Free With the Father by Jenni Moen

today?”
    “I think every day
gets a little easier, but she’s still lost. I’m trying to do whatever I can to
reach her, but being the caretaker is a new role for me. I’m learning as I go.
It doesn’t come naturally to me.”  
    He nodded. “I’m
sure you’re doing a much better job than you think. It takes a special person
to step up and completely rearrange their life like you’ve done.”
    I looked away so
that I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes and accept the accolade. As far as I
could tell, my efforts so far had produced meager results. I tried, but I was a
poor substitute for who she really needed.
    “You know what? I
don’t usually eat here,” he said as he filled another bowl though there was no
one left in the serving line. “When we have leftovers, I like to send them home
with the Thompsons because they really need it, but I can’t resist tonight. I’m
going to have a small bowl. Come sit with me?” he asked, holding it out for me
to take it from him.
    I took the bowl and
tried not to scowl. As apprehensive as I was about the meal itself, I couldn’t
pass up the opportunity to sit down and have dinner with Paul again. For one
thing, I really wanted to talk to someone about Jonathan.   I didn’t know if Paul was the right
person, but at least I knew that whatever I told him was in confidence. He was
a vestal vault.  
    If I were honest, I
also wanted to spend a little more time with him. I’d thoroughly enjoyed our
banter the night before. He was smart and funny in a quiet ,   unobvious way. There was
something about the man that made me want to get to know him better.
    I followed him to
the nearest open table and watched him spoon a couple of bites of stew into his
mouth, noticing something that I’d missed the day before. He ate deliberately,
studying each bite as if he wasn’t sure that it would still be there when he
got it to his mouth.
    I’d seen the look
before. Though his mannerisms lacked the desperateness that I’d seen during my
travels to impoverished areas, he ate like a man who knew what it was like not
to know when or where you’d get your next meal.
    Strangely, it made
me want to cook for him. “How long have you been volunteering at Karen’s
Kitchen?” I asked.
    “A little more than
a year.”
    “Did you know my
mom?”
    “I knew her from
the church. And I volunteered here a few times during my first months in town,
but regretfully I didn’t start helping out regularly until after she died. I
wish I’d known her better.”
    Everyone had loved
my mother. She’d had a heart of gold that she freely gave to anyone who’d
accept it. A lot like Grace.
    I nodded as another
piece of the puzzle slipped into place. “So, you didn’t become a regular until
after Grace took over?”
    He looked
thoughtful for a moment. But there was something about the way he watched me
that made me wonder if the delay of his answer was more for my benefit than
his. “Yeah, I guess that’s right.”
    “So where did you
grow up?”
    He laughed. “You’re
full of questions tonight.”
    “Those that have no
answers ask questions.”
    A genuine smile
spread across his face. “I doubt you’re lacking in questions or answers.” His eyes
sparkled in the dim fluorescent lighting of the dining room. “I grew up in
Boston, but I suspect you have already figured that out.”
    “Your accent kind
of gives it away.”
    “I thought moving
to Texas would soften it up a bit, but I guess some things are so ingrained
that they can’t be unlearned.”
    “Don’t try to
unlearn it,” I begged. I loved listening to him talk. His cadence, so much
quicker than everyone else around here, reminded me of New York, which I missed
dearly.
    “Tell you what.
I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll stay a Yankee if you will.”
    “You’re on.”   Since we were bonding, I thought it was
as good a time as any to bring up the subject of Jonathan.
    “Okay, so tell me
something,” I said, trying to sound