Bed & Breakfast Bedlam - Abby L Vandiver Page 0,58

at me and then back at the road, seemingly wanting to explain. “When I got the call to check out Track Rock Gap, I was already on my way to Yasamee for a visit.”

“Really?” I laughed. “Nobody in the entire world would believe that. It’s just too coincidental. You stopped in Gainesville where I just happened to be . . .” I looked at him. “Minding my own business and then you just happened to come to Yasamee after I told you I was coming to Stallings Island?”

“Yep. I guess that’s the way it happened. Although what you were doing at Track Rock Gap is technically my business.”

I exhaled noisily. “That’s too much of a coincidence.”

“Maybe it wasn’t coincidence.” He glanced at me and smiled. “Maybe it was fate,” he said.

“I’m in love with Colin Pritchard.”

“The deputy?”

“Like your grandmother asked me once: ‘Do you know another Colin Pritchard?’”

“No,” he said. “I sure don’t.” He bit down on his lip. “But you’re kidding, right?”

“Well that’s the plan,” I said. “Me be in love with him. He be in love with me. He doesn’t know about my plan yet, though.”

“Why do you have this plan?”

“Because I think he’s cute,” I said.

“In a dumb sort of way, right?”

I chuckled.

“What about me?” he asked. “You think I’m cute?”

“No.”

“Yeah,” he said nodding his head. “I’m definitely going to have to give a visit to Grandmother’s greenhouse. Whip up a love potion.”

“You’d never get me to drink that.”

“I’d put it in one of my mother’s fruit cups. She told me how you ‘gobbled’ those down. Or did she use the word ‘demolished?’ I can’t remember the word, but I do remember envisioning a lion tearing into its prey, teeth ripping into flesh, ravaging on its remains.”

“Oh my.” I rubbed my hand across my forehead. “How embarrassing.” I scrunched up my nose. “You know one of you are always telling me what the other one said. Do you guys sit and talk about me when I’m not around?”

“Yep. We do. My grandmother actually gave me the idea of cooking up a love potion the last time we talked about you,” he said and started grinning.

“Speaking of potions, do you mind if I ask you a question.”

“No. I don’t mind.” He glanced at me. “For you, I’m an open book.”

“I was wondering about your father,” I said ignoring his “open book” comment.

Miss Vivee had told me that she helped Louis Colquett “pass over,” as she put it, when we got back from Atlanta just as she promised. But it was at his request she’d said. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her, it was just that people thought Miss Vivee capable of such things, and I wanted to know what Bay thought, especially since he was being so “open” with me.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said. “But what do you remember about your father’s death?”

He shot a glance at me, then didn’t say anything for a little while. “My father was in a lot of pain. He had cancer that just ravaged his body. Every breath he took hurt.” He seemed to drift off in thought, his eyes maybe even misty.

“I know why you’re asking,” he said. “Some people say my grandmother killed him. But she loved him like he was her son. And I know that my grandmother, if she had it in her power, would never let him keep suffering like that. My mother, deep down somewhere knows that too. But when people accuse my grandmother of, well, uhm, you know, my mother defends her to the end.” He looked at me. “One thing Miss Vivee taught me, especially since I was the only black kid around, was never to be ashamed of who you are. And she was certainly never ashamed to be the Voodoo Herbalist Priestess of Yasamee. And I’m glad she is because she used her powers to help my dad.”

I nodded my head, but didn’t say anything.

“So does that answer your question?”

“Yep,” I said and smiled.

“Good,” he said. “Now let’s talk about us.”

Us?

Thank goodness I was saved by the bell. Bay’s phone rang just at that awkward moment. Looking at the screen he said, “It’s the Sheriff.” He swiped his finger across it to accept the call. “I have to take this.”

While he spoke to the Sheriff I wondered what had gotten into him, all the flirting he was doing. And then I remembered how he always flashed that smirk of his when he’d talk to me. It’d had been