Uncle Thomas grinned at me. “It’s showtime. You grab the place settings and I’ll fetch the food.”
I was getting the plates in the kitchen cupboard when my uncle lifted the lid from the roast. It smelled divine, and I was surprised to realize that my mouth was watering, despite the time of day and the relatively full state of my stomach.
AFTER WE ATE, I NOTICED THAT IT WAS BARELY ELEVEN o’clock.
I started carrying dirty dishes into the kitchen, and asked my uncle, “What would you like to do now?”
“After eating that much roast, I’d like to take a nap,” he said.
“Go on. I can occupy myself while you’re sleeping.”
Uncle Thomas laughed. “I was joking, Savannah. I’m not that old, at least not yet. I would love to have you stay with me all day, but I know you’ve got things to do, so you don’t have to keep me company.”
“Anything I’ve got on my plate can wait,” I said.
“Do you mean that?”
“I do,” I said. “I don’t have to leave for hours yet.”
“Then what do you say? Should we get the kayaks out and take a little trip on the water?”
I hadn’t been in a kayak forever, and I wasn’t even sure I could still paddle one, but the hope in his gaze was something I couldn’t bring myself to crush. “Let’s go.”
We loaded the kayaks into the back of his old brown Ford pickup, and I noticed large spots on the hood where the paint had peeled off, leaving a chalky gray surface exposed. “You should get that painted before it rusts.”
“I know, but I can’t find the right shade of spray paint to match it,” he said as we drove to the park. For an instant, I could swear I saw the black car again on the road, but it could just as easily have been my imagination. There was no doubt about it; I was starting to jump at shadows after spending so much time thinking about murder.
I tried to put that aside and get back to my uncle. “They have people who do professional paint jobs, you know.”
“Savannah, I’m not going to spend five hundred dollars getting an eight hundred dollar truck painted. This suits me just fine.”
It was true, too. There was something about that old pickup truck that matched my uncle’s personality. Though they were both tattered a little around the edges, there was a strength underneath that was undeniable.
We put the kayaks into the creek at the landing and glided through the water beside the path that ran around the perimeter of the park. Fishing bobbers hung from the trees like Christmas ornaments, lost to overly enthusiastic anglers, and logs from a recent storm were scattered in the water. As we turned a bend, a handful of ducklings and their mother paddled for shore. Uncle Thomas and I went all the way to the highway bridge, and as was our custom, we stopped underneath, listening to the cars thudding away overhead.
“Are you ready to head back?” he asked me after ten minutes.
“I am, if you are.”
“Let’s go then. I’ll race you to the landing.”
“I doubt I could beat you,” I admitted.
“Come on. You can do it. I have faith in you.” And then he took off like a shot in the water. I had no choice but to race after him, laughing so hard I could barely hold my paddle. Being with my uncle out on the water brought back a sense of joy to me that I hadn’t had in a long time. For those few moments, it was like being a kid again, and I reveled in what his presence could do for me.
THANKFULLY, I DIDN’T SEE ANY BLACK CARS ON THE WAY back to his house. After we stowed the kayaks away under the deck, he said, “Girl, you’re really good for me. I haven’t felt this young in ages.”
“Neither have I,” I said. I glanced at my watch and saw that the afternoon was quickly slipping away. “I hate to say it, but I should probably head back to Charlotte.”
“Thanks for coming. You made my day something special.”
“I’ll try not to stay away so long next time,” I said as I headed for my car.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked.
Then I remembered my mother’s box, still sitting on the screened porch by my chair. “That’s right.”
“Hang on, I’ll get it for you.”
He did just that, and a few seconds later, Uncle Thomas handed the box to me. “I don’t know what’s inside, but I do know one thing. Having you was your mother’s greatest joy in life. She told me that many times.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
I kissed his cheek, then hugged him like I was never going to let go. When I pulled away from him, I was startled to find a tear tracking down my cheek.
“Hey, there’s no reason to be sad,” he said softly. “Wherever you go, a part of me will go with you.”
I said my good-byes, and as I drove away, I looked back at him. Every time we parted, I knew it could be the last time we saw each other, but his words did offer me a bit of comfort. He would live on in my heart as long as I took a single breath, and though we were many miles apart, in another—and very real way—we were always together. I’d loved my mother, but we’d had our share of tumult over the years. With my uncle, things had always been uncomplicated. One for all, and all for one, and no mercy for anyone who tried to interfere with that. As I headed back toward Hickory, I was startled to realize that I hadn’t married a man much like my father, but I had found someone who shared many of his traits with my uncle. It was no wonder the two men got along so well.
They both had a part of me.
As I drove back to Charlotte, I kept glancing at the box on the seat beside me. What secrets had my mother entrusted her brother to hold for me, and why was he giving them to me now? Would it be something awful, or wonderful?
And did I have the courage to open it, even with Zach by my side?
AS I TOOK THE EXIT FROM 1-40 EAST TO 1-77 SOUTH, I REalized that I was too tired to make anything but a simple puzzle, and there was no way my publisher was going to put up with that. I wasn’t all that thrilled with calling him, but I really didn’t have much choice.
“Derrick, it’s Savannah,” I said when I got him on the line.
“Would that be Simple Savannah, the easy puzzle maker?” he asked with that smart-aleck tone of voice he loved to use with me.
“Hey, sometimes folks like to remember how far they’ve come, and for others, it gives them a chance to get started.”
“I read your snippet, you don’t have to repeat it over the phone. I trust you have something a bit more challenging today.”
“That’s the thing. I need you to use one of the puzzles you have in my backup file.”
“Savannah, you need fresh puzzles every day, you know that, don’t you?”
“I would if I could, but I don’t have time right now.”
There was a long pause, and then he said, “If this is too much for you, maybe you should go ahead and retire like that husband of yours did.”
My puzzles were popular with the readers, and Derrick knew that, but since I’d gotten my work into more and more newspapers, he regretted the original deal we’d signed. His syndicate had one-time publishing rights to my puzzles, and he got a flat fifteen percent commission each time I got a check. Since we’d signed that deal, he came to find out that it was too generous on my end, at least in the opinion of some of his colleagues. Since then, he’d been trying to get me to sign another deal under terms more favorable to him, or if that didn’t work, he wanted me to quit so he could replace me with someone else. It was a constant struggle dealing with him, and it was one reason I was rarely late with a puzzle. If everything went as expected, the main contact I had with Derrick was my growing bank account.
“There’s no chance in the world I’m quitting. Besides, they love my little snippets, as you call them. I’d be harder to replace than you might think.”