Dig Too Deep Read Free Page B

saw that mess up on Tanner’s Peak.”
    â€œGoddern Peabody!” Granny grumbles. “He’ll have the whole county ground up and left for dead if he keeps on.” She starts coughing again, and I watch her bony shoulders clench together as she hacks away.
    â€œYour water’s on the end table,” I remind her. “Take a drink.”
    Between coughs, she manages to get a couple swallows down.
    â€œHow long have you had this cold?” I ask.
    â€œJust a little bitty while,” she says, which I know could mean anything from a couple minutes to a year and a half.
    â€œAnd aside from the cough, how are you feeling?”
    â€œFair to middling.” That could mean anything from perfectly fine to nearly dead.
    I sit on the arm of the couch and put my feet on the cushion. “I ran into Cole Briggs. Up on the ridge.”
    â€œDid ya? I see him at church now and again.” Granny cuts her eyes at me sideways. “Turned out cute, didn’t he?”
    One corner of my mouth turns up. “Fair to middling.”
    Vanna flips over the D . “Amsterdam,” Granny yells.
    I remember sitting on this same couch, watching Wheel of Fortune ten years ago. Honestly, I think it’s how I learned to read. “How about I make us some dinner?”
    â€œThat’d be a paradise,” Granny says.
    I hop off the couch and head into the kitchen to check the cabinets. The options are slim—half a loaf of white bread, a block of moldy cheese, and a couple cans of soup. The bottom shelf of the fridge holds a stash of Mountain Dew.
    I cut the mold off and lay thick slices of cheese on the bread. After checking the date on the mayo, I toss it in the trash. Then I melt some butter in the cast-iron skillet and mash the sandwiches into it, waiting until cheddar globs out the sides.
    â€œDo you want to eat in there?” I call. “Or at the table?”
    â€œIn here, if you don’t mind.”
    I slide a spatula under each sandwich and put them on plates. After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and a Mountain Dew for Granny, I take one last hopeless look around for veggies or fruit. There’s nothing. A trip to the store tomorrow is at the top of my list.
    I hand Granny her plate and sit down next to her.
    â€œMuchie grasseras, darlin’.”
    â€œ De nada ,” I reply.
    My sandwich is hovering deliciously close to my mouth when Granny says, “Hold yer horsies! Ain’t you forgettin’ something?”
    â€œOh right.” I can’t remember the last time I said grace. Something about eating alone doesn’t lend itself to giving thanks. “Sorry.” Putting down my sandwich, I take Granny’s hand and stumble through the words I haven’t said in four years.
    â€œGod is great. God is good. Let us thank him for our food. By his hands, we are fed. Give us Lord, our daily bread. Amen.”
    â€œAmen and how,” Granny adds, squeezing my hand before she lets go.
    Wheel of Fortune is over. She turns off the television just as Jeopardy! comes on. “I don’t care for that man,” she says. “Alex Trebek.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œHe’s a gol dang know-it-all,” she says through a mouthful of grilled cheese.
    I’ve always felt the same way. Like, he acts like he knows the answers to all the questions, but I bet he really doesn’t.
    â€œSure is nice to have you here.” Granny puts her hand on my leg. I guess I’m not used to people touching me, because I jump a little. “I know you’d rather be up home. Hell, this is probably the last place you want to be.” Her blue eyes bore into me like a welding torch. She never was afraid of saying hard things right to people’s faces. “But I’m happy to have you, even if it is selfish.”
    â€œThanks, Granny.” I glance out the front window, where the yard is already dark in the shadow of the hill.