“Are you just getting home?” Billy’s eyes were wide behind his thick glasses. “Peggy’s old man is going to kill you!” Peggy’s father was a deputy for the Honeyville Police Department, and he really didn’t like Johnny very much. He also didn’t like the fact that his daughter attracted boys like flies.
“Carter took Peggy home, so if anybody is going to die, it’ll be him,” Johnny smiled at his little brother as he took a swig straight out of the big glass bottle of orange juice on the top shelf of the fridge. He pulled out a couple of eggs and proceeded to scramble them up, his mind on the reason he hadn’t taken Peggy home.
“Is Momma here?” he asked Billy after a while.
Billy glanced up, nodding his head. “Yep. I stayed up until she got in last night, though.” Billy looked down at his paper as if trying to decide to tattle on his mother. “She was with the mayor again. It was his car she got out of, unless she and Mrs. Carlton have suddenly become friendly.”
Johnny swore under his breath and shook his head in disgust. He didn’t need this shit, not today of all days. Lord, save him from beautiful women and their shenanigans. He had one girl who couldn’t stay put and another who just couldn’t seem to stay away. Too bad it wasn’t the other way around.
“Is she asleep?”
“No. I think she’s hiding. She knows I saw her. I think she’s hoping I don’t tell you.”
“Yeah, I just bet she does.” Johnny and his momma had argued a time or two about her choice in men.
“So.....why are you just getting in?” Billy had abandoned the business section altogether and seemed anxious to change the subject. That was Billy, always the peace-maker. Johnny let the issue of Momma’s men drop for now. He’d deal with it later.
“I went to the rez, turned on my music, ended up sleeping out there. It was nice.” It had been more than nice. It had been the best damn night of his life. He felt the ache punch him low in the belly again, and reconsidered whether he could actually eat the omelet he was frying up. Where had that girl gone? He couldn’t just assume she was all right.
Billy kept the conversation moving. “I went down to the corner store this morning, picked up my paper, and got Momma some coffee. We were all out. Mr. McNinch said somebody took the Honeycutts’ housekeeper’s car last night. He said the cops were everywhere. They found it, though. He said Mary Smith, the housekeeper, had come in just before me and was relieved to have it back.”
Johnny froze, his spatula hanging in mid-air as he tuned into his little brother’s account. A car theft in Honeyville was big news, and it didn’t surprise him that everyone knew about it already. Mr. McNinch, owner of the little corner grocery, was as bad as an old woman when it came to gossip. If you wanted to know anything, all you had to do was engage him in a little conversation, and you knew who was doing what in a minute flat. But it was the mention of the Honeycutts that had reminded him of something. Maggie had mentioned Lizzie Honeycutt several times the night before. He finished his eggs without tasting them and was out of the house, showered and shaved, within a half hour. He was going to find Maggie.
Johnny didn’t know how he was going to get an audience with Lizzie Honeycutt. The girl could only be ten or eleven at the most. He plotted and brooded, and finally just swung his car into the drive and figured he’d wing it. It turned out he’d stewed and worried for nothing. Lizzie Honeycutt sat on the front porch swing eating an ice cream bar like she didn’t have a care in the world. There wasn’t another soul in sight. Johnny hoped Mrs. Smith wasn’t looking out the window, ready to chase him away with a broom. If she came out on the porch, he’d just ask her if Mr. Honeycutt wanted him to take his vehicle to Gene’s for a tune-up. He’d picked up Jackson Honeycutt’s Buick before, so it shouldn’t make her too suspicious.
The girl was slumped down, lazily pushing the swing with the pink painted toes of one bare foot, her other leg folded beneath her. Her eyes widened, and she ceased licking and swinging as she watched him get out of his car and stride up to the porch.
“It’s gonna drip if you don’t get to it.” Johnny smiled down at the little girl who bore an obvious resemblance to both Irene.....and Maggie. The wide, sky-blue eyes were something they all shared. Seems Maggie hadn’t been fibbing when she had said they were family. Still, he would bet his life that Irene Honeycutt had never met Maggie before the confrontation in the parking lot of The Malt the night before. She had looked at Maggie like she was a total stranger. And a crazy one at that.
“Can I sit?” Johnny asked politely. Lizzie Honeycutt scootched to her right, pulling her leg out from underneath her, leaving a space plenty wide for Johnny to sit comfortably beside her.
“I bought another. The Good Humor man let me have two for the price of one since I’m such a loyal customer. I actually think he was trying to get rid of me ‘cause I couldn’t make up my mind. Would you like it?” Lizzie Honeycutt raised her eyebrows expectantly.
“No, thanks,” Johnny replied, although the ice cream looked pretty good. He didn’t want Lizzie running back into the house and alerting the housekeeper that they had company.
“Thank goodness!” Lizzie sighed gratefully. “I was just tryin’ to be polite, anyway. I didn’t want to share.” Her smile flashed, and her eyes twinkled, and Johnny saw Maggie all over again. They were firecrackers, both of them.
“So....” Lizzie said, after taking a long lick up the side of the shrinking chocolate wedge. “Are you in love with Maggie?”
Johnny choked a little, and she reached over and patted his back, dripping a little ice cream on his shirt as she did.
“Oops, sorry,” Lizzie grimaced and started licking in earnest, ready to be done with the mess.
“I was wondering if you’d seen Maggie this morning.”
Maggie stopped licking once more and eyed Johnny with indecision.