Read Online Lethal Lasagna by Rhonda Gibson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rhonda Gibson
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Lots of people are surprised at what their friends and neighbors do.” I felt my cheeks and neck growing hotter and hotter.
He sobered. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just find it hard to believe someone from my church would do such a thing.” His expression turned somber and all my hot air flew out the window like a deflated balloon.
He turned and stared out the window.
I reached out and touched his arm. “Well, you are probably right.”
Still he stared as if deep in thought. Made me wonder if I’d awakened some deeply buried memory.
“I’ll probably just come home with some great, easy, old fashioned recipes.”
His attention returned. He patted my hand. “Let’s hope so.”
I smiled. Whatever had clouded his thoughts a few moments ago had vanished with the thought of food. “If I’m lucky, maybe Mrs. Williams will share her apple pie recipe with us.”
He laughed once more. “Don’t bet on it. She’s been promising that recipe to the pastor for years.”
I enjoyed the sound of his rich merriment. As we entered the restaurant, I wondered if Mrs. Williams used Sara Lee’s recipe. Probably. It had been my secret recipe for years.
****
Lunch had been nice but it felt good to be home and out of those heels. They were blue and new. Deadly combination. And the fact that they clashed with the black sweater and red skirt only added to my misery. That and the knowledge that I had to return to church tonight. Not that I didn’t love going to church, but my feet hurt so much right now, I dreaded forcing them into shoes later.
I took a quick warm shower, put on my flannel PJs, and crawled into bed for a quick nap. Dreams of Brandon as a little boy haunted my sleep. His face filled with sorrow begged me to comfort him. He’d held out his arms to me and cried. Anger filled his eyes when I couldn’t reach him fast enough. The little boy kicked and screamed. My heart ached for the child that I knew was Brandon. Then, the face changed from the child’s to the man’s. I saw the same distracted look that I’d seen earlier in the parking lot at Braums. I reached out to comfort him and found cold air. I awoke with a start.
It had seemed so real. He’d been so alone and sorrowful. What did I know about the man? I counted the things I knew on one hand. One, he’s a professor. Two, he goes to church. I tossed off the covers and padded to the kitchen.
I needed to know more. Something warm to drink might help. I filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove. My favorite mug sat by the sink. I pulled it close while my thoughts ran in circles trying to figure out ways to learn about the handsome Brandon Harvest.
Sprocket barked. I walked through the living room and then out onto the porch. In the far corner of the yard I could see his shaggy body. He stared up into the tree. My gaze followed his. Sara’s orange tabby cat sat on the branch closest to the ground—but far enough away from Sprocket to be safe—daintily licking its paws.
The teakettle whistled. I returned to the kitchen and turned off the burner, then added homemade sugar-free hot chocolate mix to my mug. The scent of rich cocoa surrounded me as I poured the hot water over the mixture. Maybe I’d take it as my recipe for the cookbook.
My thoughts returned to investigating Brandon. Would Megan know where to begin? I picked up the phone to call her, and then paused. What would she think of her mother investigating the background of...I replaced the phone. On second thought, I wouldn’t ask for her help. Too many questions, and sometimes she forgets I’m the mama and she’s the child.
I took a tentative sip of the cocoa. The thought came to me to ask Detective Howard, but it left as swiftly as it arrived. The good policeman would haul Brandon in for questioning and then how would that look? It’d probably kill whatever relationship we might have.
Didn’t want to do that.
I shook my head as I returned to the bedroom to get dressed
He sobered. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just find it hard to believe someone from my church would do such a thing.” His expression turned somber and all my hot air flew out the window like a deflated balloon.
He turned and stared out the window.
I reached out and touched his arm. “Well, you are probably right.”
Still he stared as if deep in thought. Made me wonder if I’d awakened some deeply buried memory.
“I’ll probably just come home with some great, easy, old fashioned recipes.”
His attention returned. He patted my hand. “Let’s hope so.”
I smiled. Whatever had clouded his thoughts a few moments ago had vanished with the thought of food. “If I’m lucky, maybe Mrs. Williams will share her apple pie recipe with us.”
He laughed once more. “Don’t bet on it. She’s been promising that recipe to the pastor for years.”
I enjoyed the sound of his rich merriment. As we entered the restaurant, I wondered if Mrs. Williams used Sara Lee’s recipe. Probably. It had been my secret recipe for years.
****
Lunch had been nice but it felt good to be home and out of those heels. They were blue and new. Deadly combination. And the fact that they clashed with the black sweater and red skirt only added to my misery. That and the knowledge that I had to return to church tonight. Not that I didn’t love going to church, but my feet hurt so much right now, I dreaded forcing them into shoes later.
I took a quick warm shower, put on my flannel PJs, and crawled into bed for a quick nap. Dreams of Brandon as a little boy haunted my sleep. His face filled with sorrow begged me to comfort him. He’d held out his arms to me and cried. Anger filled his eyes when I couldn’t reach him fast enough. The little boy kicked and screamed. My heart ached for the child that I knew was Brandon. Then, the face changed from the child’s to the man’s. I saw the same distracted look that I’d seen earlier in the parking lot at Braums. I reached out to comfort him and found cold air. I awoke with a start.
It had seemed so real. He’d been so alone and sorrowful. What did I know about the man? I counted the things I knew on one hand. One, he’s a professor. Two, he goes to church. I tossed off the covers and padded to the kitchen.
I needed to know more. Something warm to drink might help. I filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove. My favorite mug sat by the sink. I pulled it close while my thoughts ran in circles trying to figure out ways to learn about the handsome Brandon Harvest.
Sprocket barked. I walked through the living room and then out onto the porch. In the far corner of the yard I could see his shaggy body. He stared up into the tree. My gaze followed his. Sara’s orange tabby cat sat on the branch closest to the ground—but far enough away from Sprocket to be safe—daintily licking its paws.
The teakettle whistled. I returned to the kitchen and turned off the burner, then added homemade sugar-free hot chocolate mix to my mug. The scent of rich cocoa surrounded me as I poured the hot water over the mixture. Maybe I’d take it as my recipe for the cookbook.
My thoughts returned to investigating Brandon. Would Megan know where to begin? I picked up the phone to call her, and then paused. What would she think of her mother investigating the background of...I replaced the phone. On second thought, I wouldn’t ask for her help. Too many questions, and sometimes she forgets I’m the mama and she’s the child.
I took a tentative sip of the cocoa. The thought came to me to ask Detective Howard, but it left as swiftly as it arrived. The good policeman would haul Brandon in for questioning and then how would that look? It’d probably kill whatever relationship we might have.
Didn’t want to do that.
I shook my head as I returned to the bedroom to get dressed
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