Chapter 5
Tallus
The following morning, a frigid and dreary Tuesday, we drove together in Diem’s Jeep to Evergreen Estate, arriving shortly after eight. Our meeting with Elwood was scheduled for nine, but Benaiah had told Diem he would meet us earlier.
The few degrees we’d gained on the thermometer were canceled out by the torrent of rain falling in sheets over the city. A bone-deep chill made me shiver, despite the heat pumping from the vents. I wanted summer.
March wasn’t quite spring, but it wasn’t quite winter either. It landed somewhere in between, with the occasional day plummeting below zero, while others boasted heat and sunshine, tricking us into believing we could put away our heavy coats and boots.
Headlights—which the gloomy morning made necessary—glimmered and reflected off wet metallic surfaces and gave the asphalt a glassy sheen. Trees reached their bare branches toward the heavy clouds as if thanking the gods for quenching a thirst.
The sewers along side streets couldn’t drain fast enough, clogged with autumn leaves that no one had removed. They overflowed, pooled in the road. We hydroplaned twice before Diem slowed down.
The Jeep’s wipers worked overtime, unable to keep up. The sweet latte Diem had bought me at a drive-through wasn’t helping. Rain had a soporific effect on me, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep until May.
At Evergreen, Diem parked a distance from the main doors, despite several available visitor spots much closer.
Before I could kick up a stink or protest the indignity of his making me walk a mile in the nasty rain when I had clearly not dressed properly, I followed his wrinkled-nose glare and bit my tongue.
Diem’s father’s rusted work truck occupied one of the visitor spots, and there was no way in hell he was going to chance an encounter with his old man if he could help it. Tuesday mornings were not Diem’s usual visiting days at Evergreen, and now I understood why.
Tipping his fedora lower, casting a shadow over his face, Diem scowled at the truck. Tension pulled at his muscles.
Echo, likely sensing something was off, poked her head between the seats and whimpered, snuffling Diem’s cheek and knocking the hat askew.
Diem grumbled and fixed it before scratching her ear. “In a minute, girl.” To me, he said, “Might as well drink your latte. He works at nine and won’t stay long, but we might have to wait fifteen minutes or so.”
I had never met Leroy Krause, but after several detailed accounts of Diem’s horrific childhood, I wasn’t eager to make his acquaintance. I couldn’t promise to keep my mouth shut, and the last thing Diem needed was for me to make things worse.
So, I drank my latte.
Diem wasn’t a coffee person—Dr Pepper remained his most reliable source of caffeine—but he knew my affinity for sweet drinks and cookies and treated me often, particularly on rainy days when I didn’t want to get out of bed and needed an incentive.
I sipped the overly sweet beverage before setting it aside and opening the grease-stained paper bag containing my treat. I broke a chunk off the soft peanut butter cookie nestled inside and offered it to Diem. It pained me to do so, but I was a grateful boyfriend who could share… sometimes.
I succeeded in diverting his attention from his father’s vehicle.
A curl of a smile touched the corner of Diem’s mouth, and he shook his head. “Eat your cookie, Tallus.”
“I owe you for stealing a bite… ish of your cake. Take it. I insist.”
“You stole a bite of my cake?”
“I said ish. This offer expires in fourteen milliseconds.” I slowly moved the hunk of cookie toward my mouth, brow arched.
Diem must not have been in an arguing mood and accepted the piece with mumbled thanks. He never bought one for himself, something I couldn’t understand. We ate in silence, watching the world drown as the rain thundered deafeningly on the hardtop.
A short time later, Leroy Krause—or so I assumed based on Diem’s reaction—exited the building and hustled toward the truck. I didn’t get a good look at him since he was huddled against the rain. He drove off without noticing his son camped a dozen spots away.
The instant he was gone, the stranglehold of stress loosened its grip on Diem, and he fully exhaled properly for the first time since we showed up at the home. He started the Jeep and relocated us to a closer parking space so we wouldn’t have as far to go.
“Wear this.” Diem placed his fedora on my head—it was far too big, caught on my glasses, and fell into my eyes. He chuckled as I nudged it back in place.
Without asking, he reached across the console and zipped my coat to my chin like I was a toddler before motioning for me to get out.
I’d long ago stopped arguing with his overprotective nature.
It was that or listen to him lecture me about my habit of underdressing.
Besides, it was sweet in a neurotic sort of way, even when he snarled and bitched under his breath.
The remarks were nothing more than hot air.
Diem didn’t mean any of it. He loved me.
