Up in Smoke (5 page)

I pursed my lips together to form a thin line. Then, I looked at my watch. I had a few moments to spare for the young man.

“Okay. Well, those people and stories you referenced . . . I don’t think they really had
blind faith
. They already were interacting with Jesus. They were trusting in what they already knew to be true.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow at me as he nodded slightly. “Do you
feel
that you don’t practice blind faith, Rick?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’ve been a Christian for a long time. I feel like I know what I believe pretty well and that term—blind faith—has always been a bad one from where I come from.” I looked over at a couple of guys that were lingering in the back of the room who seemed to be waiting to speak with Jacob. “Ya know, a term for people who don’t understand what they believe—following blindly like an idiot.” I nodded my head toward the guys in the back. “Looks like you have a couple of guys waiting for you. I’ll let you go.”

Jacob nodded and turned to look at the gentlemen in the back of the room. “Okay. Well, thank you for indulging me in that. I appreciate it, Rick.” He shook my hand again and I left.

D
eciding to stop in at my favorite diner—Heidi’s—on the way home from the men’s breakfast for another cup of coffee, I was glad to see my favorite parking spot was open. I already had java that morning, but it wasn’t about that. It was about good conversations with good people. The whole crew knew me well, and the owner and cook, Ron McCray, was like a father to me. He was the main reason I had been going there at least once or twice a week since I was just a lad. He was an older gentleman, in his late seventies now, but one of the wisest men I had ever met in my life. He was practical, down to earth, and the type of guy that would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. Our relationship went clear back to when I delivered newspapers to the diner as part of my first morning paper route when I was twelve.

Pushing open the glass door, I made my way over to my barstool along the front section of the diner. As I took a seat, Penny, my regular server, came over and flipped my coffee cup right side up and poured me some black coffee.

“Mornin’ Ricky,” she said, smiling as she popped a bubble with her gum. Penny was about sixty or so—I didn’t know her exact age. She had been there at the diner for most of my life, but she moved away ten years ago to Arizona with her husband. Once he passed away, she came back to Spokane, figuring it was the only thing left to do. Never having had a child of her own, she felt aimless in life and even once admitted to me that she came back to die. Luckily, she found a second wind for living when she returned to the diner to serve again. Taking care of the patrons of Heidi’s brought her joy and fulfillment in life.

“Mornin’ Penny, you’re lucky I still let you call me that after all these years,” I said, smiling as I took a sip of the steaming hot coffee.

“You’ll always be little Ricky to me.” She laughed.

“No fires to fight today?” Ron said, smiling as he came through the kitchen’s swinging doors. Ron loved being the cook. His skin was almost like leather in the summer months; he’d tan instantly as soon as spring hit, and then he would get darker and darker until winter when his skin would return to a lighter leather look. Ron had wrinkles everywhere, but they were the charming kind of wrinkles that gave the impression that he knew something. For all the pain and heartache he had gone through in his life, I felt inspired every time I talked to him. He seemed happy and cheerful no matter what was going on in his life.

“Nope, no fires today. Plus, they needed a break from me,” I replied, grinning. “What you got going on today?” I asked as he ambled over to me and leaned across the bar top.

He shrugged and leaned his weight on both arms as they lay across the bar top. His eyes scanned across the diner, taking in all the people that were there and enjoying his masterpieces that he crafted in the kitchen. “Some of this, some of that. Might take the
Old Girl
for a spin this afternoon.”

Ron’s
Old Girl
, as he liked to call it, was a 1964 Pontiac GTO that he bought after he and his late wife, Heidi, made their first profitable year at the diner. His wife didn’t get more than a few years of enjoying
Old Girl
because she unfortunately passed away. Even though Heidi was gone before I ever met Ron, I knew by the way he talked about her that she was one classy lady.

Glancing over to the windows, I said, “It should be pretty nice out today. Have you taken her out yet this year?”

He nodded as he threw the dirty dish towel over his shoulder. “I did mid-June a couple of times. But outside of that . . . not really. My ability to handle a chill in the air just ain’t what it once was.”

“I hear ya. I can’t be like Elsa either.
The cold bothers me
in my older age,” I replied with a soft smile, knowing he would get the reference because of his grandkids.

He laughed. “I’d love to be as young as you are, Rick!”

“I’m anything but young,” I replied, rubbing the corner of my coffee cup with a thumb as I looked down at it.

“Psh. You’ll be around for a while, Rick. Don’t fret. The good Lord gave you a life; you can’t let age control you. God has a plan for your life.”

“Well, you agreed when I told you a couple of weeks ago that chief wanted us to write a will,” I retorted.

He shook his head, smiling as he looked down for a moment and then back at me. “Well, yeah, ya dummy! A will keeps your stuff in order if something happens to you. I didn’t mean you were going to die soon! Did you get ‘er done?” Ron asked.

I shrugged. “Wrote a few lines . . . wasn’t a very comfortable task.”

“Hire someone to write it for you. That’s what I did. I told him what I wanted it to say and then signed off on it after I read through it.”

Nodding, I looked at him and said, “I could do that.”

The bell above the diner’s front door chimed, and we both glanced over to see who it was. I was without words when I saw that it was the kid from the casino. My shoulder turned sharply away from the entrance in the hopes he couldn’t see me.

“Blaze,” he said, taking a seat up at the bar next to me.

Just ignore the nickname and maybe he’ll leave you alone,
I thought to myself. I looked up at Ron and he looked confused.

“Blaze?” Ron asked the kid. “I think you got the wrong guy. I’m Ron.”

