There were huge, empty, plastic shopping bags everywhere. Three new blankets and four fluffy pil ows were stacked on the couch. The lamp Bil y and I had broken had been replaced by another one, which now threw a soft glow on the room. In one corner, there was a four foot tal wrought iron candle holder with six, thick, green candles in the top, al lit and giving out the scent of bay. There were more candles in black holders on the coffee table, also lit. There were candles on the dining room table, ensconced in decorative corn husks and miniature gourds. On the corner of the bar, separating the dining area from the kitchen, sat an enormous Hal oween bowl fil ed to almost overflowing with Hal oween candy. I saw a new canister set for flour, sugar and coffee (I had no doubt al of them fil ed) against the back kitchen counter. Last, I could smel something cooking.
“What have you done to Hank’s house?” I asked Mom.
“Just made it cozy. Kind of a thank you gift for letting us stay and for taking care of you,” Mom answered and she looked to Luke. “You want cocoa?” she asked.
“No,” he replied.
“Coffee?” Mom went on.
“No,” he said.
“Tea?” she continued in dogged pursuit of being both a Mom and a good hostess, even though it wasn’t her house.
She was now sounding slightly surprised at the idea that Luke drank something as un-macho as tea (like he’d drink cocoa).
“No,” Luke repeated.
“Oh, I know. A beer?”
He shook his head.
I cut in. “Jeez, Mom. He doesn’t want anything. Leave him alone.”
“Roxie, don’t be rude,” Mom told me. Then a buzzer went off. “I know what he’l want!” she shouted and she whirled, threw on a (new) oven mitt, opened the oven and took out a cookie tray. “Right here, hot and good. Fresh roasted pumpkin seeds. Come and get ‘em.”
I looked at Mom as she shook the seeds on the tray to Luke and me.
I ignored the seeds.
So did Luke.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked.
“Negotiating with the log man. They say they don’t do deliveries. Your father intends on getting those logs delivered. He brought me home and went back. He’l be here in time to get ready.”
Dad thought he could negotiate anything with just a hint of good ole boy charm and a few off-color jokes. Most of the time, he wasn’t wrong. I suspected the logs would be delivered tomorrow.
I threw off thoughts of logs.
Instead, I focused on getting ready. Getting ready sounded like a good idea, it meant escape and escape was good.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I announced and made to move away.
Luke’s hand curled into my waistband again. He pul ed me deeper into him and his mouth came to my ear.
“Leave me with her, I wil shoot you,” he whispered in my ear.
I looked over my shoulder at him and realized how close we were as his face was less than an inch from mine. I stepped forward and his hand dropped away.
Mom, undeterred by us ignoring her offering, tilted the seeds into a waiting bowl and walked them to the coffee table. Once she set down the bowl, she started to gather up bags.
“Luke, be a sweetheart and get rid of these,” she said, shoving them into his arms and starting away before she realized he hadn’t actual y taken them.
I caught them before they fel to the floor and turned to Mom.
“Mom, I don’t mean to alarm you but Luke’s here to protect me, so you have to leave him alone so he can do…
whatever it is he does. What he doesn’t do is clean up, drink cocoa or chitchat. Okay?”