Family in His Heart. Gail Martin Gaymer
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gave him a wave and noted the direction Rona had moved in to clear tables. He found a window spot along the front and watched her.
Rona stacked dishes, tossed silverware into a plastic container and piled the soiled dinnerware into the cart. She wiped off the table and spun around before she saw Nick.
Her face flickered from surprise to an uneasy smile. She raised her hand in a hello and continued to the next table. She placed a cup and spoon on the cart, swiped the table clean, and parked the cart beside the counter before approaching him with her order pad. “Hi.” She gave him a questioning look. “Can I help you?”
He needed help, but he wasn’t sure anyone could solve his problems except the Lord. “How about a coffee and toast.”
She tilted her head and frowned. “That’s not much for a lumberjack.”
It took a minute for her comment to register, then he felt his tension ease. “Okay, then add some scrambled eggs with cheese.”
“And a side order of bacon?” She tapped the eraser end of the pencil against the pad.
He remembered the aroma that first struck him when he entered; his stomach gave a hungry gnaw. “And bacon.”
“Coming right up,” she said, her face relaxing to an easy smile.
Realizing he’d forgotten to pick up the morning paper, Nick rose and headed toward the door, but before going outside to the box, he spotted an abandoned edition folded at the end of the counter with no one around. He motioned toward the paper. “Anyone own this?”
A woman sitting nearby shrugged. “Looks like it’s yours.”
When he returned to his table he noticed the steaming coffee cup already waiting. She was fast. His gaze drifted toward the kitchen door. He shouldn’t have walked off so quickly.
Sometimes he yearned for friendly conversation—different from business talk or a casual “nice weather” to the postman. He longed for a conversation about meaningful things, life and faith, even disciplining children.
He’d notice Rona’s ring finger absent of a wedding ring and his speculation launched again.
His food appeared in the serving window. He knew it was his because no one else seemed to be waiting for an order. In a moment, Rona came out front, balanced the dishes along her left arm and headed his way.
“Here you go.” She set the eggs and bacon in front of him followed by a plate of toast. She scooted the jelly dish closer. “I’ll be back with a warm-up.” She stepped away, then stopped. “Anything else before I go on break?”
The sun came through the window and highlighted the strands of gold in her shiny hair that curled upward just below her shoulders. “Some company.”
“Sure thing.” She lifted her chin as if to nod, then stopped. “Did you say company?”
He patted the table across from him. “I need some advice.”
A frown returned to her face. “From me?” She pressed the flat of her hand against her chest. “You’re kidding.”
“Not at all.”
She turned away and returned to refresh his drink, then left. She surprised him by her abruptness. He knew he’d been presumptuous, but he really wanted to talk. He felt drawn to her for some reason.
Nick looked out the window, heavenward. God knew he had needs. Maybe God had guided him to someone like Rona. Maybe she had wisdom to offer him.
Glancing back at the kitchen door, he wished he’d taken a different tack. He’d pushed a friendship too quickly. It wasn’t like him at all. Nick had never flirted, not even a playful innuendo, while he’d been married and never since Jill died. But in the past two days he’d been doing something and he wasn’t sure whether it had been flirting or not.
A whish of sound drew him back as Rona settled across from him with a cup of coffee and a muffin. She pulled a paper napkin from the holder, took a sip of coffee, then leaned back. “I’m the worst person in the world to give advice.”
“Why?”
She dropped her gaze and tore off a hunk of her muffin.
He watched her consume the bite, lick her lips and sip the coffee before she focused on him.
“I’ve never given myself good advice, so I don’t expect to have wisdom for anyone else.” She lifted her eyebrows as if to punctuate what she’d said.
“Do you have kids?”
“No. I was married once, but never had a child. It was best.”
Her comment piqued his interest, but he’d learned his lesson and kept his mouth closed before he scared her away. “I have a son.”
“Gary.”
His eyes widened until he recalled yesterday. “You remembered.”
She nodded, lifting her mug.
“He’s sixteen.”
Her concerned look changed to a chuckle. “Then you’re lost and so am I when it comes to advice. Sixteen is a bad age.”
“I know. He didn’t come home last night.”
Her smile faded. “Did you call the police?”
“I located him. He’s okay. He stayed with a friend.” Nick startled himself telling his personal problems to a woman he didn’t know. “I don’t suppose you want to hear this.”
“It’s tough raising a kid alone.”
She looked uneasy and he glanced down at his left hand wondering if she’d surmised he was single from the lack of a ring. Better yet, from his presumptuous behavior.
Rona fingered her cup, then tilted her head as if to give him the answer to his unspoken question. “I heard your wife died a couple years ago.”
She’d heard from who? Bernie? His shoulders knotted. What had Bernie told her? “It was three years ago.”
“Three. That’s still not very long. My husband’s been gone for ten.”
“Ten.” He studied her interesting face, her well-shaped mouth and compelling eyes. “You never remarried?”
She shook her head and looked away.
From her reaction, he decided he’d asked enough about that subject, but his interest didn’t falter. “Bernie told you about Jill?”
Rona inched her gaze toward him. Jill?
“My wife.”
“No. It was Shirley Bailey.”
Bailey? He shrugged.
“She lives on Island View Road. She’s my childhood friend’s grandmother. I dropped by last night to say hello.” She gave him a halfhearted disconcerted look. “I hadn’t seen her in years and wasn’t even sure she’d remember me.”
The last comment intrigued him, but he let it slide. “I don’t think I know her.”
Rona gave a half-smile. “She said everyone knows Nick Thornton.” She bit off a hunk of muffin. “She told me about your wife’s death.”
He searched her face, wondering if that had been all the woman had said, because he didn’t want to go there.
“It was very sudden.” He grasped the handle of his coffee mug and took a sip, hoping the pause would allow the topic to fade away. “Are you renting a place?”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Not yet.” She evaded his gaze.
He swallowed his next question, knowing it was too soon to ask and definitely bad timing.
“I need to find a place to stay. Do you know anyone who has a flat around