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“I’m sure you heard all the ruckus going on,” I say, not knowing how to start.
Lily nods. “Yeah. Madison mentioned that someone called Ethan was around. Is he staying over? I assume he’s a close friend—is this the room he sleeps in?”
I quickly shake my head. “No. He’s not. And there are other rooms, so even if he was staying over, this one is yours.”
I see the flicker of a smile touch her lips before it disappears.
“Okay.”
“He’s sort of a specialist,” I say, going with the first thing I think of. “Deals with people who have issues regaining their memory. I know this is a far jump, and I don’t know if it will work for you—”
“You want me to meet with him?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“I’ll do it.”
I’m taken aback at how quickly she agrees until I see her picking at the skin around her nails, trying to hide her hands between her legs.
“If you’re uncomfortable—”
She gets up. “I’m fine. I’ll do it. If there’s even a slim chance that I can remember everything, I want to take it. Please.”
I nod. “Alright. But if you feel uncomfortable, you can walk away anytime.”
“Okay. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be in the living room.”
I walk out of the room, closing the door noiselessly behind me. Ethan is talking with Madison—in whispers—when I return to the living room.
“She’ll talk to you,” I tell him.
“Oh? That’s good.”
“Just one thing. I didn’t tell her you’re a cop. I said you’re a specialist, and you deal with people who have trouble getting their memory back. So, when telling the story of how you lost your memory, try to spin around the truth.”
“I got it.”
Hearing faint footsteps coming from the hallway, I turn to Madison.
“Why don’t we go see if we can get wood for the fireplace?”
“We haven’t used that in years,” she says. “You said I’d burn the house down if we put fire there.”
“You’re bigger now,” I say with a smile. “I trust you more.”
Satisfied with my reply, Madison gets up.
“I’ll talk to you later, Uncle Ethan.”
“No problem, kiddo.”
Lily walks into the living room just as Madison heads out the door, and I quickly step out, closing the door to keep her from looking back. She will have questions to ask, and I don't have the answers to them.
“What are we going to use to chop the wood?” Madison asks when we go to the back of the cabin where fallen trees lie, beaten down by the heavy storm and rain.
“There’s a shed just at the other end of the house,” I say. “Why don’t you wait here while I get my ax?”
“On a second note,” I add, turning around. “I think I’ll need your help. You're going to be my little work buddy for today.”
