“You didn’t even offer me candy or ice cream to get inside your van. You’re a terrible kidnapper. Better stick with your other criminal activities.” She sounds serious despite the silliness of her accusations.
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll make a note to buy some candy for next time.” With some effort, I suppress my chuckle.
The ranger cabins are situated off of the main road, opposite the campground, tucked together in neat rows. I follow her to the steps of one of the single-story log buildings.
“This you?” I watch her pat her pockets and then pull out a collection of keys. When she unlocks the door, I add, “Guess so.”
“What are you doing?” She spins when the boards of the stairs to her little porch squeak.
“Following you inside.” Okay, maybe not the best thing to say to a woman I barely know.
“Why?” She’s right to be wary.
“Because no matter how many times you declare yourself to be fine, you’re obviously unwell. I’m already here and can make you something warm while you get out of your wet clothes.”
Her eyes bug out and her pupils dilate and maybe narrow then dilate again. “I’m not having sex with you just because you followed me home.”
“Whoa.” Holding up my hands, I give her space, which isn’t easy on the narrow landing. “I was thinking tea or soup. As far as I know, that isn’t code for sex, or anything else. Just trying to help.”
I’m out of my comfort zone and should probably leave. Patsy’s not going to be happy with me for leaving her in the van.
I expect Daphne to protest, but she says “Okay.”
Removing her hat and shaking off the rainwater, she opens the door and enters, leaving me standing awkwardly on her porch.
I stomp my boots and try to brush off as much water as I can from my jacket and hat before entering. If I were a dog, I’d give myself a head-to-toe shake.
The interior of her cabin is simple if not generic. Other than a bookshelf clogged with paperbacks and a map full of pins, there aren’t a lot of personal touches. No girly pillows on the blue couch or framed sayings like You’ve got this! or Live, Laugh, Love on the walls. Honestly, I’m not sure what I expected because until I walked through the door, I hadn’t given her home much thought.
Prior to a couple weeks ago, I hadn’t given Daphne much thought either. Yet here I stand.
“Feel free to snoop in my cupboards for tea and or soup. Not sure if you’ll find anything. I’m going to go change.” She points at the open kitchen on the wall opposite the door and then disappears down a short hallway to the right.
Having been granted access, I decide I should follow through on my offer and make her something warm. Not a fan of canned soup, I’m hoping she at least has tea. Maybe some honey and lemon too.
The first cupboard I open contains oil, jarred marinara, elbow macaroni, peanut butter, canned beans, and an opened bag of rice. On the lowest shelf are a couple bowls stacked on two plates and an assortment of mismatched glasses and mugs. The other cupboard contains a box of generic cocoa, instant coffee, and a single black tea bag. A few spices and cupcake liners along with oatmeal and flour occupy the upper shelf.
That’s the entirety of her pantry contents. I’ve seen better supplies at questionable short-term rental properties.
Moving on to the fridge, I’m greeted with condiments, a loaf of white bread, cheese slices, apple butter, and a bowl full of the little half-and half-pods, the kind diners put on the tables for customers.
Did she steal a bowl of creamers from Daisy’s Nut House?
Where is the rest of her food?
Not feeling hopeful, I open the freezer to find ice cream, a few frozen dinners and a single-serving pizza.
Examining one of the boxes, I mutter, “That’s it?”
“If you’re looking for a kettle, it won’t be in the freezer. Also, I don’t have one. I heat water in the microwave.” Dressed in sweats and a Grand Canyon fleece zipped all the way up, she opens the cupboard, and takes out a dark green mug with Smoky Mountains scrawled on the side and pauses. “Why are you glaring at that pizza?”
“You only have one tea bag.”
Not meeting my stare, she turns to the sink. “Hmm, that’s not surprising.”
“No soup, either.” The lack of food is bothering me. “What are you going to eat?”
“I have options.” She points at the box still in my hand.
“You need something healthy, not freezer-burned plastic.”
After pressing the buttons on her microwave, she faces me. “Why are you so concerned?”
“You’re unwell.” The idea cements itself in my brain before I have time to consider my motive. “I’ll take Patsy home and stop at the store for supplies. Meanwhile, you should nap. I’ll only be gone an hour or so.”
Our eyes lock for a moment in a silent challenge. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are still glassy, but she’s not backing down. Rather than stick around and argue with her, I decide to go.
“I like the noodle soup in the box.” Her chin juts up. “If I get a say in what you’re buying.”
“Okay then. You rest. I’ll be back.”
I’m halfway to the door when she calls my name. “Odin?”
Squaring my shoulders, I face her.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because I suspect you need someone to be kind to you.” I don’t wait for her to reply.
Chapter Fifteen
Odin
Once I get Patsy and Roman fed and settled, I unload the contents of my backpack into a bushel basket and place it inside the fridge.
After taking care of business, I pull out a wooden crate and load it with food from my pantry and fridge while making a mental list of recipes.
“Honey, lemon, broth, ginger, cayenne, cinnamon, apple cider vinegar,” I say to myself as I double-check my supplies. I’ll swing by the Piggly Wiggly for the things I don’t have, including her powdered soup mix.
Her question about my motives keeps echoing through my head.
Her bare cupboards remind me of the empty shelves in my parents’ kitchen. Things were often tight and too often, the gap between paychecks meant we made do without extras. Hunting, veggies from the garden, and whatever my grandmother could forage kept us going through the lean days. When I was real young, anything store-bought was a rare treat.
Maybe she’s just been busy with work and hasn’t had time to stock up.
Or maybe it’s none of my damn business and I should stop speculating.
My crate packed, I scour my bathroom for anything that might help with allergies. I didn’t have the chance to inspect Daphne’s medicine cabinet, but I doubt she has much. I rarely get sick, so my stores are similarly lacking.
Not sure she’ll take it, but I add one of the mushroom extracts to my supplies. Nannie Ida swears by them, and she’s almost a century old. Must be some truth to her old tinctures and remedies.
After successfully avoiding anyone I know at the Piggly Wiggly, I drive back up to Cades Cove. I’ve been gone well over an hour and hope Daphne’s taken my advice to nap.
After a soft knock on her door, I wait a moment and then turn the handle.