When Love Came to Town. Lenora Worth
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prayed with God to spare her home and guests, to spare her town, from any death or destruction brought on by the wailing tornado bearing down on them.
Even now, she could hear the wind moaning, grinding around the house…. Wind that only reminded her of that other night so long ago.
“Hey, need any help here?”
Lorna pivoted so fast, she knocked a wooden spoon off the counter. She turned to find Mick standing there in clean jeans and a faded red polo shirt, a lopsided smile on his interesting, little-boy face.
He pushed still-wet hair off his forehead. “Guess I shoulda knocked.”
Lorna held up a hand, willing it not to shake. “It’s okay. You just startled me. I was thinking about the storm and remembering—”
He was across the spacious room in three long strides. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Anger at her brother for putting her in the position of polite hostess, and a need to find control, brought Lorna out of her stupor. “I’m fine. It was just…so scary. I was concerned for our guests, of course. I’m not really afraid of the weather—they say the weather in Louisiana changes every thirty minutes and that does hold some truth—but this storm was different. It was so powerful, so all-consuming. And I just keep remembering—”
She just kept remembering another night, another dark, storm-tossed night long ago. A night she had buried in that secret place in her mind and soul. Was she confusing the two?
“I just can’t get it out of my mind,” she said, completely unaware that she’d spoken.
Until Mick took her trembling hand in his. “You survived a major catastrophe, Lorna. It’s understandable that you might have some sort of post-traumatic reaction.”
She had to laugh at that. Placing a hand over her mouth, she tried to stifle the giggles. Sometimes, she thought her whole life since her parents’ death had been one big post-traumatic reaction.
Mick looked down at her as if she’d lost her senses. And she supposed she did look quite mad laughing at his very serious observation. “I’m sorry,” she said, sobering and becoming quiet. And becoming so very aware of the man standing in front of her. He sure cleaned up nicely. And smelled like a fresh forest after a gentle rain.
To make amends for acting like an idiot, she said, “It’s just been a rather long day, and I’m exhausted. We’ve had to cancel guest reservations for the weekend and send others away. None of us has had any rest since the storm hit, and it’s only going to continue until we get this place cleaned up and open to the public again.”
He guided her to a nearby high-backed chair, gently pushing her down on the thickly hewn straw bottom. “And it’s understandable if you don’t feel up to having company for dinner.”
He rose to leave, but Lorna’s hand on his arm stopped him. “No, stay.” Then she jumped up, rushing past him to check on the bread. “I mean, we’ve set a place for you and Aunt Hilda is looking forward to talking with you. You can’t leave now.”
He leaned on the long wooden counter in the middle of the room, then looked at her in a way that left her senses reeling, in a way that made her think he could easily read her deepest secrets. Then he smiled again. “I guess that would be rude.”
“Yes, it would. Just ignore me. I’m all right, really.” Pushing at his arm, she said, “Why don’t you go into the front parlor with Aunt Hilda and Lacey. I think my brother Lucas is there, too. I’ll be out just as soon as I cut the bread.”
“And you’ll be okay?”
Lorna ignored the little spot in her heart that longed to shout for help, for someone to soothe all the pain and make her feel better. She didn’t need, didn’t want, pity or sympathy. And she couldn’t bring herself to ask for comfort.
“I’m a big girl, Mick. I think I can manage through supper.” She pointed a finger toward the swinging door. “But if you could tell Rosie Lee I’m ready to serve now…”
“Sure,” Mick said, backing toward the door. “I saw her and Tobbie in the dining room. I’ll get her for you.”
“Thank you.” Lorna watched him leave, then turned to the stove, letting out a long breath that she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.
She didn’t understand why being around Mick seemed to turn her into a bubbling, blathering mess. She’d been in charge of her senses early this morning, even when he’d landed smack on top of her. Even when he’d saved her from that tree limb.
Saved her.
Lorna saw her distorted reflection in one of the wide, paned kitchen windows, and knew instantly what was the matter with her.
Mick had saved her life, or had, at least, thrown himself between her and danger. These strange, erratic stirrings deep inside her were only gut reactions to what he’d done. She felt gratitude toward him, and she didn’t know how to express that gratitude.
“That’s all it is,” she told herself. “The man protected me from that giant oak limb.” And I didn’t even bother to thank him.
A voice rang as clear as a dinner bell inside her head. And maybe…Mick Love saved you from yourself.
It had been a long, long time since Lorna had allowed anyone else to be her protector. She’d never accepted that she needed rescuing, had never allowed anyone other than her immediate family close enough to see her fear. But because of what could have been a freak accident, because she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, Mick had gotten way too close.
Had he seen her fear? Was that why he seemed so solicitous of her? Was that why she felt so vulnerable around him?
“Leave it to me to do a foolish thing like stand underneath a broken limb.” But then, she reminded herself, she always somehow managed to be in the wrong place when things turned from bad to worse.
Or maybe she’d been in the right place at the right time. Aunt Hilda always said God put people in certain circumstances to get them where they needed to be.
And Lorna had been in that place at that time, praying for something, someone to help her understand. She’d told Mick that God had answered her prayers by sending him. That much was the truth, at least. He’d come along exactly when she needed him.
That was a debt Lorna wasn’t ready to accept or repay. Yet somehow, she knew she’d have to find a way to do just that.
Mick found Rosie Lee and Tobbie Babineaux busily setting up the dining room, little Tobias at their feet playing with a hand-held computer game. Mick watched as the couple laughed and worked together, side by side. He envied their easy banter and loving closeness. They were married with six children, yet the radiant smiles on their faces showed how much they enjoyed being together.
“Hello,” he said as he strolled toward them, then touched a hand to Little Tobbie’s arm in greeting. “You folks need any help?”
“Mr. Love,” Rosie Lee said, laughing so hard her whole belly shook, “you the guest. We the workers.”
Mick shrugged and laughed right along with her. He liked her strong Cajun accent. “Sorry. I’m just used to earning my keep.”
Tobias immediately jumped up. “I saw you up in a tree. Don’t you get scared, being way up high like that?”
“Nope,” Mick replied, leaning over to ruffle the boy’s shining black hair. “I’m so used to it, I don’t even think about it.”
Tobias’s black eyes burned with questions. “I can climb way up high, too. Maybe I can be a tree man one day.”
His mother groaned, then turned to her son. “You stay out of Mr. Love’s way, you hear? Don’t go climbing any more trees, either. You almost got stuck the other day, remember?”
“I need me one of