Free StealingThe Bride by Yvette Hines Page B

arm. “Oh, Mr. Kolby we always have
extra for you for the midday meal.” She looked at Leya and then him again and
said, “And your… friend as well.”
    Leya
noticed the sly look the woman gave Kolby as if she believed there was
something more between him and Leya then what was being said. Citra led the way
back to the building.
    Glancing
around, Leya frowned. “What kind of restaurant is this? It doesn’t seem as if
they get many customers.”
    “It’s
not a restaurant. Besides, most people in this area walk where they need to
travel and some have bicycles or mopeds.” He pressed his hand to her back and
urged her to follow the lady.
    “She
seems to know you very well. How often do you come here to eat?”
    He
shrugged. “I don’t keep track. I’ve known Citra for about seven years.”
    They
went up two steps to a long porch that expanded the length of the building. Removing
their shoes, Leya and Kolby entered the front door behind Citra into one area
almost the entire space of the building.
    As
soon as they entered, children began to wave and jump up and down beside their
chairs, chanting, “ Saya teman Mr.
Kolby!”
    Over
forty children and six adults clapped and grinned with excitement around the
room filled with long tables and chairs.
    Leaning
closer to him, she asked, “What does saya teman mean?”
    The
hand on her back flexed as he glanced at her for a moment. “My
friend.”
    “Oh.”
This was no occasional food stop; these people recognized and knew Kolby.
Knowing that he spent his time away from the tourist locations and mingled with
the real locals made her heart beat hard against her chest and her stomach
tighten. Who was this man? She wondered to herself.
    Kolby
announced to everyone that her name was Leya and she was a friend here for a
short visit. A few children rushed over to her and took her hands, pulling her
down the aisle of tables to a seat. She glanced over her shoulder a little
nervous, but when she saw Kolby’s eyes, a warm ocean blue, on her, her nerves
settled.
    Moving
around the room, Kolby greeted the children and adults, calling them all by
name and commenting on haircuts or new school uniforms the children were
wearing. Soon, he was seated across from her.
    She
realized soon that most of the children spoke enough English for her to
communicate. It didn’t take much for her to realize it was a school and the
children were having lunch with their teachers. The meal in the bowls sitting
in the middle of the tables wasn’t lavish like at the hotel, but instead a
simple fair of steamed vegetables, fish kebabs, rice, and a soup accompanied by
glasses of a sweet, creamy tea.
    Soon
the meal was over and a man Kolby introduced to her as Entji came to get him to
help out back.
    All
the kids helped to clean the dishes off the table than hustled out to their
next session.
    Kolby
turned to her. “If you don’t mind, Entji needs a hand with a water pump. I
shouldn’t take that long.”
    “Go.
I will be fine. I’ll help Citra with things until you’re done.”
    He
leaned toward her as if he was going to kiss her; instead he took her hand and
squeezed it. “Thank you.” Then turned and walked away.
    In
that brief touch and the light in his eyes, she could tell how much her acquiescence
meant to him.
    Moving
to the older woman, she said, “Citra I’ve come to help with the dishes.”
    “No,
no. The girls will care for it.”
    Sure
enough as she said it, three girls looking to be around fifteen came into the
door. They greeted Citra and immediately collected the tubs filled with the
dirty dishes as the older woman waved Leya out the door.
    “The
rice kitchen will open soon. Can you help me with this?”
    Leya
agreed and followed the shorter woman across the field to the wall less
building.
    “What
is this building used for?” Leya asked.
    “It
is used to distribute rice bags and other donated goods to the families of our
students. The shipment comes once a month and a lot of