Read Online Livvie's Song by Sharlene MacLaren - Free Book Online

turned, revealing his slightly sagging belly, and sent him a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hey there, young man. I got some pancake batter here for you. How good are you at flippin’?”
    “Probably nowhere near as good as you, sir. The griddle ready?”
    “Water’s dancin’ on it.”
    “Good sign,” he said, walking behind the counter. The mere notion that this kitchen would one day be his ushered in a round of nervous jitters.
    “Ain’t many who can flip a pancake like ol’ Joe, here,” said one of the cook’s cronies.
    “I’m of the opinion it’s not so much the flipping that makes a good pancake but the secret ingredients,” Will replied. “Shoot, I can flip a rock, but would you care to eat one?”
    Joe laughed. “He got you there, Quinn. You ain’t dealin’ with any pushover, I tell ya. This here feller’s gonna give y’all a good run for your money. You watch.”
    Will appreciated the vote of confidence, but, right now, he felt about as bold as a tortoise crossing Market Street. He would be testing his memory to the limit to recall Harry’s recipe for pancakes. In fact, when he sat down tonight to write him a letter and share the news about his new job, he just might ask him to send the recipe. And, while he was at it, he’d ask for a bunch of his other recipes—as many as he was willing to share. Thanks to Harry, meals in the prison dining hall hadn’t been half bad. Heck, mealtimes were what the inmates at Welfare Island State Pen most looked forward to each day.
    Harry wasn’t the only cook there, of course, but he was everyone’s favorite. The warden used to get after him for feeding the jailbirds such tasty food, but Harry refused to change his ways. He called the pen his “mission field,” a place where he fed the mouths of hungry convicts, and then, as God led him, fed their hungry souls with the truth of His love. It’d worked on Will and a number of others, and they’d started a Bible study some months prior to his release. Whenever the Lord brought that group of men to his mind, he prayed they’d have the strength and stamina to continue meeting together. Living a Christian life behind bars meant enduring ridicule, even though most of the other inmates had never thought to mess with Will Taylor, what with his size and reputation.
    “Just so long as he can fry me up a good hamburger, nice ’n’ pink in the middle, he’ll be fine in my book,” said an old codger, who looked fit for the grave but had somehow managed to perch himself on a bar stool between two others.
    Joe laughed and looked at Will, who then poured several spoonfuls of batter onto the griddle. Grease sparks popped in all directions. He kept his eyes trained on the pancakes, watching for the sides to brown to perfection before he flipped them over.
    “You’ll find Coot here is pretty particular about ’is hamburgers,” Joe said, nudging Will playfully with his elbow.
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    The banter at the bar continued, and customers came and went, as Joe showed him around the kitchen, telling him where he’d find every utensil and tool he might need, then introduced him to everybody and his cousin. Will was amazed how Joe kept his cool amid each rush of orders. He himself sweat bullets, wishing to the high heavens he’d worn a short-sleeved shirt instead of this long-sleeved affair he’d bought at the Salvation Army secondhand store. Joe wore only a T-shirt and a worn pair of dungarees. Live and learn. The last time Will had worked in a kitchen, he’d had no choice but to sport black-and-white stripes.
    Around ten o’clock, there was a lull, enabling them to take a break from cooking like fiends and start cleaning up. “The lunch crowd’ll start filterin’ in ’round eleven thirty, so now’s when we start gatherin’ stuff together for that,” Joe explained. “Usually, Livvie ’n’ Cora Mae help out, dependin’ on what’s on the menu. I normally do a daily