Page 21 of Her Wicker Guardian

That quiets everyone. The screened porch is the obvious option. It doesn’t open directly into the house. To reach the kitchen door, he’d have to leave the porch and walk along the side of the cottage.

He would be close to the house without being inside it.

“Yes,” I say slowly. “I think I would.”

The answer surprises me. I expected the idea of having him that close to my kitchen door would tighten everything in me. Instead, knowing he wouldn’t have direct access makes it easier to breathe.

We settle on the porch for tonight, and Blair instructs us not to breathe a word of this until we know more. Shannon starts to object on Tom’s behalf, but the argument barely begins before Blair says something that stops all of us.

“We should probably find out whether he wants us telling people he exists.”

I look at the sweatshirt knotted around his waist. For the last half hour, we’ve discussed where to put him, wondered if he might be dangerous, whether to call authorities, and who should know about him. We’ve been making decisions about a person who has no way to tell us yes or no.

My attention returns to him. “Tomorrow morning, we see if we can communicate. Then we decide anything else.”

Laura gives a small nod. “That sounds like the least unreasonable option we’ve discussed.”

I point toward the porch and then to myself. “I’m going over there.”

He follows the motion of my hand.

“Me. There.”

Blair says quietly, “Your mime work is excellent.”

“Thank you.”

I start walking. After three steps, a faint scrape sounds behind me. I look back and find him following with several feet between us. When I stop, he stops.

The others remain in the yard while I cross to the screened porch and open the screen door. I step inside, then move back far enough that he has room to decide what to do.

When he stops outside the doorway, I gesture him inside. “Here.”

His attention moves over the chaise, the chairs, and finally the screen door I’m holding open. After a moment, he comes inside.

He doesn’t sit. He walks to the screen facing the woods and looks out through it, then turns back toward me.

I hesitate a moment then go out gently closing the door behind me. He hasn’t moved. Still watching us watching him.

Janet calls her mother from the yard, using the same steady voice she used with us earlier, and when she’s ready to leave, she gives the wicker man a small wave from several yards away. He watches her hand until she turns toward the drive.

Laura touches my arm next. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

She waits until I meet her eyes before letting go. Blair follows with a list of instructions delivered in her best attorney voice: no calls to strangers, no social-media posts, and absolutely no allowing the newly alive man on my porch to enter into a legally binding agreement before breakfast.

“He can’t sign anything.”

“That we know of.”

By the time Blair leaves, Shannon and I are the only ones still standing in the yard. She hugs me harder than usual, and for one dangerous second, the pressure of her arms across my back is almost enough to make me ask her to stay. I don’t.

When she finally pulls back, one hand remains around my upper arm. “You call if you get scared.”

“I will.”

Her gaze flicks toward the porch. I can hear the rest of the sentence before she says it.

“And if he does anything…”