Luke

The night dripped by like a leaky faucet. I was exhausted; at least my body was, not my mind. It was raveled with questions about Candace, the woman on my couch…my first love.

She hadn’t said a word when I brought her back to the cabin, not even a peep. I gathered her blankets, placed her on the couch, and took the chair beside her. Candace wrapped herself in the warm blankets, curled into a corner of the couch, and just stared into my eyes; hers were wide, curious, unrevealing of what was going through her mind. I’d have given anything to know what it was.

We stayed like that for a while, eyes locked and silent. She finally gave in, falling asleep in the blanket cocoon she’d created for herself. I didn’t give in. I remained awake, my eyes guarding her as she slept peacefully. I knew she was trying to bolt from the office, and I didn’t want to chance her bolting now.

Was she really here? Did she remember me? I had so many questions, but I knew better than to push her too hard.

The sun started to creep through the large front window, leaving wide rays of light across my hardwood floors. Shit, I wasn’t ready to start my day. I hadn’t even slept.

Faint snores escaped from Candace’s nostrils and throat. The sound was soothing, somehow sweet and comforting to me. I stood from my chair, carefully walking across the floor to the kitchen without waking her from her peaceful slumber.

The coffee maker sat on the counter, my only salvation for the day. I scooped out enough grounds for a full pot, certain I’d need another once that was gone. I poured the water into the tank, hit the button, and then leaned against the counter while it gurgled and spewed.

As soon as the scent of the freshly brewing coffee hit the air, my nostrils awoke, and I got my second wind.

Breakfast. When Candace woke up, she’d be hungry. Her frame was so frail, so tiny, that she looked close to death. She wasn’t the same Candace I knew when we were kids. Whatever life she’d led, it wasn’t an easy one.

I gathered the items from my fridge—eggs, milk, butter, jam—and then grabbed the bread from the cabinet above the stove. I didn’t have much—I usually just made a bowl of cereal before starting work on the ranch—but it was enough for a proper breakfast for my unexpected guest.

As I whisked the eggs and milk, my phone beeped. I looked down to see Theo’s name on my screen and quickly picked it up.

Theo: Did things go okay last night?

Me: She fell asleep after we got back here. She looked like she’d been through hell and back.

Theo: I still think we should call the cops.

Panic filled my veins. I couldn’t imagine sending her away, not now. She was here, where she needed to be. I would take care of her. She deserved to have someone who loved her, even if years ago, to take care of her now.

Me: No. I want to take care of her.

Theo: Why are you so worried about her? She had blood everywhere, and we both know it wasn’t all hers.

Me: Yes, and we both know that she was hurt, badly, so someone may still be out there looking for her.

Theo: More reason to call the cops. You don’t need that drama in your life.

Me: I can handle it.

Theo: Okay. Just please let me know if you need my help.

Me: I will. Thank you, Theo. I’ll get her breakfast, clean her up, and maybe find out what happened.

Theo: That sounds like a good plan.

I heard a cough coming from the living room just as the coffee machine made its last gurgle to alert me that it had completed its job.

Me: She’s awake. I’ll talk to you later.

Theo: Okay. Just, be careful.

Careful? Was I really supposed to be afraid of this small girl on my couch, the one that weighed a hundred pounds wet?

I quickly poured coffee into two cups and headed into the room where Candace was sitting up, curled into the corner of the couch just like she’d been last night.

“Coffee?” I asked, offering her one of the cups I held in my hand.

She nodded but still didn’t speak.

“It’s black, but I have cream and sugar,” I stammered.

Her head shook as she reached out for the cup I pushed in her direction.

I smiled, unable to contain my happiness about her presence. It was still blowing my mind. Candace was here, in my house, after all these years.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

Her eyes widened, still scared, as they stared at me. I watched as her fingers fidgeted around the hot cup, and then finally she nodded.

“I’m sure you’d like to get cleaned up first,” I smiled warmly.

