"There isno cure for Alzheimer's," said Nancie Jo.

"That's what I'm saying. He wants to find a cure."

"I see. So, Elmo told you to come to my house and pull a gun on me and force me to partic.i.p.ate in his clinical trial. Yeah, that sounds like Elmo alright," said Nancie Jo, with all the sarcasm she could muster. She inched her way toward the wall phone on her right.

"You know, you kind of remind me of my grandma," said Carnie.

"Really? So, your grandmother points a gun at you sometimes?"

Nancie Joe took the receiver off the hook and was about to dial.

"No. But if she did, she'd be smart enough to release the safety," said Carnie.

In the split second it took Nancie Jo to look down at the gun, Carnie grabbed a butcher knife from the knife block and launched it. When Nancie Jo looked up, it was too late. The handle of the knife hit her squarely in the forehead and bounced off.

Nancie Jo's gla.s.ses flew off her face as she fell backward and collapsed onto the floor. The gun fell out of her hand, but it was only a few inches away. As she focused every ounce of her willpower, rolling to her stomach and reaching for the pistol, Carnie leaped at her.

Nancie Jo picked up the gun and was about to roll back to shoot Carnie. But Carnie s.n.a.t.c.hed the knife off the floor and thrust it into Nancie Jo's back. And as always, once her anger had been triggered, it quickly escalated into blind rage. She twisted the knife and ripped it out sideways. Then she gripped it with both hands and chopped at the corpse repeatedly with all her might.

"Here's your BLT and Fritos." Greg handed Cynthia the flimsy white cardboard box and gave her a quick kiss. "And your diet c.o.ke."

"Thanks. And I suppose yougot the turkey."

"That's right. How'd you guess?"

It was the only kind of sandwich he ever ordered at Jane's. Cynthia had come to realize that Greg was a creature of habit. And he took comfort in his habits. Fortunately, most of them were good ones.

"I'm sorry we have to rush," said Cynthia.

"That's okay. It's worth it just to see my baby for a few minutes."

"Thanks. You too, Sweetie."

Greg said a blessing and they began to eat.

"Oh, yeah, you had a funeral this morning, didn't you? How'd it go?" said Cynthia.

"Fine-for a funeral. It wasn't so bad, really. But I would hate it if I had to do the pastor's job. Talking about how wonderful the person was-especially if they weren't. And you have to stand up the in front of the family and try to convince them that it was for the best-which is not so hard if the person was old and sick. But what if they were young? What if it was little girl who got hit by a car? I'm just glad Idon't have to do it."

"I couldn'tdo it," said Cynthia.

"I couldn't do banking. Loaning poor unsuspecting souls a bunch of money and then foreclosing on their house." Greg frowned playfully.

"I don't do that. If they can't pay, I just politely suggest that they sell a kidney."

"Wonder how much a kidney goes for these days?"

They laughed. He checked his watch. His time with Cynthia always went by so fast. "By the way, do you think your mom will go to church with us on Sunday?"

"I think so. I haven't talked to her about it, but she isBaptist. And it's the only Baptist church in town."

"Yeah, but she could drive back to Marshall."

"I would try my best to talk her out of that."

"Did you remember that we have to take separate cars tonight?"

"Yes. What time will you be finished with your lessons?"

"I should be done by 8:00-unless somebody cancels. If so, it might be a little earlier."

"Okay. It seems like there's still an awful lot left to pack."

"Oh, I'm sure we can get all done by Sat.u.r.day, even if we have to pull an all-nighter tomorrow night."

"I hope we don't have to do that," said Cynthia.

Greg agreed. He had often pulled an all-nighter with Cynthia in his dreams. But in his dreams they weren't packing.

Chapter17.

"Greg asked me today whether I thought you would be going to church with us this Sunday," said Cynthia, as she wrapped another plate and put it in the box.

She and her mother were in the kitchen, packing dishes and cookware.

"I guess so. To be honest, that's going to be the hardest thing about moving," said Beverly. "I could still go to church hereif I really wanted to. It's only a fifteen minute drive."

