Free Ivy in the Shadows by Chris Woodworth Page B

to show fear. “Well, it’s like this, Mama. I left Caleb watching JJ because I’m really hungry and when I went to warm up the dinners you brought last night, they were gone.”
    â€œGone?” Mama’s eyes turned into slits. “What do you mean gone ?”
    I noticed Pastor Harold slide onto a counter stool, well away from us.
    â€œI mean the containers you brought home aren’t there now.”
    â€œThe boys ate them?”
    â€œThat’s my guess but they say no.”
    Mama took a deep breath and looked around. “That’s just perfect. I’ll have to ask Magdalena for more food and she’s not here right now. The lunch specials were pretty much eaten up today and we haven’t had the dinner rush yet.”
    â€œWell, it’s not my fault, Mama.”
    â€œDid I say it was, Ivy? But it’s not my fault, either, now, is it? And I only get to bring home leftovers from lunch.”
    Mama stood up and that’s when she saw Pastor Harold sitting at the counter. She smoothed her apron over her black pants and white top and smiled a real smile, not just what you’d expect from your waitress.
    â€œWhy, hello, Pastor Harold! I didn’t see you come in. Can I get you some coffee?”
    Then she moved closer to him and I couldn’t hear a word they said. She was all cheerful, though, pulling the cup off the shelf and filling it, tilting her head to one side and grinning like he was the most important person on earth. I bet she got lots of tips if that’s how she treated everyone. It made me wish I had money to pay for my food. Maybe I’d see that side of her once in a while instead of her grumpy one.
    I pulled the plastic menu out from behind the napkin dispenser and gave it a good look as I waited. It had paper-clipped index cards announcing the daily special, “Creamed Seasoned Ground Pork à la Biscuit,” which was the Trucker’s Sausage Biscuit Delight any way you looked at it. The cards were written in slanted, spiky handwriting with little curlicues at the corners. Magdalena’s handwriting, I’ll bet. Despite Magdalena’s touches, I’d guess the food here was just as greasy whether it was called Dining Divinely or Ed’s Grill. But I didn’t care. I just wanted something to eat.
    After Mama brought Pastor Harold a salad I tried to get her attention, but she held up one finger to me, her sign that I was to hush and be patient.
    I tore open two sweetener packets that were in a dish by the napkins. I made a little mound of sweetener from the pink packet and one from the yellow. I tried a taste test, which left me positively gagging, wondering how anyone could drink anything flavored with either. Then I tilted my head back and laid the empty yellow packet over my left eye and the pink over my right as an experiment in color and sight. I still don’t know which you could see through better because finally Mama came over and ripped them off my eyes.
    â€œIvy, for goodness’ sake, act your age!”
    â€œI’m trying , Mama. But I’ve been here for hours!”
    â€œStop being melodramatic. You’ve been here twenty minutes. I have customers here and I have to wait until Magdalena comes back to give you your food. Now sit up straight and behave.”
    I looked around, hoping no one had seen us, but no such luck. Pastor Harold was staring at me. Next thing I knew, he picked up his salad and cup and brought them over.
    â€œSince we’re both dining alone, mind if I join you?”
    â€œWell, I’m not exactly what you’d call dining ,” I said.
    He sat down, anyway. “Maybe we ought to fix that.” He pushed his salad toward me. “I’m a meat and potatoes guy, myself, but a salad always comes with the meal here.”
    â€œRabbit food doesn’t appeal to me.”
    He laughed. “As I said, I don’t care for it, either, but I don’t want to