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  Fortunately, most kitchens worked the same way. A row of orders lined up in front of the cooks. Cold food like meat and eggs stored near the prep tables. Bread and rolls nearby that the waitstaff added to the plates.

  He heard Rags whining at the door. He stepped outside and drew a deep breath. “Good boy. You stay right there, okay? I’ll come get you when I can.”

  The dog whined again, then laid down on the porch. He made one effort to wag his tail before resting his head on his paws.

  Trying to keep his head empty of anything except the job at hand, Nick went back into the kitchen. He helped Hector catch up on the orders. Burgers and fries. Roasted half chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy. T-bone medium rare with a side salad.

  When everything seemed to be running smoothly again, he walked out front. The place wasn’t crowded, which was a blessing.

  “How’s it going?” he asked Jolene.

  “We’re okay. I put the Closed sign on the door and switched off the Open sign. We close early on Sunday night anyway. And to make up for the slow service, I’m giving everyone free coffee or sodas, whatever they want.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “They’re all as worried about Mama as I am,” Jolene added, her forehead furrowed. “She’s an institution around here.”

  “I know.” He was worried too, not about her survival—the burns didn’t look fatal—but her recovery, which would be long and painful. “How’s your new helper?” he asked as Greg came by with two dirty plates in his hands. He dumped them in the tub with the other dirty dishes.

  “He’s great.” Jolene winked at the boy. “I think Mama ought to hire him full-time.”

  “Yeah! Then I wouldn’t have to go to school.”

  Nick ruffled his hair. “Don’t think your mother will go for that, sport. But nice try.”

  With an easy shrug, Greg went back to work.

  “How bad is Mama?” Jolene asked softly.

  “She’s going to be out of action for a while.”

  Jolene grimaced. “That’s going to put a big burden on Alisa. She’ll have to hire a new cook. Where she’ll find a decent cook on short notice is beyond me. As it is, we already run on a pretty skimpy staff.”

  A bare bones staff, Nick agreed, and a narrow profit margin. Losing Mama for a few weeks sounded like a ready-made opportunity for disaster to strike.

  But how could he, terrified of the images he might see in the shiny stainless steel, risk having a full-fledged, cringing-on-the-floor meltdown that would reveal his darkest secret?

  * * *

  It was almost ten when Nick made his way to the small Bear Lake Medical Clinic, a modern two-story building with a red neon sign identifying the emergency entrance. He parked in the nearly empty lot, left Rags in the truck and went into the waiting area.

  Only one elderly man sat dozing in one of the turquoise chairs.

  Nick walked over to the receptionist. “I’m looking for Alisa Machak. Her mother was brought in a few hours ago?”

  The middle-aged woman looked up at him over the top of her half-glasses. “They’re getting ready to take Mama Machak up to her room. I think Alisa went to the chapel. It’s around the corner across from the gift shop.”

  “Thanks.” Following the woman’s directions, he found the door standing open to the small chapel. Alisa sat on a pew facing a tranquil mountain scene. Soft music played in the background.

  Tentative about disturbing her thoughts and prayers, he called quietly, “Alisa?”

  She turned, spotting him. Immediately, she was on her feet running toward him. He opened his arms to catch and hold her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back as she sobbed, and soothed his palm over her soft, silken hair, inhaling the fresh fruity scent of her shampoo. All the while he told himself he should let her go. He shouldn’t hold her like this, not so close. But he couldn’t release her, not when she needed to be held. Even a strong woman needed someone to lean on once in a while.

  “Poor Mama,” she cried. “She was in so much pain. There was nothing I could do. Nothing.” Her breath caught.

  “I’m sure the doctor’s doing whatever he can for her.”

  “I know. It’s just so hard to see her like that.”

  He wanted to brush a kiss to her temple. Just to reassure her, he told himself, although he knew that was a lie. “The receptionist told me they’re about to take her up to her room,” he said.

  She sniffed. “The doctor gave her a shot for her pain. And then they were going to take her upstairs. He said he’d come tell me when I can see her.”

  “Good. The shot will help her rest.”

  Still teary-eyed, she eased herself away. “Looks like I got your jacket all wet.” She brushed her fingertips over the spot where her tears had fallen on his old khaki jacket.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll dry.”

  She found a tissue in her pocket, dried her tears and blew her nose. “I’m not usually a crier.”

  “I know. Somebody who chops wood like you do has got to be tough.” But on the inside, she was soft and caring with her son and mother. Her customers too. An attribute he admired.

  The tiniest hint of a smile curved her lips. “How’s everything at the diner?”

  “It’s good. We got everybody fed, and Jolene closed a little early. She’s staying with Greg ’til you get back.”

  “Jolene is a gem. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  Nick eased Alisa back to a pew. “Everyone is worried about Mama. She’s an institution in Bear Lake, I’m told.”

  “She is that.” Alisa sat down. She twisted the tissue in her hands. “I wish the doctor would come back.”

  “All in God’s time.” Unable to resist, Nick slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her an encouraging squeeze.

  Her brows rose. “God’s time?”

