Dining with Joy (34 page)

Did Sawyer and Mindy finally arrive? They must have. That was the only explanation. Inhaling, Joy rounded the corner, stepping into the waiting area, braced for emotional impact.

But it wasn't her brother and sister-in-law waiting to see her. “Luke.” Her eyes embraced him.

“Hey.” He stepped into the light falling though the window. “I hope this isn't a bad time. I came as soon as I could.”

“Oh my gosh. You're here.” Joy dropped her purse and the sweater she carried over her arm. She flew over the particleboard coffee table and launched into his arms.

He swooped her up, lifting her off the ground, and turned in a slow circle, his face buried against her neck. “I've missed you.”

“Luke . . .” She released her burdens onto his broad shoulders.

“You came, you came.”

God is good. God is love.

Thirty-one

The evening October air was warm but thin, scented with the fragrance of fall. Luke sat at the picnic table with Rosie, Joy, and Annie-Rae, sipping sweet tea, watching the sun's rays traipse across the horizon in a reddish-gold brigade.

The melody of the fading, rattling leaves captured Luke in a memory of picnics as a kid on his aunt's lawn, the croquet mallets popping the air and his uncle muttering at the wadded and twisted badminton net.

“Got a badminton game?” he asked without really thinking. If they said yes, he'd have to get up to play, and he'd eaten one scoop of dumplings too many.

“We used to, but it got damaged one spring when the creek overflowed to the shed,” Rosie said, chin in her hand, staring toward Miss Dolly's.

“We should get another one. Run over to Walmart,” Joy said without moving.

Luke smiled and sipped his tea, the conversation so much like home he struggled to think of leaving.

Joy's perfume caught a ride on the breeze, and when he glanced over at her, she was watching him over the rim of her sweating mason jar. Luke's heart did a free fall.

In the past, he'd be halfway out the door by now. Too busy with his career for romance. But Joy, with all her weird baggage and career fiasco, had embedded herself into his heart. In Portland, he'd convinced himself he'd be over her in a month or so. But Annie-Rae's call undid it all. Within an hour, he found himself speeding south with a giant mug full of coffee.

She was complicated. A paradox of fears and love, strengths weighted by weakness. But at the end of it all, she was Joy. Simply Joy.

“What's funny, Mr. Luke?” Across from him, Annie-Rae chewed on a Cheeto. The heel of her hand squished her cheek up to her eye. A swath of sunlight barely touched the tip-top of her coarse curls.

“Just enjoying the evening, Annie.”

“Don't you want to stay here with us? Portland is too far away.”

Munch, munch, munch
.

“It is far. But I need a job so I can earn money.”

“You can stay here with us.”

Rosie wrapped her arm around Annie's shoulders and touched her fingers to the girl's orange-dusted lips. “Luke, those were the best chicken and dumplings I've had in a while. Sure appreciate you cooking.”

“It was your husband's recipe.”

“I recognized it.” Rosie smiled as she collected wadded-up napkins and dirty plastic plates. “For thirty years I ate everything that man made. After a while, I knew his recipes the same way a woman knows a man's touch or the rhythm of his footsteps over the hardwood.”

“Interesting observation. Never thought of it like that, but I imagine food defines us as much as anything.”

“Every time I see an Orangina bottle, I think of Joy. Frying bacon and brewing coffee takes me back to my childhood, on the farm with my granny. You bet—food and its aroma defines us.”

Luke peered at Joy. “Orangina, huh?”

“Orangina.” She tipped her face to the breeze, her hair flowing away from her long neck.

Checking his urge to kiss her right here, right now, Luke turned back to Rosie. “If you two don't mind, I'd like to use Chick's oyster stew recipe and his crab biscuits for the restaurant.”

“Fine by me.” Rosie gave Joy a wry glance, holding open a black garbage bag for her trash. “They won't be used any other way. Take the whole book.”

“Mama—” Joy stuffed her plate and napkin in the bag.

“Chili. It was chili, Joy. You saw your daddy make it a hundred times.”

“I
never
saw Daddy make it. Not up close anyway.”

Rosie patted Joy's hair. “Annie-Rae, help me cart this stuff inside, then run up for your bath.”

