Bad Juju: A Novel of Raw Terror by Randy Chandler Read Free Book Online

chair and sat at
the kitchen table while he loaded the coffee brewer and got it going. It
wheezed and gurgled like the death rattle of a terminal emphysema patient, but
it made great-tasting coffee.
    Luke sat across the table from her
and watched as she spooned generous portions of cobbler into their bowls. Ree
was ten years younger than he was, and she wore her forty years very well. Few
women become more attractive in their middle years, but Ree was one who had
improved with age—like fine wine or gourmet cheese.
    “You look deep in thought,” she
said as she set his bowl in front of him.
    “I was just thinking about wine and
cheese,” he said.
    She shot him a puzzled look.
    “How some women get better with a
little age on them,” he said.
    “If that was supposed to be a
compliment, it wasn’t a very good one. You should never call attention to a
lady’s age, Luke.”
    “But—”
    “And you sure as heck shouldn’t
liken her to cheese. Wine maybe, but definitely not cheese.”
    “But I—”
    “Cheese is curdled milk. It brings
to mind mold and rats. And nowadays even flatulence—as in ‘cut the cheese.’”
    “Hold on, Shorty, I—”
    She kicked his shin under the
table. “I told you not to call me that.”
    He held up his hands in surrender.
“I was just trying to say you look damn good. You get better looking every time
I see you. There. Is that okay? Jesus.”
    “Why, thank you Luke. That’s sweet
of you to say. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t blaspheme.”
    He shook his head in defeat. “I
can’t win with you.”
    “Not if you don’t get in the game.”
She winked a twinkling blue eye.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “You know what I mean. You’ve been
on the sidelines a long time now. Maybe it’s time to strap on the pads and get
back on the field.”
    “I love it when you talk dirty,” he
said, struggling to keep a straight face.
    She kicked at his leg again, but
this time he moved it out of the line of fire. She laughed.
    He shoveled a spoonful of cobbler
in his mouth. “Umm, this is delicious.”
    “Thank you. It won me a blue ribbon
at the county fair.”
    The conversation lagged as they
ate. Then Luke got up and poured two cups of coffee.
    “You quit coming to church,” she
said, dabbing a napkin to her lips.
    “It’s been a while,” he admitted.
    “You should come back. It would do
you good. You need to get out more.”
    He took a sip of steaming coffee.
“Me and the Lord don’t have much use for each other these days.”
    “I think I know how you feel. After
Ben died, I was so angry with God I didn’t set foot in church for weeks. Ben
was a good man, too young to be taken from me that way. A loving God wouldn’t
allow such a thing. That’s how I was thinking at the time. But I got over it.
Maybe it’s just taking you longer to get over losing Jenny. It’s all right to
be angry with God. He can take it.”
    “I’m not mad at God. I can’t be mad
at something I don’t believe in.”
    “Oh, Luke,” she said with
unaffected sadness.
    “Let’s change the subject,” he
said. “I try to steer clear of discussing religion and politics.”
    “All right. I really didn’t come
here to preach to you anyway. I came because I miss seeing you. And because I
thought maybe I could twist your arm enough to get you to have dinner with me
sometime.”
    He studied her over the rim of his
cup. “You mean like a date?”
    “Yes, I guess I do. We’re both
widowed. And Vinewood’s not exactly running over with hot prospects, if you
know what I mean. I like you, Luke. I’m...attracted to you. And I think you
kind of like me too. Am I wrong?”
    “No, you’re not wrong.”
    “Well, there you go.” She smiled in
obvious relief. “And you know I’m a good cook.”
    “I know you’re a fine woman.” He
paused, measuring his next words. “But I’m not sure I’m ready for that sort of
relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to you for me to get into it