  “That’s what my army lieutenant said when they dragged us off somewhere in a hurry, then we had to sit around and wait for what seemed like an eternity until whatever was going to happen, happened.” The opposite was the case the day his outpost in Afghanistan was overrun. He and his crew had gone from business as usual to terror in a millisecond that lasted forever. That forever hadn’t stopped yet for Nick. Not with the flashbacks and dreams that haunted him.

  The doctor walked into the chapel. “Alisa.”

  “Dr. Johansen.” She popped to her feet.

  Nick stood. If the doctor hadn’t been wearing a white jacket and a stethoscope draped around his neck, Nick would have taken him for a teenager who’d wandered into the wrong place. His jeans and expensive running shoes suggested he’d be right at home playing one-on-one basketball in a local park with his buddies.

  “Your mother is all settled in her room now,” he said. “You can go up to see her but I don’t want you to stay long. She needs to rest.”

  The doctor turned his attention to Nick. “Were you the one who wrapped Mrs. Machak’s arms?”

  “I did, yes.”

  “Good job. You did the right thing.”

  He shrugged, uncomfortable with the doctor’s praise. “They gave us a little first aid training when I was in the army. I just did what I was taught.”

  “How long do you think Mama will be in the hospital?” Alisa asked.

  “A couple of days. Maybe more. The biggest concern now is pain management and infection. We’ll see how it goes.”

  “How long do you think before she’d be able—”

  “To get back to work?” the doctor asked. He shook his head. “Maybe six weeks. As she heals, she’ll need some physical therapy for her hands. I wouldn’t want her to rush that.”

  “No, of course not.” Alisa sighed, which made Nick want to put his arm around her again. But he resisted. She’d been vulnerable when she’d let h
im hold her. He didn’t want to push her. He had no right to push her.

  “From what you told me in the E.R.,” the doctor said, “I suspect Mama could use a nice, long rest anyway.”

  “I’ll see that she gets it, Doctor. Thank you.”

  The doctor left, promising to keep Alisa updated on her mother’s condition.

  Nick and Alisa went upstairs.

  The lights were dimmed in Mama’s room. Her gray hair stood out on the stark white pillowcase and her eyes were closed. Her bandaged arms lay on top of the sheet that covered her.

  Nick lingered by the door as Alisa approached the bed.

  “Mama. Are you awake?”

  Slowly, Mama’s eyes opened and focused on her daughter. “My little princess. That’s what your papa used to say.” Her speech slurred the words together.

  “I know, Mama. The doctor gave you something to help you sleep.”

  “What a silly goose I was. I should’ve known better. What will we do—?”

  “Don’t worry about anything. Nick and Jolene took care of everything at the diner. We’ll be fine. You concentrate on healing and getting well.”

  Her mother gaze swung slowly to Nick in the doorway. “I told you he’s a good man.” Her eyes closed and she was asleep.

  Alisa kissed her mother’s forehead. “Sleep tight, Mama.” She stepped away from the bed.

  As she left the room, her head was bent, her steps slow. When they reached the stairs, she looked up at Nick. Tears glistened in her eyes.

  “How in the world am I going to manage at the diner for six weeks without Mama?”

  He slid his arm around her again. “I don’t know, but you’ll find a way.”

  Shaking her head, she walked down the stairs as though the weight of the world had landed on her shoulders.

  He stayed at the top of the stairs. He could barely draw a breath, and it hurt when he tried. His palms started to sweat. His mouth went dry. The urge to run, to run as far away from Alisa and the diner as he could, drummed through his veins. Run from the images that leaped out from stainless steel prep counters and refrigerators. Stove tops and cooking pots.

  He couldn’t stay. He had to run.

  Alisa needed him.

  He had to tell her everything. Le Cordon Bleu. Prison.

  But not right now when she was so upset about her mother.

  “Wait!” His work boots clattered on the stairs as he ran down after her. “I can cook.”

  Chapter Eight

  Alisa whirled. “What did you say?”

  Breathless, he halted in front of her. “I can cook. I’ll fill in for your mother until she recovers.”

  “Nick, that’s sweet of you to offer. You might be able to fry a burger, but we need a chef. Someone who knows how to plate a whole meal, not just fry an egg or two.”

  “Alisa, as soon as I graduated from high school, I enlisted in the army. I signed up to be a cook, and they sent me to school.”

  “Okay,” she said tentatively while her blue eyes revealed only doubt. “Maybe you could help Hector.”

  He grasped her shoulders, forcing her to listen to him. “They sent me to Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. For a year. I can cook more than burgers and fries, and I can manage food service for two thousand or more hungry soldiers. I can help you.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “Two thousand?”

  “Or I can serve forty command officers tournedos sautés aux champignons with baked tomatoes, artichoke hearts and potato balls sautéed in butter followed by cherry tart flambée.” He relaxed his grip on her. “But spaghetti and meatballs are my specialty. That, my mother taught me.”

  Looking bewildered, she shook her head. “I had no idea.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t talk about it much.” For very good reasons.

  “Why in the world did the army send you to Le Cordon Bleu and then ship you to Afghanistan to cook for the troops?”

