When she didn’t respond, he chuckled. “Not afraid of my ability as a chef, are you?”
Still no response. His mood abruptly shifted. Had she left? She could’ve hiked down to Wildcat Road and walked or hitchhiked back to town. But why? Everything was good between them, as far as he knew. Maybe a few kinks to iron out, but he wanted to tackle Texas Timber on a full stomach. Maybe she was outside looking around the property or petting a horse down at the stables.
But he felt uneasy. Something wasn’t right.
When he heard glass break near the Christmas tree, he glanced over there. Misty was by the tree, looking small and alone. Why wasn’t she sitting on the comfortable couch or rooting around in his refrigerator looking for food and drink?
“Misty?” He quickly strode over to her.
“I’m sorry.” She sat with her head bowed and legs crossed under her.
“Why are you sorry?” He knelt beside her.
“I smashed your tree ornament.” She held out her hand, palm up where broken glass mixed with blood. Most of the ornament lay in pieces on the floor.
“Misty!” He reached for her hand, but she snatched it back.
“Not fair. It’d hung there, hadn’t it? Christmas after Christmas after Christmas.”
“Yes. It was a bit of our family heritage left. Our oldest ornaments were with Kent’s parents when the fire broke out.”
“I just couldn’t stand the memories.” She looked up, revealing tear-filled green eyes and moist cheeks.
He felt his breath catch at the pain etched on her face. He hurt for her, not only for her abused hand but for her obvious deep torment. This time he didn’t take no for an answer. He raised her hand, turned it palm up, and flicked pieces of glass onto the floor beside the broken ornament. Fortunately, the cuts on her palm looked minor, but the glass was sharp and her injuries could’ve been worse.
“I’m so sorry to have caused you to lose more of your past.”
“I don’t care about the Christmas ornament. That’s an old memory.” He reached down and gently lifted her to her feet. “I care about you. We can make new memories.”
“You’d better take me to Twin Oaks. I’m not fit company.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“And I’ll pay to replace what I broke.”
“Forget it.”
He led her over to the couch and set her gently down in the corner near the fireplace. When she trembled, he pulled a Frosty the Snowman throw off one edge of the sofa and spread the soft cotton over her lap and legs.
“Stay right there.”
He walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the small medical kit he kept handy near a fire extinguisher. He went back, set his kit on the large cedar coffee table, and sat down beside her.
“I’d like to clean your wounds now.” He kept his voice soft and low so as to comfort her. “Is that okay with you?”
“If you’ll take me to Twin Oaks, I’ll be fine.”
“Remember, I’m your personal paramedic. If you get an infection on my watch, you know I’ll never hear the last of it from my cousins.”
She sighed. “Okay, get it over with.” She placed her hand, palm up, on his thigh.
He knew he had to go as gently with her psyche as with her hand. He couldn’t help but think her reaction to the ornament was somehow related to her reaction to the first fire. “I’ll use hydrogen peroxide to clean the wounds. If you feel any discomfort let me know.”
She made an irritated sound in the back of her throat. “Pain. That’s what you mean. I don’t need to be mollycoddled with you substituting ‘discomfort’ for ‘pain.’”
That was a good sign. He needed her strong to heal. But he still had to proceed with caution. “Misty, why don’t you share what’s troubling you while I see to your wounds?” He opened the medical kit, hoping his physical actions would distract her mind and free up the memories underneath.
“I’m not troubled.”
He silently kicked himself. He knew better than to be so direct. He’d used the wrong word and lost her. He pretended like he hadn’t heard her while he set out cotton swabs and the small bottle of peroxide.
“Anyway, you don’t want to hear about me.”
Good. She was reaching out to him. He’d learned that was the way it worked with folks. If you reached out, they pulled back. If you pulled back, they reached out. Automatic human reactions. “You were a good listener when I talked about my parents being gone for the holidays. Helped me see why they’d do it.”
“They must love you a great deal.”
“Yep.” He gently cleaned her palm but remained quiet to draw her out.
“I’m already embarrassed enough. Everybody in Wildcat Bluff is so strong. And now—”
“You fit right in with us.”
She wiped away moisture beneath her eyes with one hand, not agreeing or disagreeing.
He gave her time like he would any wounded one. He used tweezers to gently pull out several small glass shards in her skin, and then quickly finished with hydrogen peroxide to disinfect.
She hissed on a breath and winced at his touch.
“I’m being as gentle as I can.” Fortunately, her cuts weren’t deep, but they could be painful.