“I’ll get my car keys.” She turned to leave.
“You’ve got a wet spot on the front of the sweatshirt.” His voice sounded faintly amused. “You can leave the pile here. I’ve already seen what there is to see.”
He could mean not only her underwear but her body. Face still uncomfortably warm, she dropped the clothes back on the pile and headed toward her pack.
Perrie thrust the keys in his hands, then busied herself hanging up laundry while he disappeared into his room.
When he returned, dressed more warmly, she spared him only a glance. He left without a word to her, only stopping long enough to listen to Davey’s request for specific toys.
After he was gone, she enlisted Davey’s help to finish the task. Wanting to lighten the oppressive mood that had filled the cabin, she decided to see if she still remembered how to handle a wood cookstove.
“I think I’ll make a stew and some cornbread for when Mitch comes back. Want to help me?”
“You have to be careful, Mom. That stove can burn you. It’s hot lots of places. Mitch makes me stay over by the counter.” He dragged a chair over to the left of the stove and climbed up on it.
Perrie took his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his hair. “I’m glad Mitch took such good care of you, but I’m better now. It would be best if you stayed with me and let him be by himself.”
Blue eyes filled with rebellion. “But I like being with Mitch. He knows all kinds of stuff.”
Perrie didn’t let it show, but his words wounded. She and Davey had been all the other had for a long time now. It had been enough—until Mitch.
She would have to wean him away from this new fascination. Mitch would be gone from their lives all too soon. She would take it slowly, though.
As a gesture of peace, she asked, “Like what?”
He shrugged. “About animals and Indians and things.” His gaze lit. “Did you know that the Indians thanked the animals they killed?” Tiny frown lines appeared. “I should have thanked my fish.”
Perrie hid a smile and brushed back his hair. “You didn’t know then.”
“Mitch says it’s not too late.” A worried gaze met hers. “I don’t know if I could shoot an animal.”
Anger rose. “Did Mitch say that you had to?”
“No. He didn’t call me a baby like Dad did.”
Perrie still burned at the memory of Simon calling Davey a coward when he’d wanted the three-year-old to try the high diving board on their indoor pool. She could still remember Davey’s tears, the stark terror in his face as he stood on that high board. Despite her own fear, she had fought Simon over it—and paid later.
“Mitch said that it’s a mat—matter of—” His forehead screwed up in concentration, then lightened. “Of balance. You should only take what you need, but sometimes there’s too many animals of one kind and hunters have to help with the balance.”
Why couldn’t Simon have given his son the kindness of this stranger? “Do you understand what he’s saying?”
“Sort of. He says that everything in nature is all hooked together.” He concentrated again, then smiled. “Like a sweater that’s knitted—that’s what he said. Like the one you knitted me, Mom.” Then worry crossed his face once more. “I don’t see how animals and sweaters are very much alike. But I didn’t tell Mitch ’cause he was looking so serious.”
Perrie laughed. “We’ll talk about that more in a bit. For now, why don’t you get me some of the little pieces of wood from the wood box in the corner? Let’s get this stove fired up.”
“Okay!” He jumped off the chair and raced to the corner, blond hair bouncing.
Perrie studied the cookstove, making sure she remembered what to do. Wood box on the left, water reservoir on the right. She’d already replaced the water she’d used to wash the clothes. The wood box still held coals from breakfast. She’d use the small pieces of wood Mitch had cut just right to fit inside and raise the temperature in the stove.
Davey raced over, arms loaded with kindling. “This is enough to start, Mitch says.”
Mitch says. Perrie shrugged away thoughts of how hard it would be to peel Davey away from his new idol. Maybe if she talked to Mitch, he would help her make it easier on Davey.
But that would mean discussing the plans she didn’t yet have.
One step at a time. First, cook. Then rest. Then maybe she’d find her magic answer.
Carefully, she fed the pieces of wood into the stove, then closed the lid. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”