CHAPTER TWELVE

Bacon

The smell of bacon woke me up. Burning bacon. I opened my eyes, nostrils assaulted by the acrid smell. It wasn’t even light out yet.

I stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was empty, but there was a pan on the stove that held something that must have once been bacon. It was on fire.

I blurted out the first thing that came into my head.

“Crap on a cracker!”

It was something my grandfather used to love to say when my grandmother was in earshot. He tended to go a little more risqué when she couldn’t hear him.

I grabbed a lid and covered the pan, suffocating the flames.

“What in blazes is going on in here?”

Grandma pushed me out of the way. I hadn’t even heard her come into the kitchen.

“Lucky! You could have burned the house down!”

Huh?

“It wasn’t me!” I argued.

“Well, we’re the only two people here.”

Well, that was true. And she could have burned the house down. I couldn’t watch her every second. Especially not in the middle of the night.

“Come on, Grandma. Let’s just go back to bed. It’s too early to be awake.”

“Someone has to clean this up!” She looked at me pointedly.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”

She yawned and headed for the stairs.

“My goodness, Lucky. Who eats bacon in the middle of the night?”

I clenched my jaw, biting back my words. It wasn’t her fault. I wondered though, how many times had Grandpa woken up to a forgotten frying pan? He had managed to keep it all mostly hidden from me. I knew she was forgetful. But I had no idea I had to worry about being burned alive in my bed.

The pan was a lost cause. I trashed it and headed back to bed. But instead of drifting off to sleep again, I stared at the ceiling, wondering if she was going to wander out of the house or cook another midnight snack while I was asleep.