"She's in the bathroom," said Hank. This was a situation Hank didn't know how to handle. Part of him wanted to tell the man to leave. Another part of him wanted to see what would happen if he stayed. Part of him cared about Lulu and knew she'd been hurt. Another part of him said it wasn't any of his business. She was a waitress and that was it. Part of him recognized that her behavior might mean he had to look for another waitress, and he really didn't want to do that. In the end, he simply said, "May as well have a seat."
"I'll take whatever you think is good this morning," said Kris.
"Everything is good all the time," said Hank, a little injured.
Several men sitting at one table waved at him. He didn't know if they knew he'd been gone or not. One of them pulled out a cell phone and punched some buttons. His eyes darted from the phone to Kris and back again several times. He spoke softly into the phone, but his attitude was tense and urgent.
Kris sat in a booth. For lack of anything else to do, he reviewed the menu.
Lulu came out of the bathroom, straightening her apron. She saw him and stopped. It was as if time had stopped, but just for a second or two, and then she was moving forward again. He didn't know what to say as she approached, so he just looked at her.
She walked on by him without a word.
He turned his head, watching her move away from him. He couldn't help but look at that beautiful behind, as her buttocks rose and fell under the uniform skirt. A feeling of complete helplessness washed over him and it was suddenly a chore to sit upright. He knew, at that moment, that he loved this woman more than anything or anyone he had ever loved before.
She picked up a coffee pot and started making the rounds at the far end of the diner. She didn't look at him, stopping to chat with the other customers as she warmed up cups of coffee. To the casual eye, her actions were just as normal as pie. He looked over at Hank, who had come out from the kitchen to see what happened, and who was staring her way too, frowning slightly. Then, as if he could smell that something was starting to burn, he turned and went back to his work.
A few minutes later, Hank put a plate in the window and rang the bell. "Pickup!" he yelled.
Two more people, a man and woman, came into the diner and sat down at the booth next to the one Kris was sitting in. Two cars screeched to a stop outside, the screech audible even through the windows. A man got out of one, hurriedly. Kris had seen him before, but didn't know his name. Butch and Reverend Hoskins got out of the other one, just as hastily. Butch went to the car he had loaned Kris and walked around it while Hoskins spoke to the other man. At Reverend Hoskins' obvious urging, Butch left the car and they hurried toward the door.
Lulu passed by him closely enough that he could smell her unique scent, something he wouldn't have said he was aware of, until the night before. Now he detected it on the wind of her passing. There was a faint aroma of peaches. He wondered idly if she and Jessica used the same perfume. She set the coffee pot down on the table of the next booth and pulled out her pad and pen.
"What can I get for you folks this morning?" she asked the man and woman who had just come in.
The bell rang again. "Pickup!" hollered Hank.
"I heard you the first time," Lulu called back. Hank muttered something that couldn't be understood.
She was taking the order as Reverend Hoskins and the other two men came in. They stopped, as if testing the air, then moved toward Lulu. She ignored them. Butch pushed past the others and came straight to Kris.
"You took off with my car!" he complained. "I want it back."
Kris blinked, but then fished in his pocket for the keys. He removed the key to the car from his key ring and held it out. "Thanks for the loan," he said. "I appreciate it." Butch looked uncertain then, but took the key and walked on past Kris.
Reverend Hoskins stopped just long enough to tilt his head and say, "Morning Kris," then moved on himself. The third man didn't say anything.
Lulu was still standing there, within five feet of him, and had to have heard the exchange, but showed no sign of it. Kris wanted to turn around and see what the three men were doing. He had a suspicion he'd see wagers being made, but if Lulu looked at him, he didn't want his eyes to be on them, so he sat still.
She delivered the couple's order to Hank, who said something that included "It's getting cold, Lulu." She said, "I know that," and went to take the order of the three men who had just come in. Hank sighed and brought the plate to Kris himself.
"Sorry," he said softly.
"No problem," said Kris. "I understand."
He was hungry, and the biscuits and gravy, and two eggs with bacon were consumed quickly. Hank hadn't brought anything to drink, though, and the last of the biscuits left his throat a little dry. He knew Lulu had walked by him at least three times while he was eating. She hadn't said a word and it was getting to him. He could understand if she yelled at him, but to completely ignore him hurt more than he would have believed.
It may have been the hurt. It's possible there was more involved than that. Maybe he even craved punishment, since nothing had happened concerning the hit and run accident he felt so guilty about, either. At any rate, something took charge of his right arm and, when Lulu walked by him a fourth time, holding a pot of coffee in her right hand, his right hand darted out and slapped her soundly on her ass.
Time stopped again. Lulu stopped and it seemed like all the noise in the diner stopped. Kris was frantic at what he'd done. Shame caused his face to flush, but contact with her body almost overwhelmed his senses. He couldn't think of anything to say, except for a phrase he'd heard a hundred times in the diner where he was sitting.
