Snakes Among Sweet Flowers (20 page)

“You can sit up here,” Jackson said.

“I can sit over in that chair too,” Cam responded. “But here I can use the coffee table and we can talk. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Jackson reached over and took Cam’s beer from his hands and turned it up, taking a deep swig.

“Your mom said no alcohol while taking your meds.” Cam frowned.

“One drink of a beer ain’t gonna kill me.”

“Probably not,” Cam conceded, but he took his beer back to be sure Jackson made no further indulgences. For several minutes, there was quiet between them, a companionable silence. Cam picked at the label on his bottle while Jackson stared out the window into the darkness.

“I usually keep the TV or music on all the time,” Jackson said after a while.

“I got a clock radio upstairs if you want me to get it,” Cam offered. “I bring it down sometimes.” He drew his legs up to let Jackson know he would get up if needed.

“Nah, maybe tomorrow. I kinda like this. I was just saying.”

Cam nodded. “Yeah, I always kept some noise going too. But since I’ve been out here, I’ve grown to like the quiet. It feels good.”

“What made you move out here?” Jackson asked, turning to look at Cam.

Oh boy, and wasn’t that the subject Cam wanted to chat about. He dropped his head and stared at the bottle in his lap, silent for long enough that Jackson obviously knew he’d asked the wrong question.

“You don’t have to tell me. I was just….” Jackson shrugged and turned back to the window.

“It’s okay, Sheriff. I just like pretending all that never happened as much as possible.” Cam sighed and looked over at Jackson. “I got in with a bad crowd. No, that sounds wrong. Like I’m blaming someone for things I did. I was
part
of a bad crowd, that’s what it was. But not all of them were really bad, or maybe it was just that some were more bad than others. Anyway, sometimes making a change means wiping the whole slate clean and beginning all over again. I couldn’t change there, and it had to happen or I wasn’t going to be around much longer. So here I am.” That was sharing, right? And all the sharing he wanted to do.

Jackson seemed to be searching Cam’s face for something, then nodded and looked away. “You got any family?”

Cam’s heart raced as he remembered he still hadn’t called his mother. He really needed to do that in the morning. “Yeah. My mom is still around. We aren’t close like your family, though. Your parents really care about you.”

Jackson smiled at that. “I’m pretty lucky. I get annoyed at Momma sometimes, but I wouldn’t have her any other way, I guess.”

Cam could just picture how Pamela would react if Walter had ever smacked Jackson around. It would have been a very different scene from what had happened in his own family, that was for sure. It made Cam smile.

“What?” Jackson asked.

Cam glanced over. “Just imagining your mom if little Jackson had ever been mistreated.”

Jackson threw his head back and gave a full belly laugh that was quickly cut off, turning into a groan as he wrapped his left arm around his ribs. “Shit,” he murmured.

“Sorry,” Cam said, climbing to his knees but not sure what to do to help.

“Don’t do that,” Jackson admonished as he slowly relaxed back into the pillows. With a huff, he finally said, “Momma
is
a bit protective.”

“You think?” Cam laughed.

Jackson started to laugh again but bit his lip instead and held his ribs.

“I think it’s about time for your meds. I’ll go get them.” Cam climbed to his feet and hurried to Jackson’s room. He should have given Jackson his pills a half hour before. This was going to take some getting used to. He came back with a handful of bottles, reading labels along the way. “I think it’s time for your antibiotic too, but it says to take with food.” Cam glanced up at Jackson for advice.

“Got a piece of bread or something?” Jackson asked.

“How about a dinner roll? We got plenty of those.”

Jackson nodded and took the bottles from Cam. “I’ll get the pills out, you get the roll.”

Cam headed back off toward the kitchen, where there were now several packs of dinner rolls thanks to the ladies who had visited, as if they were a necessity to a meal or something. Cam couldn’t remember ever having dinner rolls at a meal that wasn’t either Thanksgiving or Christmas. Unless it was at a restaurant. He grabbed a couple of the rolls and resealed the package, then popped one in his mouth as he grabbed another beer and made his way back to the living room.

From the doorway, he made to throw the roll, making sure Jackson saw it was coming so he wouldn’t flinch. Once Jackson’s hands were raised, Cam easily tossed the roll right into them, and Jackson grinned.

