Snakes Among Sweet Flowers (2 page)

While gnawing on a chicken leg, he got up from the table, grabbing a napkin to wipe his hands, then took the cereal bowl from the dish drainer before settling back in front of his plate. Cam stripped the meat from the final piece of chicken and shredded it into the bowl, rolling his eyes at himself as he did. Once the bowl was filled, he took it to the front door, opened it, and knelt to place it beside the orange beast lounging there.

“Gotta keep your strength up for all that tomming, right, boy?” Damn, he was going soft.

He scrubbed the cat between the ears as it dug into the food, and was just rising to go back inside when a blue Ford Taurus pulled into his driveway and stopped in front of the old house. Cam couldn’t control his body’s reaction to the unexpected visit, his heart pounding and hands growing clammy.

An older lady stepped out from behind the wheel, giving Cam a smile that looked a bit unsure before leaning back into the vehicle. He glanced down to realize he was shirtless and barefoot. Well, wasn’t this embarrassing? With no time to run upstairs to rectify that, he simply stood and waited as the lady made her way up onto his porch with a linen bag full of something. He could only hope she wasn’t somehow in cahoots with Harold. It would be just like him to get some little old lady to do his dirty work.

“Hello, dear. Sorry to interrupt your evening and another apology for taking so long gettin’ over here. I’ve been meaning to stop by for weeks, but life has a way of foiling even our best intentions.” She smiled, and Cam couldn’t help but smile back, while also attempting to cover his bare chest with crossed arms. He had no idea what the woman’s intentions were, but if she was there to kill him, he would simply have to stand there and let her. She was way too sweet to ever disrespect by putting up a fight.

“I… uh….” Cam did a little wave at his chest and feet, words failing him for a moment. “Yeah, I woulda been dressed if I’d known. Um….”

“Oh, I’m Dotty Calhoun.” Dotty stepped closer as she spoke. “I wanted to welcome you to town and bring you a pie. And don’t you worry none about how you’re dressed. Men like their comforts.”

“Camden Sanders.” He held out his hand and shook the one she had free, then suddenly realized he was being impolite to his guest. “Would you like to come in? The house isn’t much right now, but it’s clean… fairly, at least.”

Dotty smiled as she followed Cam to the door. “My sons aren’t homemakers, so I’m not expecting Martha Stewart. Hope you like pecan pie.”

Cam hummed in approval as he held the door for Dotty to enter. If his death was coming by pecan pie, all he could say was
what a way to go
! “It’s one of my favorites, but I insist you stay and have a piece with me. I can make coffee.”

He led Ms. Calhoun into the kitchen, then rushed to throw away all the containers from his dinner and place the plate and utensils in the sink. “Sorry about the mess. And uh… let me grab a shirt to put on. My work shirt was too dirty to wear inside.”

Dotty nodded and began setting out the pie and other items from her tote as Camden left the room and ran up the stairs. He had wanted to take a shower before putting any other clothes on, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Once in his bedroom, he grabbed a white tank-top-style undershirt from the top drawer of his dresser and yanked it over his head, then shoved his feet into a pair of shower shoes that sat beside the piece of furniture.

The habit of wearing the sandals had come during prison. When not required to wear the nasty slip-on tennis shoes that were part of his uniform, he’d changed to sports socks and the sandals, which were much more comfortable. There was never a moment while on the inside that he had allowed his bare feet to touch the floor, during a shower or otherwise. He’d seen too many guys who’d made the error. He shuddered at the memory. It had taken months once he got out before he had been able to walk around barefooted again.

The journey back down the stairs was slower due to the sandals, and much louder on the scuffed hardwood. When he reentered the kitchen, he found the table set with two small plates, each holding a piece of pie with a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top, and mismatched cups full of milk. Cam frowned and looked up from the table to find Dotty at the sink drying her hands, his dinner plate and utensils now sitting in the dish rack next to the sink.

Cam opened his mouth to protest, but Dotty beat him to it by saying, “Not a word. I did it because I wanted to. Now let’s sit and have some pie, shall we?”

