Free Hatteras Girl (Heart of Carolina Book #3) by Alice J. Wisler

way to his mouth. “I want . . . I want . . . I want a milkshake!”
    “Zane.” I’m amazed that this little creature seated next to me on a barstool, his chin just above the counter, could own such a booming cry.
    A man with dark hair and eyes that flash handsome is seated at the end of the counter near a New Orleans poster that has a shot of Bourbon Street. In a pleasant voice, he calls Buck over for a refill and orders a bacon cheeseburger. I hear this man asking if the burger can be well done.
    Quietly, I say to Zane, “Drink your soda.” I smile, hoping somehow this gesture will make Zane behave.
    “But I want a milkshake!”
    “Zane, your inside voice. Please.”
    “I do, I do, I do!”
    I stare into my Pepsi. Maybe if I ignore him, his attitude will go away.
    Buck strides over to us. “Hi, Zane.” His smile lights his whole face.
    “I want a milkshake! Get me one.” Zane’s eyes are pits of fire. “Now!”
    With calmness, I state, “Your mom said you couldn’t have one right now.”
    “Why?” His throat has to hurt from yelling. My ears ache from listening. “Why?”
    “Because she said so.” I have to do better on my child psychology.
    “Zane,” says Buck, touching the child’s arm. When he has Zane’s attention, he continues. “Do you like boats? Big boats? Would you like to go on a ride?” Tenderness fills the man’s voice as he says, “Maybe one day we could take a picnic and ride on a boat.”
    Fear hits the boy’s eyes like a tidal wave. “No!”
    I want to stop Buck somehow as he continues with the boat theme. “Boats are fun, aren’t they?”
    “No!” Zane wails. “No!”
    Everyone in the restaurant is focused on this child, even the handsome man with the burger. I feel dozens of eyes staring at this scene we are making. I know they think that I’m the adult responsible for him; some may even think I’m his mother. They want me to make him shut up. I just want to sink into the floor.
    Zane twitches on the stool and then slides off of it. “No!” He heads toward the dining area, the lights from the soles of his tennis shoes shooting off tiny beams.
    I rush after Zane, stop him right before he collides with Betty Lynn. Betty Lynn doesn’t seem bothered by the commotion. She leans over toward my right ear and whispers, “Jackie, I want to introduce you—”
    Grabbing Zane’s hand firmly as his squeals sound higher pitched than a swarm of seagulls that have found tasty prey, I tell Betty Lynn we are leaving. Now. Then I push open the front door, welcome the sunshine, and don’t look back.
    Somehow we make it across the parking lot. “I want my daddy!” Zane yells as I open the passenger door for him and help him into his car seat. I fumble with the restraint around his waist. “I want to see him!”
    Breathing deeply, I nod. Although I’m embarrassed by Zane’s outburst and wish Buck hadn’t continued talking to him about boats, I can’t blame Buck. He doesn’t realize that Zane hates any mention of boats. Buck has most likely forgotten that Zane’s father died on a fishing boat.
    Once Zane is strapped in, I settle into the driver’s seat. A sigh escapes my lungs as I let relief bathe me. Although the truck is baking under an afternoon sun, it takes me a while to turn on the engine and the air-conditioner. Once I do, I take a long look at the little boy in his car seat beside me. Sweat beads dot his nose. Tears stain his glowing cheeks. I don’t know whether to scold him or pat his hand.
    “My daddy bought me milkshakes.”
    I think back to Minnie and Lawrence’s wedding, which was held at Hatteras Christian Assembly Church. Lawrence made sure all the guests were taken care of. “Now go back for more wedding cake, Ms. Sheerly,” he told my aunt a number of times. “We are celebrating today without any diets!” To which Sheerly had obliged and loaded another slice of the chocolate cream cake with the tiny toy bride and groom on the top tier. When she and