We ran to the portico, and I somehow managed to avoid puddles and keep my feet dry. The brim of the hat shed most of the rain away from my glasses, but I still needed to stop and wipe them clean before we went inside.
Diem fared worse. Chunks of his thick hair hung sodden and dripped in his face. He pushed it back with a swipe of his hand, making it stand up in an adorable mess. I kept that to myself.
We signed in at the front desk and collected visitor badges from one of the reception ladies whom Diem greeted by name.
“You don’t usually visit Hazel this early in the week. Is everything all right? I noticed Leroy was in.” She quirked a brow, and it silently asked if that was going to be a problem.
“Everything is fine. Dad’s gone already. We watched him drive away.”
“Ah.” The woman nodded, clearly relieved.
“Is Benaiah Scarrow here yet?”
“Ben?” The woman—Diem had called her Sandra—frowned and shuffled the clipboard around, scanning the sign-in sheet. “No. He’s not. Are you expecting him?”
“We’re here to talk to Elwood Scarrow. Ben is supposed to meet us.”
“Oh.” Sandra seemed confused.
Before she could inquire further, Diem added, “We’ll pop in and visit Nana until he shows. Is Donna around?”
“Donna? Um… She’s in at ten. Did you need to talk to her?”
“Yeah. Tell her to find me.”
We headed to the elevators, and I asked, “Donna?”
“A nurse.”
“And?”
Diem stabbed the button for the second floor. “And she broke policy and gave Ben my personal phone number, so if she doesn’t want me to report it to the director, she’s going to give us a hand.”
“Ah. I see.” I snagged the brim of Diem’s hat—he’d reclaimed it at the reception desk—and tugged him to my level. “It’s sexy when you blackmail people, Guns.”
The suggestion of a smile touched his mouth as the elevator arrived. Before he could get away, I pecked a quick kiss on his lips. “I love you.”
Inside the lift, once the doors had slid closed and we were alone, Diem folded me in his arms. As we traveled to the second floor, he sighed contentedly. “I love you, too.”
***
It turned out Diem’s nana was having a shower with the help of one of her care nurses, so we couldn’t visit.
We wandered the second floor instead, locating Elwood Scarrow in the dining hall.
Breakfast ended at eight thirty, but he and a few residents had remained behind, drinking coffee and chatting.
He was dressed in trousers and a brown cardigan, but under the cardigan, he wore a checkered dress shirt and a smart red bow tie.
His thinning hair had been gelled so thickly that the furrows left behind by the comb stood out.
They curved from his side part and ended at his ear. His shiny pate showed through.
Evergreen kitchen staff hustled about, clearing dishes from tables, wiping crumbs and spills, and pushing in the chairs. The janitor I’d briefly met the other day—Aaron’s mother—used a long broom, sweeping from one end of the room to the other, gathering the dirt into a pile in the corner.
Instead of intruding on post-breakfast coffee hour, we observed Elwood and his companions from the hallway until Ben showed up with a groan ten minutes later.
“Leave it to Dad. Always schmoozing the ladies. My mother’s been gone fifteen years, and he told me the other day, he’s ready to date again. Called himself a spring chicken. Can you believe that?” Ben shook his head and sucked his teeth. “He looks ridiculous with that bowtie.”
Turning to Diem, Benaiah offered a hand to shake. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Krause. Thank you for coming. So sorry I’m late. They had two roads in my neighborhood closed due to flooding, so I ended up detoured halfway around the city. That’s a joke. It was a few blocks. Can you believe this rain?”
It was too many words for my socially crippled boyfriend, so he chose to nod companionably as he shook Benaiah’s hand, and then Diem motioned to me. “My partner, Tallus Domingo.”
We exchanged handshakes, and since I was the more outgoing of the two of us, I acknowledged Ben’s comment. “If it keeps it up, we’ll need to build an ark.”
Benaiah chuckled, although I didn’t think it was that funny.
“I met your father the other day in the event room,” I continued. “He told me he has three girlfriends already. He claims one of them is a fiery redhead.”
Benaiah pinched the bridge of his nose, but he was still smiling.
“That does not surprise me. Who were they? Estelle was one of them, right?” He pointed into the dining hall.
“She’s the one with the bangles and dangly earrings.
He’s had his eye on her for a while. I don’t know of any redheads in residence. Do you?”
“Oh, no. It was none of those fine ladies. His female friends were all online. He found them on a dating app.”
A puzzled expression monopolized Benaiah’s face as he absorbed that comment.
“Did you know your father has a laptop?” Diem asked, all business.