Chapter 58
THE QUESTION MARK
Jude pulls into Naomi’s driveway, the wipers of his BMW gliding across his windshield. Her front door opens. She races through the rain and slides into the back seat next to Twig. She pulls off the hood of her raincoat. “Lovely night for a play.”
“It’ll be nice to see the sky again,” Naomi says.
March has come in like a lion and gone out like a wet blanket.
Jude reverses out of Naomi’s drive. The four of us are headed to the Opera House to enjoy the high school’s production of Into the Woods, starring Kate, Harrison, and our friend, Harper.
“There’s gonna be a full moon on Wednesday,” I say, an offhanded comment. After two years of paying close attention to its various phases, old habits die hard.
“Are the two of you going to have a stake out?” Naomi asks.
I catch Twig’s eye in the sideview mirror.
Jude quirks a brow. “A stake out?”
“For the Woman of the Woods,” Naomi says.
“Ah,” he replies, turning out of her cul-de-sac.
“They used to have one every full moon,” she continues. “It was a normal part of life.”
“A part that freaked you out,” Twig says.
“Yes, well. It’s a part of your routine, and routine is good. Even if it’s strange.”
This has become Naomi’s new mantra.
Routine and normalcy.
Her coping mechanism of choice.
The Woman of the Woods is Foggy Hollow’s local ghost, rumored to roam the cemetery at night when the moon is full.
Twig and I had stakeouts because we were determined to catch her on film so we could show the world—once and for all—that the supernatural exists.
Now we have a whole world of proof, none of which involves the Woman of the Woods.
And somehow, we’ve spent the past several months hiding it, understanding somewhere deep down that the world isn’t ready.
As if reading my mind, Twig sighs. “It was a great ambition, capturing her on camera. But ambitions change.”
My smile slides away.
He’s right, though.
Ambitions do change.
It’s part of growing up.
“You should at least start up the podcast again,” Naomi insists.
Jude reaches across the console and takes my hand while the windshield wipers continue to swipe at the rain. “I wouldn’t mind some new episodes.”
I catch Twig’s eye again.
I can tell he misses it, too. Our longstanding date on Saturdays in Maggie’s basement.
It’s strange though, restarting a podcast that has become so popular.
Resuming the role of host when we’ve been the subject.
It’s not fun, feeling like a bug under a microscope.
I squeeze Jude’s hand. As a Vandenberg, he understands the feeling.
He slows to a stop as we approach an intersection. “You have plenty of topics to cover.”
“Oh?”
“Magical amulets.”
“Alternate dimensions,” Naomi adds.
“Moon-eyed cryptids,” I concede.
“We could do that episode on curses,” Twig says.
Something sparks inside me. It feels a little bit like excitement. Like maybe it could be as simple as beginning again.
As we approach the square, it becomes quickly apparent that we should have arrived earlier. All the parking spots outside the Opera House are taken.
Jude drops us off at the front.
We race through the rain, hopping over puddles, and step into the crowded lobby just as the ushers open the doors to the theater. I accidentally bump into someone.
“Oops. Sorry about that,” I say, turning around.
It’s Ivy with her family.
Her mom—who looks so much healthier than she did at the funeral—has her hand on the small of Ivy’s back. Her little sister holds onto Ivy’s elbow. Like if either break contact, they might lose her all over again. The two of us share a smile. Ivy’s is shy, just like always.
Twig and Naomi slip into the auditorium to find seats.
I wait for Jude in a small vestibule off the lobby, taking in its opulence while the space slowly clears.
Two stories high with a sweeping staircase and a grand chandelier that scatters warm light along the walls, one of which is lined with vintage posters of past productions.
Across from me, a narrow corridor with worn carpet leads to a coat room.
For just a second, I swear I see something—a swish of white like the hem of a gown.
I shift and lean forward when someone whispers in my ear.
“Good evening.”
I nearly jump out of my skin.
With a gasp, I press my palm against my chest and do a giant double take.
Rafe Vandenberg stands beside me.
I haven’t seen him in nearly three months.
He left without apology. Without explanation.
Without any word at all. I loathe to admit how much I’ve thought of him.
Rafe, the betrayer. Rafe, the question mark.
Now, here he is, looking as put-together as ever, smiling his wicked grin, his blue eyes sparkling in the light.
I lean away from him. “What are you doing here?”
“I decided to come home for spring break,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It’s what college kids do.”
I arch a skeptical brow. “I’m supposed to believe you’re back from Yale?”
“That’s the story.”
I cross my arms. “Where have you really been?”
“Around.”
The vague response elicits an eye roll. “So you came back and decided to catch a high school production of Into the Woods?”
“It’s as good a way as any to spend an evening.” Rafe studies the framed playbill beside the ticket booth. “It’s about a curse, you know.”
I narrow my eyes at him. He pretended to care about my wellbeing, my life. When really, he just needed to keep my heart beating so he could hand me over to Simon and save his own neck. But then, he shot the arrow. He destroyed the amulet. Had he not…
“You look as beautiful as ever,” he says, interrupting my conflicted reverie.
“You used me.”
“I saved you.”
“To buy your own freedom.”
“A man can have more than one motive.”
I swallow, thrown off balance.
It’s not so much his words as the way he says them—and the way he looks at me when he says them.
Behind me, the doors open, letting in the pitter patter of rain.
I turn around and see Jude sweeping inside, shaking out his hair. He smiles at me, his dimples on full display. I look over my shoulder where Rafe just was, but is no more.
None the wiser, Jude takes my hand and we step into the auditorium.