by T. I. Lowe
CJ walked up to his momma and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Momma. Here, let me put the laundry away for you,” he said as he pulled the basket into his arms.
“My sweet boy, thank you.”
As she watched her oldest son head upstairs, Leah heard, before seeing, two race car drivers round the corner. Justin was pushing little Gabe in a wagon at record speed as the toddler held on to the handle while making wild car noises.
Justin was a nine-year-old bundle of energy who seemed to never give out. This was a great thing since he enjoyed running after his three-year-old brother, Gabriel Allen Mason, almost nonstop.
“Whoa there, sir!” Leah raised her hands to stop the speed demons. Justin came to an abrupt stop in front of her. Leah dug out a wipe she had tucked in her skirt pocket, ready to ambush when the time came. She quickly darted her hand out to clean today’s lunch off her toddler’s face before he could protest.
“No, Mommy. Gotta go!” Gabe squealed as he tried to maneuver out of her grasp. “We gotta dwive!” Leah released him, and the two boys took off again.
She turned her gaze back to the black-and-white portrait with a grin. Her life couldn’t get any sweeter. As she thought this, warm hands worked their way under her blouse as she was pulled into a strong, broad chest.
“You make my mouth water, woman,” Crowley said playfully into his wife’s ear as his hands caressed her abdomen.
She pushed her rounding belly into his gentle hands. “Smooth talking like that, my husband, is the reason I stay in this shape.” The baby kicked at that moment as if to emphasize her momma’s point.
Lydia was scheduled to arrive in just a few short weeks, topping the Mason children’s total at a whopping six.
“There’s nothing sexier than my beautiful bride round with growing my family,” he said as he nuzzled her ear.
The twins rushed in with their daddy’s snack of homemade granola bars slathered in natural peanut butter and sprinkled with raisins. “Look what we made you, Daddy!” Lola said in delight.
Crowley released his bride and bent down to accept their offering. He crammed a huge bite in his mouth and started chewing playfully. “Yummy. Thanks, my two princesses.” He winked, causing them to giggle.
The race car drivers also zoomed into the scene to celebrate their daddy’s arrival. Crowley had been upstate for the past few days, stuck in a courtroom, and his family had missed him considerably.
Crowley shared a bite of the granola bar with his eagerly waiting toddler. Leah grimaced as little Gabe smeared peanut butter across his chubby cheeks. She swiped a stray raisin off the plate and popped it into her mouth, trying to ignore his mess.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
“We won, of course,” he said with a smug grin. “We need to celebrate.” He looked around, amused, as the kids cheered at his suggestion.
“How ’bout some fishing to celebrate?” CJ said as he descended the stairs.
“That’s a great idea. Everyone needs to go get their fishing gear!” their dad said excitedly and watched as the children scattered to retrieve their hats and flip-flops. He turned toward the stairs to go change out of his suit when he noticed Leah on his heels. He stopped to look at her. “Where you going, ma’am?”
“To change into my fishing gear.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “Why don’t you just stay here and rest awhile?” She pouted, pushing out her bottom lip in protest, and he leaned forward to bite at it playfully. “Lydia is going to be here soon. You know you need to take breaks now while you still have the chance.”
“Fine. I’ll rest as long as you promise to catch me a river monster.”
“I’ll do my best.” He gave her a kiss and began heading upstairs to change, with Leah still on his heels. He turned to give her a questioning look.
“Just going to go take in the view of my handsome lawyer changing into my charming fisherman,” she whispered.
Crowley grinned. “Well, hurry up then before the troops get restless,” he said as he hastily took two steps at a time.
A half hour later, Leah was propped up on a lounge chair in the shade, watching her crowd head out to the river with fishing poles in hand. Five children, with nearly white-blond hair that curled every which way as their momma’s did, accompanied their gentle giant of a dad. Crowley was carrying little Gabe in one arm while holding one of the twins’ hands in the other. Every so often he would lean down to say something to the other twin, sending her into a fit of giggles.
“Oh, how I love that man of mine,” Leah declared quietly just as her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and smiled at the name flashing on the screen before answering. “Hey, Momma.”
“Hey, sweet girl. Has our boy made it home yet?” Lulu asked.
“Yes, ma’am. He’s celebrating with our babies at the river,” Leah said.
“That’s good. How’s the café?”
“Good. The new girl started today. I think she’s gonna work out great. Jessup stopped by and fixed the back grill element.”
“Starting Monday, I’m taking over your duties for a while. Our Lydia will be here soon and you need time to prepare.”
“Okay.” Leah grinned, remembering how she learned after a few baby rounds that there was no use in arguing.
“Supper will be ready by six. See y’all in a little while. Love you.”
“Love you too, Momma,” Leah said before hanging up.
Lulu had surprised her the following Christmas after the wedding by legally adopting Leah as her daughter. She also retired, saying she would need more time with her grandbabies. Leah gladly took over the café.
Smiling, Leah put the phone away and looked back at her family. They had stopped, and Crowley was crouched down, listening to a now-standing Gabe. They both looked back at Leah. Crowley nodded and the little boy raced back to his momma.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Leah asked as he climbed into her lap.
