CHAPTER 17

April tried to convince me to go to the hospital, but I refused. I just wanted to go home.

“I need to take care of Baby. Plus, we’re supposed to be open for business in”—I glanced at my watch—“two hours. At some point, I have to work up the courage to tell Mrs. Portman that I’m the reason her grandson is in the hospital with a bullet in his arm.”

“You might want my Kevlar vest.”

“Thanks, but given how I feel right now, I’m just going to lay down and let her club me to death.” I reached on the backseat and picked up the cast-iron skillet I’d taken from the kitchen.

One of the uniformed deputies drove me home in the Tesla, while Doughboy followed in a police car.

I wasn’t surprised to find that Leroy and Baby were both up waiting in the kitchen for me. Leroy was baking something that smelled like cinnamon and apples.

When I walked in, Baby got up on his hind legs and put his paws around me.

I stood there and hugged my dog. At that moment, I knew that Baby was mine. He might have started as a part of Aunt Octavia’s life, but now he was totally and completely mine.

When Baby and I separated, Leroy walked over and stretched his arms open. “Is it okay for me to hug my boss?”

I walked into his arms, placed my head on his chest, and absorbed his warmth, comfort, and energy. “Whatever you’re baking, I’m going to need all of them. I’m starving.”

We separated, and he pulled out a chair and helped me sit. Then he went to the oven and peeked in. “I bake when I’m nervous, so I’ve been baking like my life depended on it. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

He got a plate and piled on three apple turnovers, and then brought me a cup of coffee to wash it down.

To both of our surprise, I ate all three turnovers while I told Leroy everything that happened. He deserved that much.

“Wow. Who’s going to tell Miss Hannah?”

“Tell me what?”

We were so engrossed, neither of us had heard Hannah enter the kitchen.

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach, and I immediately regretted all the turnovers I ate, but I needed to get this over with. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Maybe you’d better sit down.”

“I don’t think I can take any more bad news today. First, I get a call that Michael’s been shot and is in the hospital and Garrett Kelley’s dead. I’m old, and my heart can’t take too many more shocks.” Hannah frowned and flopped down.

“You know Michael’s been shot? Who told you?”

“He did. He called from the emergency room.” She glanced around. “You got any more of that coffee?”

Leroy made her a cup and placed it on the counter.

“But . . . aren’t you upset?” I asked. “I mean, I’m glad you’re not angry at me, but . . . why aren’t you angry? I figured you’d beat me to death with this skillet for getting your grandson in a situation where he got shot.”

“Lord, what would I do that for? Michael’s a grown man. When he joined the Army, I was a basket case. Octavia saw how worried I was, and she reminded me that worrying wouldn’t change anything. I needed to turn it over to the Lord and stop worrying myself about things that I had no control over. And she was right. I prayed and gave it to the Lord, and He’s kept Michael safe.” She waved her hand to the heavens in a praise.

“But he was shot.”

“He said it was in his arm. God knows it could have been worse. Michael’s strong and stubborn. He was arguing with the doctor at the hospital, trying to convince him to let him remove his own bullet.” She shook her head. “He’s not even going to need surgery. They’re going to dig the bullet out, put a bandage on it, and send him home. He’s probably already there.”

I was staring at her with my mouth open. “Are you sure? They don’t need to operate?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I don’t even think they plan to admit him. He said you helped stop the bleeding, which is probably where you got all that blood on his coat. I’ll need to soak that in cold water, or the stain’ll never come out.”

I looked down, not realizing I was still wearing his coat. I took it off.

“He told me you were trying to get to the truth about what happened to Octavia. He couldn’t let you go alone. Now, the way he tells it, he saved your life, but men like to exaggerate. Why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

I was stunned silent for a few moments, but for what felt like the hundredth time, I replayed what happened.

Hannah sipped her coffee and ate a turnover while I talked. When I finished, she said, “That’s about what he told me. I’m proud of him. He’s always been the type who helped others. I suppose that’s why he became a vet, so he could help animals. He’s a good catch. He’ll make someone a great husband.” She winked at me.

I shook my head. I must be dreaming. I’d just told this woman that I was responsible for her grandson getting shot, and she was worried about getting the bloodstains out of his coat and trying to hook us up. This couldn’t really be happening. Maybe she was having one of her dementia episodes. “Mrs. Portman, do you want to lie down?”

“For what? I just got up. We need to get out there and start selling these baked goods before folks start knocking down the door.” She hoisted herself out of the chair. “Well, maybe Leroy and I should go. Frankly, you look like one of those zombies from that Walking Dead. Maybe you should go upstairs and lie down. Leroy and I got this.” She picked up a platter of pastries and headed outside.

I looked at her back until she was gone and then turned to Leroy. “Is she crazy, or am I?”

“She’s not crazy. In fact, she’s right. You do look like you could do with a nap.” He grabbed two trays and headed out.

I was halfway upstairs before I realized he had only verified that Hannah wasn’t crazy without commenting on my mental state.