Lavender's Blue by Jennifer Crusie & Bob Mayer

Author:Jennifer Crusie & Bob Mayer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cool Gus Publishing

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It’s funny what a difference twenty-four hours can make. When Vince turned down into the flood plain and I followed, I shivered in anticipation this time. When he pulled up in front of the Big Chef, I did, too, and then got out and spared a moment to look at the river rushing by. Then I turned and basked in the sight of the diner.

I sighed.

“You want this diner more than you want me,” Vince said, but he sounded amused.

“No,” I said. “But it’s close. Do you ever turn on the lights on the sign?”

“In the middle of the woods? No.”

He sounded as if it were obvious, but if I had a diner in the middle of the woods on a big river, I would turn on the sign, just for me.

“I don’t even know if I can,” he said, into my silence. “I’ve never looked for the switch. It must be hidden somewhere; they wouldn’t put it out in the diner where any kid could turn it on and off. Plus, it probably doesn’t work. It was a job getting the entire thing here. Although Will wired the place and he’s pretty thorough.”

It looked like such a warm, safe place.

Well, it was. Vince was there.

“I may be mythologizing you,” I told him.

“Whatever makes you happy.” He opened the door to the diner for me. “I prefer Norse. Vikings and Valhalla and Ragnarok and all that.”

“Norse it is, Thor. Can I make my own Coke?” I said, and he said, “Sure,” and when we went inside, he moved into the bedroom, and I saw his shape moving around behind the glass block wall as I went behind the counter and took a can of Diet Coke out of the under-counter fridge. It wasn’t like working a real diner, but with the Coke glass and some ice and pouring the stuff so it didn’t foam up too much, I felt like I belonged.

Also, there was Diet Coke in the fridge tonight. It’s the little things, you know?

So, I made him a regular Coke, put them both on the counter and sat down on one of the stools.

He came out and sat beside me and I pushed his Coke toward him, and since it was such a safe place, I told him what was making me uneasy.

“I think something really bad is coming.”

“Okay.” He took a drink of his Coke and waited, not upset with the change in mood.

“I get these feelings sometimes. I used to think I was just nuts, but then I saw a therapist who told me that children of alcoholics are usually hyper-aware, reading the landscape for signs of trouble because they never know when things are going to go south.” He frowned a little, and I said, “My mom was never abusive, don’t think that, she loved me, but a lot of the time, she wasn’t . . . coping. I turned off the stove a lot. I locked the doors at night. And I watched other people watching her.

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