Page 38 of Master
I sat up and rubbed my eyes to fully awaken. The scent I'd assumed belonged to the land of nod grew stronger, and my stomach gave an appreciative gurgle.
Outside the window, long shadows hinted at the loss of daylight. It had been hours since that stale Snickers meal bar and the idea of proper food... real yummy food that smelled and hopefully tasted like home? I hopped off the bed and padded down the stairs without pausing to don my boots.
“Did you have a good rest?” Lula glanced over her shoulder as I entered the kitchen. She stood over an old-fashioned gas stove, a long wooden spoon stirring something that steamed and bubbled.
I nodded in answer, afraid opening my mouth would have me salivating like a starving dog.
"I've already called the boys. They'll be here in a minute." Lula bent to open the stove, and the delicious scent weakened my knees.
“Can I help you with anything?” It was only polite to offer, especially when she prepared the most delicious meal I’d smelled in decades.
I wasn't a terrible cook—if you overlooked that time I gave Curtis food poisoning with some bad shrimp. In allfairness, that was the butcher's fault. I made a decent lasagna and Coq au Vin, but the scents emanating from Lulu’s kitchen were otherworldly.
"You can finish setting the table, please?"
The dining table was a large pine table that sat mid-way between the kitchen and living room. Plates that reminded me of my mother's Fiesta ware, silverware, napkins, and glasses sat at the end of the table. I had a place setting for four done within minutes. Just in time to see Tarook and Buck coming in through the kitchen door.
Buck stopped to nuzzle Lula’s neck, giving her a playful swat on the rear. I readied myself as Tarook walked closer, wondering what he would do within the pretense of our being a couple. He came close, and just as I expected him to take advantage and try to kiss me or swat my butt, Tarook did something unexpected.
He smiled—a bright, charming smile like he hadn't seen me in years and trailed the tip of his forefinger along my nose. Perspiration clung to his muscles, accenting the flex and dips. Whatever labor Buck set him to had mussed his hair, pulling a few chestnut strands from the bun he wore at the back of his head. His scent, spicier and headier than normal, drowned out the smell of dinner, making my head swim. A hot wash of desire pooled deep in my belly, and I gasped at the feeling, causing Tarook's golden gaze to narrow as he watched me.
“You’re all dirty,” I teased. It wasn't a lie. It just didn't seem to matter.
“I’ll go get cleaned up,” Tarook’s voice held a throaty softness, only making that flame in my belly grow hotter.
“You and Buck go wash up at the sink,” Lula ordered, carrying a huge tray of what looked like pork chops to the table. “I’ll not have dinner getting cold waiting on you.”
Tarook hesitated, looking at the dirt caked on his fingers, but Buck called him over, and the two took turns washing their faces and hands at the kitchen sink.
Dinner consisted of pork chops, just as I guessed, cooked with the alien version of apples and roast vegetables. For dessert, Lula made a berry cobbler—the berry in question being a bright pink color and tasting like a combination of cherry and mango. The pile of neita fruit Tarook and I collected perched in a wooden bowl in the center of the table for a lesser sweet option.
We shared abduction stories and snippets from our lives on Earth. Lula had heard of Outlander, although there were only three books published at the time of her abduction. She'd been walking home from her job as a waitress after the night shift when the Trogvyk grabbed her. Thankfully, the Vaktaire rescued her from being sold. Buck, of course, remembered nothing. He believed the lack of memories was due to an accident during his abduction.
I knew better.
So did Tarook, and from his expression, it was plain he felt shitty about Elvis/Buck’s stolen memories.
Buck handled his lack of memories best. His happiest times included Lula, and he recalled every single minute of those.
No matter who these two were back on Earth, they'd moved on, come together, found love, and built a happy life for themselves. I envied that.
After dinner, Tarook and Buck went to check the livestock and load the truck for tomorrow’s trip into the village while I helped Clara with the dishes.
Between washing and drying, I related the story of the seventh Outlander Book, An Echo in the Bone. Especially the fascinating plot concerning Arch and Murdina Bug and French gold.
“I know who he used to be.”
“What?” I blinked, the saucer I held growing slippery in my fingers.
“Buck.” The grin she gave me held sadness. “I know who he used to be... on Earth. My mama Denise was a huge Elvis fan.”
I reached over and grabbed her soapy fingers with mine, giving a comforting squeeze.
"He doesn't remember… any of it," she gazed out the window toward somewhere farther back in time, somewhere on Earth where the man she loved lived a much different life. "Sometimes he'll sing the old songs, but he can’t remember how he knows the music.”
"No one's ever mentioned Elvis to him?" I asked. Somehow, I'd overcome that desire, calling him Buck without mishap.
"Over the years, some of the new arrivals—like you—have asked if he's Elvis, but he always tells them no." Lula shrugged, sighed, and fished a plate from beneath the soapy water. “He doesn’t have a spark of memory from that life.”