  “I admit I’d expected to be assigned to an officers’ club somewhere. Maybe even the Pentagon. I spent like a week at the army headquarters in Kabul, then they sent me to an isolated outpost. The army is full of surprises.” He eased her toward the hospital’s main entrance. “Let’s get you home. You’re going to need your rest. We’ll talk about all this tomorrow.”

  * * *

  In the time it took Nick to drive her back to the diner, Alisa still hadn’t absorbed the fact that he was a trained chef. Far better trained that anyone she could hire locally. Far and above the training she had, which had all been on-the-job with her parents.

  Her mind reeling, she walked upstairs to the family living quarters.

  Why hadn’t he mentioned that before? And why had he taken a job as a handyman instead of applying to be a cook? With that kind of training, he could be working at any number of upscale restaurants earning big bucks anywhere in the country. His talents would be wasted at a diner.

  But then she remembered he was a drifter. He didn’t want to settle down to a steady job. Didn’t want to tie himself to responsibilities.

  Nick wanted to wander around the country without any ties at all. Like Greg’s father.

  In the family quarters, Jolene was curled up on the couch with an afghan over her. The moment Alisa stepped into the room, she sat up. “How’s Mama?”

  Her body aching from too much stress, Alisa sat down on the arm of the couch. “The doctor gave her a pain shot. She was sleeping comfortably when I left.”

  “What’s her prognosis?”

  “Overall, it’s good. But it will be weeks before she’s ready to go back to work.” Tears burned at the back of her eyes, and one leaked out. She thought she was all done crying.

  “Oh, honey...” Jolene patted Alisa’s hand. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

  “Me too.”

  “Mommy?” Dressed in his pajamas, Greg stood at his bedroom door.

  Alisa held out her arms. “Come here, munchkin.”

  Her son ran across the room and into her arms. His messy hair smelled of little-boy sweat, and his body was warm from sleep. She relished the sturdy feel of his young, healthy body, the love he gave so unconditionally.

  She slipped off the arm of the couch and onto the seat, and held him on her lap. He’d soon be too big to hold and cuddle. She’d miss that, she thought as she told him about Mama and how she’d be home in a few days.

  “Can I visit her at the hospital?” he asked.

  “Of course you may. I’ll take you tomorrow. You can go in late to school.” Somehow she’d find time after the breakfast rush to visit her mother. Then she’d need to start looking for a new waitress to hire. Put Jolene in charge of the front of the diner while she worked the kitchen.

  While Nick cooked?

  She shook her head, hardly believing he was a trained chef. Le Cordon Bleu! She almost laughed at that. A big strapping guy who could do fifty chin-ups without breaking a sweat was a French-trained chef.

  With a quiet wave of her hand, Jolene mouthed goodbye and slipped out of the room.

  Greg started to relax in her arms. His eyelids fluttered closed. She walked him into his bedroom, tucked him in. He rolled on to his side, asleep in an instant. She kissed him goodnight and whispered a prayer for her mother’s recovery.

  Back in the living room, she looked out the window toward the motel. The rooms were all dark, including Nick’s. Only the exterior night lights remained on and dimmed.

  She placed her palm on the cold window glass as though she could reach out and touch him. “Good night. Sleep tight.”

  Rising early the next morning, she hurried downstairs. She needn’t have rushed. Nick had apparently helped himself to a white chef’s jacket from the linen supply and had everything under control. He looked exceptionally handsome and totally at home standing
in front of the stove, radiating self-confidence.

  The scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls filled the kitchen. Four blackberry pies were cooling on the counter, four apple pies baking in the oven. Nick was beating meringue for the banana pies that Mama usually prepared herself.

  The rest of the kitchen staff were at their stations preparing to serve breakfast. She had no idea how Nick had managed to take over Mama’s role so easily and quickly.

  All that military experience, she thought with renewed astonishment.

  Alisa strolled over to Nick. “You didn’t mention you could bake pies, too.”

  His lips hitched into a grin as he spread meringue on the pie. “Courtesy of the U.S. Army, I’m afraid.”

  “They look delicious.”

  He cast her a sideways glance. “You want a slice for breakfast?”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  She walked around the kitchen, assuring the helpers and dishwashers that Mama would be fine and return home soon.

  “That Nick fella sure knows what he’s doing,” Betsy Holland, a kitchen helper who had worked the early shift for years, whispered. “Good-looking guy, too.” The older woman waggled her brows.

  Alisa felt a rush of heat touch her cheeks. “We’re fortunate he’s an experienced chef.”

  As she was about to leave the kitchen to check the front, Nick said, “When you have a few minutes, there’s something we need to talk about.”

  “Sure.” A pay raise? Understandable. Or how soon he was planning to move on to somewhere else? She didn’t know what he might have on his mind. Whatever it was, she’d simply have to cope.

  She found a nice crowd of customers eating breakfast. She grabbed a pot of coffee and made the rounds to help out the two waitresses working the morning shift.

  Ezra Cummings at the ol’ duffers’ table stopped her. “What’s all this about Mama being hurt?”

  She quickly brought Ezra and his buddies up to date, then moved on to the next table of regulars. Everyone expressed their concern and sympathy. She imagined by noon Mama’s hospital room would be overflowing with flowers. Like family, the folks of Bear Lake took care of their own.