Page 4 of Sheltering Lawson
She stared at me, her eyes going moist. She looked down at her plate as if she was trying to keep her composure. “Thank you. This is very kind of you. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get it.”
“No hurry,” I said, understanding what it was to be without means to support yourself. I’d seen it so many times with my daddy a preacher. Charity wasn’t new to me. My parents lived it in their daily lives and it had been ingrained in me and my sister Verity. But in Lawson’s case, it was no damn hardship.
She was only here on a temporary basis, I reminded myself. I was busy with two jobs and trying to figure out exactly why it was that I wasn’t happy with either.
I couldn’t help wondering what she was afraid of or what she might be running from. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to talk about it, and I wasn’t going to spook her by prying. She looked like a stiff wind could knock her over. She rose, not exactly sure what to do with the plate. I reached out, and she flinched back. “The plate,” I said and she recovered. She handed it to me and our fingers brushed. The contact was warm and electric.
She peered into the kitchen and I said, “Out the door, through the double doors to the left. The front door will be to your right.”
She nodded and went to sidle past me. I watched her as she left, lost in thought.
“I know that look,” Brax said standing in the doorway. “She’s a lost lamb, and it looks like the wolf may be after her.”
“Yeah,” I said. “She’s running from something.”
“Well, I have a feeling about her. I know a hard worker when I see one. And, she’s been through some fire and then some. Keep your wits about you, son, and tend to the bar.”
I handed him the plate and stepped outside coming into the main part of the restaurant. My truck was gone, but I wasn’t worried I’d see it again. Lawson needed money, and she would be here for a while. She’d be back.
After thirty minutes she came back through the door and headed straight toward me. She set the keys on the bar. “Thanks again,” she said. “I’m all set.”
I nodded. She backed away and headed for the kitchen. I couldn’t take my eyes off her until she disappeared behind the swinging doors. After being in there for a few minutes, she came out with an apron, tucking a pad into the pocket. She’d pinned up her hair into a bun in the back. People were already filling up the tables as Brax’s breakfasts were legendary and with his franchise taking off, many people flocked to Outlaws to see the original Huckleberry Chef.
Even with being two waitresses down, Lawson held up great under the pressure. It was clear she was experienced in taking care of customers both local and out-of-towners. It was also clear that the locals were curious as to who this girl was. It would be all over town by mid-morning.
I watched her bustle around as I poured beverages. When she headed toward the bar with an order, I said, “How’s it going?”
“Fine. This is one busy place, but…” she reached into her apron and pulled out a bill. Setting it down on the bar, she pushed it toward me. “I got your money.”
“It’s not really necessary to pay me back.”
“I insist,” she said, then smiled. “It was very generous of you.”
I lost track of her after that once the place got so busy, I was in constant motion. After the breakfast crowd dwindled, I saw her set a plate on the table and sit down. Deciding that I was getting hungry and customers were light, I went into the kitchen to see what was on the menu for lunch.
Gumbo and po-boys. I grabbed a bowl of the thick, hearty stew. The fragrance amazing. Grabbing a hunk of cornbread and a spoon, I headed out to the dining room. I stopped by her table and said, “Do you mind if I join you?”
She looked like she’d rather chew nails, but I was intrigued by her and my warrior instincts were up. I didn’t like to see women alone and defenseless.
“Of course not.”
I sat down and dipped into the gumbo, spooning up the steaming dish. I saw that she got the same thing.
“Mmhmm,” she said, then looked at me sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s just that you’re quite right. He is an excellent cook.”
I savored my bite, breaking off a piece of the bread. “It’s clear you’ve waitressed before. What places?”
She took another bite and replied, shrugging, “Oh, here and there.”
“I bet you haven’t had Cajun food like this, though. You ever been to Louisiana before?”
That seemed to be a safe topic because she shook her head. “No never. I’m from the city, and I’m not used to all this…nature.”
I stared at her a moment, then said, my voice quiet, “Which city?”
Her expression froze, and she went so still, it was as if she wasn’t even breathing. There was a long, electric silence, her agitation almost palpable. “One of the big ones,” she said, spooning up another bite.
I let it go. I wasn’t exactly prying, just making conversation, but her reaction just fueled my interest even more. I liked talking to her. She had a soft twang that told me she was from the South, but not exactly where. It was a bit thick, so I was guessing it was the Deep South. It was also cultured, like she’d been pampered in her past, grew up with money maybe and had fallen on hard times. “Never been on the bayou, then?”
