and down on her toes.
“Hurry up! Oh, damn, have you bulked up or what?”
He placed the kickstand and swung his leg over just in time to catch her again. “It’s so good to see you!” She hugged him and they swayed together for a bit, but she didn’t let go, which was weird. He nudged her and whispered, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She released him and wiped at her eyes. “Nothing, I’m just being silly. Why didn’t you call?”
He shrugged. “You know me, I didn’t want you to put yourself out.”
She tapped his helmet with her finger. “Hello? Since when is putting fresh linen on the guest bed a burden?”
He chuckled and took off his helmet. “Looks like you have a heck of a haul.” He nodded to the trailer.
“I so do! I stock up for the month and flour in fifty-pound sacks aren’t fun to move from point A to point B, let me tell you.” Gen swiped a strand of her long black hair back and tucked it behind her ear. “Let me get this put away. Come in and pour yourself a cup of coffee and we’ll visit while I work.”
“Like that would ever happen.” He lifted a fifty-pound bag of flour and slung it over his shoulder, grabbing another in his right hand. “Lead the way.”
She blinked and scrambled to the back door of the cafe. “Flour is to the right, bottom shelf in the storeroom.” She pointed to the storeroom that was organized within an inch of its life. Each shelf was labeled with a small whiteboard that showed the product name and the date she placed it into storage.
“I see that degree in business management from Brown came in handy.” He rested one bag against the door jamb and lowered the one he had on his shoulder into its place.
“Stop, I get that song and dance from Mom.” Gen muscled over the other bag of flour and he lifted it up into its position.
“Ah, how is Mother?” He turned around as he spoke and saw her flinch. “Sorry, still a sore subject?”
Gen nodded. “How about we save that conversation for a glass of something adult and we’ll make it extra strong?”
“Deal. What else do you need me to do?” He’d seen more supplies and headed back out to the small trailer.
“Remi, you don’t have to do this.” Gen jogged to catch up with him.
“Well, I am, so get over it.” He hip-checked her, sending her to the right about five steps. She snorted a laugh and veered back to the trailer. They loaded up and headed back into the cafe.
“How long can you stay?” Gen asked the question as they placed tins of oil, cans of tomatoes, and every other pantry item imaginable into the storeroom.
“That’s open-ended right now. I took a leave of absence from the prison.” He turned to go back out to the trailer.
“Jeremiah, what aren’t you telling me?” The soft question halted him in his tracks. He turned and looked at his sister. She was beautiful in the way of the old-fashioned movie stars. Classical features, deep blue eyes, and black hair had helped her win Miss Alabama and first runner-up in the national pageant. Of course, that hadn’t been enough for their mom. “Remi?”
He dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a minute. “Remember that adult beverage we are going to have after we finish unpacking the warehouse store you bought out?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I remember that.”
“You share your story and I’ll share mine.”
She slapped her hands together and moved toward the door. “Deal, but you’re going first.”
He chuckled and followed her out the door. They’d need a fifth to get through the afternoon.
“This is nice, Gen.” He walked around the front of her cafe. There was a long counter with ten stools and a bank of booths that stretched across the front of the space. Clean, small, and everything she’d always talked about.
“Thanks. I opened with just the bar space and some little tables, but I ordered the booths, and I installed them two months ago. The ranch hands don’t enjoy sitting at bistro tables, not really their scene.”
“I can understand that.” He glanced through the pass-through to the kitchen. It wasn’t huge but was well-appointed according to the tour Gen had just given him. “You live upstairs?”
“I do. That is still a work in progress, but I’m almost done. Come on, I’ll show you where you can unpack.” Gen led him back through the kitchen and waited while he retrieved his belongings from his saddlebags.
He took two steps up her stairs and groaned as the wood squealed. “You need to replace these stairs.” She snorted a dismissive sound and kept going up. He shook his head and prayed the stairs held him and his small bags. From the sound they were making, it was a close call. “I swear I don’t know which set of steps is worse, yours or Eden’s.”
Gen stopped at the landing. “You know Eden?”
“Yeah, I met her last night at the bar fight.”
“The what?” Her hand stilled on the door latch.
“The bar fight I broke up. Are we going to go in or are you hoping this landing will hold instead of dropping us to our deaths?”
She chuffed out a sound and opened her door. “Home sweet home.” The door opened into her kitchen. It was twice the size of Eden’s and had new countertops in a brown color that matched the floor and was a counterpoint to the white cabinets.
He whistled. “Nice.”
“Thanks. Come this way. This, obviously, is the living room, through there is my bedroom and bathroom. Follow me.” They turned and headed down a small hall. “This is your bathroom and here is your bedroom. I’ll grab some fresh sheets and make up the bed.”