"I know."

"But I don't think I should. If I'm going to move to Coreyville, I need to be a part of that community. And that includes going to church there. So, I might as well get started this Sunday."

"Well, I'm proud of you, Mom. I think you're doing the right thing."

"But don't get me wrong-I do plan to stay in touch with my friends here in Marshall. I just won't see them as often. But we can email and IM."

"IM? Y'all instant message each other?"

"Sure. We try to stay up with the times. You think we're too old for technology?"

"No, I didn't say that."

"A couple of times I've even sent a text message."

Cynthia laughed. "You're pretty cool, Mom."

"You got thatright, Dog." Beverly attempted a rapper pose. "Too much?"

"Yeah-that's a little scary."

Cynthia heard the Bonneville in the driveway. "There's Greg."

She let him in the kitchen door and gave him a long, tight hug.

But before he got too excited, he pulled away.

She pretended to be hurt, but then gave him a quick kiss on the lips and grinned at him. She understood. And she loved the fact that she could turn him on so easily.

She checked the clock. It was 7:58.

"You're early. So I guess your last student cancelled," said Cynthia.

"No, she didn't cancel. She just didn't show up."

"One of your teenagers?"

"No, it was Nancie Jo Gristel. She's 81. And she never does that. She always calls me if she has to miss. She was out for a couple of months because of her Alzheimer's. But the doctor put her on some new medication, and she's been fine ever since."

"One of my good friends just found out shehas it," said Beverly. "It's a terrible disease."

"Did you try calling her?" said Cynthia to Greg.

"Several times. But then I figured maybe she just fell asleep."

"It's easy to do when you're leaning back in your recliner watching TV," said Beverly.

"Yeah, that could be it," said Cynthia.

"Well, I just hope she's okay. I'll give her a call in the morning," said Greg.

Before going inside, she sat in her car a few minutes to put on the blonde wig. She was wearing a hot pink blouse, black leather mini-skirt, and knee-high boots. When she walked in, every man in the bar was instantly seduced. Beer mugs hung suspended at open mouths. She could have chosen any one of the poor saps, and they would have gladly barked like a dog at her command.

The antic.i.p.ation faded in the eyes at each table as she pa.s.sed them by. She had no intention of spending time with any of them, although her body language suggested otherwise. The man sitting alone in the far corner was her ultimate destination. He had taken a glance when she came in, but then went back to studying the bubbles in his beer.

"Well?" she said.

"Well, what?" said Jake, as he finally looked up.

"Remember me?"

"Jennifer? Is that you?" He stood.

Carnie had forgotten the fake name she had used Sunday night. "Uh...yeah."

"Well, sit down and let me buy you a beer," said Jake.

"Okay."

Jake hollered to the bar tender, "Hey, Bill. Two more beers, please."

"You look great as a blonde."

"Thanks."

"Of course, you looked just as cute before you bleached it. I like brown hair."

"Actually, it's a wig. I just wanted to try a different look."

"So, where have you been keeping yourself?" said Jake. "I thought we had a lot of fun the other night. But then you disappeared."

"Yeah. I've been busy."

"Okay, I get it. Don't worry-I'm not looking for a wife, or even a girlfriend."

Carnie shot him a wry smile. "Me either. So, you're just looking to get laid, huh?"

"Well, no, not necessarily."

"Then I'm wasting my time here. See you around." Carnie stood.

"Whoa, wait a second. I said I wasn't lookingto get laid. It's not that I don't want it. I'm just not searchingfor it."

Carnie sat down. "But what if it just came along and bit you in the b.u.t.t?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that, but yeah, I'd be interest-if it was somebody I really liked."

A young waitress delivered their beers and walked away slowly, hoping to hear more of the conversation.

"Somebody like me?" she said with a s.e.xy smile.

"Yeah."

"Then why are we wasting our time sitting here, Jake?"

"Good point, Honey. Let's go. I've got plenty of beer at home in the fridge."

Jake threw some bills on the table and they hurried out. The other men watched in envy and amazement. What was so great about him?