"How 'bout some coffee, sweet thing?"
* * *
Chantal didn't wait for the lawmen to do her bidding. When she and her husband got back to the mansion, she gave orders and had the press secretary make phone calls.
She was on the Today show the next morning and she wanted the world to know about Kris Farmingham, and the fact that he didn't even know he'd saved her life. At one point in the interview, she turned to the camera and said, "If you see this man, please have him get in contact with me. I owe him a great debt of gratitude." A grainy photo filled the screen for a few seconds.
The interviewer, who had done a story on the chaos Chantal's reward offer had created, couldn't resist a little jab.
"And there's the reward, of course," she said smiling.
Chantal didn't miss a beat.
"And then there's that," she agreed.
* * *
Harper called Mitch, just to cover the bases.
"About time you got in touch with me," groused Connel. "It would have been kind of nice to be ready for the FBI when they got here."
"I couldn't do anything," said Harper, who felt like any law enforcement office should be ready to host the FBI any day of the week. "I was told to share information with nobody except the bureau."
There was a dim shout and then "What?" Mitch's voice sounded odd in Harper's ears and it was fairly obvious that someone in the station in Pembroke had yelled something at him. "Hang on," said Mitch. Harper heard exclamations and what sounded like laughter and hooting, and then Mitch came back.
"Turn on channel four," he said. "Isn't that your NBC station?"
"What?" asked Harper.
"Just turn it on. Chantal's on TV, talking about Farmingham."
The television set was in the training room. There were two secretaries in there eating breakfast, before they clocked in for work. They were already watching the Today show. Harper got there just in time to see Chantal face the camera and plead for people to look for Kris. His picture flashed on the screen, taken from his driver's license, which was a state record the governor had access too.
He couldn't help but laugh as the governor's wife made it thoroughly impossible for any court in the nation to prosecute Kristoff Farmingham for just about anything he had ever done or would do in the near future.
* * *
Then, as if it had all been a dream, Lulu said: "I'll be back with your coffee in a minute."
She walked off as if nothing had happened, while Kris brought his hand to his face, to feel the sting that was no doubt still suffusing the flesh there. She'd slapped him hard and he hadn't been expecting it, so hadn't defended himself at all. Mitch went to sit across from him, as conversation suddenly blossomed among the rest of the patrons in the diner.
"Well," said Mitch, as he slid into the booth. He waited to see if the man would say anything as Kris' round eyes fixed on him. When he didn't, Mitch went on. "So ... you want me to arrest her for assault?"
"No," said Kris instantly. "I sort of asked for it."
"Law doesn't work that way," said Mitch, leaning back. "There's no such thing as justifiable assault."
"I slapped her on the ass," said Kris.
"Oh," said Mitch. "Then again, there's a first time for every valid defense."
Lulu suddenly appeared at the table, a pot of coffee in her left hand, with a cup dangling from her little finger. Her right hand had a small plate with a huge cinnamon roll on it. Mitch glanced over Kris' shoulder to see dollar bills going into small piles on table tops. Every face in the place was turned toward the booth he was sitting in.
She managed to set the cup down and pour, left-handed, without spilling a drop. Then the plate with the cinnamon roll swayed forward to drop toward the table top.
"This is on me," she said. Her voice didn't sound any different than it ever had. That high, clear soprano voice sounded lilting and young. "I thought you might want dessert."
Then, just before the plate touched the table, it seemed to streak off course, toward Kris' face. Somehow, the plate went from being supported by her fingers gripping the top and bottom to resting on the palm of her hand as it tipped sideways. Mitch watched in awe as the roll hit squarely on Kris' nose, which penetrated the center, before the rest of the roll squashed flat against his face. Lulu's hand rotated once to the right, then back to the left, rubbing the roll into his face.
"Oops," she said, her voice young and carefree. "I guess I was wrong. I guess it's on you." She let go of the plate, which hung there, still stuck to the bottom of the squashed roll for a few seconds, and then fell towards Kris' lap. His hands came to catch it.
It was a tense moment for Mitch. He'd seen things like this turn ugly and if Kris roared his anger and stood to go after Lulu, Mitch knew he'd have to intervene. He hoped he wouldn't have to take them both in.
But Kris just caught the plate, which had most of the roll still on it. All the icing was on Kris' face, though, and he raised one finger to wipe his right eye clear of the stuff. He set the plate on the table and cleared the other eye. Lulu just stood there watching.
"I'm so sorry," she said, sounding as un-sorry as it was possible to sound. "I'll go get you a new one."
"It's okay," said Kris. Mitch relaxed a bit. "This one tastes pretty good." He licked his fingers and started scooping more frosting off his face, sucking each fingerful off as he collected it.