He sat without speaking, but then took another look at the glasses of milk. “If this came from my refrigerator, I’m surprised it isn’t solid, ma’am. We might want to skip on drinking it.”

“I brought a half gallon along with me, and whipped the cream fresh. I have three sons, darlin’. I understand more than you know. And it’s far too late for me to drink coffee, even decaf.” She smiled and lifted her glass of milk for a toast.

Cam clinked his glass against hers and took a sip. Yeah, he needed to get to the store; milk tasted wonderful. Before taking his first bite of pie, he asked, “So have you and your husband always lived here in Hog Mountain?” Then he hummed loudly in approval as he savored the still warm, obviously homemade pecan pie with
real
whipped cream on top.

Dotty canted her head to the side. “Sort of. We started out here, married when we were right out of high school, but then James joined the Navy and we traveled around until he retired. After that, he got a job with the post office here in town and we took up again like we had never been away. Now tell me about you. Have you always lived in Georgia?”

“I was born and raised in Atlanta, ma’am. Your husband still working at the post office?” Cam said around another bite. Dotty was sweet, and it wasn’t that he was trying to be rude, but his entire goal in this situation was to keep the conversation off himself. Cam knew eventually people were going to learn some things about him, but that didn’t mean he was going to make it easy.

“No, darlin’. James died three years ago in March. He had a heart attack in his sleep and went like that.” She snapped her fingers, then picked up her glass for another sip.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to—”

“Now don’t you dare. He lived a good life and went the way we all hope: fast and painless. As much as I miss him, life goes on.” The kitchen grew quiet then, both of them focusing on their pie, and Camden felt he needed to get the conversation going again.

“You sure make a mean pie, Ms. Calhoun. I don’t think I’ve tasted anything this good in years.” When he glanced across the table, Dotty was looking at his uncovered arms and the tattoos there. He felt confident the fact they were prison tats was covered up by the re-inking and added color, and he wasn’t at all sure someone as sweet as this woman would recognize they were done while on the inside, but he still worried.

Dotty lifted her gaze to his, obviously proud he enjoyed her cooking, but Cam spoke before her. “I should have put on something with sleeves. Hope I don’t offend you.”

She waved a hand. “My husband had some, but they were all anchors and military stuff. Yours are prettier.” She pointed to the flower in full bloom on the back of his right hand.

He raised a brow, since the back of his other hand had a skull, which she probably didn’t find “pretty.”

“Okay,
that
one is prettier,” she corrected.

Cam chuckled. “You like blue roses?”

“I love all flowers,” she said, passion clear in her voice.

He nodded and traced the flower tattoo with his finger. “My grandmother did too. I think you two would have gotten along just fine.”

The flower had been a signature design for his grandmother. Her china pattern and even the wallpaper in her bedroom had borne the dainty blooms. The image of his grandmother and the flower were so intertwined, he couldn’t think of one without the other coming to mind. The tattoo on his hand was a permanent reminder of the woman who had been there for him when he felt no one else was.

Both of them had finished their pie by that point and Dotty rose to clear the table, but Cam stopped her. “I can get that, Ms. Calhoun.”

Dotty pulled her hand back from the plates with a guilty expression but did take the pie and leftover whipped cream to the refrigerator. While putting them away, she said, “You can call me Dotty, dear. But I have to get going. My eyes aren’t what they once were, and roads can get dark as sin out here in the sticks.”

As Cam took the plates to the sink, she patted his shoulder, then scooped up her now-empty linen bag. He followed her to the door and opened it for her. “Thank you again for the delicious pie and the nice visit.”

“Out here can get awful quiet when you live alone. You ever need another pie or a visit, you just call, you hear?” Dotty handed over a flowery piece of stationery with her name and number carefully printed on it, and Cam took it and nodded.

They each waved good-bye as the Taurus left his driveway, and Cam sighed as he closed the door. What had just happened? Shouldn’t he feel put out by the visit? But he’d actually enjoyed the company, although it still was a bit odd to have anyone treat him as anything other than a criminal. Weird is what it was.

