Page 19 of Deadly Past

Don’t go outside! The warning raced through her head.

Declan’s four-wheeler appeared to have turned around. He was coming back to the cabin.

The scratch outside the window happened again. She tucked the weapon behind her back and grabbed the flashlight before rushing over to the window.

Drawing in a deep breath, Wynona whipped the curtain back and shined the light out. A tree branch scraped against the window. She doubled over in relief.

The stew boiled over, and Wynona flipped on the lights and rushed over to the stove to turn the burner down. She reached for some paper towels and wiped up the mess. Outside, the four-wheeler appeared right outside the house. Wynona stirred the stew before hurrying to the living room door.

“Wynona, it’s me.” She unlocked the door and opened it. Declan came inside and closed the door against the blustery wind.

“Did you see Amos?” she asked because there was something in Declan’s expression that was concerning.

“No, I didn’t. The house was dark. He keeps the place unlocked. I went inside. He’s not home.”

“You’re worried about him?” She could see it on his face.

“I am. He’s getting up there in age and stubborn as all get out.” Declan took off his jacket and warmed his hands in front of the fire. “Though he normally doesn’t talk much about himself, Amos did mention once that he had a daughter, although I had the impression they might be estranged. I think he said she lived on the mainland. Maybe he went for a visit.”

Still, she could tell he was worried.

“The storm is affecting cell service. I sent JT a quick text message, and it went through.”

“That’s good. At least he knows we made it safely.”

Declan shifted toward the kitchen. “Something smells good.”

She told him about the stew, and he closed his eyes.

“I love your stew.” The tenderness in his eyes put her at a loss for something to say. It was just she and Declan alone in a cabin that reminded her of their honeymoon.

“Speaking of, I’d better start the cornbread. Why don’t you sit by the fire and warm up.” She hurried away without waiting for his response. Did he feel this same awkwardness? Did he remember the cabin?

Declan remained in the living room while she prepared the cornbread and set the table.

Once the cornbread had finished baking, she removed it and dished stew into bowls.

“This looks amazing,” Declan told her, and she spun to see him standing close.

“Thanks. Come and sit.” She poured them both water and claimed the seat opposite his.

He reached for her hands to pray. Wynona bowed her head. “Father, You are amazing. Thank You for keeping us safe. Amen.”

Wynona swallowed the lump in her throat and grabbed her spoon.

“This is so good,” Declan was saying as if nothing about their awkward reunion phased him.

She stirred her bowl. “Thank you.”

The silence from earlier returned, and she struggled for something to fill it but couldn’t think of a single thing.

“How’s your job?” he asked before biting into the cornbread.

Safer ground. She was grateful for the shift.

“Good. Busy. I work in the NICU at my hospital. Most days it can be rewarding. Others are heart-wrenching.”

Declan held her eyes. “Still no word from your dad?” he asked quietly.

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