He sat his kit down inside the room and glanced around. A queen-sized bed and dark wood headboard and dressers countered light blue walls and dark blue curtains and comforter. There was a rocking chair in the corner and an old table with an old-fashioned pitcher and wash basin on it. “Perfect. Thanks for letting me crash in on you.” He shrugged off his jacket and laid it on the foot of the bed.
“Anytime, you know that. You get settled, I’ll make us something for lunch and pour those adult beverages. I can’t wait to hear why you’re in South Dakota.”
He watched her walk away and smiled. His sister and he had been damn close. Growing up, time and distance had loosened that connection to a degree. They didn’t talk often now. They exchanged emails and a few texts rather than calls because her schedule and his never matched up. He stacked his clean clothes in the dresser and put his laundry bag in the corner. He’d ask to use her washer and dryer tomorrow.
A waft of a heavenly aroma snuck through the air and his stomach growled viciously. He hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday and his body was not happy with him. With that in mind, he made a beeline to the pots on the stove. “Red beans, sausage and rice, and a salad.” Her voice came from behind him. “I figured it was too early to hit the hard stuff, so…” She opened the fridge and pulled out two beers.
“Perfect. Damn, I forgot what a fantastic cook you are.” He took his beer from her and twisted the top off.
“You haven’t tasted it yet,” she joked with him and pulled out two bowls, ladling in the rice and then the red beans and sausage. “Here you go. Have a seat.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, and although his stomach objected, he waited for her to sit down with her food before he took a bite. “Damn, Gen, that is so good.” The beans were tender but not mushy; the spice from the sausage had mixed with the sauce and it had just the right heat level.
“Thanks. Grandma Wheeler’s recipe, changed to fit South Dakota ingredients, although you’d be surprised at what you can find if you look hard enough.” She took a bite of hers and tipped her head. “Speak.”
He snorted and shoveled another spoonful in his mouth. “Did you hear about the riot at the supermax in California?”
She shook her head, her eyes widened. “I listen to the news on the radio when I’m cooking in the morning. National news coverage isn’t the best. What happened?”
“There was a riot, and they locked the prison down. Unfortunately, at the same time, one of the worst offenders had escaped custody in the medical ward.”
She put her spoon down. “That’s where you work, right? Were you there?”
He nodded and stirred his food. “I was. I witnessed this man do unspeakable things to two people I knew. He killed one, maimed the other. I was behind a locked glass door and couldn’t do a damn thing to help them.” He left out the graphic details, but by the way she was staring at him, he understood she was filling in the gaps. He put his spoon down and leaned back. “It was bad, Gen. The man had attacked me before, he wanted to get to me, and because he couldn’t do it––”
“He fucked with your mind,” she finished for him.
His eyes darted up to her. “Such words from a lady.” He repeated his mother’s admonishment and lifted a corner of his mouth in a half-smile.
She groaned, “We’ll get to that subject in a minute. You said you took a leave of absence?”
He nodded. “I tried to resign, but they wanted me to take time off before I made that decision.”
“You’re not considering going back, are you?” She reached her hand across the table and placed it on top of his.
“No. I’ll take the time they asked that I take, but I can’t see me going back inside.” The thought of being locked in that prison with Cyrus, no matter how well-guarded the murderer was, made him sick to his stomach.
“Then stay with me until you figure out what the next step for you is.” Gen dipped down to look at him.
He drew a breath and realized he was subconsciously worried that she wouldn’t want him to stay, but the offer slid that worry from his shoulder. “It will only be for a couple weeks, maybe a month.”
“You could stay forever, and I’d be ecstatic. Now that we have that settled, eat your lunch or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
He picked up his spoon, but before he continued, he caught her attention. “Thank you, Gen.”
She smiled at him and nodded. “We’ve always stood stronger together, haven’t we?”
“Ah, yes, dear Mother. Tell me what’s going on there?” He spooned another mouthful of the delicious food and rolled his eyes when the taste exploded on his tongue.
“Well, I told you that Avery and I broke up.” She shrugged. “I didn’t tell you I found him screwing Chelsea, in my condo and in my bed.”
He stopped chewing and swallowed hard. “I’ll kill that bastard.”
She raised her eyes. “You’re a doctor. I don’t think they authorize killing under that medical credo you swore.”
“The ‘do no harm’ vow will not keep this guy from getting a fist shoved through his face.” He grumbled the words. “Chelsea as in…?”
