Page 148 of Lost Trust

Marina calls to let me know she’ll be home in about forty-five minutes.

I glance at my watch.

Seven fifteen p.m.

Ryder is curled against my side on the couch, his cowboy hat sitting crooked on his head, his eyelids waging a losing battle with sleep.

We’ve been playing hard the last few hours. Spending time exploring the woods behind the cabin and casting a fishing line into the river. We didn’t catch anything but a mottled sculpin, which we released, but you would’ve thought we’d caught Moby Dick by the way Ryder squealed when we reeled the tiny thing in. I snapped a picture so he could show it to his momma when she got home.

“Come on, little man.”

He looks up at me.

“You wanna help me make dinner for your mom?”

“Is she coming home?”

“Yep. Be here soon.”

He lets out a yawn. The sun wore him slap out. “Okay.”

He follows me into the kitchen and crawls up onto one of the stools at the island. I open the refrigerator, and I stare inside. Marina was planning to make dinner when she got home, so there’s probably something waiting to be cooked.

“Okay,” I mutter. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

A package of ground chuck and a bag of fresh snap beans that look like they came from Grandpa Earl’s garden. There’s a sack of potatoes on the counter beside the sink and a dozen rolls on the island.

I can work with that.

I brown the hamburger patties, make gravy, boil and mash the potatoes, sauté the green beans, and warm the rolls. Ryder sits at the counter, watching me with his chin propped in his hands.

“You cook good,” he announces.

“Thanks.”

“My mommy cooks good too.”

“I bet she does.”

“She makes pancakes shaped like horses.”

I glance back at him. “That’s a pretty high bar right there.”

He nods solemnly. “Can you make horse pancakes?”

I shrug. “I’d have to work on that, little man.”

I make him a plate and sit with him while he eats.

Footsteps sound on the porch, and we both look up, expecting to see Marina, but Ginger steps through the door.

She looks from me to Ryder and back to me, and a slow smile curls her lips.

“Well, hello, fellas,” she says.

“Grandma, we made supper!” Ryder announces around a mouthful of potatoes.

“You did?”