“I have a knack for taking in details quickly.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“When?”
“When?” she repeated.
“When did you notice my knack for taking in details? Tonight, or during that day last summer?”
“Both, I suppose. At least on a subconscious level.” She wondered what details about her his keen blue eyes had taken in quickly, both tonight and last June.
“Why did you call him?”
His blunt question seemed out of context. But it wasn’t really. She glanced toward her cell phone, which she’d laid on the coffee table, within easy reach should it ring.
Before giving her time to answer, he said, “I heard you got divorced.”
“We did.”
“So why did you call him tonight?”
“Dutch is Cleary’s chief of police now.”
“I heard that, too.”
“He’ll be handling emergencies caused by the storm. He has the authority to get help to us if he can.”
He mulled that over for several seconds, then glanced toward the door. “Nobody’s coming up here tonight. You realize that?”
She nodded. “I think that for tonight we’re on our own.” In reaction to her sudden nervousness, she shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets. “Oh, the first-aid kit,” she exclaimed. “I’d almost forgotten it.”
She pulled it from her pocket. It was a small white plastic box with a red cross on the lid, something a conscientious mom would pop into her tote bag before an excursion to the playground. She opened it and checked the contents.
“There’s not much here, I’m afraid. But that head wound should at least be cleaned with one of these disinfectant pads.” She looked at him dubiously. “Do you want to remove your cap yourself, or do you trust me to do it? Either way, Mr. Tierney, I’m afraid it’s going to be painful.”
“Lilly?”
“Hmm?”
“Why have I suddenly become Mr. Tierney?”
She shrugged uneasily. “It seems, I don’t know, more appropriate somehow. Under the circumstances.”
“The circumstances being that we’re stranded together for an indefinite period of time and dependent on each other for our survival?”
“Which is rather awkward.”
“Why awkward?”
She frowned at him for being obtuse. “Because, except for that day on the river, you and I are strangers.”
When he stood up, he swayed noticeably. But he was steady enough on his feet as he walked toward her slowly. “If you think we’re strangers, then you’re not remembering the day we met the same way I remember it.”
She took a step back and shook her head, either to clear it of memories of a sun-sparkled day or to stave him off. She wasn’t sure which. “Look, Tierney—”
“Praise be.” He flashed the engaging smile she remembered with unsettling detail. “I’m back to being Tierney.”
• • •