Free Sweet Blessings (Love Inspired) by Jillian Hart Page A

boils?”
    â€œBoils? I’d like to see you suffer, but there are health codes to uphold. I guess I’ll have to settle for prostrate on the floor. Would you like a towel? The tile’s clean but it’s the old-fashioned kind and it’s cold to lie on.”
    â€œWell, if you want me to suffer…” He didn’t finish the sentence, and he liked that she turned from her work, a hint of a smile tugging at the curving corners of her soft mouth.
    â€œI do want you to suffer,” she confessed, but the questioning tilt of her deep-blue eyes said differently.
    She was studying him, as if measuring his intentions, not in a harsh way but in a way that made him feel as if he had a chance of measuring up. But why should he care about that? All he needed to do was ease his conscience, apologize and move on.
    He had places to go. A job to find. A past to keep forever buried.
    â€œCome in. It’s not locked.” She went back to work, flipping the burgers, dumping a huge pile of freshly cut potatoes into the French-fry basket, lifting another out of the golden oil full of crisp, hand-battered onion rings.
    He turned the screen-door handle and the hinges rasped as he stepped inside. Could use some grease, he thought, looking around. The white tile floor was probably original, most likely put in sometime in thesixties. The kitchen was small and simple, but clean. Chrome shined. The countertops were a perfect white. The appliances up to date.
    He didn’t know what made him open his mouth or where the words came from. He surprised himself when he heard his voice say, “Want some help?”
    She dropped her spatula. Spun on her heel. Surveyed him up and down with her intelligent eyes. “Do you have a food handler’s card?”
    â€œGot one a while back. It’s still current.”
    â€œOkay, then. You can seat folks. Gather up the empties. Bus. Can you do that?” It wasn’t a question the way she said it; it was more of a challenge. As if she wanted to see if he could measure up to her standards.
    He hadn’t had a challenge in a long while. Not that he was worried—he liked to work hard. She pointed at the sink and he washed up, letting the hot water scald his skin. He didn’t know what whim he was following, but whatever it was, it had to be a good one. His conscience wasn’t bugging him. His stomach was calm. He felt as if he was finally doing something right as he grabbed an empty dishpan and shouldered through the swinging doors.
    Out of the corner of his peripheral vision, he saw Amy watching him in surprise before the doors swung closed, stealing her from his sight. He didn’t know why, but he felt a sense of rightness click into place like a key in a lock, and it was as if a door opened. In his old life, he would have chalked it upto Providence, but he’d long since stopped looking—or wanting—God’s hand in his life.
    But now he just saw it as a fortunate occurrence. That’s all, not Providence. He spotted a family leaving one of the booths. The father took the wiggling toddler from his wife, who looked kind but a little harried, as she encouraged her older two sons—both wearing different colored soccer uniforms—to stop goofing around on their way down the aisle.
    Heath looked away and froze his feelings so he felt nothing at all. He was just a man staring out the window, working in a diner, more interested in the few cars crawling by looking for parking. The family passed by on their way to the cash register up front.
    Only then did he plop the bin on the seat and start clearing.

Chapter Five
    A my flipped the double patties on the garnished bottom bun, added hot sauce, jalapeños and hot peppers, and heaped fries on the last plate on the last order of the Saturday lunch rush. Through the hand-off window she could see the last of the families were waiting for Jodi to ring up their meals.
    Amy turned to begin