Talisman (20 page)

“Do you want me
to look
or not?” I whispered back.

“You can look…
but don’t be
so
obvious
,” Katie scolded.

In a discreet fashion,
I got up and walked over to grab a crushed red pepper shaker from the adjacent table.  When I turned to head back, I nonchalantly glanced around the restaurant.  As soon as I spotted “whom” Katie was referring to, I tripped on my own feet and practically fell back into our booth. 
It was Mr. Estell
.

“You could’ve warned me.  That man gives me the creeps.”  I swiftly returned the kick she’d given me
a moment ago.

This is the third time I’ve
seen him in the past TWO DAYS
.

“
Sorry
,” Katie giggled.  “I should’ve known better…
My mistake
.  I thought ‘Shi’ with a ‘Y’ had conquered
all
of her fears.”

It really wasn’t like me to think bad things about people
, not without having a valid reason, but Mr. Estell had the potential to fit the bill.

“What do you think of him?” I whispered, desperate for an objective opinion.

“I don’t know.  I think he lives over around Jolo.”  Her eyes lit up.  “Maybe he belongs to that
snake-handling cult
over there?”  Katie watched him leave the restaurant with his to-go order.  “He’s gone,” she announced in a much louder tone.

“I don’t think it’s a
cult
…It’s a church of some sort,” I replied.  It seemed that I was going to end up being the “objective” one.

Katie shot me a crazy look.  “
A church?
  A church where they handle
freakin’ snakes!
  I prefer to carry a bible when I go to church —
not a garden hoe!”

I got tickled at the mental image of Katie whacking off snakeheads in the middle of Pastor Hubb
le’s Sunday service.

“Oh,
I see…and you know this
for sure
because you’ve been there?” I countered with a playfully dubious twinkle in my eyes.

“
NO
.  But I’ve heard people talk, and I’ve seen reports on TV about them.  That’s how they show their faith — by lettin’ snakes bite all over them. 
Poisonous ones, too
.  I think they like rattlers mostly.”  Katie’s body shook dramatically as she spoke about the slithery creatures.

With all the eerie things that had
happened to me lately, I really didn’t want to spend any more of my lunchtime discussing venomous reptiles. 
Change of subject
…

“There’s Mr. Anderson,” I remarked as
I pointed to the bulky and bright cherry-red Dodge dually that had just pulled up in front of the restaurant.  Mr. Anderson waved to us through the window as he hurried to the back of his truck.  A few seconds later, he reappeared carrying a wooden basket full of vegetables.

“Looks like he’s been in his g
arden today,” Katie commented.

Mark Anderson was famous around thes
e parts for his tomatoes.  They had won first prize for the last three years at the state fair in Lewisburg.  As soon as Mr. Anderson entered the restaurant, he smiled and sauntered over to our table.

“Hidey-ho, girls.  What are you two doin’ in here and not up at the school?”
Mr. Anderson asked.

“They let us out early because of Homecoming,” Katie replied with a
courteous smile. 

“That’s nice. 
Homecoming’s a big deal ’round here.  Tonight’s game will be a good one — maybe the best of the season.”  Whenever Mark Anderson spoke of football, his eyes lit up like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.  Daddy informed me,
on many occasions
, that Mark Anderson was the best quarterback to ever play for Welch High School.  He’d even earned a football scholarship from WVU.  Unfortunately, he also received a horrible injury to his right shoulder when he played in the Gator Bowl during his junior year.  Daddy said, and I quote, “That son-of-a-bitch from LSU nearly tore his arm off!”  He never picked up a football again and dropped out of college.  He returned home to Welch and got a job working in the mine for a while, but he preferred the sunshine.  Mr. Anderson ended up going into the farming business.  He grew vegetables throughout the year and hibernated like a bear during the winter.  Considering his dream of playing professional football had been yanked out from under him, he seemed very happy with how his life had turned out.

“I’m here dropping off some of my tomatoes.  Anthony likes the organic ones I’ve started growing.  Ya know
, ya gotta keep up with the times…It’s good to be green.  These are the last ones from my garden, but I’ll still have some growin’ in my greenhouses.  They should put out enough to keep him happy through the winter.  But I’m glad I ran into you, Shiloh.  I’ve been meanin’ to bring some stuff by your house — for your mother.  She’s such a
sweet lady
.  A real
fine
woman.  She hasn’t been by the farm much lately,
umm
…
to buy my vegetables
,” Mr. Anderson quickly clarified.  “I thought I’d bring her some…to remind her of what good stuff
she’s been missin’
.”

A
sneaky suspicion crept over me as I stared up at him. 
Funny
, I thought to myself,
I never knew she bought vegetables from Mr. Anderson’s farm
. 
I’m usually the one who goes to the grocery store for the majority of the food purchases
.  My pulse began to quicken.

“
Sure
, Mr. Anderson.  I’ll give her the basket and make sure she knows what
‘she’s been missing’
,” I assured him as I grabbed one of the ripe tomatoes out of the basket, sniffed it, and grinned.

“Great!  Here you go,” Mr. Anderson announced appreciatively as he placed the basket on our table.  “I’d better go see about my deliveries now.  You ladies have a nice lunch.”

As he trotted off to find Anthony, I tossed the tomato back into the basket and looked over at Katie.  She sat there quietly with the same suspicious look on her face.  She started to say something when her phone rang.  Katie glanced at her cell and flinched.

