Page 35 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

"Food truck!" Nia announced dramatically.

"I knew y'all weren't really walking," I laughed.

"Told you," Tasha said. "It's dessert with cardio."

Three food trucks lined the curb under café lights. Families sat at picnic tables while kids chased bubbles on the grass. One truck sold tacos, another offered homemade lemonade and cookies, and the last had lobster rolls, crab cakes, shrimp baskets, and seafood boils written on a chalkboard menu.

"Oh," Camille sighed. "Now that's just rude."

"You love seafood," Simone said.

"I do."

"So, eat."

"I also enjoy breathing."

Everyone laughed.

"You really are that allergic?" I asked.

Camille nodded.

"Unfortunately."

She took a bright yellow injector from the small belt bag at her waist, showed it for a moment, then put it back.

"I don't leave home without it."

I caught myself looking her over. Some habits stay with you.

"You looked me over just now."

I blinked.

"What?"

"The nurse in you."

All the women looked at me.

"You checked to make sure I was prepared."

I laughed softly.

"I guess I did."

"See?" Tasha said. "You never stop being a nurse."

I smiled.

"I haven't worked in a very long time."

"But your brain still does."

She was right. Some things just stay with you. You pick up on things others miss. Maybe it’s a toddler left alone, or someone limping down the street. You hear a cough that sounds worse than allergies. Or you see someone say they’re fine, but their eyes say otherwise. The body tells the truth, even when people don’t.

"You okay?"