TWENTY-EIGHT AND A HALF WISHES (A ROSE GARDNER MYSTERY, BOOK 1)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Chapter Seven 

After the initial shock wore off, I got up to fix myself dinner only to discover I’d left the milk out on the counter. I slid the container on the top shelf and noticed a six-pack of beer, two of the bottles gone. I bent over, hanging on the door as I peeked in and tried to figure out how they got there. Momma never allowed The Devil’s Brew in the house. Uncle Earl must have brought them and forgotten them.

I set the carton on the counter, staring at it like it was an alien pod dropped off in my fridge, about to pop out a gremlin at any moment. Because I knew something like that was bound to happen; Momma said nothing good ever came from a bottle of beer.

At the thought of Momma, my rebellion broke loose and burst out, filling me with thoughts of evilness. I pulled a beer out of the box and turned it in my hands. How could one little brown bottle be a fount of wickedness? In that moment, I decided if it was wicked, I was going to drink it. It took me nearly a full minute to figure out how to get the metal cap off and once I did, I held it in front of me. This was it. The moment I embraced evil. I took a big swig, then coughed and gagged, spewing out liquid like the cherub fountain in Mildred’s backyard. Thank goodness I was standing in front of the sink.

So maybe a big gulp wasn’t such a good idea.

I placed the bottle to my lips and took a tiny sip, my tongue protesting. The cold beer slid down my throat and warmed my stomach. How was that possible? Maybe it was Devil’s Brew, especially since the only explanation I could come up with was magic.

Carrying the carton in one hand and my bottle of the Fount of Wickedness in the other, I went out the front door and plopped in one of the rarely used rocking chairs on the front porch. I briefly considered what the neighbors would think. Then I decided it didn't matter. I probably wouldn’t live here much longer anyway.

After several more tiny sips, I marveled at the magical warmness spreading through my gut. My arms and legs became tingly and I thought my head was gonna float right off my body. The cares of the world suddenly didn't seem so bad. As I got used to the taste of it, my sips got bigger and the next thing I knew, it was empty.

I felt happy and carefree. If one bottle of beer could do that, I could only imagine how wonderful I would feel with two.

With some effort, I twisted the top off the second bottle and took a big swig. I sat watching the leaves of the trees in the front yard blow in the breeze.

“Rose?” Joe asked, sounding stunned. “What are you doing?”

I turned my head. He stood at the edge of the porch with my purse in his hand. I lifted the bottle up to show him. “I’m drinkin’ a beer.” I giggled then took another sip.

He climbed the steps and sat in the rocker next to me, setting my purse on the floor between us. “Yeah, I can see that. I thought you didn't drink.”

I giggled again. “I don’t, well, I didn’t. But that was the old me; this is the new me and the new me drinks beer.” I leaned over to him and whispered loudly. “And guess what? I like it.”

Joe chuckled. “So I see.” He looked down at the box, alarmed. “How many have you had?”

I waved the drink at him. “This is just my second but look how many there’s left!”

“Mind sharing?”

I hated to lose one, but it seemed the neighborly thing to do. “Okay.”

Joe picked up a bottle. He twisted the cap off a whole lot easier than I did and took a big swig. “Bad day?” he asked.