“Good throw. You play ball?” Jackson took a bite of the roll, then swallowed down the pills with some tea.

“Just for fun in the yard.” Cam shrugged.

“We should play some time when I get better. Some of the guys have a game once a week.”

Cam grunted and nodded as he sat back down on the floor. “Yeah. That could be fun.” Cam opened the bottle and took a swig, and then Jackson swiped it from him again. “Hey! Your mom’ll kill me!”

Jackson shrugged and took a drink. “Sure you done worse.”

Cam smirked but took back his bottle. “Maybe.”

“Them tattoos hurt?” Jackson asked before taking another bite of his roll.

Cam looked down at his arms and shrugged. “A little. It’s not that bad.”

“Why’d you get them?”

Cam ran his fingers along the blue rose, then up his arm. “To remind me of things. Some, anyway. You got any?”

“No. Sometimes I think about it, but it seems….” Jackson canted his head as if searching for the right word.

“Out of character?” Cam tried.

“Yeah, I guess. Like me trying to be something I’m not.”

Cam nodded and smiled. “Kinda hard to shake that golden-boy image, Sheriff.”

Jackson frowned and let his head drop back on the pillow, eyes closing. The meds appeared to be working some. He was relaxing, maybe the beer helping them along. “Why do you call me that?”

Cam chuckled. “Because that’s what you seem like to me. Like the good guy in those old westerns, running the bad guys off and saving the town.”

“Are you one of the town folk or one of the bad guys, Cam?”

Cam scratched his head and glanced over at Jackson, who still had his eyes closed. “Good question there, Sheriff. I guess we’ll have to watch the rest of the movie to find out, huh?”

Jackson nodded and hummed, still not opening his eyes.

“Starting to drift off on me?”

“A little.” Jackson smiled like a drunk on a bender.

Cam snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, I need to get you back to bed. Come on.”

THE NEXT
morning, Cam came down the stairs with his clock radio in hand. He set it up on the kitchen counter and tuned in to an Atlanta station while coffee was brewing. He liked music but hadn’t listened to the radio more than occasionally since getting out of prison unless he was in the car. While inside, the radio had been his faithful companion, keeping him out of trouble and making the time go by faster. It was a nice change now, though, and he found himself singing along as he pulled out a breakfast casserole and shoved it in the oven to heat up.

Cam’s cell phone rang just as he was pouring a cup of coffee. He answered the call and took it and the mug out to the porch so he could hear, Tommasina coming along and settling on the stairs.

“Hello?”

“Cam?”

“Mom. Is everything okay?”

“That’s what I want to know. I’m at Mary and Doug’s, but I keep getting calls asking for you. Did you give anyone my number?”

Cam’s heart began pounding and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands. “No, I ain’t given anyone your number. What are they saying? Man or woman?”

“It changes. Sometimes it’s a man and sometimes it’s a woman. They sound mad, Cam. They asked where I was, like they know I’m not at home.”

“Shit.”

“What is it, Cam? This is scaring me.” Her voice quivered.

“Cut your phone off, okay, Mom? Don’t answer and don’t go home. I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry.”

“How will I know you’re okay if I cut off my phone?” she asked.

“I always land on my feet. Isn’t that what you always said? Don’t worry about me. Just stay safe.”

“Okay. You too,” she responded, sounding uncertain.

“Bye, Mom.” He hung up and slumped over even farther. Cam looked up when he heard the screen door open. Jackson was standing there, a bit unstable but looking better than he had the day before. For a moment, Cam wondered if he had been overheard, but Jackson showed no sign of it.

“Good morning.” Cam even managed a smile as he stood and grabbed his coffee off the railing, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Hey. Is everything okay? You look upset.” Jackson held on to the doorframe and looked a little worried.

“It will be once this coffee gets working. Want to sit out here to drink yours or in the kitchen?”

“The kitchen is good.” Jackson started to turn, but then canted his head, eyes narrowing. “You sure you’re not upset about something?”

“Yeah, just…. Mom called and we don’t have the good relationship you got with yours, you know?”

“Oh.” That seemed to satisfy Jackson, and he patted Cam on the shoulder, then headed for the kitchen.