“
Crap!
  It’s my dad.”  Katie answered it quickly.  “Hey, Dad…
Yes
, school was dismissed early today…I’m getting ready to eat lunch with Shi at Anthony’s…
Ugh!
  Our food is going to be
RIGHT OUT
…Okay, okay…
Fine! 
Bye.”  She threw herself against the back of the leather booth.

“I have to get mine
TO GO
,” Katie pouted.  “He’s pissed because I didn’t go straight to the shop after school. 
I’m sorry, Shi
.”

“That’s okay.  I’ll just eat real quick and
then head over to the Drive-In.”

“But you’ll be sitting here
…
all alone
,” Katie said sadly as she fiddled with her little diamond pendant.

Katie had “a thing” about being alone.
Seeing people carrying on throughout their daily lives “
alone”
really bothered her for some reason.  I never understood why. 
Maybe because she’s an only-child who is constantly with her parents and they shower her with attention? Who knows?

I looked around
the crowded restaurant and laughed.  “There’s not an empty seat in here.  I’m hardly
alone
.  I don’t mind.”  I started to like the sound of some solitude while I ate.  After all, I had plenty of thoughts rolling around in my head to keep me company.

“Okay.  I’ll tell Shelia to wrap mine up and send yours over.  Bye, Shi.
Hey, I’ll try to swing by the Drive-In tonight after the game.”  Katie scampered over to our waitress and filled her in on the plan.  A minute later, my best friend was walking out the door with her brown bag in tow.

Shel
ia was beside me within seconds.  She informed me that Katie had picked up my tab (out of guilt I assumed) and placed an oversized, white oval plate on my table.  My steaming-hot stromboli smelled heavenly, so I dove right into it. 
Good thing I wore my red shirt
.  As much care as I would always take when eating my favorite dish, it was notoriously messy.  Any drippy sauce, which would
inevitably
land on me, wouldn’t be so conspicuous.

I was too busy enjoying my lunch to realize
someone was now standing beside my table.  I’d just taken a bite that was too large for my mouth, and the cheese had left a clingy trail down to the plate when I heard someone say, “This place is pretty packed.  Do you mind if I sit with
you?
”

No
visual confirmation was needed. I already knew
who
it was.  Quickly, I placed my cheese-covered fork back down on my plate, hurried to wipe any lingering sauce off my mouth, and swallowed what remnants I could.  I tilted my head up to see Professor Grey standing there,
grinning
.

“I’ll take that as a
yes
,” Professor Grey replied as he brazenly slid into the side of the booth that had just been vacated by Katie.  “No sense in talking with your mouth full.  That’d be
rude
.”  He picked up a menu and placed it in front him, hiding his entire face and upper body.  “So, what’s good here?” he called out from behind it, clearly mocking my attempt to camouflage myself in Ms. Fitz’s class.

I lowered his menu and placed it
back on the table.  “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing you are
…
Getting lunch
,” Professor Grey countered as he looked around the restaurant.

Evidently,
the cheeky professor was going to try my patience.  “
No
.  What are you doing
HERE?
” I asked as I pointed down to the table.

Professor Grey’s brow arched as he pretended
to be somewhat offended.  “Well, I didn’t see any other empty seats, and anyway…I figured it was the least you could do, since I helped you find your way home last night.  Don’t worry,
Red
…I’ll be back out there this evening, in case you get lost again…when you’re on your way to
Grandma’s house
,” he said as he pointed to me and then flicked the basket of vegetables on the table with his fingers.

I looked down at my red shirt and then over at the basket.  I couldn’t help but crac
k a smile at his easy joke.

“I’m working tonight, but rest assured, you won’t
see me out on that ridge again,” I vowed with a sharp nod.

“Why
not?
” Professor Grey quizzed.  “It’s quite peaceful out there and views of the mountains are spectacular, especially this time of year.  The fall foliage is at its peak, and the sunsets are nothing less than amazing,” he added.

“True,” I agreed.  But then again,
“he”
wasn’t the one being chased by the big, black cloud of death on the ridge while
“he”
was collecting samples, and as
“he”
was gazing at picturesque sunsets.

Still skeptical
, I decided to ask him again, “Are you sure you didn’t see or hear
anything
while you were out there yesterday?”

“I told you…
nothing except a frightened
little girl
, but today she looks more worried than frightened.  What
should
I have seen?” Professor Grey leaned in and whispered, almost as if he knew my answer required discretion.

H
is closer proximity made me uneasy. I was afraid I would start blushing again, so I straightened myself up and pulled back as far as my leather booth seat would allow.

“
Nothing
…Nothing at all,” I reassured him.  He leaned back slowly, appearing to process my answer.  “But I do have a question for you,” I added.

“You’re in luck,”
he said with a sharp point of his finger.  “I’m a professor, and I
love
questions.  But I have to say, the only thing I love more than questions are
answers
.  Specifically
correct ones
…that are expressed and articulated to perfection.”

My cheeks began to flus
h — again.  I cleared my throat, in an attempt to stifle my unexpected, increased blood-flow.  “How did you know my name?”

Professor Grey grinned slyly.  “It’s possible
that I had a conversation with Kristine…Oh, excuse me —
Ms. Fitzpatrick
.  Like I said, I’m always on the lookout for recruits.  She may have dropped your name to me this morning…and I
may have
spied
your last name on the mailbox outside your house last night.  I just put 2 and 2 together.  That’s what us college professors do —
Ya know?
” he posed, attempting to imitate our local dialect with his last crack.