After
the Echo

Rain erased the harbour beyond the kitchen window. Still wearing her father's patched fishing coat after his funeral, Nora watched Eli set out two chairs for neighbours collecting a repair. When he offered her copper coat, she shook her head. They would see its colour and think she was better.

Eli laid it nearby. Nora touched its lining, then took off the fishing coat. As he settled the copper wool around her shoulders, she caught his wrist. She waited for the betrayal she had imagined. Her father was still dead. Her throat still hurt. Changing back would not bring him nearer.

She left the patched coat within reach and opened the door. The neighbours could have tea, she told them, but she could not discuss the funeral. They stayed for one cup. Afterwards she sat between the empty chairs, grateful that neither visitor had asked her to smile.

Mara's offer reached two harbour workers whose winter shifts had disappeared. Eli suggested making a pot of lentil soup. Then he arranged upholstery samples beside the extra table and stood looking at them. Nora found him putting the lentils away: he had caught himself hoping hungry visitors might become customers.

She carried the samples upstairs. Eli could still want an order, she said, without making anyone sit through a sales pitch. They agreed on six places and one lunch, not a promise for every Thursday. Mara arrived early, tasted the soup and fetched a lemon to soften its scorched edge.

While Mara sliced bread, Eli packed the last serving for a worker's partner. Nobody bought anything. Washing the pot, he admitted his disappointment to Nora rather than to their guests. She dried the bowls. They counted what the meal had cost before choosing another date.

Storms stopped the supply van that week. Looking at the bread shelf, Eli asked Nora to cancel lunch. She wanted to continue, but their own meals were disappearing into the same pot. They set aside two days of food and told Mara there was not enough left to offer a meal.

Mara had flour. Tomas offered his oven, though he was not ready to return to the workshop. Between them they baked loaves and delivered them while Eli finished a paid repair. Nora marked which bread was for sharing. Nothing had arrived without someone's ingredients, electricity or time.

When a stranded driver knocked that afternoon, Eli nearly sent him away. Then he checked the pantry and found the neighbour-baked loaves. Nora made room at the kitchen table while he warmed the remaining soup. They could offer supper, she explained, but not a bed. The driver sat down, and she took the chair opposite.