She nodded. “I’m glad he’s better, but I feel bad that he has family stuff going on. I may not be close to mine anymore, but my heart still goes out to him.”
I worked really hard to school my features. I needed to let Turner talk to Lark in his time and in his way.
I decided to change the subject. “So, since we’re wrapping up here, do you have plans for the rest of the evening?”
She shoved a couple of other things into her bag and zipped it closed. “No, nothing planned. Was just going to head home and figure out what to make for dinner. Maybe watch something pointless on TV.”
My stomach flipped a little. I didn’t understand why I was so nervous. “Well, I was wondering if you might want to join me for dinner. I keep hearing Van and Lennie talking about Lagniappe Isle, and I have been meaning to go back ever since I went for the first time. There’s a fantastic little seafood restaurant. Have you ever been?”
She shook her head. “No. Oddly enough, I’ve never been to any of the islands. Not even Grand Isle.” She checked her watch. “I don’t see why we couldn’t go. Am I dressed okay for it?”
I took her in. She looked absolutely gorgeous with her hair half up and half down, wearing a slim-fitting pair of distressed jeans and a flowy tank top with lots of bohemian jewelry.
“You’re perfect.”
She ducked her head, doing her best to hide the shy smile, but I saw it—and it was everything.
“Then, yes. Sure. Let’s go. I’d love to see it.”
About forty-five minutes later,after a trek down an isolated stretch of road that cut through the marshes and black mangroves, it deposited us on the only other inhabited island off the Louisiana coast. We drove down a central street that looked like something from artist Camille Pissarro’s brain, complete with stone bridges on side streets and gardens and trees that lent a riot of color to the town that wasn’t commonplace in most areas of New Orleans. Granted, we weren’t in New Orleans any longer.
It evenfeltdifferent here. Like you’d somehow stepped back in time or entered some fantasy realm, utterly separate from anywhere else. The businesses lining the street were well-kept and quaint, a lot with swinging wooden signs announcing their names and offerings. No matter where I looked, everything seemed . . . perfect. It was a shock to the system since the barrier islands were often the worst affected by the storms.
I glanced over at Lark and saw that she was as spellbound as I was. She stared out the window of my truck, a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my,” she said. “It’s . . . it’s magical. Truly.”
She looked over at me, and I shot her a grin. “It really is. I remember it being awesome the last time I was here, but they’ve made even more improvements. This is unlike any place I’ve ever been.”
“I don’t think it can be like anywhere else. There’s real magic here, Kholt. Like mine, but greater. More intense. Older.Powerful. It’s in the very earth and air that surrounds this place. In the fires that forged it and the water that encloses it. This placeisunlike anywhere else.”
Wow. I’d never even entertained the idea that perhaps there were places where concentrations of magic were greater than others. I’d always known magic was real, but my life had consisted more of the intangible things like what Lark could do—talking to the dead, sensing things that others couldn’t, and turning intention into manifestation. Or stuff I’d seen some in the family do, like being able to know where an object came from by touching it. Something on this grand a scale seemed almost fantastical. But I felt it, too. And I was just an average Joe.
I glanced back at Lark and saw her shake her head in wonder before I refocused on the road. The Lamplight Grill was at the end of the island on the tip. It had a functioning mini lighthouse built into its structure that helped boats see the island and just added to the appeal of the place. They also had some of the best seafood étouffée I’d ever eaten.
When I finally pulled up and parked in the restaurant’s lot, my stomach was growling.
“Are you ready for some of the best seafood you’ve ever had?” I asked Lark and glanced her way.
She grinned widely and nodded. “Absolutely. I’m starving, and I can’t wait to take in some more of this place’s energy from outside the truck. Let’s go.”
We got out of the vehicle and headed in. The inside was done up in what I would call coastal Cajun chic, if that could be a thing. It was part beach, part bayou, and oddly felt like home.
“Oh,” Lark exclaimed with a sigh. “It’s great.” She looked around. “I love everything about it.”
“Welcome to the Lamplight Grill,” a dark-haired woman said as she came our way. “Just two this evening?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Just the two of us. Would it be possible to get a table by the windows?”
“Of course, sir.” She grabbed a couple of menus. “Right this way.”
She led us to what I felt was the best table in the place and set a menu on each place setting. “Lilliana will be your server this evening, but please, let either of us know if you need anything at all. Enjoy your meal.”
Lark and I sat and just took in the restaurant’s ambiance. There weren’t a ton of patrons inside, but just enough to give it a friendly buzz of conversation and make it feel welcoming.
Lark looked at me. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s so wonderful. I can see why Van and Lennie love it so much.”
“My pleasure. Always. As I said, I came here once, and it never left my mind. I’ve meant to come back but just never got around to it. I’m glad you could join me.”
We ordered drinks and food and then settled in as we waited. I so badly wanted to ask her about the things she’d said that I didn’t know—the stuff she’d told Turner and the rest of the team about—but I didn’t want to sour the mood. Instead, I asked her about her time in New Orleans.