Twisted Creek

Chapter 10

Thursday

September 19, 2006

2230 hours

Luke stood on the dock and let the cold air dry his body. He’d swum far longer than usual but he needed to use up as much of the energy trapped inside him as possible. Watching Allie pour out her fears to him had been torture.

If he’d stayed there a minute longer, he would have pulled her into his arms. Even now, he could almost feel her against him. She was a beautiful, bright young woman. She didn’t need to think the weight of the world rested on her.

Dressing slowly in the dying campfire light, he heard a boat bumping against the end of the dock.

“Hello,” Luke said more to let the fisherman know that he was near than to be friendly.

“Evening.” A young man stepped out of his boat. “Mind if I tie up here for the night?”

“It’s not my place.” Luke moved closer, trying to see the man’s face. “But I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“Good.” The stranger offered his hand. “I’m Timothy Andrews. I’m staying at my dad’s company cabin a few hundred yards north. Our docking ramp was damaged last week in that wind, and I’m afraid I might gut the bottom of the boat trying to pull up during this fog.”

Luke guessed the guy to be twenty-two, maybe a year older or younger. He had a friendly smile, but shadows under his eyes as if he were ill, or unhappy, or on drugs. “Luke Morgan.” He offered Timothy his hand.

Timothy’s grip seemed slight, but he said, “I heard old Jefferson talk about an old friend he once had named Morgan. He was Navajo.”

“That would be my granddad. He was a code talker during the war. Met Jefferson in Germany and they became solid friends.” Luke knew he was giving out too much information, but he hoped it would encourage Timothy to talk. A man stepping out of a fishing boat at night with no catch swinging from a line might have business on the lake other than fishing.

Timothy fell into step with Luke. They followed the path lit by the dim glow from the store windows. “I read a book about what the code talkers did during the war. Very interesting.” Timothy also seemed to be making an effort at conversation. Maybe it was the night. Maybe something about the fog made people want to connect. “World War II is kind of my hobby. I read everything I can find on it. You got some of your grandfather’s stuff from that time?”

“Not a thing,” Luke answered as they headed up the drive to the main road.

“Too bad.” Timothy shrugged.

They talked about the fog and winter coming on as they walked. When Timothy reached the gate, he tapped the OPEN sign. “Glad this place is back in business. Good night, Luke Morgan.”

Luke waved as the kid disappeared into the mist. Timothy had seemed excited about the war, but little else. Luke couldn’t help but wonder what a young man his age was doing besides reading. Maybe just taking some time off? Maybe hiding out?

He added the Andrews place to his list to check out later tonight as he walked back to Jefferson’s Crossing. Between the fog and the rain, the store looked as if it were the only spot of life in the world. Luke had spent so much time in cities, it always took him a few nights to get used to how dark the country was.

As he rounded the corner of the store, he saw Allie asleep on the porch. The warm glow of the tiny lights left on inside sparkled in her hair. She was curled up looking cold and very much alone. A ledger book lay across one knee. A pencil still rested in her fingers and a fat old cat curled inches from her feet.

Luke debated. He couldn’t leave her here. The night was too cold. And, if he woke her up she’d probably start talking again. If she cried, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

Studying her face, he noticed she wore little or no makeup, unlike most of the women her age.

He tugged the pencil from her hand, but she didn’t stir.

Lifting the book, he noticed a drawing of old hands working a mound of bread. Nana, he decided. Allie’s work wasn’t half-bad. Luke shifted, almost touching her.

She still didn’t move. It would be a crime to wake her.

Carefully, he tugged her legs over one arm and circled her shoulders with the other. When he moved her, she shifted against his chest like a baby kitten seeking warmth.

He carried her into the store and up the stairs as silently as he could. The glow of a night-light made it possible for him to see the half-bed turned down near the window.

Lowering her gently, he tugged off her shoes and covered her with the blanket.

She wiggled into the pillow.

Luke backed out of the room, not wanting to take his eyes off of her until he had to. He decided listening to her talk was definitely easier than watching her sleep.