Silent Stranger

5 - Breakfast

Around nine, I gave up on the TV and turned it off. I glanced toward the bedroom. Sophie had left the door wide open.

I would've thought a young lady in a strange man's house would feel more secure closing her door. Why had she left it standing open? I wouldn't delude myself into thinking it might be an invitation. I hadn't been with a woman since Emily left seventeen months ago, so I excused myself for conjuring the fantasy. I was a responsible twenty-four-year-old adult and not some out-of-control, horny teenager.

Still, it would do no harm to peek, would it, just to make sure she was okay?

I stepped cautiously to the door and stole a glance. Enough light from the living room spilled onto the bed. She slept on her tummy; her face turned my way. My flannel shirt and her wedding dress lay puddled on the floor beside the bed. The peacefully sleeping angel looked lovely in my bed.

The thought of angels called to mind one of the scriptures I had learned as a child: Be not forgetful to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

Get real. Why did my mind continue to fixate on the supernatural? Sophie was a real-life flesh and blood female, not some spirit creature who had taken on human form. But the scripture made me feel guilty about ogling her.

As a rule, I kept the cabin cool and had allowed the fire in the wood stove to burn low. Sophie's bare shoulders stuck out above the sheet.

I pulled a blanket from the linen shelf but hesitated before entering the bedroom. If she woke, it would be an awkward scene. Still, I didn't want her to get cold in the middle of the night and not be able to find a blanket. Silently, I crossed into her space and unfolded the blanket.

Sophie opened her eyes.

Oh, crap. I hoped she wouldn't freak out.

She didn't. She just stared at me.

"I brought you a blanket." I covered her.

Sophie remained expressionless. After I tucked the blanket around her shoulders, she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

*      *      *

The aroma of coffee woke me. I sat up and rubbed my sore neck from having slept on the sofa. A faint glow from early morning cast just enough light for me to make out Sophie flitting about the kitchen. She wore the ridiculous wedding dress with my flannel shirt over top.

I heard the crack of eggshells as she went about preparing breakfast.

It pleased me she had taken the initiative, but why so early?

Shuffling into the kitchen, I found her huddling over one of the burners of my propane gas stove rubbing her hands together.

"Good morning."

She turned to look at me, rubbed her arms, and jabbed a finger toward the wood stove. From her expression, it was clear she was scolding me for letting the fire burn out.

"One night in my cabin and you're already bossing me around."

That got a shy smile out of her.

As I rebuilt the fire, I heard her rooting through the refrigerator. Before long I heard bacon sizzling in a fry pan and the sound of toast popping. By the time I had the fire roaring, she had already set the table.

Sophie pointed to a chair.

I saluted. "Yes, ma'am." I sat and watched her work. She was efficient with her movements and her timing perfect. She forked the crisp bacon from the fry pan, emptied the grease into the container atop the sink I had there for that purpose, and she poured the beaten eggs back into the fry pan. It didn't take long for the scrambled eggs to congeal.