Meeting Destiny

MEETING DESTINY

Destiny Series, Book 1

Nancy Straight

Published by Nancy Straight at Amazon

Copyright 2011 Nancy Straight

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Sharing of this book is permitted on Amazon. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, you are encouraged to return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-4507-2109-7

Meeting Destiny would not have been possible without the support of several incredible people. Rebecca Ufkes’ enthusiasm and insight were invaluable; she provided the encouragement I needed to write the story. Ryan Lemire and Julie Kabalka read and provided much needed feedback to make the story believable. Linda Brant edited the story and polished it until it shined!

The amazing cover was designed by Danielle from dreamscapecovers.com.

Finally, my husband Toby has been supportive of my every adventure. My deciding to write and publish a book was no exception.

Thanks to you all!

Seth stopped by to get a salad halfway through my shift – it’s one of the only things he’ll eat from the menu. “I’m hitting the library. You need a ride home tonight?”

I shook my head, “No, I’ll catch a ride with Melissa. Call me later?”

“
Sure, but it’ll be late.” He leaned across the counter, “I miss you already.” He’s the sappy romantic type. Seth and I have lived next door to one another our whole lives, our moms were best friends in high school, and we’ve been dating, I guess, since middle school. As I watched Seth make his way to the parking lot, I saw someone coming through the door who made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

I watched the man closely, not paying attention to the order monitor or anything Melissa said. He must have felt me staring at him because he caught my gaze for a second. Neither of us moved. He stood two steps inside the doorway as if arguing with himself whether he wanted to be here.

The man had bushy brown hair that looked as though it hadn’t seen a comb in days and likely not any kind of shampoo in weeks. His hair lay in all different directions. It looked dark brown, but I couldn’t tell if that was really the color or the grease from neglect. His face looked like leather, covered in stubble, with deep crevices from the sun. He had a slender build, his cheeks were sunk in, he was tall, easily five eleven, maybe an inch or two taller.

His clothes were a mess. He was wearing a dirty white t-shirt hidden under a thick green winter coat. The coat looked like the old Army jackets from the sixties with a large silver zipper. The coat’s length hung well over his thighs. It was unzipped and hung over blue jeans that were too long and too big for his frame; maybe at one time they fit his waist, but that was at least twenty pounds ago. His appearance made me think of a homeless person, maybe an addict whose addictions had shrunk his body, maybe a vagrant happy to find a decent pair of jeans from Goodwill.

His appearance didn’t disturb me nearly as much as his expression. It was as if he were looking through the people, like the people in the restaurant didn’t actually exist. The hair on my arms joined the hair on the back of my neck, all at attention. I felt an uneasiness I’d never felt before. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew this man was trouble.

I scanned the room and saw several tables had opened up. It looked like there were maybe twenty customers, not nearly as many as just fifteen minutes ago. All seemed to be oblivious to this newcomer.

“
Lauren!” The voice caught me off guard and quickly brought me back to reality. Melissa looked frustrated with me, “I need four fries and two cheeseburgers.” From her stare, she must have had to repeat herself. I watched as the customer wearing the green coat moved from the door to her line. I put the fries and cheeseburgers on the tray and pretended to be looking up at the order monitor.

Embarrassed, I managed, “Sorry, I must have been daydreaming for a second.”

Only two orders were in line. A woman in her late thirties who looked like she had just left an office, had her four-year-old son in tow. The four-year-old was babbling as if he’d not been able to talk all day. I only vaguely heard his questions, “Mommy, can I have a toy? Can I have a boy toy? I don’t like the girl toys. Remember when I got a doll? I want French fries. Can I have chicken? Mommy…”

The green jacket guy was bad news, and I knew I had to get Melissa away from the counter, even if only for five minutes.

Before the exhausted mom could place her order, I tapped Melissa on the shoulder. “Hey, Wanda wants you to go inventory the freezer.” I am a horrible liar and anyone who knows me well can see through me immediately. I made a conscious effort not to make eye contact with her. I told myself I just needed her out of the way until the green jacket guy left.

“
No way, I didn’t bring a coat. I’m not doing the inventory.” She blasted this louder than I had expected, and I winced, turning around to see if Wanda had heard the exchange. Wanda was assisting the drive-through and luckily paid no attention to the two of us. “Besides, I did it last week and did a miscount - too many beef patties on this week’s shipment. Wanda told me not to do the inventory alone again - ever.”

