Page 70 of The Wilderwomen

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Finn’s eyes landed on a plastic toy horse. She’d had one exactly like it as a kid with a button on its belly that made galloping noises.

“We saw them playing on our way here,” Zadie said.

Myron stiffened. “Oh, yeah? What were they up to?” His tone was guarded.

“Uh, tag,” Zadie lied. “They were playing tag.”

This answer seemed to put Myron at ease. He gestured for them to sit. “I was never into tag myself. Didn’t help that I was the slowest kid on the block.” He chuckled. “I suppose no one really likes doing things they’re bad at.”

“Finn wouldn’t know what that’s like,” Zadie said, sitting across from her sister. “She’s good at everything.”

“That’s not true.” Finn squeezed out a smile. “I’m only good atmostthings.”

Myron laughed. “You sound like Juniper, my youngest. She hasn’t figured out she isn’t good at everything yet, and I’m not going to be the one to break it to her.”

“Must be a youngest sibling thing.”

“Must be… So tell me about this supposed friend of mine.”

Finn was tired. The echoes were coming hard and fast, and it took all her energy just to fend them off. She looked at Zadie, a silent request to pass the conversational torch. Her sister acquiesced. “Her name’s Nora Wilder.”

“Nora Wilder…” Myron said, narrowing his inquisitive blue eyes like he was peering through a keyhole. “Can’t say it rings any bells.”

Zadie pulled up a photo of her mother on her phone and turned the screen to face Myron. “Oh…” A wistful expression crossed his face. “She told us her name was Wren.”

Finn and Zadie both sat up in their chairs and exchanged a look. “How do you know her?” Zadie asked.

Myron hesitated, seemingly reluctant to tell the rest of the story. “One night my family and I were driving home from a movie, and we saw this motorcycle make a U-turn in front of oncoming traffic. She didn’t get hit, but she lost control of the bike and skidded off the road. I pulled over to help her. Luckily she wasn’t really hurt, just stunned.”

Finn should have felt relieved—her mother had come out of what could have been a deadly accident with only a few scratches—but the bruised feeling in her ribs reminded her that there was more to the story.

“When was this?” Zadie continued.

“Gosh, uhhh, it was years ago. Two thousand seventeen, I think.”

Finn finally jumped in. “And you’d never met her before?”

“No. Never.”

So, Nora hadn’t known her rescuer after all.She must have been confused,Finn thought. If her echoes were any indication, her mom had been confused a lot.

Myron continued, “She refused to go to the hospital, but my wife, Amy, was worried about her, so we let her come home with us.”

Zadie looked around, as if her mother was still in the house, watching them from the shadows. “She stayed here? For how long?”

“Just a couple of weeks. She was in no shape to travel. I mean, she wasn’t injured really, but her memory was spotty and she had no ID. She seemed lost. Amy offered to let her stay in the apartment above our barn. I didn’t think it was a great idea—she was a stranger, you know—but Amy insisted. She had a big heart.” Myron smiled to himself and paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, or perhaps to push certain thoughts aside.

“Is your wife here?”

“No,” he said, wavering. “Amy passed last year.” As Zadie struggled to find a response, he added, “I’ve got my girls. I’m lucky.”

Finn, of course, already knew all of this. She was looking directly at the buffet table they’d set up in the living room for Amy’s wake. It had a cheese platter, a perfectly mundane item that appeared profoundly sad sitting next to an arrangement of white lilies. Slowly the room began to fill with black shapes. One of them was Myron, in a black suit and lavender tie.Lavender was Amy’s favorite color.Finn wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she didn’t want to know anything else. Without thinking, she held her breath, trying to starve the memory of oxygen, and the cheese, lilies, and lavender tie retreated like ghosts into the wood paneling.

“Can I ask how you knew her?” Myron was speaking again. “We didn’t know much about her life. I don’t think she remembered enough to tell anyone about it.”

Zadie paused, leaving an opening for Finn to speak. When her sister didn’t take it, she answered, “She’s our mom.”

“Your mom?” Myron looked from Zadie to Finn, who deftly avoided his gaze by pretending to look out the window. “Hell, I’m sorry.”


Tags: Ruth Emmie Lang Fantasy