Chapter 15
The drive from Spanish Fort to Nocona took less than half an hour, but Noah and Tertia talked about the café all the way, so it went fast. Noah made a left-hand turn off the highway and parked in one of the several empty spaces on the street where the small café was located. “Looks like the bad weather is keeping folks at home this evening.”
“Maybe so,” Tertia agreed. “Those clouds are dark, and we’re supposed to have heavy rain tonight, and here it comes.” A couple of drops hit the windshield with enough force that they sounded like hail instead of rain. “If we hurry, we might not get wet.” She slung open the door and jogged across the sidewalk and to the wooden door opening into the café.
Noah grabbed the handle just as she did, and his big hand wrapped around hers. Hot little tingles traipsed up and down her arm. She jerked her hand free and told herself that she could not—would not—be attracted to him.
He slung the door open and stepped aside to let her enter first. “I’m sure glad there’s an awning over the sidewalk.”
She stopped inside the door and glanced around the dining area. “Me too, or we would both be soaked.”
“Hopefully, the storm will pass over while we’re eating, and the stars will be out before we have to go back outside.” He seemed to take the whole place in with one sweep of the eyes, and then whispered, “It’s not nearly as impressive as the one we are building.”
“You are building. I’m just along for the journey.” Tertia could still feel the warmth of his breath on her ear and neck even after he took a step back. Lord, have mercy! Why did she have to have this sudden attraction to Noah Wilson?
“Hey, this is a joint effort,” Noah argued. “You’ve been like a partner, and I’m still hoping that you will stick around to cook for me once the place is built. Which brings me to the next question. Starting tomorrow afternoon, could you come over to my place right after lunch each day? I’d like for us to start testing and writing down our recipes—especially for the daily specials. I figure we can cook up one in an afternoon and then have it for supper.”
“No problem,” she said. “How many ideas do you have?”
“I’ve got a notebook full right now, but I’m open to ideas for more so we don’t get in a rut. I figured we would need to have fourteen to twenty tested and ready. Some would be seasonal, like baked potato soup and chili,” he answered. “We can switch them out depending on the weather and our moods.”
“There you go with ‘we’ and ‘our’ again,” she said. “I haven’t decided whether or not I want to commit to a full-time job this fall. I gave myself a year to figure things out, not three months.”
“Until you say absolutely no, then I’m going to hope that this is a ‘we’ and an ‘our’ thing,” Noah said. “I’ve never known anyone as easy to talk to as you are, and you share my enthusiasm, so we’ll make wonderful partners in this venture.”
“Does any of that surprise you?”
“Yes, it does,” Noah answered. “When we were kids, you were way too smart and pretty to talk to me. I should have pulled your braids instead of saying what I did about the Paradise. Looking back, I think I was just trying to get your attention.”
“Your black eye testified that you got it.”
“Yep, it did,” he agreed. “And my mama grounded me for two weeks because I was rude to you. She said I could take one week off the punishment if I walked across the road, knocked on your door, and apologized. I was too proud to do that, so I had to be miserable for the entire time.”
“I got a week for punching you in the face,” Tertia said. “I wasn’t given the choice of apologizing, and if I had, I wouldn’t have done it. I thought you deserved the black eye.”
A middle-aged woman finally appeared from a back corner and smiled. “Y’all sit anywhere, and I’ll be right with you. Sorry you had to wait. I didn’t hear you come inside. Nasty weather out there.”
Noah motioned toward the nearly empty room. “Booth or table? And Tertia, I did deserve that punch in the face. My grandpa used to tell me the hardest lesson I would ever learn was when to keep my mouth shut. I remembered that every day for the next two weeks.”
“Doesn’t matter to me where we sit,” she answered. “Are you thinking about whether we want someone to seat the guests or let them sit where they want?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He led the way to a booth in the back corner. “If you will sit beside me, we can both see the whole place.”
She took a small notebook from her purse and wrote Hostess or not? at the top of the first page.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Her shoulder was against the narrow wall on one side, and on the other, Noah’s shoulder was pressed against hers. Lightning flashed in long streaks outside the window at the end of the booth, but it wasn’t throwing off any more electricity than Tertia felt. The thunder that followed was nothing compared to the thumping in her heart.