I needed to make this sound good, so with as forceful a voice as I could muster, I looked straight into her eyes, “Look Melissa, I’ve got plans tonight and can’t work late. You can’t handle the front by yourself. If we’re going to get out on time you have to figure out how to do basic math!” My angry voice devastated my upbeat friend, and the hurt on her face was as clear as if it had been written in marker. “Just go.”

Stepping to the register, I put my back to Melissa, betting she would depart without any argument. I took the order for the mom and son while watching every move from the man in the green jacket. He was looking around wildly at each of the exits, over his shoulder, through the windows; I did my best not to catch his eye again. Rather than piecing their order together and going on to the man in the green jacket, I waited for their order to be complete.

I took a deep breath and told myself I was overreacting. He didn’t force his way to the front of the line. If he were really dangerous, he wouldn’t have acted like a normal customer. It’s not like I haven’t served people who were poorly dressed and in need of better hygiene. I tried to tell myself that he was just a hungry man in need of a shower.

No, if anything, I have learned to trust my instincts, and every fiber of my being told me this guy was bad news.

As I got the exhausted mom’s to-go order, I was thankful that she was as anxious to leave the restaurant as I was for her to get away from the man standing two feet behind her. Her son continued with an endless string of questions, although I believed she was tuning him out as well as I was. The working mom thanked me and walked straight to the nearest exit.

My stomach felt like I had eaten a rock - or maybe a whole box of them. The ache from my stomach now joined the tiny hairs on my neck and arms that hadn’t relaxed since this stranger walked through the door. My heart started racing so fast that I could actually feel my pulse through my skin.

With as cheerful a voice and smile as I could produce, I finally looked at the man and asked, “May I take your order?” This was the first time I had made eye contact with him since he first stepped through the door.

His hands were in the pockets of his jacket. He broke eye contact and looked at the menu behind me. In a hushed voice, he whispered, “I sure am hungry.”

Rather than a smart response like, “Well duh, this is a restaurant,” I waited patiently, looking at him with what I knew was a pleasant look on my face.

My heart refused to slow down. “Take your time,” I answered as casually as I could. I looked down at the register, thinking that too much eye contact might agitate him. I realized that by now Melissa was safely in the freezer, probably pissed, but at least she was safe. I told myself that five minutes after this guy left, I would go back and apologize to her and explain that I’m really a lunatic instead of a jerk.

“
I know what I want,” his voice boomed. I looked back at him, before my eyes reached his, they stopped at his waist where I could see he had a gun. I stared at it as he slid it back into his pocket. I was thankful that he was not trying to frighten the rest of the customers in the restaurant. Knowing the potential horrific outcome, I was relieved that it was just he and I who were aware of his gun. Unfortunately, he was the only one aware of his intentions.

I kept my eyes trained on his pocket. Without looking back to his face, I asked, “What can I get for you, sir?” My voice didn’t crack, and I gave no indication of the fear that enveloped me. I believe my reaction, or lack thereof, might have surprised him a little.

He paused, eying me carefully before he demanded, “I’d like some food and any cash you have in that drawer.” I could see he was pointing his gun through the pocket of his jacket as he motioned to the cash register.

I finally broke my gaze from his jacket. I remained as calm as I could, “Okay sir, le’ me get your order.” Not wanting to take a chance at him staying here one second longer than he needed to, I grabbed a smorgasbord of food from the counter. Chicken sandwiches, fish sandwiches, double cheeseburgers, hamburgers, fries and onion rings. I grabbed a handful of all the condiments in the bin and put it all in our largest to-go bag.

I moved to the register and prepared to hit the cash sale button when I heard that same high-pitched voice that I was certain had just left the restaurant.

“
Hey! I didn’t want a girl toy.
I’
m a boy.” The child was notably upset, but I didn’t take my eyes off the man with the gun. I reached under the counter to get the boy a new toy. My fingers struggled to find the large toy box without the aid of my eyes showing them the way. I grabbed a handful of them and passed at least five to the boy without even looking at him.

The man with the gun was infuriated. In a thundering voice, he shouted, “What the hell are you doing? You’re ignoring me to give this little brat a toy?” His voice was fierce, and the look he had for me was vicious.

Quietly and only to the man, “It’ll only take a second.” The toys were already in the boy’s hands, “and he’ll get out of the way.” The man’s uproar caught the attention of several of the customers, as well as Wanda, the manager on duty. I knew if Wanda saw anything she didn’t like, she would be at my side in the blink of an eye.