Page 3 of Echoes in the Night

“I’ll make some food and we can sit at the table and talk. You haven’t eaten in a long time, and you need to fuel your body.”

I throw back the blankets and notice I’m only wearing a man’s army T-shirt. “Whe—where are my clothes?”

“You were soaking wet. I had to put you in something dry. I swear, I did not touch you in any way other than to protect you. I know this is going to be hard but let’s take one thing at a time. You need food. There are sweatpants and socks on the counter in the bathroom.”

He turns his back and heads across the room to the kitchen area of the open floor plan.

I scurry into the bathroom. What the hell have I gotten myself into? After taking care of business, I wash my hands.Glancing in the mirror I notice my bra hanging in the shower. Something flickers in my mind but doesn’t linger.

What the hell was I doing in the mountains? How did I get there?

Oh my god, what if he kidnapped me and dragged me up here like one of those mountain men books? My hand is shaking and my head throbs. This doesn’t feel romantic like the books make it sound. It’s terrifying. I glance around for some kind of weapon, but I doubt the cellophane wrapped toothbrush laid out on the counter with the clothes will be very effective.

What is happening to me? I was at work yesterday. How did I get here? Why can’t I remember? Did he drug me? Where am I really?

Splashing cold water on my face, I grab the navy towel and press it to my face. An image of an average height and build guy in a full length dark blue wool coat holding a camera skitters through my mind. A feeling of revulsion washes over me.

What the hell? Am I losing my mind? Where did that come from? I don’t know anyone like that.

“Are you okay? Do you need help?” Jax asks from the other side of the door.

No. No, I’m not okay. I’m scaring the shit out of myself.

“I’m fine, I’ll be right out.”Okay, stay calm. Go with the flow and as soon as you can, sneak off.I pull on the socks and pants he left for me, rolling the waist and the cuffs so I don’t trip.

Opening the door, I pay closer attention to the room, looking for exits. The entire space is just one big room. The massive bed is to the right, two chairs with a side table and a loveseat sit before a huge fireplace. The side walls around it are filled from floor to ceiling with books. There’s one door on the far wall to the right.

As I approach, I can see the kitchen is a mix of old and new. Chopping block counter tops with open cupboards above thathold plates, bowls and cups. Pots and pans hang from hooks near the stove. There’s an old cast iron wood burning stove and what looks like a more modern one with gas burners.

A window above a dual sink confirms what he said about a snowstorm. I can’t see anything but white. One of the sinks has an old-fashioned pump faucet and the other a new two handle chrome.

The round table that could seat four is set for two. Folded cloth napkins lay across the plates. My tension eases just a bit. Would a kidnapper really take the time to fold cloth napkins?

Jax is at the wood burning stove, towel thrown over his shoulder. He glances my way and nods toward the counter. “The red canister has an assortment of teas. Grab whatever you like, and I’ll fill your mug.”

I grab an earl grey from the top then hesitate. What if he’s trying to drug me? Digging to the middle of the jar I select a Darjeeling.

When I glance up, he’s studying me. Meeting my gaze, he gives me a brief nod before grabbing the cast iron frying pan. Crossing to the table he dishes up the egg casserole he’s made onto two plates. “Choose your seat while I get my coffee.”

I wait until he’s filed my cup with water and seated before speaking. “I can’t eat all of this.”

“Eat what you want, I’ll finish the rest. I’ve got a small cooler, but it doesn’t hold much. Besides, you might be hungrier than you think.”

We eat in silence for a few minutes. “This is really good. Thank you.”

“Potatoes, eggs, cheese and vegetables. The little something special comes from the old cast iron pan. My Gramps had it his whole life. He said time is what seasoned everything we cooked.”

“Once I tried to cook in a cast iron pan and everything stuck.” I shake my head remembering how long it took me to clean the pan and I ended up getting rid of it anyway.

He smiles. “There’s an art to breaking in one of those pans. The one I was using is older than I am.”

“And how old is that?”

“Thirty-eight next month.” He glances up. “And you?”

“Twenty-two.” Something like disappointment washes over his face, but he schools his features quickly. “Is this like your get away cabin?”

“Nope. I’ve lived here full time since I got out of the service.”

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