restaurant opens and drives them all the way to the Chattanooga homeless shelter every Sunday—”
Collier looked at her…then wondered if he’d ever given anything as charity in his life…
“Let’s be like those wonderful people, and also remember Corinthians: ‘God loves a cheerful giver.’” Next the minister stepped away from the lectern again, hoisting his belly. He seemed to be looking right at Collier when he said, “And for you wise guys out there wondering what
More chuckles from the crowd.
“Go to the hospital and give a pint of blood! Go to the underpass and dole out a backseat full of Quarter Pounders! Go online and throw some of that MasterCard at the Red Cross, or fill out that organ-donor form and drop it in the mail. You’re not gonna need your liver when you’re dead, are you? So go on and do it!” Then he scanned his finger across the pews and barked like a game-show host, “And until next week, go in peace to love and serve the Lord!”
Everyone said “Amen” while they were still laughing, then a jazzy organ kicked in to signal the final procession.
“Wow,” Collier whispered. “Church has changed.”
“When was the last time you went?”
“Ah, you would ask. I’m too ashamed to say.
Dominique chuckled. “Being here is a start, isn’t it? And, yeah, Father Grumby gets a little gung ho sometimes but he’s a great pastor.”
Collier’s throat felt thick when he noticed two young girls in white dresses filing out behind their parents.
Then his belly twitched again when he recalled the
“Let me ask you something,” he said on a completely inappropriate lark. “Does Harwood Gast have any descendants?”
“Nope.” She smiled at him. “Why do you ask?”
“I bought a bunch of books from Mr. Sute but I haven’t read them yet. Isn’t it kind of curious that the Gasts never had kids?”
“Oh, they had kids, two of them, two girls.”
Collier felt a twinge. “But you just said he didn’t have any—”
“No descendants, that’s right.” She seemed to stall on a thought. “But his two daughters died in their teens, during…the war.”
Collier watched the backs of the two girls. One was dirty blonde, the other drably brunette.
Before they exited the nave, they turned for moment to wave to some other children. Collier saw that it clearly wasn’t them.
“Did…Gast’s daughters have a
“Justin, how would I know
“Well, you know a lot about the legend. How did the two girls die, exactly?”
She nudged him. “I don’t think
Collier felt foolish now, but what she’d said spiked him.
He followed Dominique out as she spoke briefly to acquaintances. Outside he said, “So I take it you’re busy this morning.”
“Yeah, like the man said, that’s what I do on Sundays before work.”
“It’s quite a gesture.”
“No it isn’t—it’s no big deal. I use all the leftover side dishes from Saturday, then make some kind of meat dish with overstock or specials that didn’t sell. It’s actually kind of fun. One time I made chimichurri pork tenderloin with a banana-pepper drizzle and wasabi mashed potatoes for a hundred homeless.”
“I’ll bet that made their day,” Collier said.
“They loved it. Another time my supplier was trying to get rid of eight-count sea scallops, so I bought a bunch on the bulk discount and did them up over penne quill pasta with truffled cream pomodoro sauce. It was a riot. The only real hassle is driving all the way to Chattanooga and back.”
Collier felt a stab of obligation. “Let me help you. I’ve got nothing big to do today.”
“No, no, it’s something I do by myself. You heard Father Grumby; you’ve got to choose your own manner of charity.” She grinned. “You’ll think of something.”
Collier felt relieved beneath his falseness. The last thing he’d actually want to do is cook for homeless people hours away. But at least he felt like less of a schmuck for offering.
He pulled on her hand and stopped her. “I hope I can see you later.”
“Of course you can. Anytime after five at the restaurant, but I’ve got to run now. Today I’m taking chicken marsala and saffron rice to the shelter.” She kissed him briefly but not so brief that she didn’t have time to run the tip of her tongue across his lips. Collier tried to retrieve her for a longer kiss but her arms pressed him back.
“If you keep messing around with me you’re only going to wind up pissed off and aggravated,” she said with a coy smile.
He already knew what she was clarifying. “How do you know I don’t
Her smile dropped down a notch. “Justin, I’ve already told you, I’m
“As a matter of fact, I received that impression very distinctly last night—”
“If you’re looking to get laid, you’ve got the wrong girl.”
“How do you know I don’t
She shook her head, amused. “What I’m saying is I’ll understand if you don’t show up tonight.”
“Great. I’ll see you tonight.”
She kissed him one more time, then pulled away. “’Bye…”
He watched her traipse off in the morning light; he was speechless. Even in the distance, her beauty poured off her. He watched after her until she disappeared around the corner.
Collier considered his plight.
“Oh well,” he muttered aloud. He started back to the inn, to retrieve the phone number of Mr. J.G. Sute. II
Lottie had dreamed she was being raped in the dirt by soldiers in gray uniforms. “Don’t bust her belly,” one of them laughed. In the dream, Lottie was very, very skinny but also very, very pregnant. “Keep the baby in the bitch ’fore we get her up the hill…”
She’d been shorn of all her body hair in a strange barn full of boiling vats, and though she wasn’t sure, she thought she’d been naked for several months. Outside, the men took turns raping her on her hands and knees, while the rest of the prisoners were packed back into the wagon. “Give that bastard baby some Tennessee jism to swaller!” one guffawed, hoisting up his trousers. “Ain’t gonna be no milk waitin’ fer him when he comes out!”
The soldiers all laughed. When they were done, they squashed her back into the evil-smelling wagon with the dozens of others. Lottie could see through the slats that the wagon was taking them up a winding path, to a great smoking hill.
