I opened my car door and tossed my purse into the passenger seat.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said, looking devastated. “If I could, I’d keep you here. But you and I both know you don’t belong here.”
A traitorous tear slipped down my cheek. “That has to be the cruelest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“A good parent does what’s best for their child,” he said, his voice breaking as he clung to the porch post. “Not what their selfish heart wants.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “There’s more to life than money and things. Love is the most important thing, Hank. I thought I had that here.”
“You know you do,” he said, getting aggravated. “But things are gettin’ dangerous, and you have a way of findin’ trouble. After Jerry was run off the road . . . it might be safer for you if you leave town altogether. You could go back to your friends in Arkansas,” he said. “They’d protect you.”
“I’m sick to death of people needing to protect me,” I spat. “I’m a grown-ass woman, and I’ve learned how to protect myself.”
“You can’t do it alone,” he said.
I pointed my finger at him. “You contradicted yourself. One minute you’re telling me to run away alone, and the next you’re telling me I need people. Which is it, Hank?”
He swallowed, looking close to tears himself. “Go stay with Marco. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come home.”
“You just told me to leave Drum!”
“No,” he said. “I told you it would be safer if you did. It’s selfish of me to want you to stay, but I’ll never tell you to leave, because if I’ve learned anything about myself over the past sixty-some-odd years, it’s that I’m a selfish son of a bitch. Just ask my Mary, God rest her soul.”
I stared at him for several seconds, then strode across the grass and up the steps, throwing my arms around him with so much force that I nearly knocked him over.
He cupped the back of my head and buried his face on top of my head. “I love you, girlie, and don’t you ever think I don’t. Why can’t you let me be a good person for once?”
“I need you, Hank. I can’t lose you too.”
He leaned back and cupped my cheek. “It’s only for a few weeks. You can come back, but part of me hopes you won’t, that one of my kin will get the hell out of this godforsaken town.”
“Hank.”
“Marry Marco. Leave these mountains. Have a good life. That’s what I want for you, but selfishly, I don’t want it for you yet.”
“I love you,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks.
He pulled my face to his, kissing my forehead. “I love you too. Now go before I change my mind and put you in more danger than you’re already in.”
I hugged him again, then kissed his cheek and headed to my car.
He watched me back up my car, wearing a forlorn expression. He lifted his hand, and I did the same as I pulled away, my heart squishy. But a quarter mile from the house, I took a deep breath and told myself to get it together. I had to interview Louise Baker, and I would need my wits about me.
As I drove toward town, I glanced in the mirror to see if I was a mess. Sure enough, some of the mascara I’d put on at Marco’s was smudged under my eyes. Using the visor mirror, I wet my thumb and rubbed it off. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but I supposed it didn’t matter. Louise might be more likely to talk if I looked bedraggled.
When I reached town, Marco’s Explorer was parked in one of the spaces on the side of the laundromat, and his red shirt wasn’t in the window, so I was good to go in. But as soon as I turned off the engine, I realized I hadn’t called in the order for Louise’s breakfast. I parked a few spaces from Marco, then hurried down the sidewalk to Watson’s Café.
Greta was wiping off a table when I walked in, and she glanced up with a huge smile, her blond ponytail swinging behind her. She wore a pink dress with a white collar, styled after vintage diner waitress uniforms. I knew she and the other waitresses hated them, but they couldn’t get the owner to change them. At least they were better than the new pink shirts at Max’s.
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” she said. “You don’t usually come in for breakfast unless you’re with Marco.”
I shrugged. “He’s tied up, so I decided to pick up breakfast to go.”
I gave her Louise’s order, and Greta wrote on her ticket. “Have a seat. I’ll take a break and sit with you while we wait. Want some coffee?”
“Yeah. Sounds great.” I’d already had more than I should, but I was exhausted after my night of worrying about Marco, and I wanted to sit with her. It would give me a chance to quiz her about Lula and what she might know about her mother being home.
“Be right back.”
I sat at a booth, and Greta brought out a pot of coffee and two mugs, setting one in front of me as she sat down on the opposite side of the table
“That’s not your usual order,” she said as she poured me some coffee.
“I’m taking it to Marco,” I said, which was technically true. He was at the laundromat. He just wouldn’t get to eat it. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Keepin’ busy,” she said, filling her own mug. “I’ve been goin’ nonstop since my boyfriend and I broke up. Just tryin’ to keep busy so I don’t dwell on it.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting, but Lula told me he wasn’t treating you right. You need a man who respects you, Greta.”
With a shrug, she grabbed several creamer containers from the dish against the wall, then poured them into her coffee. I did the same, studying her. She didn’t seem all that upset, just distracted.
“Have you and Lula been watching any sad breakup movies?” I asked wistfully. The three of us had been talking about hanging out, yet we hadn’t found the time.
“I wish,” she grumbled. “Lately she says she’s too busy.”
“Really?” I asked in surprise, since Greta was Lula’s best friend. “I thought she always had time for you. What’s she been up to? Is Beatrice okay?”
She waved a hand. “Bea’s fine, and I don’t know what she’s been up to. Something hush-hush.”
I frowned. Maybe Lula and Bingham knew Louise was back, and they were preparing for a fight? “When I was at the library yesterday, Carnita said that Lula and Bingham had been checking out books about the history of Drum.”
Greta’s gaze jerked up to mine as her jaw dropped. “Lula’s checkin’ books out of the library?”
“Carnita said they’re usually more DVD people.”
She made a face. “Well, Lula is. Bingham doesn’t like to touch things that other people have used.”
“What?”
She waved her hand again. “A germaphobe thing. Lula says he’s gotten pretty bad since Bea was born.”
“I had no idea,” I said in amazement.
She shrugged. “It wasn’t really much of an issue before.”
“Why do you suppose they’re interested in the past?” I asked nonchalantly. “I heard they were digging into their family trees.”