Merriton

“Kit Kat’s moving back home.”

The select group of people were at Mt. Zen Cafe after closing. It was Samson’s first attendance at the meeting. Curly had explained to him that they first started meeting because their mayor, Tortimer, had moved to Florida and A.S. hadn’t picked up the slack, but it quickly evolved into a monthly meeting to deal with the Bowen house and whomever occupied it. They still met even when Tortimer came back, but since Random and Sierra had gone back to San Francisco almost two years ago, they hadn’t met. Suddenly they were needed again. John Sebastian elbowed him in the ribs.

“You ain’t allowed to date ‘er. I got dibs.”

James Sebastian, John’s brother, interrupted. “Just ’cause she writes Christian romance novels doesn’t mean she’s all Jesused up now. Just means she talks the language, that’s all.”

“Christian HISTORICAL romance novels,” Dora muttered. All three men looked at her with questioning eyes. John asked, “What?” Dora looked as if she were a mouse cornered in a kitchen and softly defended herself. “They’re not just Christian romance novels. They’re also historical. They’re all set in nineteenth century England. They’re Christian HISTORICAL…” her voice faltered, but she continued, “…romance novels.”

The group was quiet and everyone looked at the other’s faces before they all laughed. Dora tried to defend her friend, “They’re really popular in the Bible Belt…” June wiped a small tear from her eye and said, “We’re not laughin’ at her, Dora. We’re laughin’ at you.” Her voice became soft and meek as she repeated Dora’s words, “Christian HISTORICAL romance novels.” The group laughed again.

The joke didn’t seem that funny to Samson. He suddenly became aware of the long braid of hair between his back and the chair. It pressed uncomfortably into his thin frame and he squirmed. He scanned the group and the only one not laughing was Elvis. The old cowboy spoke up and silenced them all. “Any chance we can convince ‘er not to buy the Bowen house?”

The mood darkened again. June spoke, “No, she’s intent on having a ‘real’ house and there’s nothing on the market right now except ski condos.”

Angie spoke up, “Too bad she didn’t know ’bout alla this before Mira sold the family home. It woulda been better for ‘er to come home to the house she knew growin’ up.” As an afterthought, Angie placed a hand on Samson’s forearm. “Not that we’re not happy you’re livin’ there. It woulda been better if she could have moved back to her ‘real’ home.”

Samson’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Two years ago, he had bought the house from Mira, Katherine’s sister. After their brother had overdosed in the house, no one else in the town had wanted it. Samson loved his house and he didn’t want to give it up to some woman who used to live there a long time ago, but at the same time, he didn’t want ANYONE to have to live in the Bowen house. Just the mention of the house brought the scent of it back to Samson’s mind. It had a familiar old house smell, but there was something else tainting it. Almost like the smell of algae on a stagnant pond.

“The darkest time of my life was spent in the Bowen house.” He wiped his hands on the brown fabric of his ranger uniform. He was distracted for a moment by the color of his hands. The sun had made them so brown that they were nearly the same color as his clothing. “Random and Sierra are literally coming back to Merriton, just to make absolutely sure that she knows what she’s getting into.”

A worried quiet passed over the group and Samson added, “They’re staying with me.” A murmur of assent bubbled. Samson was anxious about seeing Random and Sierra again. This hadn’t been the first time his old friend had nearly run herself to death, but it had certainly been the worst.

Curly had been hovering at the back of the group, closest to the kitchen. Samson was sure that he would have been more at ease listening to the group from his normal post at the stove. Samson could tell that he wanted to say something, so he pointed him out. “Curly has something to say.”

The large man’s eyes grew bulbous and round. He took one step away from the group and wiped his meaty hand along the top of his bald head before speaking, “All I’m thinkin’ is that we could just fix the…” He paused and they all waited for him to continue. “We could just remove the curse if Elvis sold the land back.”

June rolled her eyes and Elvis folded his arms over his chest. June shook her head. “We thought of that, but we weren’t able to negotiate that into the deal.” Elvis leaned over the table, arms still crossed. “She don’t WANT the land and she won’t pay me for it. She won’t even pay me what I paid Artimus for it goin’ on fifteen years ago!” He smacked the table with his hand. “Plus, there ain’t no guarantee that she won’t turn around and sell the farm to a developer in two years when her time is up.”

Angie interrupted, “But Elvis, if you sell the land back to her, she won’t need to leave in two years. The curse will be lifted.”

Elvis stood up, placed his hands on the table and leaned way over toward Angie. “We’re talkin’ ’bout this curse like it’s some real thing! This ain’t no curse. This is just flaky tourists ‘gettin’ back to the land’ and then realizin’ that they liked the city better.” He lifted his finger and waved it. “Except that fella who decided he wanted to die there. I USE that land! My sheep are the healthiest sheep in the whole of the United States ’cause I keep ‘em close and they have lotsa room to exercise. I don’t WANNA sell it back to her and she don’t wanna pay for it.”

Dora’s quiet voice ceased the argument, “If there’s no curse, then why are we meeting?”

Elvis plopped down in his seat and said nothing more the entire night.