Page 99 of Her Wicker Guardian

Rachel reaches across the table and puts her hand over mine. She isn’t checking anything this time. She just leaves her hand there. I turn my hand enough that our fingers rest against each other more fully. Rachel does not pull away.

Jose tells us he is contacting people with more experience in constitutional law and civil liberties. Their names mean nothing to me. What matters is that I will not have to argue alone if someone decides I am property instead of a person. When the call ends, Rachel keeps her hand against mine for another second before sitting back.

“I’m sorry, Locke.”

“You didn’t make the drones or the law.”

Rachel gives me a tired look. “Definitely not.”

“Then why are you sorry?”

She gestures toward the closed curtains and the phone. “Because nobody should have to wonder whether he belongs to himself.”

I think about that for a long time. Neither of us says anything else.

By midmorning, the sounds outside have multiplied. Cars slow on the road. Doors open and close. Voices carry toward the cottage. Deputy Aaron arrives with a bleat of his siren, and not long afterward the cars stop lingering directly in front of the house. Rachel checks through a narrow opening in one curtain and tells me the county has put up temporary no-parking signs.

The quiet does not last long. Somebody calls my name from the road. Another person calls Rachel’s name.

By noon, Rachel’s phone and the world outside seem to be competing with one another.

One call she answers before the second ring. “Mom.”

Rachel sits down at the table and spends the next several minutes assuring both of her parents that she is all right and that nobody has gotten onto the property. Her father still wants to get in the car.

“Dad, I know you want to protect me, but I’m fine. I promise I’ll call if I need you.” She listens, then smiles despite everything happening outside. “Yes. I mean it.”

When she hangs up, I ask, “They wanted to come?”

“Very much.”

“Why did you tell them no?”

Rachel looks toward the closed curtains. “Because then I’d have two more people here to worry about.” There is no doubt in her voice when she says it.

After that come calls from Shannon, Laura, Janet, and Tom. Shannon checks on us, Laura offers food, Janet offers the orange traffic cones again, and Tom says he can come back if I want him. I tell Rachel no. I like working with Tom, but I do not want him called every time trouble happens.

Other people want different things. Someone offers Rachel money for an interview with both of us. A company wants to make a film about me. The numbers mean nothing to me, but Rachel’s expression tells me they mean a great deal to her.

“Is that much money?”

“Yes.”

“What do they want for it?”

She looks at the message again. “Access to you.”

I know that word.

“They pay you so they can come to me?”

“That’s what they’d like.”

“Why would they pay you?”

“Because they think I can get you to say yes.”

I look toward the closed curtain. “Can you?”