The kid laughed and shook his head. “Oh. Umm . . . coffee with creamer.” I was relieved he didn’t direct Ron’s attention to me and point out the fact that it’s the nickname I went by at the casino. Ron and I didn’t talk casino or poker. It wasn’t something I ever talked about with him. Ron was a devout Christian and even led the choir in his church up until a couple of years ago.

Ron gave the kid a nod and headed down the line to the coffee pot that sat on the counter behind the serving station.

“What are you doing here?” I spoke quietly.

He laughed. “Came here for some food, what else do people come here for?”

“This is
my
diner.”

“You own this joint?” the kid asked, glancing around. “Had no idea you were
that
rich.”

“No . . . I mean I’ve been coming here for a long time. These people are like my family.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “Okay. What’s the big deal? You don’t want me eating here?” he asked as Ron brought his coffee back over to him and set it down.

Ron gave me a weird look. I wasn’t sure if he heard anything. Ron left to go back into the kitchen.

“You can eat here. I don’t care. It’s just strange to see you in here.”

“Thanks for the permission.” The kid laughed.

“Sorry . . . I didn’t mean anything by it. Just weird that you’re here.”

“It’s fine. What you been up to? Playing any more tournaments up at the casino?” he asked.

Leaning in closer to the kid, I lowered my voice as I responded. “I don’t broadcast my poker playing around here.”

He returned in a whisper, “Okay. Have you been playing?” he said quietly.

“It’s been like what . . . a few days since I’ve seen you? No. I haven’t been back there.”

“Well,” he said. “Do you want to play some poker?” He turned and looked around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear as he continued. “Check this out. Me and a couple of close friends are getting together tonight for a little game. You know . . .
just the guys
. It’s friendly, but it’s high stakes.”

Intrigued, I asked, “What’s the buy-in?”

“$2k buy-in, $50k pot.”

“Wow,” I replied, leaning back in my seat.

“Yeah,” he replied, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It’s going to be sick. You in?”

“Tonight?” I asked as I thought about my daughter, Beth, and the grandkids coming down for a visit.

“Yeah.”

“What time?” I asked.

“Five. Probably run until about eight,” he replied as he took a drink of his coffee.

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s kind of strange. Rather early . . .”

He turned to me and shrugged his shoulders. “So what if it’s early? Who cares?” he put a hand on my shoulder and shook it. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Well, I don’t know. My daughter is coming into town. Probably won’t work out,” I said, taking my coffee and bringing it to my lips.

He nodded. “Family
is
important.”

“Yeah.”

Penny came over to check on Robert, and he ended up ordering some food.

I stood up to leave. Dropping a five from my wallet onto the bar top, I gave Penny a nod. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll catch you guys later. Tell Ron I said bye.”

“Have a good one, Ricky,” she said, smiling as she chewed her gum.

Turning to leave, Robert suddenly grabbed my arm and stopped me. Handing me a card, he said, “The address is on the back if you change your mind. Five—sharp.”

I took the card from him and glanced at the address. It was clear down in the valley. Leaving the diner, I slipped the card into my coat pocket and put it out of my mind.

Getting home as Susan was unloading the groceries from the back of the car, I hopped into action and helped her out. I reached into the trunk and grabbed a few sacks. Following her inside, I set the bags down on the counter near the fridge.

“How was the breakfast?” she asked as she set her grocery bags down on the island in the kitchen.

“It went well . . .” My words trailed off and she could see through me.

“What happened?” she asked, pausing from unloading the groceries.

“Got into it a little bit with the guest speaker.” My head hung, as I knew how she felt about my little spats with others. For the first five or so years of marriage she tried to correct me on them, but over time she learned it was just part of who I was.

“Rick,” she said with a disappointed tone.

“Susan, you don’t understand. He was trying to tell us that we have to rely on blind faith in life. I don’t find my faith to be blind whatsoever.”

She nodded, but only to acknowledge what I said. She didn’t say anything, just went back to unloading the groceries. On the way back out to the car to get the last few bags, I followed her, catching up to her side out by the car.

“Do you think we have blind faith, Susan?” I asked.

She shrugged. “To a degree, we all do.”

“Hmm . . .” I replied, grabbing the gallons of milk from the trunk.

She nabbed the last plastic bags and shut the trunk.

Coming back inside the house and on her way into the kitchen, she said over her shoulder, “Beth called. She won’t be able to make it in until eight thirty tonight.”

“No dinner tonight with her and the kiddos . . .” I said, opening up the fridge in an attempt to hide my intrigue.

“Yeah. But she’ll be here for a few days, so that’ll be nice.”

Putting the milk into the fridge, I shut the door and looked over at Susan. “A few days?” I asked, surprised.

“Oh, stop it, Rick. It won’t kill you,” she said as she dug into the sacks and began putting the rest of the food away.

“I know . . . just seems strange. That’s a lot of time off from work. Can she take that much time off from the hospital?” I asked.

Nodding, she replied, “She had vacation time.”

“Oh . . . I see.” I went around the island and sat down at the kitchen table. Peering out the window at the guest house, I noticed an elliptical machine sitting on the porch. I laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Susan asked as she put away the pasta in the pantry.

“You bought an elliptical?”

“On my way out of the neighborhood this morning, I saw a garage sale and stopped. I got that for five bucks, Rick!” As she spoke, her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree.

Shaking my head, I laughed again. “You buy so many random things that we never use.”

Shutting the pantry door, she came over to my side and joined my gaze across the backyard at the guest house. “It’s not random. There are lots of useful things out there. I’m going to use that elliptical.”

“We don’t use the
stuff
. That’s why you wheeled the elliptical to the guest house instead of inside.”