Page 14 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

CHAPTER 4

“Uncle Lukas, I’m hungry,” Stevie said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes bright and early the morning after the prom. Lukas felt a nudge, heard thesmack smack smackof Stevie’s palm hitting his biceps. The kid was more accurate than an alarm clock about rising with the sun. “We’re out of Cheerios.”

Lukas’s gut seized, and not just because of the ungodly hour. As a kid, he’d done as Stevie had. Scavenged around various kitchens to survive. That had meant eating anything from chips and Cheetos to dry cereal, whatever he could get his hands on. Until Mom and Pop Ellis, he couldn’t ever remember having anything that required cooking for breakfast except in his dreams.

“C’mon, sleepyhead, get out of bed.” The child tugged mercilessly on his arm. Lukas cracked open an eye, suddenly remembering he was sleeping buck naked.

“Hey, who is that?” he asked, groping around with his hands until he lit upon the child’s sleep-tousled hair and warm skin. “Oh, it’s a little rug rat. Get over here.” In one swoop, he snatched up Stevie, tickling him and tossing him up in the air and on top of his bed, where he landed, giggling, with a bounce. “Hi, little rug rat. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Pancakes. With blueberries and lots and lots of syrup.”

Since all that was in sight on the bus was an empty bag of Doritos and a beer can, he decided on the next best option, Pie in the Sky, or PITS as the town diner was affectionately called. “Then pancakes it is. With blueberries and whipped cream and syrup and a big glass of milk.”

Stevie wrinkled up his nose. “I don’t like milk.”

“I know you don’t like milk.” Lukas sighed. He hadn’t forgotten, he was just trying to suggest the right thing. Didn’t most kids like milk? And if they didn’t, weren’t they supposed to drink it anyway? Lukas didn’t want to hardline the kid so soon, so he said, “I’m sure they’ve got other stuff to drink. Let’s go get ready.”

“What kind of jammies do you have on, Uncle Lukas?”

Oh, oh.Busted.“Um, birthday suit jammies. Now go find some clothes.”

“Can I see ’em?” Stevie started to lift the sheets but Lukas distracted him by tossing him up again and flipping him in the air until he landed on his feet on the floor. He pointed him in the direction of the door and gave him a little push. “Now scoot!”

Crisis averted. Parenting was a tough job, one he needed to learn by the seat of his pants. He just had to remember to keep his on at all times.

As soon as Lukas opened the glass door to the old diner an hour later, he felt the blast from the past. Actually, he smelled it. Most diner coffee smelled burnt but not here. It smelled fresh roasted, strong and bold. He couldn’t wait for an IV infusion.

The denser aroma of bacon and the sweeter one of fresh-off-the-griddle pancakes blended with chinks of silverware and chatter that told him the restaurant was full of people who clearly enjoyed rising early and, God forbid, eating. He remembered coming here years ago with Sam, having long conversations over milkshakes or coffee or midnight pancakes. Conversations that often went on for hours, where they lost all track of time.

The clock on the wall read seven thirty. He scrubbed a hand over his face and resisted the urge to slap himself awake. His usual late-night routine had him sleeping until noon and eating his first meal around two. He’d been lucky to sneak a smoke outside of his bus, after he got dressed, to satisfy his nicotine craving. Now if he could get some caffeine, he might be able to function.

“My tummy’s growling,” Stevie said, looking around. “It smells good in here.” There went that uncomfortable pang again in Lukas’s own stomach. It tended to hit him when Stevie spoke. Lukas didn’t want Stevie to be hungry. Ever. He might not know much about being a father, but he knew how to order food. And order away they would.

“I’m starving,” Stevie said, eagerly popping into an orange vinyl-covered booth that faced the park. Nothing much had changed in the past six years. Or sixty.

“Hi there, what can I help you—” The waitress was middle-aged, with blonde hair pulled back in a bun. “Oh, wow, hi.” Her face flushed as she realized who she was talking to. “I, um, can I take your autograph—I mean your order.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Can I take your order?”

“Leave the guy alone, Darlene,” Buzz, the owner, called from the kitchen, over the sounds of sizzling food and the scrape of a metal spatula against the grill.

“Sorry. Sure. It’s just that social media is going crazy about you today.”

Of course. The prom visit. A feel-good story. Not too big of a deal.

“TMZ’s been snooping around trying to find out about that pretty girl you kissed. It was Samantha Rushford, right? Didn’t you two have a thing a while back?”

Dammit. He should never have lost control like that. Now the press would go after Samantha, all because of his impulsiveness. He’d wanted to show this town he’d matured. That he wasn’t the pissed-off-at-the-world auto mechanic who’d left here six years ago with fifty bucks in his pocket.

He wanted to showherhe’d matured.

“Take his order, Darlene,” Buzz called.

He smiled, hoping that would deflect the waitress from asking more questions. “Coffee for me, please, and pancakes with blueberries for him, thanks.” He turned to Stevie, who was blowing bubbles in his water with his straw. “What do you want to drink with your pancakes?”

“I’ll have coffee, too.”

“Nonsense. He’ll have milk.” The proclamation came like a decree, in a loud, take-no-prisoners voice. Lukas and Stevie turned together in time to see a foreboding woman with a bold, flowery dress and hair blacker than Coca-Cola waste no time plunking her large pocketbook onto the tabletop. She squeezed her rather ample form next to Stevie, who quickly scooched over because it was either that or be mowed over.

Darlene made a break for the kitchen. Even Lukas found himself sitting up straighter and smoothing out his shirt. “Mrs.Panagakos,” he said.

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