“Luc?”
Luc turned from the stove to see Priscilla sitting up on the couch, her hair tousled. “Yes?”
“What are you doing?” She stretched, then yawned. Then her shoulders tensed as she caught sight of Culvert in his post by the door.
“Putting together some lunch.” He turned off one of the stove’s burners, then moved the coffee percolator to the other burner. “It’s nearly ready, if I can find some plates or bowls.”
“Let me help.” Priscilla came over. “If it weren’t for him, this would seem like a normal camping experience.”
He leaned closer. “We can do this. It will be okay.”
“Food ready yet?” Culvert called, his eyes hard as they met Luc’s gaze.
“Almost.” Luc stirred the pot’s contents as Priscilla rifled through the canned-goods box.
Then she tugged out a paper bag Luc had overlooked from underneath the table. “Aha! Success.” She triumphantly held up a bag of insulated coffee cups. “We can use these as bowls.”
Luc scrunched up his face. “They’re not big enough for much of a serving.”
“Better than nothing.” She produced spoons from the bag as well. “We can always get seconds.”
“And thirds.” Luc sighed, trying to keep his voice light and the conversation normal. “But you’re right—it’s better than eating out of the pots.”
Priscilla separated out cups for their meal and coffee, while Luc combined the noodles and the bean mixture into the larger pot. He stuck the wooden spoon back in to use as a serving utensil. “Food’s ready.” The percolator bubbled but the color remained a light brown. “Coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”
Culvert came over and Luc dished up some for him. The older man returned to his post, his eyes constantly roving from the door, to the window, to the couch where Priscilla and Luc sat to eat their meal. All three ate the first few bites in silence.
“Not bad.” Priscilla made the first comment. “I doubt I would have done as well, given the limited ingredients. Who taught you to cook?”
“My mom. That’s how she unwound after a day spent in surgery.” Luc went back for seconds, his hunger ramping up as the meager serving hit his stomach. “She insisted that I learn as well as my sisters. By the time we hit seventh grade, we each had a night to prepare dinner for the family. She made us pick our own recipes too.” He chewed another bite, memories of those times wafting through his thoughts.
To keep Priscilla eating, he continued talking about his family. “My sisters and I used to fight over who got to cook the noodle dish for that week, as my mom only allowed one noodle dish, one rice dish, et cetera, per week.”
Culvert had already gone back for thirds by the time Priscilla finished her first cupful.
“Want some more?” Luc set down his cup to reach for hers.
“Sure. It was quite tasty.” Priscilla smiled as she handed it to him. “The coffee looks darker now.”
Luc spooned more food for Priscilla, then turned off the burner before pouring them each a cup. “Did you see any sugar?”
She shook her head. “That’s okay. I’m just glad it’s hot.”
“Me too.” Luc shared a companionable glance with Priscilla.
When they were finished, only a few noodles and black beans remained in the bottom of the pot. Luc found a black garbage bag in the corner that held a few cans, and gathered the meal’s trash.
Luc picked up the coffeepot. “I think there’s enough for a second cup.”
“Not for me.” Culvert crossed to the mantel, his expression hard and his gray eyes cool.
A knock sounded at the door. Luc put the coffeepot down and edged closer to Priscilla.
Culvert removed his gun from his waistband. “You can offer it to our visitor.”
TWENTY-TWO
Priscilla leaned into Luc, needing his strength as she watched the front door slowly open. Culvert laid his gun on the mantel, but kept his hand still on the butt.
Dr. Devins slipped inside, closing the door behind him.
Priscilla gasped. The doctor stood there in a jacket with a slight rip in one sleeve—quite unlike his usual polished appearance.