Chapter 25
The kitchen was already busy when Irene walked in. The cooks looked up in surprise. Some of them bowed quickly. Others exchanged curious glances. Irene ignored the looks. She tied an apron around her waist and moved toward the counter. Noah stood nearby, watching her with wide eyes. “You don’t have to do this yourself,” he said softly. “I know,” Irene replied. But she continued anyway. She didn’t want to make something complicated. Elvis was sick. His body would need something warm. Something simple. Something that would not upset his stomach. She washed her hands carefully and began to work. Rice porridge, light soup and soft bread. Her movements were steady, but her thoughts were not. She remembered the way he looked in bed. Pale, Too quiet. It didn’t sit well with her, her w
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