Page 46 of Found Objects

“What the hell is going on?” Schiff asked Petrovsky.

“The only thing I can think is that maybe she’s confused because there’s something dead there, but it’s really old.”

“Which is possible,” Teddy chimed in.

“Yeah, but that ain’t gonna help Abel Swann none. We need to get a team out here and see what’s buried on his land.”

But the land had been empty; it made no sense that there was anything dead there. Of course, the real concern was, why did the elements that had been my only companions for much of my long life not want me anywhere near that patch of ground?

The activity was hectic after that. I was sent back to my home, as there was no need for me to be there. Nothing had been found on my land, after all. I caught a glimpse of Abel and Narah returning in their SUV before I turned for home. I had to wonder what they would think of me being there.

FIVE

Iwas torn. Once I got home, half of me thought about going back down to the house to talk to Abel and Narah and ask who they had killed and buried under their machine shed. Was it a great start to a conversation? No. Not at all. But I was as curious as any neighbor would be.

The other half of me knew that interfering in their business, which included asking probing questions, was a terrible idea. Being involved in any way with the Swann Pack was something I needed to distance myself from. Because the truth was, at some point in the very near future, Cole was going to have to wrest control of the pack from his uncle. There was no way around that. And when he came to that same conclusion, which was simply a matter of time, he was going to hate me even more than he did at the moment, and Abel was going to hate me as well for not saying anything to him about the storm that was coming. Either way, I was going to end up being the bad guy. It was a “damned if I did and damned if I didn’t” situation that I wanted no part of.

Being able to see clearly when others could not definitely had its drawbacks, and one of them was that most of the time, people didn’t enjoy facing the truth because it meant change. In response to whatever that truth was, life would be forever altered. Most people didn’t enjoy night-and-day differences in their reality, which was why so many often stayed in some terrible situations. But for Cole, it would be worse, because it would be his choice. He’d have to live with the consequences and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was doing the right thing. It sounded heart-wrenching, and I wanted to help him, even though I knew I was the last person he’d accept help from at the moment.

At least there were tasks to do at home. I was late on my fall cleanup of the grounds, so I pruned and raked, shaped the boxwoods and the holly, which were out of control, and put down mulch so the flowers that lined the drive would come back next year and not die from the cold that was coming.

The days were getting shorter, which I liked, and after I made myself dinner, I went for a walk. Outside, in the crisp fall breeze, I felt better. The turn of the seasons always grounded me, reminding me that I was not part of the human world, but belonged instead to the eternal wheel. When Teague joined me on my small sojourn, I was thankful for the company and told him so.

“You know,” he said in my head in that marvelous heavy brogue of his, making me homesick not for a place, but a time, “just because you’re not human, doesn’t mean you can’t love them.”

I groaned under my breath.

“You always give up so easily, Mere. Someday, you may have to stand and fight.”

“I’ll remind you that I’ve fought many times in my life.”

“Oh aye, you have, but I mean for love, you gòrach. Simply for love.”

It was terrible, at times, to have old friends, because when they knew your history, they could call you on the lies you told yourself. I was relieved when he said nothing else and there was only that easy, companionable silence. Of all the ways to end a day, it was one of the best.

I spent Sunday morning chopping firewood, then went to the women’s shelter and did all the maintenance chores Crystal needed done. I also coordinated the delivery of the Thanksgiving meal we made every year for all the residents. Once that was done, I sat with Crystal as she talked about what she was planning for Yule. I was invited for all twelve days, as I was every year, and I appreciated that.

Sadly, there was an intake late in the afternoon—a woman with a baby, a toddler, and an eight-year-old carrying an orange tabby. I helped bring their things in from the minivan, and when the little boy asked if they could keep their cat, Ginger, with them, Crystal replied with her usual “of course.” It was always so comforting for people to hear that their pets were welcome.

“We shelter the whole family here, not just parts.”

Relief washed over the boy, and he started to cry. I wanted to find his father and tear his head off, but that would help nothing.

I was sitting in the lobby while Crystal figured out which cabin would be best for them when a big pickup truck with one of those spoilers on the hood that made a lot of noise came roaring up the street.

All of them—mother, little boy, and toddler—started to cry. Only the baby stayed quiet, not knowing what was happening, plus, I was rocking him in a very comfortable chair.

“Oh,” I said as we all looked out the window. “He looks like he might have been drinking.”

“Does he?” the mom asked, and then we all watched as he took several lurching steps across the lawn and then went face down into the grass.

All eyes on me.

“You can tell, even from a distance,” I assured them all.

“Heavens,” the mom whispered.

Crystal called the police in White Sulphur Springs, and they were out there within an hour. By then the family was settled and he was still passed out cold.