Sweet Dreams (The Bakery Romance Series Book 3) (15 page)

Lord, help me do this.
She opened the huge box of cornbread mix. She dumped it into the bowl. She then read the directions. Oh no. She was supposed to put the eggs, water and oil into the bowl first and mix it before adding the cornbread mix. She sloppily cracked an egg and dumped it into the mix. Several pieces of egg shell fell into the bowl.

She just couldn’t do anything right! She tried to fish the pieces of egg shell from the bowl. Latisha approached, her loud perfume making Misty want to puke. “You’re taking too long. Sterling’s gonna be mad at you if you don’t get this cornbread right.”

Misty turned away, shame filling her soul. Her eyes teared, but, she blinked the moisture away. When she focused on Latisha again, she realized the young girl was helping her. In minutes, she’d removed the eggshells and had fixed and stirred the entire box of cornbread and dumped it into the pan. She then prepared a second pan. She left both of the pans sitting on the counter before returning to the veggies she’d been chopping for the salad. She gestured toward the oven. “Just put the cornbread into the oven. I already preheated it.”

Okay, so the oven was already hot, which was good. She placed the pans into the hot oven. She approached Latisha. It was kind of scary the way the young girl chopped those vegetables. Misty figured she’d cut her finger off if she attempted to chop veggies. She knew Latisha had a lot to do, but, she needed to say what was on her mind. “Thanks for helping me with the cornbread.”

The girl nodded, but didn’t look up from her task. She left Latisha alone and approached Sterling. “Are you sure we’ll have enough cornbread to feed everybody?”

“Maybe not. But, if we start running out, we’ll make more later.” He pointed toward some cans. “Could you open those cans of beans and tomatoes for the chili?” Misty eyed the electric can opener. No way was she using that thing. She didn’t know how. She groaned, opened a bunch of drawers. Sterling appeared at her side. “What’s the matter?”

She pointed to the electric can opener. “I was looking for a manual can opener. I don’t know how to use an electric one.”

“Oh, Misty.” He really sounded annoyed. Just knowing that he was annoyed at her made her feel even worse. She couldn’t help it if she was a dunce in the kitchen. The slow hum of the electric can opener filled the kitchen. He finished the chore in minutes.

With the cornbread in the oven and the chili cooking, the place soon had the most enticing smell. Misty sniffed, enjoying the aroma, smiling to herself.

A local grocery store had donated huge bags of oranges. Sterling gestured toward the bags. “Could you open those?”

Eager to do something, Misty opened the bags. Sterling explained. “Each person gets one bowl of chili, a piece of cornbread, and an orange. We can’t give seconds until everyone is served.” Misty nodded, familiar with that routine.

Once they’d gotten out the plates, plastic utensils, and cups and set up the tables and chairs, an acrid odor filled the room.

Latisha sniffed. “Something’s burning!”

Sterling rushed toward the kitchen. “The cornbread!”

Putting on the oven mitts, he pulled the blackened cornbread out of the oven. He slammed it onto the stove. “Why didn’t you set the timer?”

Misty blinked. No way could she start crying now. “I didn’t think to set the timer. I told you I’m not used to cooking, but you didn’t listen to me.”

Sterling glanced at his watch. “There’s a convenience store down the street. I’m going to go and buy all the bread and crackers that they have. I know we won’t have enough cornbread to feed everybody.” Seeing the hungry people waiting at the door, he turned to Latisha, Misty, and the other volunteers. “Don’t start serving without me here. I don’t want some idiot coming in here and starting trouble with you while I’m gone.” He rushed from the room, locking the door behind him.

Latisha gave Misty a frosty look. “He’s not going to like you anymore after what you did to that cornbread.”

“Latisha, you need to chill. It was an accident.” Misty felt horrible about what happened, but, Latisha was making things worse with her terrible attitude. She wished Sterling would hurry up and return with the bread so that they could serve the hungry people waiting outside.

