A gust of wind blew hard and she held the bag tighter to her, moving her shoulders in and making her head go lower against the cold. “Come in,” he said. “It’s cold.”
She looked thankful, not scared like she had the last time and she’d stepped inside. “No gun this time?” he asked as he closed the door and walked back toward the fire, looking inside the small glass window to make sure there was enough wood. Wanting to keep her warm.
“No. I’m . . . I’m sorry about that. I just—”
“I don’t blame you. You don’t know me. It was smart.”
He turned toward her and, for a moment, time seemed to stretch out, long and thin. Breakable. Like a blade of grass pulled too tight. She moved in place again. “Anyway, I came to say thank you for what you did.” She looked to the side for a minute like she was trying to find words written on his wall. “You helped me with something that was very, very important to me and I’m grateful.”
He looked down, wanting to tell her something, but not knowing if it was right to say. Not knowing the rules about things like that.
“What is it?” she asked, like she could read his face, knew his thoughts. It surprised him that he liked the idea of that.
“I wanted you to know that . . . I visited them. I . . . talked to them too. They weren’t alone.” He couldn’t look at her. His face burned. But when he finally did, there were tears in her eyes, and she looked like he’d made her happy.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She shook her head. “Those words feel too small. I . . . you’ve given me a gift. The gift of peace.”
Lucas lifted his head, smiling. He’d given her a gift and it had pleased her. “I’m glad it . . . helped you. To find them.”
She let out a breath. “Yes, um.” Her voice stumbled, and she cleared her throat, nodding her head to the bag on her shoulder. “Anyway, I also brought you this. A gesture of gratitude.”
“What is it?”
She took the bag off her shoulder, moving past him to set it on the table by the back window, and then she turned to him. He took the few steps so he was standing beside her, waiting. She paused for a beat and then shot him a smile before opening the bag and pulling a few items out. Cans. She held them up to him one at a time. “Chicken noodle soup and pears.” She set them on the table and then pulled out a few more items, listing them as she did. “Baked beans with ham, oh.” She pulled out another item and held it up to him like it was the best of all. “Peanut butter,” she said, her voice lowered to a whisper.
“I remember peanut butter,” he murmured.
“Oh. You do? Did you like it?”
“Yes, I liked it.”
Her face lit up so brightly that Lucas blinked. Each time she smiled at him, he felt good in a way he couldn’t describe. Like I’m a man. She makes me feel like a man. She took off the top and peeled back some silver paper showing the smooth food he hadn’t had since he was a little boy. He leaned forward, sniffing at it before dipping a finger in, pulling it out and sticking it in his mouth.
Oh, God. Good. His eyes wanted to roll to the back of his head, but he kept them glued to Harper’s, surprised by her eyes getting bigger as she watched him lick the peanut butter from his finger. The way she was watching him . . . Oh no, he was doing something wrong, acting . . . wrong. He dropped his hand to his side. Ashamed.
“Good?” Harper asked, and her voice sounded different than it had, deeper and a little slower. She reached into the bag, pulling something else from it. “Crackers,” she said, the word rushed as she threw the box to the table. “And a few other things. Food. I brought you food, because I was worried you might have a hard time getting out to hunt without your bow and arrow. And there’s a storm coming too, in case you didn’t know.”
“Thank you. I have what I need. You didn’t have to worry.” He said it, but he didn’t say that her worrying about him felt good, because it meant someone remembered