Back in the kitchen, he used a dish towel to wipe off the table before washing the plates and forks in the sink. When the dishes were drying in the rack, he started the washing machine since it was finally full with the week’s work clothes. As the water filled, Cam shed the tank top he’d just put on, his underwear, and his jeans, pausing to dig into the pocket of his pants to retrieve his earnings for the day, then tossed everything in and closed the lid.

The sloshing and rattling of the old machine could be heard as Cam made his way into one of the first-floor bedrooms. They were usually closed off since there was spray paint on the walls and he didn’t have furniture for the rooms, or even any use for the space at the moment.
Well, other than this.
He knelt in the corner, and with a butter knife from the kitchen, he worked loose one of the floorboards. Underneath, a glass mayonnaise jar lay sideways, cradled between two boards underneath. The jar was full with wads of cash, and Cam added most of his haul for the day, only keeping back enough for the errands he needed to run.

Once the floorboard was returned, Cam went upstairs, leaving his spending money on the dresser in his bedroom before entering the attached bathroom to take a long shower.

In a pair of basketball shorts and with a towel around his shoulders, Cam returned downstairs to refill his tea glass before heading for the living room.

The space was filled with mismatched furniture he’d found at yard sales in the area. Cam reached for the remote to turn on the TV but paused when he noticed the pulsing hum of crickets and other night creatures outside. When he’d lived in Atlanta, he’d never really noticed the evening sounds before, but here in Hog Mountain there was little else to hear. Maybe it was because he didn’t have any assholes around who didn’t know how to shut up, but Cam found it peaceful. He sat back on the sofa and dropped the remote beside him. Taking a sip of his tea, he relaxed and enjoyed the country. He hoped Dotty had made it home safely.

Cam considered going back out to the porch to sit with Tom, but when he looked out the window in the door, the cat was no longer there. With nothing else to do, he decided to turn in for the night. Before bed, Cam took his glass to the sink and then moved the clothes from the washer to the dryer. It all seemed so normal that at times he felt the very real need to pinch himself.

THE NEXT
morning, Cam rose with the sun. He stood beside the bed once it was made and stretched his arms over his head, working out the kinks and soreness that had appeared overnight. He’d gotten used to getting up early and making his bed while in prison and had kept the habit going by refusing to hang curtains in his second-floor bedroom.

Being locked up had not been a treat by any means, but since he’d spent a good portion of his adult life there, it was a bit hard to break the habits made while incarcerated. Some he wanted to keep, others he would be glad to move past.

Cam padded downstairs once his teeth were brushed and face was washed. He considered his options for the day as he pulled clean clothes from the dryer and dressed. He probably wouldn’t get any customers at the garage for at least a few hours and there was nothing in the house but pie for breakfast. With those thoughts in mind, he settled on driving into town and getting something. He could bring whatever he got back to the garage and spend the time searching through some of the back cabinets in the bay areas of the old gas station.

Once dressed, Cam turned toward the front door and grabbed his work boots from where they had been placed just inside, then took them out onto the porch and sat on the front stoop to put them on. He found Tom sitting there, as if waiting for him, and reached over to scratch behind his ear.

“Man, I don’t know who you banged last night, but it must have been epic. I’ve never heard anybody that loud during sex. If you do that chick again, I suggest a ball gag or something. People are trying to sleep, you know?”

Tom seemed unconcerned and gave a large yawn that showed sharp fangs to convey his sentiment.

“Look, I feed you, asshole. At least act embarrassed that I had to be privy to your man-whorin’,” Cam scolded without heat and offered another scratch before getting up and heading down the steps toward the banged-up Silverado beside the house.

He’d paid cash for the old pickup when he moved out to Hog Mountain, leaving his previous car sitting in front of his mom’s house. It wouldn’t keep Harold from finding him, but it might make it a little harder and help add credence to the lie his mother was supposed to tell if Harold came looking.

The engine turned over easily on the twenty-year-old vehicle. Cam hadn’t cared much about what it had looked like, but he needed it to run well. What had needed fixing on the truck had been his first priority. He turned out toward town, considering his options for breakfast food. The local Hardee’s was the first restaurant he came to and seemed as good as any, so he pulled in.