Page 30 of Kat Bethel

“Well, you’re already here.” She laughed. “Come on in.”

She opened the door and gestured me inside. Her eyes fell to the ground behind me, and I turned to find footsteps burned into the grass pathway. Our blue eyes locked, but neither of us said anything, each one waiting for the other to confess the truth.

I was suspicious at the diner. Now I was sure: she knew more about him. I stepped in without saying anything. We’d get to the truth soon enough.

The tiny house was cozy in a way that reminded me of my aunt’s house. The tiny symbols of protection were carved into every wall. The old knickknacks were talismans that her family line probably acquired or made over the years. She was definitely one of us.

Even if her family line had forgotten that.

She served me some coffee before sitting at the two-person table. She stayed silent for a few minutes with a frown settled on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“I’m worried.” Her frown deepened as she stared at her cup.

“Why is that?”

She laughed to herself and played with the obsidian pendant hanging from her neck. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“That’s a sign, you know,” I teased. “That I’m the one the universe thinks needs the message.”

“I couldn’t have children.” The pain in her eyes twisted my heart. “Once I die. No one will take dandelions to the forest in spring.”

I swallowed harshly. “Are you dying?”

The shadows of the wall moved in a way that could only be described as jerky or short. He was aggravated at the very suggestion. The room grew darker. He liked the woman that brought him dandelions. He didn’t want her to die.

Why does he care?An unwelcome ugly feeling bubbled in my chest that I refused to let settle too deeply.

She shook her head, but pointed to her chest. “But it’s been eating away at me for years. When I think about it, I have anxiety attacks. Why does it scare me so much? It’s a silly old tradition.”

The shadows settled and thinned as if he was trying to keep himself calm for her sake. Because he knew he was the cause of her distress.

“Why?” I echoed her, hoping to encourage her to look inwards for the answer locked in her mind somewhere.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. I waited in silence as her fingers twisted her pendant nervously before she clutched the stone in her hand until her knuckles turned white.

There was something.

Her watery eyes finally snapped open, “When I was a young girl, I didn’t take the flowers to the forest edge once.”

I suspected as much.

“My dad wasn’t as superstitious. So he never said much about the dandelions. But then we moved in to take care of my grandma as she died. Grandma made me promise to always take the flowers. She’d double and triple check with me every morning, even when she could barely talk.”

She swallowed as she remembered. “I kept doing it. Even after she died. I think I wanted to feel close to her. My father never discouraged me, but he didn’t enforce it like she did. He just gave me a sad smile when I did it.”

I nodded at her.

“He remarried a local woman a few years later, and her first rule when she moved in was to forbid me from taking the dandelions. She said it was the devil’s work, and she wouldn’t stand for witchcraft. She caught me going out the back door and started an entire argument with my father, when her screeching woke him up. I think he didn’t understand how to tell her, so she won the argument.”

She stared at the clock on the wall, like she was in another place and time. “That night, I saw the shadow of a man outside my window. I guess he knew it was me who took over. He didn’t have a face or eyes.”

“I was nine and terrified, but he didn’t do anything to scare me. Now that I’m older, it was like he was making sure I was okay.” She nodded to herself. “I’ve felt him ever since then. It makes me feel safe. Like nothing can touch me.”

The wind chime hanging on the wall twinkled even though there weren’t any windows open.

“Like he’s breathing down your neck.”