Free Light of Day by Ruth Wind, Barbara Samuel Page B

around her.
    Gratefully she leaned slightly into him. Under her arm, his waist was rock solid, and even after the long night, she could still smell a hint of his aftershave, something she hadn’t expected. She smiled to herself. She hadn’t expected to be running away from Seattle this gloomy Sunday morning, either.
    The restaurant was a small café, complete with gingham curtains at the windows and individual jukeboxes on the tables. There were few people lingering so late in the morning—a pair of older men, probably retired, Lila thought, and a single, colorless woman. All three customers looked at Samuel and Lila briefly, then, evidently dismissing them, looked away.
    They sat at a turquoise vinyl booth by the window. A waitress brought them laminated menus. “Coffee, folks?” she asked, pot poised above heavy ceramic mugs.
    The scent was so enticing that it made Lila dizzy. “Yes, please,” she said. “And I need cream.”
    “Coming right up.”
    Samuel glanced over the menu, then laid it down to take up his cup of coffee.
    “Do you know what you want already?” Lila asked.
    “I’m not hungry.”
    “You have to eat something. Your body needs nourishment.”
    A glimmer of amusement twinkled in the hard black eyes. “I’ve not been mothered in a long time.”
    “Too long, obviously,” she replied, undisturbed. “If you don’t choose something, I’ll choose for you and we won’t leave until you eat.”
    Now he gave her his off-center smile. “Did you mother the staff at The Shell and Fin this way?”
    “I mother everyone,” she said, returning his smile.
    The waitress appeared with Lila’s cream. “You ready to order?”
    “Sure,” Lila said. “I want the number three. Eggs over medium.”
    “Pancakes,” Samuel said.
    As the waitress collected their menus and left, Lila said, “I’d have thought you were the steak-and-eggs type.”
    “There’s bacon fat in everything in these little places. I’ve overcome most of the dietary restrictions of my childhood, but bacon—bah!” he said. “Can’t abide it.”
    Lila cocked her head but said nothing. If she asked him anything about his background, he only dodged it. She lifted her chin. “Don’t try to bait me with your mysterious beginnings this morning. You aren’t that exciting.”
    Lazily he lit a cigarette with his old-fashioned lighter and flipped the steel lid closed. “No?”
    “No.”
    With a shift of his body he changed the direction of the conversation. “Do you know where we’re going?”
    “I have a cabin on the Oregon coast.” Oddly now she felt shy. She’d taken a lot on herself, after all. “It doesn’t have any amenities, but it’s out of the way. I thought it would be safe.”
    “It will be fine, Lila,” he said, and measured her quietly for a moment. He touched her hand across the table. “I apologize for shouting at you last night.”
    “I understood. How’s your shoulder?”
    “Well enough. Better, I think, than your back.”
    “But my back is always like this when I drive. It’s something I’m used to.” She shrugged. “I broke it when I was fifteen.”
    “What happened?”
    Lila took a breath. “My second-oldest brother and I had a crash on a motorcycle.”
    “And your brother?”
    “He died,” she said simply.
    With a quick, slight inclination of his head, Samuel said, “Forgive me.”
    “It was a long time ago,” she replied. “Time heals things.”
    “Not your back.”
    “Oh, yes. Once I got away from home and my overprotective family, I was much better. They were very reluctant to let me live a normal life.”
    Samuel nodded, measuring her through the smoke of his cigarette. Calm and brave. And defiant. He liked the fact that she rode a motorcycle when another woman might have remained forever haunted by the tragedy. What an uncrushable, undaunted spirit she had. Just being with her, even under these odd and dangerous circumstances, made him feel full of light and energy.
    Pity