About ten minutes later, Sterling rushed back in holding several loaves of bread. He dumped the bread onto the table. He glanced at Misty. “Go ahead and get the cornbread that was donated. After it’s gone, go ahead and open those loaves. Just give everybody one slice. I’m going to let them in.” Misty rushed to get the donated cornbread. It took three trips before she’d carried all of the bread to the serving station. Latisha grabbed a knife. She sliced the donated cornbread into small pieces.

When Sterling opened the doors, the people poured in. While she scooped up chili and Latisha served bread and salad, Sterling went into the back to get the small bottles of water to serve to everyone. There were so many people that Sterling had to help her scoop up the chili. About an hour later, everyone had been served. Misty sighed with relief because they had enough food to serve everyone.

There was even some chili left and some people came back, asking for more. Misty served them a second helping. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she was hungry. Sterling scooped up a serving for both of them while Latisha stepped away from the kitchen, talking on her phone. The volunteers who had been doing the toiletries and sandwiches earlier went around to each table, presenting each of the guests a toiletry package and a sandwich to eat later.

Many of the guests were homeless and the scent of unwashed bodies collided with the wonderful-smelling chili. Memories of her days being in the soup kitchen whirled through her mind. She glanced around at the guests, wondering about what events had happened in their lives that forced them to eat at the soup kitchen. One homeless woman talked and laughed, but, she sat at the table alone – she was laughing and talking to herself. Misty had noticed from her days of volunteering that a number of the homeless people suffered from mental illness.

Sterling led Misty to an empty table in the back of the room since everybody had been fed. They each had a bowl of chili and a piece of bread. Misty bowed her head and closed her eyes.
Lord, please help each and every person in this room. Please help me, too, Lord. I want to work in this soup kitchen, but, I need to learn to cook. Please help me with that. Also, thank you for all of the blessings that you’ve given to me.
She opened her eyes and noticed Sterling saying a silent prayer of his own. When he opened his eyes, Misty gestured toward Latisha. “Isn’t Latisha going to eat?”

Sterling frowned. “I’m not worried about her. If she wants something to eat then she knows what to do.”

Misty bristled at Sterling’s caustic tone. She then dipped her spoon into the fragrant chili. She tasted the concoction, enjoying the way the herbs and spices danced on her tongue. Smiling, she enjoyed the full bowl before eating the bread. “Your chili is amazing!”

He chuckled. “Thanks.”

Once they’d finished their meal, Sterling pulled a small box from underneath the table. He opened it. Four delicious-looking cookies were nestled in the container. Misty sniffed. The fresh, citrus scent of lemon greeted her nose. “Those cookies smell wonderful.”

“I bought them for the two of us to eat after dinner. They’re my lemon cookies.”

Misty selected a cookie. The confection was covered with large grains of sugar. The sugar literally sparkled. They almost looked too pretty to eat. She bit into the cookie. The amazing taste of sour lemons and sweet sugar exploded into her mouth. Heaven help her, she’d never tasted anything so exquisite. She ate bite after bite. A few minutes later, she realized she’d eaten all four cookies.

Sterling’s eyes twinkled. “I take it you liked the cookies.”

“Your cookies are amazing.”

Latisha stood in the corner on her cell phone, glaring at her. Misty’s good mood fizzled. Sterling was a master chef. Everything he cooked or baked probably tasted fabulous. He probably would try and convince her not to volunteer anymore since she couldn’t cook. Heck, being around Sterling just made her feel inadequate.

“What’s the matter? You’re frowning.”

She shook her head. “Nothing.” She didn’t want to discuss what was on her mind right now. Since they’d finished their meal, the people had started throwing their trash away, taking their exit. Misty, Sterling and Latisha began to clean up. About an hour later, they’d completed their tasks, and Misty yawned. “Are you tired?” asked Sterling.

“Yes, and I’m ready to go home and go to bed.”

Latisha grunted. “Maybe you shouldn’t volunteer anymore since you can’t even cook.”

