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“Circumstances are different for me. I’m still in danger. You’re free to go your own way?—”
“This isn’t as simple as a Fleetwood Mac song, Adriel. I have no money. No family.”
She frowned in confusion. “What is a Fleetwood Mac?”
“Fleetwood Mac. You know, Stevie Nicks. Anyway, that’s not the point.”
“What is the point, Juniper?”
“We…need each other.” At least right now, they did.
Exhaustion pulled at Adriel’s eyes as she looked away, appearing frail and frightened. Juniper remembered how she’d comforted her upstairs but had no clue how to reciprocate.
“I can sit with Ruth for a while so you can wash up and change out of those dirty clothes.”
As if only then considering that her attiremight need freshening, she glanced down at her smock-like dress and frowned. “I suppose that’s a good idea. Were there dresses?”
“A few, but not the kind you’d like.”
Soon after Adriel went upstairs, the pipes rattled with rushing water. Juniper smirked, wondering how a hot shower must feel to someone who lived on a primitive farm since the days of colonization and copper coins.
Once Ruth dozed off, Juniper lowered the television volume and wandered the house. The air smelled of paper and dust. Antique furniture filled every room. Gray particles gathered in the intricate eyelet designs of doilies. Even the candy jars wore a sprinkle of time.
Spotting a black spool of thread on a sewing table, Juniper pried open the narrow drawer and dug out a blue bobbin for protection. Snapping small strands of thread from the spool, she draped tiny pieces over latches and locks throughout the house.
She scanned the parlor, wondering what they would do if someone got past her flimsy security system. Would they choke an intruder with a lamp cord? Or maybe throw a paperweight. As far as weapons went, they were fucked.
The water shut off, and she glanced at the ceiling, reminded of the lethal weapon wandering around upstairs. Did Adriel even realize how strong she was?
Juniper tracked her footsteps. The oldfloorboards betrayed her every step with creaks and moans—another welcome security measure.
After checking on Ruth again, she quietly drifted upstairs, curious if she could sneak up on Adriel. When her hand reached for the knob, the door flung open.
“Why are you skulking around?”
“I wasn’t skulking.”
“You were.”
Juniper glanced down at Adriel’s clothes and smiled. “You found a dress.”
“More like an undergarment.” She turned away from the door, leaving an unspoken invitation at the entrance.
The room lacked the putrid green charm of the attic bedroom but made up for it in Pepto-Bismol pink ruffles that lined every chair, pillow, curtain, and coverlet. Juniper sat on the bed.
Adriel fussed with her hair, her fingers fluffing the short, copper spikes as she frowned at her reflection in the vanity mirror.
“What’s wrong?”
“I feel bare without my things. I never thought I’d miss wearing akapp,but, without it, I feel…incomplete.”
“You look normal.”
She turned. “You’re sure?”
Juniper shrugged. “You look nice.”
Adriel glanced down at her dress, tugging at the pink material barely brushing her knees. “I’m used to more modest attire.”