“I wanted you.”
“You did?” Leah asked as she brushed a sweaty white curl off his forehead. Lulu often liked to say that God used up so much color in them Mason young’uns’ eyes that he didn’t have any left over for their hair.
Gabe nodded as he gathered his momma’s scarred palm in his chubby ones. “Mommy, why’s everybody always kissing you here?” He pointed at the scar.
Crowley had kissed that palm so often that each child eventually asked the same question as her toddler now did.
“They are kissing my boo-boo away,” she said.
He studied the scar for a moment before guiding it to his sticky little lips and placing his own kiss there. He looked up at his momma and smiled. “Aw better.”
“Yes it is, my sweet boy.” Leah’s eyes filled with happy tears. The tenderness Crowley began on that night of her thirtieth birthday had trickled down with each one of their children. He had taken such an ugly scar with an ugly past and made it something exceptional. There was no way Leah could ever look down at that scar and not see the millions of precious kisses that had been placed there.
Leah was so thankful for the healing God had graciously granted her—taking her ugly past and blessing her with an exceptional life beyond those wounds.
With enough love, scars can completely heal.
“Heal me, LORD, and I will be healed;
save me and I will be saved,
for you are the one I praise.”
JEREMIAH 17:14
1
WEAVING THROUGH a jungle of the most outlandish antiques he’d ever come across, Lincoln Cole found himself dumbfounded and intrigued at the same time. Surrounded by unusually dressed pieces of furniture, he did a three-sixty and scratched at the scruff on his cheek. The scruff indicated he was more than a few days past needing a shave, but the rebellion that had taken root in him since the injury he sustained in Syria had overruled grooming protocol that morning. Waking up from the recurring nightmare often left him too raw to focus on anything much.
He had managed a shower and a fresh change of clothes before calling it good enough.
A whimsical feminine humming somehow found its way to him as he suppressed the limp trying to assert itself in his left leg and hobbled another few steps forward. Although it was a sunny day, his leg was telling him it wouldn’t last for very long.
Nothing good ever lasts long. . . .
Lincoln huffed in frustration over his own thoughts and stood partially hidden in a section of old desks. Blinking a few times, he scrutinized the various tables and chairs suspended from the ceiling. A few had been converted into light fixtures, while the rest looked like they were being held hostage by thick cables.
“Good morning.” A cheery voice came from behind him. “Welcome to Bless This Mess.”
Eyes on the ceiling, Lincoln grouched out the first thing to flicker through his mind. “Is that even safe?” He pointed to the pieces of furniture that appeared to be floating above their heads.
“Oh yes. Building inspectors have deemed my mess safe.” The woman’s laughter-filled voice finally had Lincoln turning in her direction.
Peering at him from the other side of a wooden hutch that had been transformed into a bathroom vanity was a sprite of a woman with the wildest head of golden-red curls he’d ever seen. The tips were lighter, as if the sun had reached down and stolen their color. She closely resembled the mosaic fairy he’d seen on the outside of the building.
Clearing his throat, he offered a curt “Good.”
A smile began to blossom across the woman’s face as she smoothed her flowy blouse with a petite hand, causing a gaudy collection of bracelets to clang against one another.
Lincoln eyed her, assessing her as he’d been trained to do in the military. He measured her no bigger than a minute and figured he could apprehend her with one hand tied behind his back. But he cataloged those big green eyes of hers as her secret weapon. They sparkled, but that wasn’t what set off the warning bells. No, those eyes were watching him way too closely and had already seen way more than they should.
Assessment complete, he began slowly to back away.
“I have the perfect piece for you.” She held an index finger in the air, halting his attempted retreat. She skipped off in the opposite direction, sending the spirals of soft red and blonde hair into a dance around her head. “I’m Opal, by the way,” she said over her shoulder.
He stood watching her until she disappeared from sight. “I didn’t come here for furniture.” He could hear banging and clattering from his two o’clock, giving away her location.
“Oh, that’s okay. This piece was meant for you, nonetheless, so I insist on you taking it.” She sounded like she was struggling with something.
Sighing, Lincoln looked at the craziness on the ceiling one last time before walking through the maze to find her. He stopped cold in his tracks when he found her sitting on a soldier’s footlocker.
“I found this on a junking trip last year.” Opal ran her hand over the thick gray cushion that had been fitted on the top. It reminded Lincoln of a military-issue wool coat. “For some reason, I just knew it needed to be transformed into a bench seat. Possibly for an entry area, where someone can sit and put on their shoes. Or maybe at the foot of a bed.” She swung her feet back and forth, looking like a little kid. Flip-flops peeked from the edges of her fraying bell-bottom jeans.
Ignoring for the moment the question of where she found such an odd pair of jeans, Lincoln crossed his arms and eyed the piece suspiciously. “Why’d you make it so tall?” His eyes dropped to the thick wooden spindles she’d used for legs, which were painted a neutral gray to coordinate with the creamy beige used on the trunk. It was tasteful and showed that she’d put a lot of thought into the piece, even re-stenciling the ID number along the front side in the same gray as the legs.
