Page 37 of Ghost
It's time to have a conversation with my woman.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tizzy
I’m humming away as I work on a new pie recipe. Trying to make sure the cinnamon sugar works in with the toast crunch. I’m hoping it turns out like a cinnamon roll pie. Mama Tizzy’s version of it, at least. I’ve been baking since Devon rode out; idle hands make the devil's work, right? Lord, I need to get it together. Usually, I can lose myself in baking, but my brain is going a million light-years a minute. I know I’m gonna have some splanin’ to do when he gets back, but I don’t know if that’s possible. I…
“Hey Ma! What’s got you all in a tizzy?” I hear Cesar snicker from behind me, and when I turn to look at him, I notice he has a fork and a whole blueberry cheesecake pie in front of him. The whole thing!
“You couldn’t have cut you a piece?” I ask, raising a brow and placing a hand on my hip.
“Would have been pointless. Would have wasted a dish, then I would have to keep cutting and putting it on the plate when, let’s be honest, we both know I’m going to eat the whole thing now, anyway. But don’t try to change the subject. What’s got you worried?” he asks, shoving an unbelievable fork full of pie into his mouth. How he stays in muscular shape with how much he eats, I will never know.
“What makes you think I’m worrying?” I ask, not meeting his eye, just turning back to my rolling pin and starting to work.
“You were humming Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn, which automatically means worried. If it was Johnny and June, then I know it’s been a good day. Hank for the really sad days, though.”
I stand in the middle of the kitchen, stunned. “Well, how in the turnip greens do you know that?”
He gives me a duh look as he chews his food. “You do know we are trained, lethal machines, right? It’s our job to notice every detail. No offense, Ma, but you aren’t the hardest nut to crack.” He shrugs before taking another bite.
I eye him for a minute, wondering if I can distract him with another sweet treat or something savoy this time. I have a pot roast in the crockpot, with caramelized….
“Don't even think about it. You ain't going to distract me now that I know there’s something you're dodging. Does this have anything to do with where Prez ran off to?” he asks, raising a brow.
Dammit, these guys really do know everything about what goes on around here.
“You know, if I didn't know any better, I would think you were worse than an old salon biddy,” I grumble.
“Huh?” he asks, straightening in his seat, confused.
“You know, the old gossips of the town. Sit around all day just coming up with nonsense going on around town. Better than the local detectives, those bunch.”
“Didn't you used to work at a salon?” He smirks.
“I did, but I wasn’t no gossip. Might have liked hearing all the going ons, but I was never one to spread that around.” I scoff.
I stayed as low-key as possible to keep Lyra and me off the radar. Even if it wasn’t for that, I didn’t like the way those ladies talked about certain folks. I couldn’t even hide my displeasure for long, which meant another fired job, another move, another town, and another life. Lord, how I hope when Devon finds out the truth about what I did, it won’t have to become another new life.
Do I think he will judge me for what I did to survive? No. I’m just not sure how upset he’ll be that I kept it from him. It’s not like it was all that personal when it came to telling him. I’ve never toldanyonewhat happened. My whole life changed in one instant, and I was the only soul alive that night who knew what happened. I vowed never to repeat it, no matter what, to anyone at all. It was life or death; it was my choice to fight for my baby girl, and no one was taking her from me.
The more I sit here and think it over, the more I realize Devon is the one person on this planet I trust wholeheartedly. I love Lyra with every bit of my soul, but she's a mama now. She has a family to think about, and I never wanted to burden her with the truth. My whole life has been about protecting her. But Devon… Devons made it his mission to show me that day by day, hisobjective in life is to keep me safe and protected, and I know that. So it makes me feel like even more of a dud that I made him go all that way instead of spilling my guts. I decide maybe an outside perspective might be exactly what I need.
“I think I messed up,” I whisper, ringing the dish towel in my hand over and over. I look up and meet his eyes when he doesn't say anything. Cesar has placed the fork and pie tin on the counter and is looking at me with concerned eyes.
“Well, don't leave me hangin’,” he says, smirking and trying to calm my nerves. “Come sit with me and tell me what you think you did wrong. I have a feeling it might be bigger in your head.”
So I do. I walk around the counter and take a seat on one of the stools. The minute I plop down, Cesar slides the pie my way.
“You need this more than I do. Now, take a bite and start talking,” he demands. I pick at the pie but decide to talk anyway. No way I’ll go into detail, but I need some good advice.
“There's a part of my past I’ve kept hidden from everyone, and I mean everyone in my life,” I start.
“Oh, you mean your past Prez went looking into?”
“Uh, yeah, that one,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Anyway, there are so many details to the story I should have told him before he left. Heck, I feel like I should have told him months ago, but I was too afraid.”
“Ah, and now that Ghost went digging them up, you're worried about his return,” he says, stealing the fork, and a bite, before putting it back in my hands. I chuckle and roll my eyes at his antics.