Page 62 of Enraged

I shook my head. “Athens is having the time of her life out at Papa Jake’s house. She’s probably snoozing in his recliner or licking the windows to try to get a taste of the snow. Besides, I want some vegetable soup.”

She smiled and looked out the window. “It’s perfect weather for the soup. I can’t believe Creek’s Edge actually got a measurable amount of snow. The mountains are one thing, but I think it’s snowed, maybe, five times here our whole life.”

“Chief said that the last time we got this much snow was in the seventies,” I informed her.

“He’s right!” Mama C chimed in from the doorway. “In 1973, we got a bunch. Around a foot or so.”She passed each of us a bowl of soup, a napkin, and a spoon. “Y’all go ahead and take this. I’ll be right back.”

Inhaling appreciatively, I grinned at Lena. “You need to figure out how to turn this exact smell into a candle.” She looked up, her pretty face covered in confusion. “The smell of vegetable soup?”

“Not exactly the soup, but just the smell of this house, especially this time of the year.”

The Felder house in December always smelled of delicious food, pine needles, cinnamon, apples, and just…clean.

“I wouldn’t even know how to replicate it,” she confessed.

Mama returned with a plate of cornbread and two glasses of sweet tea. “Replicate what?”

“The smell of your house,” Lena explained. “Dak told me I needed to make it into a candle.”

Mama laughed. “Actually, all the smells in here, except the soup and whatever smells that seep from the laundry room, are from those wax melts you gave me to test out, Lee Lee.”

She does wax melts, too?

“I didn’t know you did wax melts, too.”

Lena slurped her soup. “I don’t. Not yet, anyway. It was something I was trying out because Jace was lecturing me about how candles are unsafe.”

What?

“How candles are unsafe?”

She snagged a piece of cornbread from the plate Mama had sat between us. “He said candles are a fire hazard so no one would buy them.”

Her mama’s mouth dropped open in horror but all I could do was shake my damn head. “He shouldn’t have told you that mess. By all intents and purposes, everything is a fire hazard.”

“He’s right,” her mama offered. “Donna and Fletcher Collins’ barn burned down from a bird’s nest that was up inside the light globe.”

Lena looked up, her expression calling bullshit on the Collins. “I have never heard of such.”

“They hadn’t, either!” Mama exclaimed. Lena and I exchanged glances. We both knew it was likely their grandson, the secret pot smoker, who burnt down the barn rather than the pigeons, but neither of us were about to tell her that.

I blew on another spoonful of soup. “This is delicious, Mama.” She beamed. “I’m glad you’re enjoyin’ it!”

The sound of the front door shutting startled us.

I didn’t even hear it open.

Mr. Brett walked in the room, his eyes lighting up the instant he saw his daughter. Ignoring his wife’s “no shoes throughout the house” rule, he and his dirty boots traipsed into the living room.

After sitting her bowl of soup on the side table, Lena rose to greet him. “Hey, Daddy.”

He folded her into his arms, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he squeezed her.

“I’m so glad you are home, Lee Lee,” he spoke warmly, “I was worried about you.”

She squeezed tighter. “I’m okay.”

Above her head, his eyes teared up. His wife noticed it, too, interjecting quickly to make sure Lena didn’t. “Alright, Brett. Let the child eat. I’ll go fix you a bowl.”

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