Loving Lies(18)

“Are you sure? You look sort of familiar to me and I never forget a face.”

Or a cheque book. “I’ve been told that a few times. Guess I’ve got that common look. I’d recommend today’s special—two eggs, sausages and fruit salad.”

Her eyes move to the menu and I’m praying that’s it. “I’ll just have the fruit salad.”

I nod and casually walk away. The entire time my heart’s beating super-fast. I feel like her eyes are following me but I pretend all is normal when I feel anything but. I dash behind the bar and wonder when she gets out her phone if she’s about to call my father. I have no idea what to do.

“Table six needs more coffee. You okay, Alyssa? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

I hear Josh’s voice but feel overwhelmed. I mumble I need to go to the washroom and barely hear him say he’ll cover for me. At the door to the bathroom I dart a glance at Carol’s table and almost fall over. Blake is casually pulling out a chair to join her for breakfast. It’s like my two worlds are colliding and I’m watching a train wreck, except the only person falling apart is me. What the hell am I going to do? There’s no way I can go out there and act like all is normal when every instinct I possess is screaming at me to pack my bags and run. I sit on the toilet for a good five minutes willing my heart to return to normal.

“You okay, Alyssa?”

That’s Becca’s voice on the other side of the stall.

“Josh said you weren’t looking good. I can cover for you.”

Sweet Jesus I love her. “Oh, Becca that would be great. I’m really not well.” I flush the toilet to pretend I’d gone and open the stall. Becca’s propped her hip up against the sink so I go over and wash my hands and apply some much needed cold water to my face.

“You look like shit. Anything special I need to know?”

“No. It’s a pretty standard crowd now that the group of fourteen is gone. Thanks so much. I owe you.”

“No sweat. Go lie down for a bit and take something. I bet you’ll be feeling better in a no time.”

I mumble another thanks and slowly make my way to the back room to grab my purse. Without even looking into the bar I make my way out the back door and almost speed walk back to my room. Only when I’m inside my room do I dare examine what just happened.

How on earth would Blake know Carol? The bigger question is what is Blake up to? Could he have been hired by my father to find me? I break out in a cold sweat and wonder if I’ve just slept with the enemy.

Crawling into my bed, I feel like my world is crumbling. I keep eyeing my bag and mentally start packing. I’m not sure when I fall asleep but I wake up hours later to a small knock on my door.

“You okay, Alyssa?”

It’s Sandy, Mrs. McCaid, one of the owners of the place. She’s like a mother hen but in a good way. I get up and swipe my hair back and open the door.

She walks in and settles a tray on the small desk I’ve been using to pile my clothing on. “Oh, you poor thing. Becca told me you weren’t feeling good. I brought you a cup of tea and some sandwiches from the kitchen.”

I feel tears well in my eyes and fidget with the cuffs on my sweater.

“Is everything alright, Alyssa?”

I nod, fighting the lump in my throat. I don’t want to lie to her, but telling the truth isn’t an option. She sits beside me on my small bed and takes my hands in hers. It’s a comforting gesture making those damn tears I’ve been holding at bay fall.

“Oh, Alyssa, dear. It can’t be that bad. There…there…all will be okay.”

She pulls me in for a side hug, nestling my head against her large bosom. I’m reminded she’s done this before by her tone and comfort. She isn’t plying me with questions and I’m grateful. She lets me sniffle a few more minutes and only when I’m finally composed does she let go and place her hand on my leg, giving me a reassuring pat.

“I know some days feel like the end of the world, but trust me, tomorrow will be better. I don’t want you to work today. I want you to take the entire day off to regroup. Roger’s back and he’s placed all the supplies you asked for in the winter maintenance building. I had no idea you’re a professional photographer.”

I guff a laugh. “Oh, I’m not.”

“That’s not what I heard. Anyway, I’m thrilled you’ll get to do what you love in your spare time. Now, when you want to talk, I’m here for you.”

She gets up and gives me one last look. “You’re going to be okay. Whatever it is that’s got you down, you’re a survivor. I recognize the look,” she says, with a wide smile that tells me she’s got my back.