fire. Her eyes looked haunted, as if sheâd seen too much for them to take.
Technically, she had.
She crumbled to the floor and let the sobs overtake her. Despite her resolution to stay strong, it was all too much. So she gave in to the tears. Tears of grief over losing Kent, tears of pain, and tears of frustration that she seemed helpless to stop the hurricane her life had become.
Â
Saturday morning dawned bright and beautiful with the sun slipping through the live oaks surrounding the bayou. Gary took a sip of coffee as he stood on the balcony of his apartment. Even though he hadnât hit the hay until well after one in the morning, his internal clock had awoken him at six sharp. Now, a shower and two hours later, he readied for work.
His cell phone chirped.
Very few people called him so early, especially on the weekend. Had to be work. He snatched the phone from the dinette table. âAnderson.â
âGood morning. Glad I caught you before you left. I called the ladies at church and rounded up some clothes for Monique. She canât go shopping in pajamas, for goodnessâ sake. And Iâve just put in a pan of biscuits and Iâm making the sausage gravy now. You come on and swing by here for the clothes, and Iâll have a plate ready for you to take to her.â
Gary couldnât help smiling. His mother, though never having much herself, always thought of other peopleâs needs. No one could ever say Della Anderson wasnât a generous and giving woman. âYes, maâam. Iâll be there inside of twenty minutes.â
He dressed in his uniform straight from the dry cleaners and headed to the cruiser. After theyâd dropped Monique off at the motel last night, his mother had taken him to get the car. And theyâd seen the damage left by the fire.
It wasnât pretty.
The porcelain bathtub was the only thing left standing. That, and a portion of the toilet. An SUV had been parked under one of the oak trees kitty-corner to the house. Itâd been saved from the fire, luckily. The air breezing over the bayou had been filled with the stench of burning wood. His mother had felt even more for Monique after seeing the total devastation.
Della met him at the door. âWhat took you so long? The gravyâs gonna get thick.â She presented her cheek for a peck.
Gary obliged, kissing her softly.
âTake those bags out to your car while I fix her plate.â She nodded to three paper sacks sitting by the door.
âUm, donât I get a plate?â he teased.
His mother smiled and swatted him with a hand towel. âIâm making two plates for yâall. Figured you could eat with her and see how sheâs getting on.â
He lifted the sacks with a grin and carried them to his car. Once he returned, his mother met him with two big containers as well as a thermos. âTwo biscuits and gravy plates and some good coffee.â
âThanks, Mom.â He took the offering and planted another kiss on her temple. âYouâre the best.â
She blushed and shooed him away.
After settling the containers on the passengerâs seat, he steered the cruiser toward the motel. How was the lovely Monique Harris going to feel about him showing up at eight oâclock on Saturday morning to share breakfast with her? Too late to back out now. His mother would no doubt seek Monique out and ask her about the food and clothes. Sheâd be crushed if he didnât deliver the goods.
No cars were at the motel, save the office clerkâs little hatchback. Gary parked in front of Moniqueâs room, praying she wasnât still sleeping. Juggling the containers and thermos, he knocked softly on the door.
Long seconds passed. Maybe she was still asleep.
The door inched open. Moniqueâs wide eyes peered from the crack.
âGood morning. Breakfast is served, courtesy of my mother, who, by the way, is one of the best cooks in the