Page 3 of It All Began at Dixieland

“But alive.” Mom says, coming up next to me and rubbing her hand up and down my back like she’s always done when I’m upset or sick. “Thank you for stopping, young man. We just need another couple of minutes and then we’ll be back on the road.”

“Wait.” He holds up a hand and then jogs back to his shiny truck. I snicker as I watch my mom mirror my own head tilt to stare at the man’s impressive backside in tight blue jeans.

“I’ll distract him while you prepare to fall vag first—”

“MOTHER!” I hiss at her with a glare.

“Here’s some cold water for you both. It’ll help with the shock. And a couple of snack bars for some sugar.”

“Are you a doctor?” Mom is about as subtle as a 3rddegree sunburn.

“No, ma’am. Retired army.”

“Oh? You’re so young?”

“Mom.” I try for a reprimanding tone, but it sounds whiny even to my own ears. The stranger merely grins at my mom, and I swear she blushes. Wait until I tell dad.

“Anything else I can do for you two lovely ladies?” I stand quickly and put my hand over my mom’s mouth. Adrenaline and shock are nothing compared to a Latina woman with no grandbabies.

“No, thank you. You’ve done more than enough. Please be safe.” He drops his chin and looks at me from under the brim of his hat. With a shake of his head and a sexy smirk, he tips his hat to us and goes back to his truck.

“Quit staring at his butt!” I whisper.

“You first.”

“I’m not married.”

“I’m married, not blind or dead.”

“Get back in the car and eat your snack bar.”

Efa 3.

“I love the consistency ofCracker Barrel.” Mom says, wiping her mouth with her napkin and sitting back in her seat. We’ve demolished a few dishes and I’m anxious to get back on the road. We’re about 2 hours from Kansas City.

“You’re so old.” I snicker into my own napkin, not fast enough to dodge her shin kick beneath the table.

“Shut up, or I won’t buy you those candy sticks you love.”

“Let’s not be hasty.” I forgot about those delicious sugar treats. My mouth is watering just thinking about the black cherry flavored one. She smiles fondly at me and not for the first time today, I’m happy she’s with me on this trip.

Life has been a bit hard on her and dad the last several years. She and dad were supposed to retire together, but mom had a slew of health issues spring up about 5 years ago and it forced her into an early retirement. Dad has continued to work to compensate while taking care of most of the house as mom is physically unable to go up and down the steps easily, let alone carry anything.

With them in Marietta, Ohio, and me less than an hour from Cincinnati, I can’t help as much as I would like. Months when my royalties are good, I usually find some way to spread the wealth, sending them groceries, gift cards for gas and their favorite restaurants, or a few times I’ve managed to slip some money into their savings account without them noticing.

She’s become a bit of a recluse since retiring, so I was incredibly surprised she agreed to this trip. It’s a lot of time in the car and there will be some walking between our hotel room and the ballroom where the event is being held. I nearly caused another wreck when she told me a couple of hours ago that coming with me was a no-brainer, regardless of how she felt, because she wanted to see me in action. Mallory has regaled her and dad about my antics at book signings, how I come alive amongst “my people”. Dad texted that he wants video footage so he can brag to his buddies about his internationally loved author daughter…even if she does peddle plot driven porn.

“Come on, Ms. Tacy Ellen, I saw one of those ceramic Christmas trees with lights but in Halloween colors. It’ll be perfect for your dad’s office. You know how he loves the season of spooky.” She wiggles her fingers, mocking my old man, and with a chuckle I stand up.

Check in hand I follow her around the entire country store as she picks up nearly everything, inspects it, then puts it back down. I grab the Halloween tree and take it to the counter, paying for it and the bill.

“I was gonna get the tree—”

“It is a gift for Mr. Blevins from Tacy Ellen for his continued support through her illustrious career.”

Mom leans her head against my shoulder. “We’re so proud of you, sweetie.”

“Thank you.” I clear my throat awkwardly, the cashier staring between us with a bright smile. “Now, where’re my diabetes sticks?”

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