"When I'm not cooking, I remind myself of who I am without a drink, and...." Randolph gazed at me, his dark eyes haunted. "I miss being a chef. I even dreamed about it last night."

"I'm sorry." I bowed my head, the weight of his sorrow almost too much.

"It's... I understand why you won't let me near the food again. But isn't it funny how I dreamed about cooking instead of the nightmares on this ship?"

I crossed to the cupboards for a mixing bowl and a pan. ...