“But I want to go to the hospital to see Lyric. I drew her a picture.”

“You went this afternoon. I want you in bed early tonight. I can see in your eyes how tired you are. Get in your pajamas and I'll watch a video with you, how's that? Joy, are you spending the night with Lyric tonight or am I?”

“No, I'll go.”

Rosie and Annie-Rae walked off chatting, then the clap of the screen door echoed over the water.

“When do you have to go back?” Joy reached for the pitcher and refilled her glass with tea.

“Tomorrow. Linus agreed to let me come, but he's panicked. You saw how many times he called this afternoon.”

Luke and Joy had shopped for dumpling fixings after leaving the hospital, the conversation stilted as they ignored their confrontation before Luke left for Portland. Then, just as the awkwardness faded, Linus would call. Every time Luke hung up, he'd have to start all over with Joy.

But somewhere between simmering the chicken and measuring flour for dumplings, the tension vanished.

“I'm scared for Lyric, cowboy,” Joy said, as if in midthought. She stared toward a coupling of redbirds fluttering in the trees. “She's angry, wounded, stubborn. Can't see Parker is bad for her. When I was in that stage, Daddy was around. I hated him at times, but deep down I knew he was the brick wall I could run to, hide behind.

Where's Sawyer for Lyric and Annie-Rae?”

“You can't bear the burden, Joy. All you can do is love them and pray for them. And for your brother and his wife.”

Joy slipped her legs out from under the table. “Come on, let's sit on the dock and tease the fish with our toes.”

Luke followed, carrying their glasses of tea. She brushed dried leaves from the dock's dirty planks, sat and stretched her foot to stir the face of the water.

“You left without saying anything.”

“You told me good-bye.”

“And you listened to me?” A low growl strutted along with her laugh.

“You were kidding around?”

“No, guess I wasn't.” She peered at him through wisps of her reddish hair. “I'm sorry, Luke, about everything. The day in my room,
The Bette Hudson Show
. I'm glad you're in Portland, moving on with your life. I'm such a coward.”

“You're the bravest woman I know.” Luke turned her to look at him. “You say you don't have courage, but you do. Even on
The Bette Hudson Show
, especially on
The Bette Hudson Show
. You called for help. You stayed in the game when the odds were against you. The word
quit
isn't in your vocabulary. You made the chili.”

“Oh no you don't. I
tried
to make the chili. I
made
something that tasted like barf.”

“But you stayed. I'd have been off that set so fast . . .
You
sink with the ship. I cry
abandon
if there's a leak in the bathroom.”

“Come on. You do not.” Joy laughed and bumped her shoulder against his. “You hung in with Ami's, right? Tried to keep her afloat.”

“Only as the foolish captain of the vessel. I quit commanding long before she sank.” He squinted at her. “Any reason we're talking nautical?”

“Metaphor. Go with it. And please, what have you ever quit?”

“High school. I dropped out at seventeen.”

“He said so casually.” She turned completely to face him, crossing her legs. “Why did you drop out?”

“I'm dyslexic. When I was young, my mom made it her mission to teach me to read. But I never liked school, sitting at a desk, staring at a blackboard. When Mom died, Red didn't know how to help me . . . we were both pretty lost and unsure. I flunked English Lit and got booted from the football team.” He inhaled deep and slow to contain the swell in his chest. “So I dropped out and didn't tell Red for three months—which was
not
a good idea.”

“But look, you became this great chef. You overcame your problem and found your passion. That's courage, Luke.”

The screen door banged and Luke looked back to see Annie-Rae sprinting across the lawn, her legs beating against the hem of her nightgown. When she got to the dock, she jumped against him, squeezing her arms around his neck.

“You smell good,” he said, with a big, exaggerated sniff.

“Granny put her powder on me.” Annie-Rae angled back to see his face. “'Night, Luke.” Then she curled up in Joy's arms for a big hug. “'Night, Aunt Joy.”

“'Night, baby.”

“Can I sleep in your bed, please?” Annie-Rae pinched Joy's cheeks with her hands.

“Okay, but if you snore, I'm kicking you to the curb.”

