Chapter Fourteen
Bailey
Lying in Xander’s arms, watching the fire ripple, and listening to his stories was making me realize I may be falling in love with the man. He was after all, my savior, my hero. I was just romanticizing the situation. It couldn’t be real, could it?
I nestled my cheek against his strong, bare chest and listened to his heart beat. It was wild just moments earlier when he’d told me he was waiting to see what happened here, but now it was calm and steady. Did he mean with us?
The name ‘Bailey’ repeated in my head, over and over again. Why had I connected with that name? Was it indeed mine? As it repeated, the voice inside my head changed from my own to a man’s, but I didn’t recognize whose.
“Bailey, you make me so proud,” the voice sounded inside my head.
Hearing the voice, even without certainty of who it belonged to, saddened me. My heart ached as it swelled inside my chest. Tears were on the verge of exploding from my eyes, and my breathing became rapid and wild.
Xander’s hand brushed across my hair, his finger wiping a strand from my cheek. I didn’t dare look up into his blue eyes. I knew if I did, I would fall apart for sure.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded, but didn’t try to speak. I swallowed hard, clearing my throat, and trying my best to shake off the feeling of sadness rolling through my veins. Was that my father? Was he looking for me? Why did hearing that voice make me so sad?
Xander continued to brush my hair with his fingers as I let out a soft sigh. Whatever was out there waiting for me, looking for me, I couldn’t let go of what was right here. I hated the thought of leaving Xander. It was like a story in one of the books I’d read while here. The handsome, strong man, rescuing the damsel in distress, and them falling in love, living happily ever after. Another sigh, this time deep and long.
As much as I wanted to believe that this could never end, I knew it would. I shrugged at the thought, causing Xander to cover my shoulders with the blanket.
“I better get more logs on the fire,” he said, quickly sliding from the bed.
I watched as he worked the flame, placing a log atop, and then stepped back to admire his accomplishment.
“What are you putting in there?” I asked as he poured a plastic container of something red into the bucket over the fire.
“Barbeque sauce,” he turned and smiled.
“Barbeque coyote, that’s a first for me,” I laughed.
“That you know of,” he teased with a wink.
“True,” I giggled.
“You have to add something to take the gaminess from the meat. The brine only does so much,” he explained.
I wasn’t looking forward to eating the coyote, but I knew that was Xander’s plan. It continued to boil over the fire, for how long, I had no idea. My stomach grumbled at the thought of chewing on the dog like flesh. Ugh!
We’d been in bed all day. The sun—what we’d seen of it—was gone, and darkness was filling the windows outside the cabin. The howling winds roared through the trees, making it sound as if wild creatures were ready to stampede the door. I was a little scared after Xander was attacked by the hungry coyote and feared there were more waiting for their turn at the meal.
“You’re not going out there tonight, are you?” I questioned, unable to hide the fear in my voice.
“We have enough wood for the night,” he smiled, reassuring me that he would remain safe.
I sighed, relieved that he wouldn’t go out there in the dark and risk being eaten.
“I do have to get out of bed though,” he chuckled, reaching for a pair of grey jogging pants folded under the night stand table.
As much as I dreaded Xander leaving the warm bed, I was ready to get out of it myself.
“I’m gonna take a bath,” I announced, pushing back the blankets and exposing my bare flesh to the cool room.
Xander’s eyes lingered on my hard nipples, the smirk on his face deliciously mischievous.
“You need help?” he offered.
I shook my head and headed towards the sink. I knew it would take a while to warm the water over the fire, so I wrapped up in a large flannel and slipped on wool socks before filling the large tub.
“Here, let me,” Xander insisted, carrying the tub towards the fire.
I sat down on the bed, watching his magnificent body as he covered it with a t-shirt. The ripples in his abs, the soft round muscles of his arms, they were all etched in my memory, something I knew I’d never forget.
“When is the coyote going to be ready?” I asked, feeling hunger pains start to poke at my belly.
“Probably not until morning,” he claimed.
I was grateful.
“I want to make dinner tonight,” I chimed in proudly.
“Can you cook?” he asked, his tone serious, but his eyes playful and teasing.
“I don’t know,” I laughed.
“Well, I’m game. No one’s cooked for me for a while,” he smiled.
“I’m in the mood for fried chicken,” I beamed, sending my stomach into a whirlwind of chaos at the thought of the salty, tender meat.
My mind paused on the memory of the taste, and suddenly flashes of a kitchen adorned with yellow wall paper and a woman in a green dress appeared. Her hair was bright red, flowing down her back in a tight braid, and her hips wiggled as she turned the pieces of chicken in an iron skillet. “Bailey, can you grab me a plate,” she said, turning to showcase beautiful green eyes with long lashes and perfectly painted red lips. Mom.
I knew who she was, there was no doubt in my mind. She called me Bailey, just as the male voice had in my mind. I was Bailey.
There was no sadness at the memory of my mother, which made me wonder if my dad had passed. Maybe that’s why it was so sad to hear his voice, to remember him. Maybe it was recent, and that’s why I was out in the woods alone.
“No chicken, but a couple squirrels in the ice chest buried in the snow,” Xander responded with a chuckle.
I guess it was funny to ask if he had chicken. We’d been living on fish, quail, and bear. Now we were down to coyote, yuck! I was okay with squirrel.
“Where did you go?” he questioned, his blue eyes penetrating into my soul.
I wasn’t sure if my memories were accurate or not, so I wasn’t ready to share. What if I remembered something that would tear us apart, like a lover?
“I just zoned out,” I giggled.
“Can you handle squirrel?” he asked.
I nodded. “As long as you have oil, salt, and flour.”
“You’re in luck. Now, let’s just hope you can cook, and I’ll be in luck too,” he teased.
I knew I could. That memory of my mother in the kitchen flooded a few more into my head. I helped her fry chicken on Sundays after church. For some reason, a couple memories of me at the stove didn’t include her, but it was the same yellow wallpapered kitchen.
“Get your bath, and I’ll get the squirrel ready,” Xander instructed.
I went into the bathroom and filled the tub with about four inches of the icy cold water. Xander brought in the first tub of boiling water and dumped it in, creating a steam that immediately fogged over the mirror.
“I think that’s enough,” I assured him, running my hand through the water to mix the cold and hot.
“Okay. If you want more, just ask. I’m gonna put on another tub,” he asserted.
He leaned in, kissing me softly on the cheek before leaving me alone in the room. I slipped out of the socks and the flannel and lowered myself into the warm water. As I leaned back against the cold porcelain tub, my mind raced with curiosity, hopefulness, and fear.
If there was someone else, a lover, wouldn’t I have remembered him first?
I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something or someone that needed me back home, wherever that was. I didn’t want to leave here, to leave Xander, but something was gnawing at me, telling me there was a real reason I would have to soon, a real reason that I should’ve never stayed.