Page 34 of Her Wicker Guardian

The wood around this one has split, leaving the hole too wide to hold it.

Thin pieces of scrap wood lean against one wall. I choose a narrow piece and break off a sliver. I push it deep into the damaged hole until it won’t go farther, bend the part still sticking out, and snap it off close to the surface.

Shannon makes a noise.

I look at her.

“Sorry. Keep going.”

I set the screw against the wood I packed into the hole and turn it. The screw catches this time.

When I stand and move the door, it swings without dragging. My hand stays on its edge after I have finished. I open it once, close it, then open it again just to feel the weight move the way it should.

Shannon waits until I finish before she tries it herself. She opens the door, closes it, then looks at me with an expression I have seen on Rachel when something pleases her.

“Nice.”

The word is new, but her face explains it.

I like Shannon.

No one showed me how. I saw something wrong, and I made it better.

Shannon laughs. “Tom is going to love you.”

I turn toward her. “Tom.”

“My husband.”

I know the sound of the word.

“Tom.”

“Yes. Tom.”

She points toward herself. “Shannon.” Then she raises her left hand and touches the ring around one finger. “Tom. Husband.”

Sunlight catches the ring.

My hand stops on the door.

For an instant, something moves through me too quickly to hold. Heat. Orange light. Rachel’s voice somewhere close.

Then it is gone.

Shannon watches me. “What happened?”

I look at the ring on her hand.

“Fire.”

Her eyebrows rise. “The fire from last night?”

I don’t know how to answer that. I try to reach for the memory again, but there is nothing except heat and Rachel’s voice. Whatever I almost remembered is gone.

Before I can try again, the sound of a machine reaches me from the road. It slows near the front of the property.

Shannon turns toward it. “Someone’s here.”