Saving Savannah Read Online Free PDF Page B

pepper in a pile of pig poop.”
    Is she calling me the pepper or the poop? “Boy? I’m thirty-five years old.”
    “So? I usta play jacks with Moses. What does age have ta do with this?”
    The woman is obviously a wack job. “Yes, I was engaged to Savannah. Do you know where she is?”
    “Sure do.”
    The vice around his heart lessened, and he breathed deeply. “Is she okay?”
    “No, she’s not okay. Would I be callin’ you if she was okay? Jeesh! Some men are dumber ’n a flyin’ brick.”
    The damn vice slammed shut again. “What’s wrong?”
    “Wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. She’s poor as a bayou church mouse, workin’ in a strip joint, and about ta skedaddle off ta live in an igloo or sumpin’.”
    Huh? “And my daughter .  . . is she with her?”
    “I declare, the Taliban musta done that water drip torture on yer brain, bless yer heart. And by the way, I ’preciate yer service to our country. I give ta the Wounded Warrior Project all the time.”
    “My daughter .  . . ?” he prodded.
    “Of course Katie is with her mother. Ain’t you been listenin’?”
    Katie. Her nickname is Katie. Something else occurred to him then. Savannah is a stripper. He found that hard to believe. They’d made love in the dark, at first, because she was too shy to let him see her naked. “Savannah is actually working in a strip joint?”
    The old lady let out a snort of laughter. “Guess you’ll hafta come and find out.” Then she added, “I find it interestin’ that yer more concerned about her job than the fact she and yer daughter are homeless, living in an ol’ rattletrap of a car.”
    Matt put his face down on the desk and groaned inwardly. This just got worse and worse. “Give me her address, and I’ll be there in .  . . wait a minute. Where are you calling from?”
    “Loo-zee-anna.”
    He grinned, suddenly giddy with relief and anticipation. “That’s a big state. Where exactly are Savannah and Katie?”
    “Well, thass the thing. I cain’t tell you ’til I’m sure it’s safe.”
    He stiffened. “What do you mean? Is she with someone else? Did she get married?”
    “Savannah’s still single, but she’s skittish as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs. That girl’s been on the run fer some time. How do I know it’s not you she’s runnin’ from?”
    He swore a blue streak and demanded, “Where the hell is she?”
    “You ain’t gonna accomplish nothin’ with cuss words.”
    “Sorry,” he said, realizing he couldn’t afford to antagonize his only lead to date. “What do you want me to do?”
    “Come meet with me so I kin check you out.”
    He resented the idea. Big time. Still he said, “Where?”
    “Bayou Black. Thass outside Houma, Loozeanna. Jist ask anyone fer Tante Lulu’s place.”
    “I’ll be there.” He checked his watch, saw that it was already seven p.m., and added, “Tomorrow morning.”
    “Okey-dokey. One last thing. Savannah thinks yer dead.”
    This just keeps getting worse and worse. “What? I was a prisoner of war, never officially declared dead.”
    “That ain’t what yer mother tol’ her.”
    He was about to confront his mother, but decided that could wait.
    “Do you have one of them dress uniforms .  . . like that Richard Gere wore in An Officer and a Gentleman ? Wimmen drool over stuff like that.”
    Yeah, that’s what I want. Grandma Moses getting the hots for me. Not! “I have a dress uniform,” he offered hesitantly, “but Gere played a Navy officer, I think, and I’m Army. Army Special forces.”
    “Thass even better. We Cajuns like ta do things up right when it comes ta grand reunions. The Cajun Village People, a surprise weddin’, that kinda thing.”
    “Huh?”
    “You gotta play this jist right, cher . Knock Savannah’s socks off .  . . or her panties, as my nephew Tee-John would say. Tee-hee-hee!”
    Am I really about to take love advice from a senior citizen?
    “Wimmen melt over men in