She gripped the pen tightly because her hand was trembling and wrote Pros and cons on the second line.
“It would easier if they decided on their own where to sit,” Noah suggested.
“Now cons,” she said. “If the place is full, some folks might get overlooked if there’s a waiting line. Things could get hectic with waiters trying to clear off tables and folks rushing to grab a place.”
“Then let’s have a hostess and a Please Wait to be Seated sign,” he said. “See, I knew we would come up with some good ideas if we visited other cafés.”
She wrote Hostess for seating underneath her pros and cons.
“Hello, I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here.” The waitress laid the menus on the table. “What can I get y’all to drink?”
“Sweet tea,” Tertia said.
“The same for me,” Noah added.
“Our special today is chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans,” she said. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
“Shall we try the special?” Tertia asked.
“I’m game if you are,” Noah answered. “I make a mean chicken fry. Wanette hated it. Said it was too greasy and had too many calories. She only ate fish and chicken and only in small portions, and that had to be broiled or baked. She lived mostly on salad, and she constantly bragged that she could still fit into her cheerleading outfit when we divorced.”
“Well, that’s nothing.” Tertia tilted her chin up in a dramatic gesture. “I can beat her brag all to pieces. All the earrings I’ve worn since sixth grade still fit me just fine.”
Noah smiled, then chuckled, and then he broke out in laughter. “I love your sense of humor.”
“I’m not joking. Not one pair of my earrings are too small.” She smiled and picked up the menu. “No offense to Wanette, but I love food too much to worry about the jeans I wore in high school. Why don’t we each order something different and share? That way we can test two different dishes.”
He wiped his eyes on a paper napkin, and then pointed to the standard silver container on the far edge of the table. “Paper or cloth?”
“I vote for paper towels on one of those stand-up holders in the middle of the tables, and no tablecloths. That will make cleaning up easier, and we won’t have to do so much laundry,” she answered. “Want me to write that down?”
“Yes, please,” he said.
The waitress returned with their glasses of tea and a plate of hot biscuits. “Are y’all ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?”
“I’m having the special,” Noah answered.
“I’ll have the fish dinner, with fries and coleslaw.” Tertia handed the menus back to the woman.
“Anything else? Appetizers in addition to the biscuits?” she asked.
“These are enough for me,” Noah said. “Tertia, do you want something else?”
“Nope,” she answered.
“Just holler if you change your mind,” the waitress said and disappeared to wait on another couple who were coming inside.
Noah buttered a biscuit and then peeled the top off an individual container of strawberry jam. “What about free appetizers?”
“I like biscuits, but I could make hot rolls to use for appetizers. Maybe with some whipped honey butter to use on them,” Tertia said and then quickly added, “if I take the job.”
“That sounds even better,” Noah said. “But you’ll have to make at least a dozen extra each day. That’s how many I can put away. And what is whipped honey butter? I’ve been to places where they serve cinnamon butter, but not what you just said.”
“That would be butter and honey whipped up together until it’s light and airy.” Tertia noticed that he completely ignored that if she had thrown out. The word was beginning to fade fast in her mind too—especially when a fresh round of heat traveled from his shoulder to hers.
Ophelia was sipping on her milkshake when Jake turned off the highway onto Farm Road 103 going to Spanish Fort. She had to do some fancy juggling to keep from dropping it when her phone made that screeching sound that usually warned of an Amber Alert in the area. She set the shake in the console cup holder and fumbled around in her purse until she had her hands on the phone and then read the message.
“We’re under a tornado warning. One has been spotted just west of the Nocona Hills Country Club, and it’s headed toward Spanish Fort,” she said.
“What do you want to do?” Jake asked. “I’ve got a cellar out behind my trailer. We’re only about ten minutes away, and we’ll be going parallel to the storm until we get there.”
“Let’s go to your cellar then,” she replied. “It’s closer than the Paradise.”
Rain continued to pour down so hard that the windshield wipers had trouble keeping up for the first five miles, and then it stopped so quickly that it seemed like a water faucet had been turned off. Everything went still and quiet, and the sky turned a strange shade of mossy green.
