Caterpillar, a Paranormal Romance With a Touch of Horror Read Online Free PDF Page A

few over from my own Laurel Street.  I pulled to a stop in front of her little white house with its winter-empty window boxes and welcoming front porch. 
Climbing the few steps quickly, I opened the screen door and knocked hard on the thick wooden one behind it.  I heard a far-away “come in” so I twisted the knob.  It was unlocked.
“Mamaw, you’ve gotta stop bein’ so trustin’,” I scolded as gently and as lovingly as I could. 
I found her in the kitchen.  Eliza Huntley, my paternal grandmother, stood at the sink slicing a mountain of apples. 
Mamaw had had children late in life, right before the death of her first husband, but at eighty-five, she was still pretty spry.  Her short hair was combed back from her forehead in fluffy silver waves.  Her stooped frame was covered in a purple and white checked dress that zipped up the front.  It was topped with a yellow and green striped apron she had tied around her thickened waist.  She had on purple socks and tan orthopedic shoes. 
She was positively eye-popping.
“Oh, Punkin’, you worry too much.  Who’d wanna hurt an old woman like me?” she asked as she turned to look at me, presenting me with her cheek for some “sugar”.  I obliged, bending to press my lips to her soft, warm cheek with its cascade of paper thin wrinkles.  “Have you heard from Suzie-Q?”
I couldn’t help but smile at her persistence in calling Carter “Suzie-Q”.  Although I had always found it hilarious, Carter had never warmed to his feminine nickname.  I doubt anyone remembered who started it or why, but Mamaw was very attached to the moniker, refusing to let it die.
“Actually, I had breakfast with him this morning.”
“How is he?  He’s in trouble, ain’t he?”  Exasperation and disapproval rang in her tone.
“You’re the one that knows everything that goes on in this town.  Why’re you asking me?”
“Now you know I won’t hear of no tales about you or Suzie-Q.”  The more likely reason she didn’t know was that no one had the nerve to say anything bad about me or Carter to Mamaw Huntley.  That’d be like poking a mama grizzly bear—not smart.
“Surprisingly, he says he’s clean and trying to get his life straightened out.  Wants me to fix him up with a nice girl.”
“Well, glory be,” she exclaimed happily, looking over her shoulder at me.  I watched as wrinkles moved and shifted to accommodate the lift of her thin lips in a beatific smile that revealed a row of straight, slightly-stained false teeth.
“Now don’t get too excited, Mamaw.  You know how he is,” I cautioned.
“I know.  It’s all those tramps he gets tangled up with.  If he’d think outside his pants for once I believe he’d be alright.”
“Mamaw!”  Who knows why I was shocked.  Mamaw had spent years surprising me with her bald statements and keen observations.  She’d raised me and Carter in a very strict Christian environment, which had gone a long way toward sealing my fate as a virgin, but she’d never lacked the ability to tell it like it was.  She still flexed that muscle often.
“Please tell me you hain’t let that handsome lawyer talk his way into your business, Punkin’.”
“No, Mamaw.  Not that my ‘business’ is any of your business.”
“I just want what’s best for you, Punkin’.  You know that.”
“Want some help?”  My efforts to change the subject were well received, especially since they came with an offer of assistance. 
For two hours, I helped Mamaw can apples for fried apple pies and listened to the scoop on everyone in the town above the age of seven.  When the kitchen was clean and jars were cooling on the table, I said my goodbyes and headed for the door.  I had nearly escaped without an uncomfortable return to sexual topics when Mamaw called out from the kitchen.  “Have fun tonight.  Leave your underpants on.” 
Back at my house, packages strewn across the bed, I drew another hot bath and sank happily into