Chapter 39
I’m standing at the stove, staring at a boiling pot of water.
I drop the Chaga in, watching it roll in the bubbles, turning the water a dirty brown.
I’ve caved. My headaches are too strong and I’m desperate for relief.
I can’t tell Topher I’m doing this though.
Pharmaceuticals, fine. This weird alternative medicine? Absolutely not.
When it’s done, I take a long, slow sip.
It tastes bitter and earthy. Certainly not good, but not terrible either.
I wrap the remaining mushroom in a paper towel and shove it into my pocket.
My mind goes back to whatever I saw in the meadow.
How can I phrase this to Topher? I need to tell him about last night. I mean, I saw someone, I’m sure of it.
He comes into the kitchen, looking freshly showered, smelling of soap. He comes up behind me and leans in slowly, to kiss my neck.
“How are my babes?” His hands rub my shoulders.
“Fine.” I’m really not sure what to expect from his reaction.
He’ll either worry that I’m hallucinating and letting my imagination run away with me.
Or he’ll be upset that I thought I saw someone on the property but didn’t call him.
Or the police. People can be unpredictable with their fears. Particularly once a baby is involved.
“You are better than fine, my dear. You are famous!”
I spin around. “What?”
Topher holds up his cell. He’s on Madeline’s Instagram profile and it takes me a moment to register the people in the photo.
There’s Madeline, of course, and then that man from the party .
. . Kyle? And on Madeline’s other side is an ungainly-looking woman in an orange hat.
I’m facing straight at the camera, unlike Madeline who is strategically angled.
“With the newest members of the CBW just because we live in Vermont doesn’t mean we are immune from crime.
” I don’t know why I’m pushing this theory.
It’s not what I actually think. But I clearly can’t tell him what I actually think now.
“True, but why would the person be wearing a cloak and why would they just stand at the edge of our property in the middle of the night? I’m sorry, El, but it just doesn’t make sense.
” He takes a long sip of coffee, then stares down at his mug, tracing the lip with his forefinger.
“Look, if I actually thought a person was trying to harm you, us, of course I’d do something about it.
Do you want me to? We can call the police. ”
“No. It’s fine.” I look away, feeling stung. I don’t want to call the police. I know there’s nothing of substance to use to investigate. Nor do I think they could help anyway.
“For your own sanity, try and get in the rhythm of checking the locks every night, for the external doors, for the basement. And triple-check the security system before you go to bed. This way, if you hear anything in the middle of the night, you’ll know it can’t be someone breaking in.”
“Okay.”
Topher steps toward me, wraps his arms around my waist.
“You are safe here,” he whispers, bringing his eyes to my level. “Don’t you trust me?”
I nod, slightly. Yes. I trust you. But why don’t you trust me?
Later that evening, I let Hugo out to do his business.
As I stand on the back porch, I scan the meadow.
Is there some small tree or brush that I could have mistaken for a person?
No. The thought is both comforting and unsettling.
After Hugo returns, I stand guard a few minutes longer.
The sun is setting, and the sky is a rich orangey red.
It looks like it’s on fire. Just before it sinks below the horizon, I think I see some vague twinkling in the trees.
But before I can make anything out, the last shades of red are swallowed by the arrival of night.