“Not a good sign,” Jake gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
“Nope, but it’s not far now, and from what I’m seeing on the radar, it’s going to jump the river a little east of Spanish Fort so we might not get hit.” She tried to keep calm, but her voice sounded high and squeaky in her own ears.
“Some first date this is,” Jake muttered.
“We sure can’t say that it hasn’t been…”
“Exciting? Dangerous? Disastrous?” he asked.
“The first one. A little of the second, and none of the third,” she answered.
He slowed down for the last big curve. “Five more miles into town. Three to my place and shelter, and from the way those clouds are swirling, it won’t be a minute too soon. And one question. Are you going to give me a second chance?”
“Yep, if you ask me,” she said with a nod.
“Next Friday night? Barring a power outage, I will cook for us.”
“Sounds good, but before then, would you like to come to Sunday dinner tomorrow?” she asked.
“I’ll have to take a rain check on that. I’ve got some things to take care of at the winery tomorrow until early afternoon, and then I’m playing poker with Remy and the guys in the evening. I could make us a sandwich, and we could eat out back at the picnic table if you want to come over after church…” He stopped and pointed. “There it is, plain as day.”
The funnel-shaped cloud danced along the pasture for a few seconds, then ascended into the clouds for a bit before coming right back down to the ground.
“How far do you think it is from us right now?” Ophelia’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper.
“A mile at the most, but it’s going slow,” he answered. “I think we can beat it to my place.”
Old-timers who talked about being close to a tornado often said that it sounded like the rumble of a freight train, so she figured the loud popping noise was just part of the storm. But then the truck began to swerve off to the left.
“Holy smoke!” Jake gasped. “What a time…”
To have a tire blow out,Ophelia thought as she stared at the funnel cloud. With trembling hands, she picked up her phone to call Joe Clay for help. Lightning flashed, giving her enough light to see No Service on the screen.
Jake stomped the brakes, but the vehicle went into a long greasy slide down over a slight embankment and came to a stop nose down in a ditch filled with water. He opened the driver’s side door, and Ophelia opened hers. Together they might be able to push the truck back up onto the side of the road and change the tire—if the tornado didn’t pick them up and dump them in the Red River.
A rock must have been down under the knee-deep water because when Ophelia’s foot stepped off into the rushing stream, the heel of her shoe popped off and went floating down the ditch. She slipped out of what was left of that one and kicked the other one off.
“We’ll have to have help to get the truck back out of here,” Jake yelled over the roar of the storm.
“No service,” she hollered and fought the swirling water trying to wash her down into a culvert under the road leading back to the winery.
Water splashed up on the running board, but she managed to get back inside, closed the door, and draped the throw back around her body. If another hard rain hit after the tornado passed by, the whole interior would be flooded. Even now the carpet was wet from her dripping feet and the tail of her dress.
Tension filled every fiber of her body, and it didn’t help that she could clearly see three funnels traveling along side by side like a set of triplets. A chunk of wood flew through the air and hit the windshield hard enough to send a diagonal crack all the way across it. Then a toilet came across the sky at the speed of a bullet and landed in the ditch right beside the truck on Jake’s side. Dirty water shot up like a waterspout and hit the truck with enough force to rock the whole vehicle.
“If I’d still been outside checking on the tire, that thing would have hit me,” Jake gasped as he wiped his glasses clean and put them back on.
Ophelia opened her mouth, but no words came out. Then another flash of lightning from behind them filled the truck, and her door flew open. She figured the tornado had ripped the door open and would be sucking her out any second.
“Get out and hurry,” Noah yelled.
“Where did you come from?” Ophelia threw her legs out, and then she was swept up into Jake’s arms and carried to Noah’s truck.
He hurriedly settled her into the back seat and slid in beside her. “Thank you, thank you,” he said breathlessly.
“Yes,” Ophelia managed to get out past the thumping in her ears.
Tertia turned around in her seat and said, “You look like a drowned rat.”
“If we don’t get to a shelter before those things get any closer, we may all be getting an up close and personal visit with Saint Peter in the next few minutes,” Ophelia said between sucking in lungfuls of air.
“Just another two minutes.” Noah had to yell to be heard above the rumble.