“My ex-best friend since second grade? Yes.” She nodded and took a bite of food. “It was an epic scene. Get me drunk sometime and I’ll give you all the sordid details.” She waved her spoon in the air. “So, at Dad’s suggestion, I got in my car and I drove. I ended up about three miles south of town when my radiator decided it was time to spring a leak. I limped it to Phil’s gas station. When I saw this cafe all boarded up and lonely, I knew I’d found a place to stop. I love it here. Nobody knows who we are. There are no expectations except being a good person. The weather is harsh, the land is unforgiving, the ranchers are stronger than you might imagine, and this little town serves a purpose.”
Jeremiah considered her words for a moment. “First, I don’t believe Dad would ever set you on a road trip with no destination, and that doesn’t explain the greeting I got today. So, explain.” He lifted his beer and drank, chasing the lingering heat of the meal.
“Well, he suggested I go on a holiday—the Med was his suggestion.” She smiled and winked at him and then her face fell. “Mother has been at me nonstop. I haven’t given her my number and she’s blowing up my email.”
He remembered that she’d changed her number when she started the business. He’d figured it was because of a carrier issue in the sparsely populated area. “You’ve banned our mother?”
“She has my email address. That’s it. Dad swore he’d never tell her where I’m at.”
Shit, things were worse than he’d imagined. “Because?”
“Because after I found out Avery had cheated on me, I called off the wedding. She was beside herself. How would this reflect on her. She ordered me to go back to Avery and to make everything right. Demanded, Remi. She didn’t care how I felt, how his cheating had affected me.” Tears swelled in her big blue eyes. “She is still insisting that I need to apologize for overreacting and get over myself.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Yes, yes you are,” Gen laughed and sobbed at the same time. She dabbed at her eyes and sniffed before she shook her head. “Sorry, bad joke.”
“But it would appear in this case, it’s the truth.” He didn’t like his mother on good days, although as her child he’d always love her, just not the same way he loved his father. Theirs was “a house divided” personified. Celest’s rooms were away from theirs; his father’s rooms were next to his and Gen’s. Celest and his father hadn’t shared rooms for as long as he could remember. There was a mutual respect but no love between the two of them, and he often wondered what kept his father in a loveless marriage. Celest’s drive to parade both Gen and him around at pageants, her need to be in the limelight and be the center of attention, her incessant need to have the latest and best of everything had a handful of clinical diagnoses, all of which gave him an empathy for his mother. “Why would she insist you get back together with that cheating asshole?”
“Dad thinks it’s because of Avery’s family.”
“The Montagues? I’m not sure I understand.”
Gen stood up and took his bowl—which he realized was empty—and filled it again. “The Montagues are an old family. They don’t have money like Dad, but they have status. A status that Celest couldn’t obtain even if Dad becomes Governor someday.”
He thanked her for the second helping and leaned forward. “How much pressure is she putting on you?”
Gen lifted a finger and went to the counter to get her phone. She opened her mail and handed the cell to him. He scrolled… and scrolled… and scrolled. “Wow.” The implications of the obsessive emails concerned him. He cleared his throat. “Okay, so this is what we’re going to do. I’m going to call Dad and have a talk with him. He needs to know the extent of this situation. Then I’m going to ask you to consider—just consider—giving her an inch. Maybe reach out to her on a pay-as-you-go phone.”
Gen sighed and took her cell back. “She’s mental. If I give her an inch, she’ll take a mile.”
“That is an astute diagnosis. What manual did you get it from, Doctor Wheeler?” He lifted an eyebrow and Gen laughed.
“Well, she is, and you know it.”
He agreed, but the assessment wasn’t as clinical as he was thinking. The manic behavior needed to be addressed. “I’ll talk to Dad.”
“Thank you. I’m not going to give her my number. Not yet. If she’s this obsessive with emails, I couldn’t imagine what she’d do with a telephone number.”
He nodded. Gen’s relationship with their mom had been more turbulent than his. He’d tried to intervene and provide a cushion for his little sister, but once he grew and was no longer a cute little boy but a gangly adolescent, Celest lost interest in him. Thank God for the time they spent with Grandma and Grandpa Wheeler. They showed both Gen and him what a normal and loving relationship looked like.
“Want another beer?” Gen asked.
“I do. Thank you.” He finished his second bowl of food and leaned back in his chair. “I plan on earning my keep. Let me help you downstairs and do some things around the place, like replace those damn stairs.” For both her and Eden. The thought of them crashing through the rotted wood would make that his first project.
Gen handed him a drink. “You know, you don’t have to do that, but sometimes it is crazy busy and things like the stairs get overlooked. This little town is bigger than you’d think.” She stopped. “Hey, you never told me about the bar fight.”