"At least let me help," said Lulu.
Mitch would never forget what happened then for the rest of his life. Neither would any of the other customers in the diner. It would be told and retold for years.
Lulu bent over and grasped Kris' head with both her hands.
Then she licked her tongue up along one cheek. She pulled back a little. There was frosting on her nose. She smacked her lips.
"It is good, isn't it?"
She was like a cat cleaning a kitten's face, and Kris just sat there. Then, suddenly, instead of licking his face, her lips welded to his. The passion in that kiss was electric and exploded outward from them in such a way that the other customers actually felt it themselves. It was a full minute before she pulled back. Now there was frosting all around her lips and on her nose. His face was a mess and he looked a little dazed. She stopped, with her lips an inch from his.
"Don't you ever do that in public again," she said softly. "That's for private. Do you understand me?"
"Yes ma'am," he croaked.
It looked like it was over, and, in truth, it was, but not quite yet. Lulu walked behind the counter and washed her hands in the sink, cleaning her face as well. She dried her face and hands, then got the towel she'd used damp. On her way to refill coffee cups, she walked back by the booth and powered the damp ball of cloth into Kris' chest.
"Clean up," she hissed. "You look like a slob." Without a pause her face swiveled to Mitch. "Be with you in a second, Mitch."
Then she went on to take care of people who were laughing, crying, or just plain astounded into mute amazement. Some of them were collecting piles of dollar bills and stuffing them into pockets.
Chapter Thirty-three
Mitch completely forgot why he'd come to the diner until Lulu came up to the table with her jacket on and looked at Kris.
"We have some things to talk about," she said. "I'm ready to go."
Then it all came back to Mitch and he told them why he'd come. Lulu seemed to be the most impressed.
"My man is a hero? The governor of New York's wife wants to thank him? That's pretty cool."
Kris might not have been able to remember who he was, but his inner psychology had not been affected. He felt a sudden craving for anonymity. He didn't want to be in any spotlight. The whole incident that had just played out, and in which he'd felt only mildly humiliated, had only made him wish it had happened privately, instead of publicly. The fact that Mitch had acted like nothing had happened at all had helped. Well, other than pointing to places Kris needed to get cleaner, as he wiped his face off with the damp towel. But after that was done, it wasn't mentioned again.
"I don't want to be a hero," said Kris. "I just want to get on with life."
"You can't just ignore what happened," said Mitch. "You're famous now. At least for fifteen or twenty minutes. Enjoy it while it happens."
"No thanks," said Kris. "I'd rather spend time with Lulu."
"Awwwwww," she said, leaning down to give him a quick peck on the lips. It was all sweetness and light, until she said, "You sure couldn't have told that by the way you acted for the last two weeks."
"I can explain that," said Kris weakly.
"We'll see," said Lulu. "In the meantime, I think you should be civil and let the woman thank you."
"I don't think so," said Kris stubbornly. He turned to Mitch. "You call her back. Tell her I said thanks, but no thanks. Tell her I'd have done it for anybody." He blinked. "Hey. Wait! There's no way I did that on purpose. Even if I'd known they were kidnapping her, I wouldn't have run into one of them. That's crazy! It was an accident!"
"But you did save her life," said Mitch. "At least it looks like it. They killed two other victims they kidnapped before this."
"That's awful!" said Lulu, her voice soft.
"No," said Kris. "I don't want fame or any of that. I just want to write and love Lulu ... if she'll let me."
"Awwwww," she said again. Kris stood up before she could kiss him. He glanced around. Several men were grinning at him, including the pastor. He looked at Mitch.
"Are you going to arrest me for the hit and run?"
Mitch grinned. "I'm not that stupid," he said. "You're a hero."
Kris turned back to Lulu. "Come on," he said. "Like you said, we have things to talk about."
* * *
Initially, it wasn't much fun. He hadn't spent much time thinking about how Lulu would feel about his actions. He soon recognized the fact that he'd only been thinking of himself, for the most part, and had only thought about her in very abstract terms.
She disabused him of the abstraction of his actions very quickly.
He sat helplessly through it all. They hadn't gone to pick up Ambrose. She'd called Roslynn and asked if he could stay for a while, so they could work through the obvious issues. She'd told him to sit on the couch and had disappeared into her bedroom, returning in a Popeye T shirt that said, "I YAM WHAT I YAM!" on the chest and a pair of dark blue hip hugging jeans. She'd paced then, while she talked, unburdening herself. He kept staring at the zipper of the jeans, where the tab was standing straight out at the top, instead of lying flat, the way it was supposed to. It suggested she'd dressed in a hurry, putting on what first came to her fingers. She'd been eager to rake him over the coals.
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