Free A Reason to Stay by Kellie Coates Gilbert Page A

hour or so from the Louisiana border.
    She remembered her father bringing a small sack of the crustaceans home once, but her mother squelched the idea. “We don’t eat those nasty things,” she said, sliding the bag from the counter.
    At the time, she’d thought her mother’s attitude harsh. Especially given the deflated look on her father’s face as he watched his wife toss the bag in the garbage. But now, looking down into a large white cooler teeming with a mass of hard-shelled bodies clicking against one another as they tried to escape by climbing the sides, she wasn’t so sure her own attitude didn’t line up with her mother’s.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Geary teased.
    She scrunched her nose and lowered her voice. “Uh . . . they’re kind of creepy, don’t you think?”
    â€œNonsense!” His dad gave her a hearty pat on the back. “Follow me,” he said, unaware he’d given her a start. He led her to where five massive stainless steel pots were steaming over open-flame cookers. He lifted the lid of the first pot and invited her to checkout the contents. Inside, corn, red potatoes, and onions simmered in a broth. “Now, that is good eating about to happen.”
    â€œWow.” She pasted on an enthusiastic smile she hoped looked authentic.
    â€œStand back, now.” Wendell picked up a bucket and scooped the live crawfish out from the cooler and slid them into the boiling mixture.
    She couldn’t help but squeeze her eyes shut.
    Geary chuckled. “What’s the matter? You a bit squeamish?”
    â€œA little,” she admitted. She smiled back at his dad and tried to avert further critique. “Is that garlic I smell?”
    â€œSure is. And lemons too.” Wendell tossed in some cut-up sausages and whole mushrooms, then slid the lids on tight. “And there’s a secret in there too.”
    â€œDad,” Geary scolded.
    Veta marched up and playfully slapped her husband with a tea towel. “Oh, cut it out, Wendell.” She leaned over to Faith. “That man used to tell all the kids he spit in the pots for special flavor.”
    Faith swallowed, hoping that whole thing was indeed a joke.
    Suddenly, she was bumped from behind. A set of little arms wrapped around her legs. Just as quickly, they let go. “Hey, Papa! Did you spit in the pot?”
    â€œYeah,” a similar voice said. “Did you put in the secret ingredient?”
    â€œOkay, you two.” Geary moved the twins back. But not before the little girl who had grabbed Faith’s legs left a mark on her white capris—something red and sticky.
    Geary’s mom frowned. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. Let me get something for that.”
    Later, when everyone gathered and the pots of food were poured out on the brown butcher paper covering the tables, Faith made sure she and Geary were not at the same table as his niece and nephew. Admittedly, she didn’t know much about kids, and theywere cute and all, but those two were like noisy motorboats constantly idling on high.
    Before eating, Wendell blessed the food. Shortly after, she learned Geary’s dad was pastor of Lake Pine Community Church, a small congregation of people who met in a building located just miles away. She remembered passing the church property, a building that looked like a warehouse of sorts, with an inviting entry and a steeple and cross on top.
    She wasn’t sure what to think about all that. Sure, she believed in God and everything, but the whole religious thing wasn’t exactly big in her family while she was growing up. When she most needed them, the miracles she’d read about never came, leaving her to wonder if God just wasn’t that into her.
    Regardless, the miracle she most needed at this particular moment was to not embarrass herself entirely while learning to eat these things.
    She leaned over to Geary and whispered,