Jeremiah chuckled and walked his dirty dishes over to the sink. He regaled her with the previous night’s activity and him ending up on Eden’s couch while he did the dishes and she dried.
“Oh, dang, I bet Zeke was fit to be tied this morning. He has his eyes on Eden.”
“Yeah, I got that loud and clear.” And he’d walked away from it. No matter how attractive he found the petite blonde to be, he wasn’t here for long and she didn’t strike him as the type of woman who did short-term arrangements. He rinsed out the sink after the last pan; for that matter, he wasn’t that type of a person either.
Gen leaned against his arm and sighed. “It sure is good to have you here.”
He pulled her into a hug. “It’s good to be here. Don’t worry, we’ll figure out whatever is under Mom’s bonnet and give it a good swat.”
Gen laughed, “I call dibs on the first whack.”
* * *
After Gen went to bed at way too early of an hour, Jeremiah pulled out his phone and hit the number for his father. The phone rang four times, and he was just about to hang up when his father answered. He could hear a large gathering as he spoke, “Jeremiah, I’ve been trying to be patient. I saw about the riot at the prison. I knew you’d let me know if there was any reason to worry, but dang it, give this old man’s heart a break, will you?”
He sighed. Fuck, yeah, he should have called his dad before this. “Sorry, Dad. It was brutal.”
“Were you… involved?” The background noise dimmed, and Jeremiah heard a door shut.
“Indirectly. There was an inmate that escaped and murdered some of the staff. I saw it happen.”
“Damn it. You know I wish you’d move closer to home. With you in California and Gen in South Dakota, I feel like my family has abandoned me.” His father chuckled and he heard ice drop into a glass.
“Actually, I’m up in South Dakota with Gen, visiting for a bit. Are you aware that Celest is bombarding Gen with countless emails telling her that the affair was her fault and she needs to come back and make things right?”
He heard his father’s deep sigh. “Damn it. No, I wasn’t aware. Gen made me promise not to give Celest her number, but I had no idea she’d gone overboard with the emails.”
“Overboard is an understatement, Dad. I saw at least four or five hundred. Is Celest still seeing her therapist?”
“I’m sad to say that I don’t know, but I will find out. She has already pulled this family apart. I know that you and Gen would have stayed closer if it wasn’t for your mother’s… tenacity.”
Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “Dad, I’m going to be completely honest with you. Celest has issues that need to be addressed now, not later. I’m very worried about her. I have colleagues in the area that I can recommend. People who can help, but you’re going to have to sit down with her and draw the line, one she can’t cross, one that will motivate her to get better. Hands-off is not what she needs. She’s literally terrorizing Gen. Something has to be done.” In retrospect, his father’s hands-off approach was never what she needed, but that was a realization after years of training and seeing patients.
His father was silent for a moment. “You’re right. All right. I’ll work on this and get a handle on the situation. Send me those names.”
“I’ll text the contacts to you as soon as we hang up.”
“How are you, son? You don’t take random vacations. You’re a workaholic like your old man.”
“The situation at the supermax messed with me. There was a need to distance myself from what was going on in California, so I jumped on my bike and came out here to South Dakota. Have you seen Gen’s little place?”
“No, unfortunately, I haven’t. I’ll have to make time to do that. Is she happy?” He heard his father take a drink of whatever he’d poured.
“I think she would be happy if you could get Mom under control. The cafe is something she’s very proud of, Dad. I think it would mean a lot to her if you’d come up even for just a day or two.”
“I’ll talk to Henry and get that put on my schedule.”
“Henry? I thought your secretary was Opal?” He couldn’t imagine his father without the sturdy Miss Opal at his side.
“Opal will be with me until we both shrivel up. Henry is my campaign manager.”
“Making the run for Governor this year?”
“I am. I have a good chance.”
“You’ll make one hell of a Governor.” His old man was amazing and not a radical. He could work with anyone, except, of course, Celest. But then again, who could?
“From your lips to God’s ears. I need to get back out to the party. I am the man of the moment, after all.”
“All right. Take care. Love you.”
“I love you, too, and I will take care of the situation.”
“Personally, Dad. No handlers.”
“I promise. Good night, Jeremiah.”
Jeremiah hung up the phone and forwarded three contact numbers to his dad’s cell. At least he could mark that item off his list of things to worry about. When his father made a promise, he kept it.
He took off his boots and padded out into the apartment with the intent of shutting every window and locking every door. He was going to buy deadbolts for both Gen and Eden. There was no way they shouldn’t have locks on their doors and use them. Damn it, didn’t they realize there were monsters out there?