Cam followed, trying to get his head in the game, even though what he really needed was to find a quiet place to beat his head against the wall for about an hour. “We got breakfast casserole in the oven. You hungry?”

“Yeah, and then I need to take my medicine, I guess.” Jackson sat in one of the kitchen chairs and watched as Cam poured coffee and pulled out plates.

Cam had just sat down with their coffee when there was a clamor from the living room and a voice called out, “Knock knock!” A moment later, the three kids and Jackson’s father entered the kitchen. “I figured I’d save you a trip over to pick them up. The cat came in with us. I hope that’s okay.”

“Thank you, sir. And Tommasina has made herself at home, so she’s welcome,” Cam said as he stood. He was certainly more grateful than Walter would ever know for the distraction. “Coffee? I got some breakfast casserole heating too.”

Walter patted Jackson on the shoulder and sat down beside him at the table. The kids went about making themselves glasses of chocolate milk, already treating the house like it was home, to Walter’s amusement.

“Sure, I’ll have something before I go,” Walter answered, then turned to Jackson. “Feeling any better?”

Cam turned down the radio but left it on, then pulled down a few more plates and began serving up the meal, trying to act like everything was okay.

“Yeah, I’m good. Did Mom decide to go to the conference?” Even while Jackson was talking to his dad, Cam could feel him glancing repeatedly in his direction, probably still sensing his upset.

Cam passed each of the kids a plate and told them to go sit at the coffee table, then served Walter before reseating himself. He wasn’t really hungry, what with worry over his mom and what this all meant for him, but he shoveled in food to keep from having to join the conversation. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk about the weather and plans.

While Cam wasn’t a violent man, the thought of going after Harold and taking him out of the picture entered his mind. It might be the only way to get rid of the threat, but even if the man did deserve anything that happened to him, Cam wasn’t willing to be the one to give it to him or spend the rest of his life in prison because of it. Cam fidgeted and chewed his thumbnail, staring off into space until Jackson reached across the table and thumped his arm.

“Hey! Dad’s talking to you.”

“Oh, sorry.” Cam turned to Walter, who was giving him an appraising once-over. “I, uh…. My brain isn’t firing on all its cylinders yet.”

Walter laughed and nodded. “I was just asking if you’re still okay with watching Jackson if we head up to Chattanooga overnight. I don’t want to leave you in a bind, but Pam is supposed to speak at that conference in the morning.”

Cam waved off his concern. “No problem at all. I figure in a day or two, I can put Jackson to work painting.” Cam grinned, and Walter chuckled.

Jackson huffed. “Be better than laying around all day.”

“The boy never liked sitting still,” Walter quipped, nudging Jackson gently. “I think your momma is gonna stop by later. I got to get going.” He downed the rest of his coffee and then took his plate and cup to the sink. “You boys have a nice day, you hear?”

“Bye, Daddy,” Jackson said, giving a one-armed hug before his dad turned to go.

Walter spoke with each of the kids in the living room before the screen door closed, announcing his departure.

Cam was feeling off-kilter and needed to get this all straight in his head. He grabbed the plates and took them to the sink, then started washing them to have something to do with his hands.

What was Harold capable of? That’s what Cam needed to determine. As he scrubbed, then dried, he decided that although Harold was violent and vindictive, Cam really didn’t think he’d be able to find his mother, especially if she kept her cell cut off and stayed out of town. But she couldn’t stay away forever. At some point, his mom would need to go back home, and what then?

Plus, if Harold couldn’t find him through his mother, what would the asshole do next? Detra had said Harold knew they had talked. How much did he know? Did he know Detra helped him to leave? He couldn’t possibly know that or he’d have gone nuts on her. Wouldn’t he?

And wait! His mom had said a woman had called too. That had to be Cally. Detra wouldn’t be looking for him. And if Cally was helping Harold look for him, then what did that mean for Detra? Cally and Detra had once been close friends until Harold had twisted their relationship. Before Cam had left for Hog Mountain, the two had been competing for Harold’s attention, with Cally being the more insidious and undermining. When Harold was paying attention to one, the other was miserable, and he switched back and forth to watch them both squirm, obviously enjoying the power immensely.