Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,131

. how are you here?” she finally says, her voice a terrified shake of a whisper.

“I’m the chef here. I make the last meals. Your last meal,” I say, stepping forward. My voice steadies as I focus on Yvonne.

“The Number One,” Yvonne says.

“With fresh strawberry ice cream,” I say.

“I always liked fresh strawberry ice cream,” Yvonne says, her hand at her chest. She attempts a small smile.

“I know,” I say.

“Queenie, I—,” Yvonne starts, but crumples to the cot below her as she is unable to finish her sentence. I step forward and kneel in front of her. I wait for her to look up at me. When she does, I can see the tears pooling in her eyes. She continues, “You look like her, you know? Your face—there’s something about it. Not the eyes, though, you don’t have her eyes.” Yvonne brings her hand up and for a small second touches the side of my face with her fingers. A smile. From somewhere deep. “You’re okay. Look at you. You’re okay.” Another smile. A laugh. A relieved laugh and another smile as she pulls me in for a hug. She just keeps saying, “You’re okay,” over and over again. I wrap my arms around her thin frame and just breathe her in.

“Ms. Wake?” the chaplain says from just behind me, still in the doorway of the cell. Yvonne finally lets me go. Her face is softer. I look at her. It’s the oddest realization, especially given where we are. Yvonne’s face looks peaceful. She takes a deep breath and gives me one last smile as I creak into a standing position. One last look. Our eyes locked on each other’s as Shawn instructs me to follow him back down the hallway.

Peace. She just wanted to know I was okay.

I follow Shawn back down the hallway and hear the cell door close behind me. I don’t look back. The metal door opens and closes behind us.

“You okay?” Shawn asks, just outside.

“I’m okay,” I say, and the tears explode out of my throat and the crumbling sobs shock even me. Shawn pulls me close, and I’m immediately enveloped. I don’t notice the other guards. I’m sure they’re observing all of this. I just sob. And repeat over and over. You’re okay. You’re okay.

I’m okay.

“Chef?” Jace reappears with the Dent boys.

“Yes. Yes,” I say, disentangling myself from Shawn and trying to collect myself. Shawn gives me a look. I nod. I’m okay. He gives me a quick nod of acknowledgment back and then never mentions again what just happened.

“You ready for us?” Jace asks, gesturing toward the kitchen.

“Yes, sir,” I say. I breathe. Deep. Down. The exhalation soars out of me as I enter the kitchen with Jace and the Dent boys.

I’m okay.

They don’t ask me about what happened earlier and I don’t tell them. Maybe one day I will. But not today. We move and thread through the kitchen like clockwork. The meal begins to take shape. With each ingredient I lighten. With each ingredient I leave it behind. With each ingredient I take a step toward my future.

With just under an hour I begin the biscuits, cutting round after round. Harlan scoops up the cut biscuits and places them on a cookie sheet as Cody focuses on the green bean dish. As the biscuits go in the oven, the kitchen door clicks and Shawn walks in.

“You ready?” Shawn asks.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” Shawn says. He walks out of the kitchen, and as the door slams behind him, I turn to the skillet. It’s time for the chicken fried steak.

I begin to fry the chicken fried steak in the lard. After a few minutes, I see Harlan take the tray from the shelf and place it on the counter. My breathing quickens and I find myself craning my neck to get a look. The chicken fried steak crackles away in the skillet, but I can’t take my eyes off the tray. I wrench my eyes away and focus back on the steak. I remember Yvonne’s face and calm down.

Five minutes.

I pull the chicken fried steaks from the lard one by one and place them on the awaiting plate. Cody covers them each with a paper towel. The grease shines through.

Four minutes.

“Cody, why don’t you get the mashed potatoes and the cream gravy. Harlan, could you scoop up some of those green beans,” I say, opening up the freezer and pulling out the fresh strawberry ice cream. The