Page 15 of Echoes in the Night

“Cake.”

We both laugh. “That might be possible if you can follow Gram’s recipe and substitute chocolate bars for the cocoa.”

“Trust me, when it comes to cake, I’ll figure something out.”

In the kitchen I show her the baking supplies and the chocolate bars. We split one while deciding on dinner.

“Beef stew would be really good and I know how to make biscuits,” she offers.

“Sounds good to me.” We work well together in the kitchen. Me chopping and dicing, her mixing, measuring, and blending. The atmosphere is warm and companionable. What I wouldn’t give to have this the rest of my life.

“Jax, is the storm lifting?” She’s staring out the window over the sink.

I stand behind her, my hands automatically finding her waist. “Looks like it’s stopped snowing. The wind is still blowing but not as much force. I might be able to start digging us out tomorrow.”

More importantly I might be able to reach out to Clay.

“Once we get the stew going, I’ll go check the hens.”

“Oh, good. I want to come. Will you teach me how to collect the eggs?”

“You say that now. Wait until you get an angry hen chasing you.”

“Ha. You must not have met an angry Irish girl before. I can handle myself.”

Damn, I bet she can. But I’d much rather be the one handling her.

After the first peck by an angry hen, Maura does indeed hold her own. She also helps clean the bedding and put down fresh. We work well together, almost like we’ve done it for years. While I’m picking out a couple small pieces of wood to whittle, she picks out other little animals to take inside.

Back in the kitchen I check the pot and she pulls out her cake. Damn, it smells good in here. Like a home.

Together we hang the items we washed earlier. I sit at the table with my sketch pad and she fusses with the wooden animals. I notice her gaze shift back and forth from the notebook I gave her the first day.

“What’s going on, Maura? Something’s bothering you.”

She chews on her lip, glances at the notebook and back to me. “I think he’s in there.”

Frowning, I try to understand. Then reach for the notebook. “May I?”

She nods. An unfinished sketch of a man is on the first page. Wearing an over coat and gloves, he holds a camera. The face is angular, but not filled in.

“This is…him?”The bastard who abducted you?

“I think so. I don’t know him or recognize him. But when I think of that,” she glances at the notebook, “I get shaky inside.”

“Can we try something?”

“What?”

“Would you sit on my lap, we can open to another page, and you start at the beginning of Saturday. You were at work, tell me about the day and talk me through what was on your mind what was going on. Let’s see if you remember something else.”

“I’ll try.”

Placing my phone on the table I get her attention. “I want to record it, babe. We need to have as much information for Clay as possible. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.”

Once she’s on my lap, I pull my sketch book over and open it. “Before we get started you have a choice to make. I’ve drawn two hair-stick clasps I can whittle for you. Which do you prefer? The butterfly or the Celtic trinity knot?”

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