Black Water Tales: The Secret Keepers by JeanNicole Rivers Read Free Book Online Page A

before bringing her cigarette to her lips and sucking furiously, which amplified all of the lines around her mouth.
    Regina laughed. Mrs. Landcaster’s face was marked with hundreds of lines created over the years by age and cigarettes.
    “How are you, Mrs. Landcaster?” Regina asked.
    “Oh…fair to middlin’…fair to middlin’,” Mrs. Landcaster responded. Regina had not heard that phrase since she was a child and her grandfather was alive.
    “That’s good,” Regina said. “It’s kind of chilly out here.” Regina commented. “Well it doesn’t much matter to me; I sit out here every day, all day…because I enjoy it,” Mrs. Landcaster said with a certain lack of enthusiasm that failed to convince Regina of her sincerity. The weather was quite icy and she eyed the cup of coffee that Mrs. Landcaster was sipping. The older woman must have seen Regina’s longing gaze fall flatly on the cup.
    “Would you like a cup?” Mrs. Landcaster offered. Regina knew that she should be on her way, but it was cold and she did not want to disappoint the old woman.
    “Sure,” Regina answered. Mrs. Landcaster smiled; she placed her cup of coffee on the porch railing and pulled out a ring of keys that jangled with abundance. She searched through the keys one by one, studying each with an analytic eye before flipping it over and moving to the next. Her cigarette was cocked up at one side of her crinkled mouth. After locating the correct key, she opened the door just wide enough for her thin body to snake through. Moments later, she returned with a second cup of coffee. Regina was excited at the sight of the steam rising off the top. Mrs. Landcaster handed her the white ceramic cup and then brought out her keys once again to lock the door behind her.
    Regina’s eyes narrowed as she watched Mrs. Landcaster’s strange ritual with the locks and keys. She blew her boiling coffee before raising it to her chapped lips.
    Both women looked up, noticing one of the Black Water police cars driving by the house, but the dark tints on the windows made it impossible to make out the person inside. Mrs. Landcaster held up a hand in greeting.
    “Nosy son of a gun.” Mrs. Landcaster muttered to herself with her hand still up before the car had fully passed. Regina snickered at the lady’s ornery response to the town’s police authority.
    Pot, have you met kettle?
Regina thought to herself.
    “So you here for Lola’s funeral, are ya?” Regina was sure that Mrs. Landcaster already knew the answer to that question. If Regina remembered correctly, it was rare that Mrs. Landcaster asked a question to which she did not already have the answer.
    “Yes, I am,” Regina told her.
    “Yeah,” the spinster dragged her word out to linger on the afternoon air.
    “Terrible thing, terrible thing.” Mrs. Landcaster shook her head, her eyes momentarily wandered to a dark place, before the resilient old woman re-brightened.
    “How are you?” she asked. “Haven’t seen you in so long, you look good, real pretty…lost a little bit of weight…you look nice, real nice.” The cigarette-smoking woman had a way of repeating herself that others probably found annoying, but Regina found it comforting.
    “Thank you. I’m great. I live in Texas. I’m an ER nurse, just work, work, work.” Regina gave her only the information that she figured safe since she was sure that once Mrs. Landcaster had breakfast at the OC tomorrow morning everyone would get the scoop on one of their return residents.
    “OK, OK,” the lady said. “A nurse, wow. I bet you make good money?”
    “Yeah, I do OK.” Regina responded.
    “Well that sounds good, real good,” Erma Landcaster told her visitor.
    Oddly enough, Regina felt relieved that Mrs. Landcaster appeared pleased with the status of her life. The women spoke about life and Black Water, among other things before Regina determined that she had spent enough time delaying her journey.
    “I should be going, I need to