Her bottom lip quivered, and her eyes shifted as she scanned the room. She sipped the coffee slowly, her movement slow, forced, and trying. It was obvious she was in a lot of pain. The adrenaline from the shock had worn off, and now, she was left with only the aches from her ordeal.

Theo had given me pain pills, warning me to be cautious with offering them to her. I realized she looked like a junkie, a mess, a train wreck, but he didn’t know her like I did, like I used to.

“I have something for the pain,” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the two white oval pills Theo had given me.

She shook her head.

Okay, so she wasn’t a junkie. That was a good sign.

I watched as she continued to scan the house. I assumed she was looking for the bathroom, the place where I promised she could clean up.

“The bathroom’s over here,” I said slowly, standing cautiously so as not to startle her.

She got up, pushing the blankets aside, and followed me to the small bathroom of my cabin. It wasn’t much, but at least it offered privacy, a lock, and no windows for her to escape from while I finished breakfast.

“Take your time,” I smiled, shutting the door behind me.

I heard it lock quickly, and then water running from the faucet.

I went back to my breakfast, giving the eggs one last whisk. The one frying pan that came with the place was beat up, but it would have to do. I heated some butter, and poured the eggs in, stirring them slowly as I watched, listened, and waited for Candace.

The toaster popped the bread from the slots just as the bathroom door opened. I quickly lathered them in butter, and then jam, and grabbed two plates. They were the only two plates in the place.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” I called into the other room.

I didn’t hear anything, no response. What was she doing?

I scooped the eggs from the frying pan, spreading them on two plates, and then cut the toast in half. It was a measly breakfast, but I was grateful I had anything to offer her at all.

In the living room, Candace was back on the couch, snuggled in the warm blankets in the corner. Her eyes were wide as if she was afraid of me as I approached.

“I hope you like scrambled eggs,” I said softly, handing her the plate.

Her hand shook. Her skittish behavior had me concerned. What happened to her? Would I really be able to help, or was this above my pay grade?

A groan escaped her lips as she lifted the fork to her mouth, causing my heart to race, and then break. She was in pain, which was obvious.

The eggs made their way between her lips, and then another scoop immediately after. She acted like she hadn’t eaten in days, scarfing up the food quickly, not looking up from her plate to me as I tried not to stare.

I sat in the chair, the one I’d slept in all night. I ate slowly, avoiding letting her catch my eyes on her as she continued to eat.

Finally, she finished her last bite of eggs and looked up in my direction as she grabbed a piece of toast. Her eyes were so bright; they instantly flooded my heart and soul with a familiar feeling: love.

“Do you remember me?” I asked hesitantly.

Candace lifted her eyes to mine, locking them for just a second. She nodded, but looked away quickly, returning to her toast.

She remembered me. That was a start, a good start.

Another groan rolled from her lips, this time louder than the first. I watched as she struggled to position herself on the couch, pushing at the plate to set it on the table in front of her.

I quickly got up, grabbing the plate, and then reached for the blanket that was wrapped around her ankle.

“You’re safe here,” I reassured her as she flinched from my close presence. It was something I was certain would need repeated time and time again.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, her voice so meek and mild.

“Now that you’ve eaten, would you like to try a pain pill?” I asked.

Exhaustion flooded her face as she nodded. Whatever reason she refused before, the pain had taken over, and she was ready for the relief.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the pills, and moved my hand towards hers. She moved slowly, all of her movements in slow motion either from pain or fear. When she opened her hand, I dropped the pills into her palm, careful not to make contact, even though I ached to hold her in my arms and protect her from whatever had hurt her so badly.

Her hand shook as she clasped the pills tightly.

“I’ll get you some water,” I offered, quickly heading towards the kitchen.

When I returned, I was greeted with a faint smile, and our fingers touched briefly as she took the glass from my hand. My body tingled from the touch, a touch I’d thought I would never feel again.

She slunk into the couch after she swallowed the pills, pulling the blanket up to her neck. I backed away, taking my seat in the chair by the couch, and watched as her eyes slowly closed.

There was so much I wanted to know, needed to know, but it was obvious that today wouldn’t be a day for answers.