Page 5 of Jenna's Protector

The weight of Forest’s words hangs heavy on my mind, but I push them aside for now, focusing on the woman who has unknowingly captured my heart.

Max looks up at me with expressive eyes as if sensing my internal conflict. I sigh and give him a reassuring pat.

“Let’s do this, buddy.”

Three teenage girls are missing, and I swear on everything I hold dear that there won’t be a fourth.

TWO

Jenna

Before the morningrush gets going, the bell above the door jingles, cutting through the low hum of the coffee shop I call home.

I lift my gaze from the steaming espresso machine to greet the newcomers.

My regulars, Frank, Doris, and Mav, step inside.

“Morning, Jenna.” Frank’s gravelly, deep voice bellows, his silver mustache twitching like a hairy caterpillar on his lip.

“Morning, Frank.” My reply is light and breezy, warm and sincere. “Your usual?”

“The blacker, the better.” He rubs his hands together as if to wring out the chill from his bones.

“I’ve got you.” I fill a cup with our strongest brew and slide the steaming mug across the counter toward Frank. “Here you go, strong and bold, just the way you like it.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He winks as he takes the mug and inhales the dark aroma of a perfectly brewed coffee.

Doris grips his arm and walks beside him. Her silver curls bounce with each step. Mav, their grandniece, a schoolteacher with an infectious laugh, trails behind them, her nose buried deep in a book.

Not one of those e-readers, but a genuine book.

Her voracious appetite for literature knows no bounds.

They stop in every day like clockwork. Mav brings them here for a caffeine hit, then drives Frank and Doris to the senior center. She then heads to the elementary school to spend the day with a classroom of kindergartners. I couldn’t do it, but she thrives in that environment.

“Morning, Jenna.” Mav peeks up from her book, likely coming to the end of a chapter or paragraph. I’ve learned to give her time to find an appropriate place to stop before barraging her with questions.

“What can I get you?”

Mav, who loves all the frills in her coffee, never orders the same thing twice. She’s on a quest for the perfect combination of sweet, cream, and caffeine.

“I’ll have a large caramel macchiato with extra caramel drizzle, both in the cup and on top of the foam. Could you add a shot of vanilla syrup, too? And extra frothy with whipped cream on top.”

“Gotcha.”

Mav’s order does not disappoint and reflects her penchant for a sweet, indulgent treat first thing in the morning.

“Oh, and if you have them, sprinkle some cinnamon and some chocolate shavings on top.”

“You know I will.” I quickly scratch down her order before I forget, then turn to Doris. “And what will you have today, Doris? Are we taking it boring black like the love of your life? Or dressing it up with all the frills like your grandniece?”

Doris responds in a manner I’ve come to love. She’s balanced in all things. Not too plain nor too extravagant.

“Oh, love, you know me, always somewhere in the middle. Let’s go with a medium cappuccino today. Just a touch of sugar and a dash of cinnamon on top, just a little something to brighten the day.”

“I’ve got you covered. Have a seat. I’ll bring them to you once they’re done.”

Mav’s order will take a moment to prep. Doris isn’t too steadyon her feet, and I don’t want her waiting while I create Mav’s masterpiece.

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