Sterling spoke before Misty could open her mouth. “Latisha, you’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying—”

Misty glared at Latisha. “Don’t say anything. Have you forgotten that this is a Christian soup kitchen? We’re supposed to be following Jesus’s example and I was here tonight to serve the hungry people in Miami. Why are you here, Latisha?”

Latisha’s dark eyes widened, and it appeared she’d been taken aback by Misty’s direct question. When Latisha didn’t respond, Sterling focused on Latisha. “Where’d you park? I’m ready to go home and I don’t want you walking to your car by yourself.”

Latisha stared at her long, frosty-colored nails for a few seconds before responding. “I parked a few blocks away.”

“Come on, I’ll lock up and drive you over to your car.”

Sterling turned off the lights and locked the door before they walked over to his car a short distance away. The silence between the three of them surrounded Misty like a cloying blanket of mist. When they approached Sterling’s vehicle, Latisha opened the passenger door of the front seat, claiming the seat beside Sterling. Misty inwardly cringed while she opened the back door of the vehicle and slipped into the car. They remained silent while Sterling drove to Latisha’s car. When they arrived at her vehicle Latisha hesitated before opening her door. “What’s wrong?” Sterling’s tone reeked with annoyance and Latisha’s dark eyes widened.

“Nothing. I was just going to say that it was nice serving with you tonight,” said Latisha in a small voice.

Sterling sighed, and he sounded as if the weight of the entire world rested on his broad shoulders. “Thanks.” They waited for a few seconds before Latisha finally exited the vehicle and got into her car and drove away. Sterling looked at Misty in the back seat. “Did you want to come and sit with me up front?”

Misty pursed her lips, annoyed. “No, I’m fine back here.”

“Misty…”

“Oh, alright.” She got out and slid into Latisha’s recently-vacated seat.

He began the drive home, and Misty wondered what he was thinking. “I’m sorry for how things turned out tonight,” he commented.

“Are you talking about my not knowing how to cook? I’m sorry about the cornbread. I tried to tell you that I couldn’t cook but you didn’t listen.”

He nodded and stopped at a light. He touched her arm. “Look, that wasn’t your fault. I should’ve listened to you and I didn’t.” He told her about his burning the chocolate birthday cakes a few days after his father’s funeral. “Things like that can happen.” He continued, “Latisha got on my nerves, plus, we were short on volunteers tonight. We should’ve been home over an hour ago.”

“Is it required that you know how to cook in order to volunteer in the soup kitchen?”

He stopped at another light and peered at her. “Honestly? Yes, if you want to volunteer regularly. I don’t make the rules. I just follow them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, our church is in charge of cooking and serving on Wednesday nights. It’ll make things easier for you to get your community service hours if you knew how to cook.”

“What about those ladies who put together those toiletry bags and sandwiches? They didn’t cook. They didn’t even come back into the kitchen to help us. Why can’t I do that?”

He sighed. “They’re from St. Joseph’s.”

“Huh?”

“It’s another church in the area. That’s their ministry. They do sandwiches and toiletry bags every night. This soup kitchen is a community effort. That’s just how that church has chosen to help.”

Misty nodded. “I see.”

He paused, peered at her again. “I still don’t understand why you can’t cook at all.”

She folded her arms in front of her chest. Was he ever going to let this issue go? “I just don’t know how to cook, okay?”

“You’ve never tried?”

The horrible memories filled her mind. “Yes, I tried to fry chicken when I was a teenager one time and it was a disaster.”

“What happened?”

“I started a grease fire. It was awful. I was at home by myself and I didn’t know what to do. The fire department came.” She shook her head, shame filling her soul. “My mom and sisters never let me live that one down. They complained about it for months. I damaged the kitchen.”

He remained silent as he continued to drive. “Have you ever cooked anything else?”

She nodded. She might as well let him know how much of a failure she was in the kitchen. “I tried to bake a chicken.”

“What happened?”

“My whole family got sick.”

He stopped at another light, his eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”