“I had a feeling the owner would need the extra leg space. What are you, six-four?” She gave him a swift once-over.
Six-five. “Close enough.”
She smiled. “If you’re not here for furniture, then what are you here for?”
Lincoln moved his eyes away from the peculiar woman and swept them over the menagerie of furniture pieces while rubbing a hand through his hair. He was several months past due for a haircut, another ritual he’d allowed to die right along with his military career.
After giving her question some thought, he answered honestly, “I’m not sure.” He turned and began moving away as quick as his aching leg would carry him.
“You forgot your bench,” Opal called. “And you didn’t even introduce yourself.”
Her petitions did nothing to slow his already-sluggish getaway. He kept right on going until he was piled back into his Jeep and heading down the beachfront road.
“Smooth, Cole. Real smooth.” He growled and released one tight-fisted pound against the steering wheel.
Between the throb in his knee and the unsettling encounter with the store’s owner, all he wanted to do was go back to his beach cottage and hide. He’d had enough of feeling like he no longer fit in anywhere.
The doctors had done the best they could with his knee, putting in enough hardware to make him part cyborg, but no bolt or pin could reconstruct his destroyed life.
Discussion Questions
Lulu’s Café is not only the book’s title but a setting central to the novel. What role does the café play in the plot?
Donuts . . . Donuts make everything better! Leah turns to food for comfort and Jessup turns to alcohol. Leah was judged for her weight gain, but she herself turns around and judges Jessup. In what ways is this a common practice in our society? Why is that?
Leah feels trapped by her abusive husband, Brent, and believes she has no one to turn to. What advice would you have given her? How did reading this book give you a new or better understanding of domestic abuse?
Discuss the roles of the significant people Leah meets on her life’s journey, such as Shayna, the young woman at the donut shop; Dr. Simmons, the obstetrician who gives her a Bible and promises to pray for her; Mona, the nurse in Lincoln; Gina, the hairdresser in Chattanooga; and of course Lulu. Have you ever encountered someone like this at a key point in your life?
What factors caused Leah to marry Brent Sadler? Years later, what draws her to Crowley Mason? Compare and contrast the two characters. What steps can you take to make wise relationship choices?
Food is a common theme throughout Lulu’s Café. What were some of your favorite meals in the book?
The author paints vivid pictures throughout the book with her descriptive narratives. What was your favorite descriptive scene? Why?
What passages from the book especially stand out to you? Why did they make such an impression?
There’s a fine line between sharing too much information in a book and allowing readers some freedom to fill in the blanks as they see fit. Was there a part of the story where you wish the author had shared more?
Everyone needs a Lulu, a generous and loving person who seeks out people to help. Do you know a Lulu? How can you try to be a Lulu?
A Note from the Author
CHRISTMAS IS A TIME to celebrate the birth of our Savior, but Christmas 2011 is one I am ashamed to admit I did not celebrate. I began battling the most treacherous storm of my life during this season.
Sitting by my mom’s side in an unfamiliar cancer center, I heard words so foreign to me I had to have the doctor repeat them and then spell them for me—“small-cell carcinoma lung cancer.” From the doctor’s grim expression and cautious words, my mom and I knew she had been handed a death sentence.
I armed myself with research and set out to stand by my mom through rounds of radiation, chemotherapy, blood transfusions, and a barrage of tests and paperwork.
I prayed without ceasing, “Please, God. Please heal Momma.”
While I begged God for a miracle, a story began to take root in my heart that became my creative outlet when the reality of losing my mom was too great a burden to bear.
In spring 2013, God answered my prayer, but not in the way I had envisioned. Rather than healing my mom’s body, he healed her soul, freeing her from the abusive past and sinful life that had held her captive for far too long. That healing was the most precious gift I had received since the birth of my children, for my mom had suffered greatly long before the cancer invaded.
In May 2013, Lulu’s Café was completed. I put the manuscript away for safekeeping and set out to help my mom get her affairs in order before the cancer robbed her of the ability to make decisions. Yes, the cruel disease had rebelled against treatments and had spread.
In summer 2013, I felt devastating pain and anguish I never knew could exist. I had to say good-bye to my mom, and selfishly, I was not ready. Watching her suffer and fade rendered me broken and defeated.
As I held her fragile body during the early evening of September 19, 2013, my mom took her last breath on earth, and I felt my own breath leave me in acute grief.
I fell into that grief for several months, not knowing how to resurface. Life kept going without me. My prayers were now for my own healing, for my heart was broken. The past three years had been all about fighting my mom’s cancer, and now that the battle was over, I felt lost. I begged God to help me move on.
Finally in January 2014, God said it was time to share Lulu’s Café. I was scared and didn’t feel worthy to share it, but I had made my mom a promise. And I intended on keeping it. Through honoring the memory of my mom and through the strength of my heavenly Father, my broken heart slowly began to heal. I know it will not completely heal while I’m still on this earth, but one day . . .
Since sharing Lulu’s Café, an abundance of stories have knocked on my heart’s door and asked to be shared also. They are not perfect stories, for I am not a perfect woman. But as long as God keeps giving me these stories, I promise to share them.