Luke plunged deeper. Portland, Linus, Roth House . . . figments of his imagination. Days he'd lived in a dream. How could he climb in the Spit Fire with the intent of leaving Beaufort in the morning?

“Come with me,” Luke said as Annie ran toward the house. “Come to Portland.”

Joy shook her head, picking at the leaves scooting over the dock. “I have the girls, Luke. I can't just go to Portland.”

“Bring them with you.”

“And leave Mama, the paint-and-body-shop, yard-war queen to her own devices?”

“You want to be courageous? Take a chance. Sail away with me.”

Luke exhaled, his jaw tight. “Sawyer and Mindy could walk through the front door, miraculously healed of whatever took them to Vegas, and take the girls. Then what?”

“No.” She shivered, wagging her finger at him. “You're not doing this to me. This is what Duncan did when he wanted me to take over the show. Reasoned me into it. My college boyfriend chased me for two years, wore me down, talked me into a relationship, then broke my heart. All the while, I hung on for dear life. Going down with the ship.”

“Okay, then don't do what I want. Do what you want.” He gripped her hands. “Do you know what you want, Joy?” The way she landed in his arms when she saw him in the hospital waiting room, he'd hoped she wanted him. But he could tell her mind won over her heart.

Her back stiffened and she refused to look at him. “I'm not sure.” She tore at the leaf in her fingers. “Except to make sure those girls have a good life.”

Luke held out his hand and Joy dropped the tattered pieces into his palm. “Then you do that, Joy.” He kissed the top of her hair. “You know I'd prefer to be here, figuring out a way to knock you off your feet, but I have to go back to Portland, Joy. I can't quit on Linus.”

“Luke, you are one of the best things to come into my life since Jesus and softball, but I don't know if you can knock me off my feet. But God is good. God is love. Maybe I just need to wait. Enjoy this crazy journey.”

He touched his nose to hers, then kissed her, light at first, then with the power of his heart, getting lost in the taste of her sweetness and the fresh saltiness of her tears.

Thirty-two

Center field of Basil Green, Joy sat face-to-face, knees touching, with Luke on her worn Alabama blanket. Luke's picnic basket sat between them.

Last night they'd sat on the dock, talking and kissing, until he called Linus to tell him he'd be in Beaufort one more day, and then she had gone to the hospital to be with Lyric.

“Can I just say it's so sexy to know a man who travels with his own picnic basket.” Joy laughed as she peeled away the crisp golden skin of batter-fried chicken.

“You are talking my language today.” Luke stretched across the basket to steal a kiss.

“Thank you for coming for Lyric. For staying one more day.” She brushed her hand over his face. Her confident chef with his broad build and bold posture, the man who rescued her three months ago from Wenda Divine's ambush, had sneaked his way into her heart.

“Yeah, but it's making leaving harder.” Luke tugged a bottle of water from the cooler. “Joy, have you been to TruReality's website?”

“Are you kidding?” She wiped the chicken juice from her fingers. “Why torture myself?”

“When I got home last night, Heath said he saw a spot for TruReality's Thursday night lineup while surfing channels. I checked the website.”

She stared at him. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Then don't tell me. Wait, tell me. Better you than someone else, right? No, don't tell me. Yes.” She nodded, thinking, testing her emotions. “Tell me.”

“It's Wenda. She has a new show.
Dining with Divine
.”

The chicken dropped from Joy's fingers. “My show? They gave my show to Wenda?” The chipper colors of the fall day faded. “Why? Why would they do that? She's evil.”

“It's a Wild Woman production.”

Joy slumped, her heart souring. “I guess I'm not surprised.” She reached for a napkin to wipe her fingers. Now her humiliation was complete.

“Did I make a bad judgment call by telling you?”

“I'm surprised Wenda hasn't called to rub it in.” Joy wiped the water pooling in the corners of her eyes, then lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “It's the past. Time to move on.”

“Your destiny is right there, Joy, on the horizon. Your future is full of opportunities.”

“Then why doesn't it feel like it?” Joy rose to her knees and held Luke's face in her hands. “Maybe I'll write a tell-all book about the gorgeous chef who rescued me and became my friend.” She touched his lips with hers.