His Motherless Little Twins by Dianne Drake

fish in it then set about the task of removing scales from the second salmon. Thankless chore, smelly. Predictable outcome. People wouldn’t care about the prep,they’d care about the end results. And that’s where she always went wrong in her life—the end results. She cared too much, tried to make more happen than could, or would.
    But could she enter into something without expecting anything at the end?
    Grabbing up the de-boner, she looked at it for a moment then set it back with the rest of her knives. Even if she could get to the end without an expectation, there was always the possibility that Eric would want more. Then what?
    â€œIt’s not going to happen,” she muttered, totally disinterested in the whole salmon prep now. “Just not going to happen.”
    Her sous chef, a nice little man named Oswaldo—half a head shorter than she, long hair pulled back by a red bandana, pencil-thin mustache—gave her a quizzical look but didn’t comment. Rather, he went about his sauce prep while she turned her attention to an asparagus risotto. Her concentration was lacking so badly, though, she couldn’t even decide whether to use only the tender asparagus tips or peel and chop the whole stalk. In fact, all she could think of was Eric, his missing wedding ring…her lapse in sanity.
    â€œYou’ve already salted that,” Oswaldo reminded her, trying to be discreet as he pushed the open salt container away from her.
    â€œWhat?” she asked, trying to snap herself back into her work.
    â€œYour risotto. Salted.”
    Dinah looked at the salt she’d pinched between her fingers and had been ready to dump into the risotto. This was her job now. Food prep. Slicing and dicing. Salting . And if she wasn’t careful, she’d make a mess of that, too. “Look, I’m going to go take a short break. Can you cover for about fifteen minutes?”
    Oswaldo nodded, and she didn’t miss that little glint in his eyes. He’d be happy to take over forever. Or, at least until Angela was back. And he was about to get his shot at it if she didn’t shape up.
    Tossing off her apron, Dinah thought about going back to her room, locking the door and climbing into bed. But fifteen minutes wasn’t enough for that, so she opted for a quick walk to the rear of the lodge, and fifteen minutes in an employee-only area set up with outdoor chairs and tables. At the moment she was the only employee there, which suited her fine. Being alone, with nothing but a mountain slope and pine trees behind her, was a relief. No pressures there. Not to think. Not to react. Not to remember. Not to question herself.
    â€œWhat am I doing?” she asked a chipmunk scurrying its way across the opening, heading straight for a pile of downed branches. “It’s crazy. I know better. Maybe I should crawl under that pile of branches with you.” Nice idea, except hiding never solved anything. Trouble was, she didn’t know what did.
    â€œSo think of the moment,” she said, switching her attention to a lone figure hiking his or her way up from a ravine in the distance. It was odd, seeing someone out here alone at this time of the day. Usually, they were in pairs, or more. In fact, she didn’t recall seeing a single hiker out here anywhere, ever , so she watched the progress of the one in the distance, and got herself so caught up in his slow gait that she didn’t even notice his pronounced limp until he was crossing over the back patch of lawn. Where, when he saw her, he collapsed in a heap.
    Immediately, Dinah leapt up and ran to the man…a young man, not more than twenty, she guessed. Dropping to her knees beside him, she gave him a little shake on the shoulder. “Hey,” she said, patting his cheeks, noticing the slight flutterof his eyelids. “Stay with me, do you hear?” Was it exhaustion? Dehydration? Immediately her fingers went to his