Page 95 of The Professor's Wife
The waiting feels longer than it probably is. The campground noise fades into a low hum—clinking bottles, someone yelling about a fishing trip, the sizzle of Dad testing the grill. The air smells like smoke and sunscreen.
Finally, Mara lifts the cup.
Her expression changes instantly. She was playful a moment ago, but now she’s…intrigued. Like she’s reading a language she hasn’t seen in years.
“Well,” she murmurs, “that’s unusual.”
My stomach flips. “What?”
She traces a fingertip along the inside of the cup. “These symbols…I’ve never seen them all together. Not in one reading.”
I don’t know what that means, but it sounds important. Was I going to die? “Is that bad?”
“No.” She shakes her head slowly. “Just rare.” Then she looks at me, really looks, like she’s trying to make sense of me. “You’ve done this before.”
I frown, voice resolute. “No, I haven’t. I would know if I had that tea.”
She laughs lightly. “Not this reading.”
“What then?”
“This journey.” Her voice is soft, almost questioning. “But the destination…it’s never certain.”
I don’t understand, but something about the way she says it makes the hairs on my arms stand up. Like she’s talking about something bigger than tea leaves. Bigger than camping trips and barbecues with Dad.
Before I can ask anything else, Dad’s voice cuts through the air.
“Tristan! Dinner!”
I turn toward him—he’s waving a spatula like a flag—and when I look back at Mara, she’s already setting the cup aside, her expression unreadable.
“Go on,” she says gently. “Your father’s waiting.”
I slide off the bench, suddenly aware of how strange the moment feels, like I stepped into someone else’s story for a minute. As I walk back toward Dad, I glance over my shoulder.
Mara is still watching me.
But this time, she looks like she knows something I don’t.
Her fitful dream woke me from mine. I opened my eyes and watched her in the darkness. Her chest moved rapidly as she tossed her head back and forth. I was tempted to wake her, but sometimes Daisy said things.
Tiny fragments from the life she left behind.
Tonight, she whispered, “Don’t leave me.”
And then she added, to whoever was on the other side, “I’ll be good.”
I checked the lock again. Then I lay awake and listened to her breathe.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE PAST
I looked at my reflection, smiling. Today was a big day. An important day.
Oliver was taking us to his cabin. It was a long drive, and I should have dressed down, but I wanted to impress him. His gaze always lingered when I put effort into myself.
Today, I wore a summer skirt and a white floral crop top. I had the bags packed by the door. We’d be gone for the long weekend, and Rowe was so excited. I could hear him racing around the little unit, his sweet voice filling the air.
