CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE #2
Instead, I shifted my weight back and forth, and I stared vacuously, replaying all our interactions.
Clear patterns emerged—notebook-worthy. Not once in our history did Del notice or even sense Penn.
Her gift reached into some mysterious beyond, but Penn had never been beyond, or ghostlike or dead.
He didn’t exist in the place where her gift received its material.
But a part of me did. A part of Tía Viv too, and Del had very much seen and interacted with her. She remembered us.
I was as certain as I could be that Del didn’t realize any of this. But her gift had somehow spanned the great divide. My stomach twisted; was the Sylvie Del had laughed with, and trusted with a cat, and tried to get onto a horse, already gone?
“What’s up with your hand?” Del frowned over my left palm. “Is that from the other day and Winnie? It’s still bleeding. Is that why you texted?”
“No.” I held up my good hand. “I mean, it’s from yesterday. Just me being a klutz. I need to switch the bandage. I’m fine.”
Bless her for accepting this with a casual shrug. I sharpened my gaze over the rest of her. She wore faded cutoffs and a white crop top and pink flip-flops. A few of Norah’s craft-fair bracelets circled her wrist, and one sparkled around her ankle. She was carrying a large glass lock container.
“Nothing has the power to make you feel better than one of my mom’s strawberry cupcakes.”
Before I could check for Penn’s whereabouts, Del nudged me onto a nearby bench.
“It’s Rose’s birthday. I just dropped off a few of these for her and Corbin.
Mom made extra for the library staff.” Del lifted the plastic top, revealing cupcakes sitting in polka-dot wrappers.
Pale pink frosting with colorful sprinkles swirled over the tops.
These weren’t trying to be gourmet bakery cupcakes with elaborate, sky-high piping.
They leaned happily off-center, and frosting bits dripped over the paper holders.
But as Del placed a cupcake into my uninjured hand, the little round treat filled it with love, beaming in memories of school birthday parties where my mom would bake treats for my class.
A construction-paper crown and an off-key Happy BIRTHday, dear Sylvie.
A blown-out candle and a dozen wishes I’d forgotten. Things I may never have again.
“Thank you,” I managed, peeling the spongy cake away from the wrapper.
“You bet,” Del said. “And promise they’re strawberry for real. Not, like, rhubarb with dragon fruit and red chili glaze.”
I snickered, and my heart cracked over that first day and oatmeal raisin cookies that turned out to be so much better than I expected.
Just like she had. I bit into the cupcake.
Perfect strawberry goodness filled my mouth.
Something else was there, glazing my gums—a metallic hint, like blood.
Again. But now I knew why. I ignored it, taking another bite, then two, filling myself with all the sweetness I could get.
Del pulled out a bright-pink napkin just in time. My lip quivered in thanks before I dabbed. Seven remaining cupcakes sat inside the container. I wanted a minute to just look. I would never blow out nineteen candles.
“My grandma’s recipe,” Del said. “Never fails.” She sealed the lid back on. “So, what have you been up to around here?”
The article burned from my back pocket. “Just some research. The Wi-Fi sucks at the cabin.”
A single nod. “I’m about to go do some research too. Me in Bear’s saddle at the end of a long trail. That’s my kind.” Her element. “Oh shit, I almost forgot the reason I was coming here in the first place,” she added. “Sugar really is a killer.”
Not sugar, Del. Cars and ravines. Blows to the head.
“Listen, the cupcakes are, maybe, a bribe. Mom and I talked to Lu—head librarian—and convinced her to take Anne Shirley. She’s going out of town tomorrow but wants me to bring her by Thursday for a trial run.”
It should’ve been the best news. All I could focus on were Helicopter-Cat-Mom questions.
Like, would Lu be okay with giving Anne Shirley little turkey toppers on her food?
Would she let her up on the furniture? Clearly, this particular tabby preferred beds and couches and kitchen-table chairs to cat beds all day. Would Lu be good and kind enough?
One last question dangled, which I actually asked. “Doesn’t Lu know about Anne Shirley’s bitchiness and general dislike of most people?”
Except for me and Tía Vivian. Except for people who were only half-there.
“Sylvie?”
I blinked myself back, realizing Del had rambled on ahead of my brain, which had stuck too hard on that other unfathomable fact. “Yeah. Sorry. Must be sugar fog.”
“Totally,” Del said. “Anyway, I was saying Lu’s perfect for the job.
She’s a librarian. She deals with creepy randos and weird requests all day.
She’s an organization goddess, so Anne Shirley would get all her needs met.
” Del gave a brisk, undignified snort. “Plus, she deals with this shitty orange carpet and medieval-era furniture. Like one ornery cat could faze her?”
Our eyes linked briefly, but I was the first to break away. “Lu sounds perfect.”
“Like strawberry cupcakes.” Del sprang up. “Okay, it’s bribe time. I’ll text you about Thursday.”
“Wait!” I jumped up, striding behind her until she halted.
And the right words finally came. “About the other day at your stables, I’m sorry about leaving the way I did.
And for sort of stealing your boots. But mostly for running away when you’d been so nice to invite me.
” They sounded like last words. Would Thursday even come for Del and me?
She waved it off. “It’s all good. But thanks. Winnie’s back to normal, in case you were wondering. She’s in her happy place in the paddock right now.” Del tipped her chin at me and pivoted toward the back office. “I’m about to be in mine soon.”
My Sacred happy place wasn’t a place at all, but a person. In one motion, I traded goodbye waves with Del and spun. Penn?
My feet filled with dread as I poked around bookshelves and themed table displays.
The watch. Why hadn’t I checked the watch first?
When I did look, I shattered for the hundredth time.
But this hit was the hardest of all to take.
It was the kind that left lasting wounds.
The kind that proved fatal in passenger seats and emergency rooms and bled with unsaid words.
You’ll handle it. Those were his last ones to me that day.
And I was alone when the second hand struck this final blow. Penn had vanished, and I’d missed it. The watch was frozen, and the dream was over.