Ophelia wanted to close her eyes so she couldn’t see all the debris flying through the air on every side, but they wouldn’t cooperate. The next couple of minutes seemed to last a week. Then Noah slowed down just enough for his truck to make the turn down the short lane to his house. “There’s a safe room just off the kitchen,” he yelled. “I’ll run ahead and get the door unlocked. Y’all come on in, and we’ll hole up in there until it passes.” He braked and the truck came to a slippery slide in front of the house.
All four doors of the vehicle flew open and then slammed shut at the same time before they hurried up onto the porch. Jake tucked Ophelia’s hand into his, gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Dammit!” Noah swore as he tried to find the right key and dropped the whole ring on the porch.
“Company’s coming. Put on your britches,” Rocky squawked from the living room.
Noah grabbed the keys and finally got the door unlocked, but not before a fake bull, probably from the front of a steak house, flipped through the air and came to rest with a loud thud in the bed of his truck.
Once inside, he grabbed the birdcage and ran across the living room and dining room and into the kitchen. “Follow me,” he yelled as he opened the safe room and stood to the side to let the rest of them enter first. A gray and white cat ran past Ophelia’s legs in a blur and hid under one of the two chairs lined up on the left side of the room.
The loud noise of a freight train coming right over the house was muffled when Noah closed the heavy door, set the birdcage on top of a small refrigerator in the corner, and plopped down in one of the chairs. “That was a close call. Y’all have a seat wherever you want. There’s cold beer and sodas in the fridge if you’d like something to drink. I’m too jittery to get them out for you, so help yourselves.”
“I’d love a beer,” Ophelia said, “unless you’ve got a bottle of Jameson hidden somewhere?”
“That’s in the kitchen, and you are welcome to it if there’s anything left standing when this is over.” Noah waved his hand around to take in the chair beside him and the twin-sized bed on the other side of the room. “Y’all, please have a seat.”
“I’ll take a beer, if you are bartending,” Tertia said. “I got to admit I was even more scared than I was last Christmas when Rae braked to miss a bunch of deer.”
“What happened?” Noah asked.
“Roads were icy, and we did a couple of spins before we came to a stop.” Ophelia opened the refrigerator and brought out four longneck bottles. She passed them out and then sat down on the bed beside Jake.
Tertia sunk down in the overstuffed chair beside Noah. “That was nothing compared to tonight. Why are these chairs not in the living room?”
“They were about twenty years ago.” Noah twisted the cap off his beer and took a long drink. “Mama got new ones and moved these in here. I never liked them—too stiff and uncomfortable—but right now I’m not complaining one bit.”
Jake opened his beer and turned it up. “Me neither. Not even about my truck that’s sitting in a ditch full of water.”
Ophelia’s hands were still shaking so badly that she couldn’t open her beer. “Thanks again for rescuing us.”
Jake took it from her and twisted the cap off. “I figured we were goners when that toilet came blasting through the air.”
“We saw that,” Tertia said. “I tried to call to see if that was y’all, but we didn’t have any service. I bet the storm knocked the cell tower out south of town.”
The cat slithered out from under the chair, hissed up at the bird, and then crawled up in Ophelia’s lap. “Poor old kitty cat,” she said as she rubbed its fur. “What’s his name?”
“Higgins after the old Magnum P.I. television series,” Noah answered.
“And the bird is Rocky after The Rockford Files,” Tertia added.
Rocky started whistling “Whiskey River,” and the cat hissed at him again.
“I recognize that song,” Jake said. “My grandpa used to listen to Willie Nelson all the time. And by the way, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jake Brennan.”
“Noah Wilson. I’ll shake hands when mine stop trembling,” he said. “I’ve been meanin’ to visit your winery.”
“Come around anytime, and I’ll even give you a bottle of your choice for saving me and Ophelia tonight,” Jake said. “Or better yet, join us guys for a game of poker tomorrow evening at Remy’s house.”
“I’ll take you up on both offers if we get out of here in one piece, and thanks for the invitation,” Noah said.
Aunt Bernie was going to fuss about that for sure. Jake and Remy might even be moved to the top of her “I will get even” list, ahead of Ophelia’s father, Martin, and Endora’s ex Kevin. And nobody ever wanted to even be on that list.