She would make this man sweat. She would make him beg for her assistance. She would… Wait… He began unraveling the bright red streamer in his hand slowly and methodically, releasing the thin paper from its spool and taking measured steps in Georgia’s direction.
“You’re gonna help me out, right?”
Georgia took a step back, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. I’m not really known for my helpfulness.”
Lake tilted his head. “I wouldn’t say that at all. You’re helpful…” Twist. Twist. Twist. He made light, large loops of the paper, like a Christmas cowboy ready to lasso her up. “Some would say sacrificial… or tenacious, even.”
Georgia shook her head and pursed her lips. “Nah. Not me.”
“No, really. You are. I’ve always considered you dashing…” He smirked. “A real knight in shining armor when it comes to helping out. You’re… charming, even.”
She held back a cackle and took another step back. “I really do have the soup kitchen this afternoon, and it looks like you’ve got a handle on things here... and so many, many helpers.” She threw her thumb over her shoulder. “I think I’m gonna just go and find Dakota and Caroline over in the elderly hallway. They always end up with treats sent home. Gotta deck those doors!”
Before she could take another step back, Lake grabbed her forearm and wrapped a loop around her. “Peaches, I need help. Please.”
A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. “If one more teenage girl asks me if I need help with these streamers becausethey, like, totally could give me a hand, I’m gonna,like, totally lose my mind.”
“How many?” Georgia asked.
“How many what?”
Georgia tried not to look directly at his eyes. She always seemed to have a hard time finding anything frustrating at all about Lake when he was like this. Fun. Confident but ruffled. Maybe just a little flirty.
She shook it off, though.Resist the charm. RESIST, Georgia!
“How many youth have offered to help with theYOUTH DOOR, Lakeland, that you have turned down?”
He had the decency to look slightly abashed. “Ginny was the seventh.”
She clicked her tongue and shook her head, but Lake tightened the streamers looped around her arms and leaned in close. “I’m not crazy, Peaches. They’re hoverin’, and they keep sending those girls out like soldiers on a battlefront. I can’t do it. Some of the guys helped until they got distracted by the fluttering of girls comin’ in and out, and…”
“And?”
“And I really wanna win this thing! I want to get done and… I kind of… I have plans this afternoon, okay? Please help me.”
Georgia nearly sputtered at his mention of plans and chastised herself for thinking Lake may actually be flirting with her but decided to put him out of his misery, all the same. “Okay. I’ll help you.”
He relinquished the wrapped streamers as she whistled loudly for the youth, calling them into the hallway. “Hey y’all, quit foolin’ around in there and let’s get goin’!”
Georgia delegated quick assignments, decorating tasks, and a cleanup crew. Ginny and her girl gang were put to work on the paper mache cake, complete with giant holographic papered candles that seemed to flicker as you passed by. By the end of a very entertaining hour—and countless looks of utter despair from Lake as the revolving line of youth-aged girls found reasons to ask him for help or advice with whatever task they’d been assigned to—Georgia thought they were left with a winning door.
She’d also thought long and hard about how she’d rile Lake up again. Giving him a hard time had become a game of sorts, keeping her mind on high alert, and an easy distraction from the memories that lingered too close below the surface, ready to erupt if stirred up too much. But when they’d finished, Lake disappeared for his afternoon plans quickly, offering a brief and uncharacteristically shortgoodbyeandthank youto Georgia for her assistance before escaping the door decorating obligation she was sure he’d been put up to by his family.
Georgia tried not to think too much on those plans and who or what they might involve. Instead, with the help of other volunteers, she quickly hustled the youth onto the bus that would take them to the Atlanta soup kitchen where they would be serving for the afternoon.
The soup kitchen was hosted in the basement of a large, historic church. Georgia had imagined it a castle in her youth days. Gray brick and stained-glass windows covered the outside facade, with the inside smelling of musty, old socks and lined with bulb-lit sconces along the darkened hallways. She remembered the times she’d come as a teenager with Living Hope Church, serving at the same soup kitchen since high school, when some of the youth would get into mischief between kitchen shifts. More often than not, Lake had been somewhere in the midst of those events, experiencing his own brand of fun. She’d never joined in though, content to serve for the purposes they’d come for.
And Georgia had continued serving ever since. She’d always tried to volunteer more during the holiday hours when she knew they’d be busiest and most in need of help.
When the bus arrived and they’d settled into the kitchen area, Georgia sent the youth to their assigned tasks, handing out hair nets and plastic gloves, then joined the other adult volunteers where they greeted the guests standing in a line at the entrance.
It broke Georgia’s heart to see the long line of men, women, and children huddled and wrapped along the brick walls of the old church building. They’d likely been waiting all day for the meal and a safe place to rest for a solitary hour. She knew she was extremely fortunate and was grateful for the chance to help in any small way, but serving there made her wish she could do more.
She greeted the first family. A young mother holding a toddler in her arms and another child by the hand. Families with small children were the first to come through the line. Each family was given a private table to eat together in safety and warmth, received any donated supplies they might need, and then had the opportunity to speak with a social services volunteer, who could offer safe options for housing and connections for help.
“Hey y’all. Welcome in.” Georgia knelt down, meeting the little girl who clung to her mother’s hand at eye level. “How would you like a big bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich?”
“I like grilled cheese,” she replied, not the least bit shy.
