Author Notes: The first chapter will be short, but the chapters will get longer from there. Each chapter will be published serially on this blog until the story is complete.
The audiobook version of this chapter has been removed, but an updated version will be available soon.
Content Warnings for this chapter:
Blood
Reference to an attack
Depression
Hurt/comfort
If you believe J.M. Elam has missed an important Content Warning, please contact her so any necessary warnings can be added.
I brought a ghost home from the forest. At least, I assume it’s a ghost. Maybe it’s some other spirit. All I know is that I can’t see them, but I can feel them. I’m not looking for an exorcism. I’m not interested in cleansing my house or myself of their presence.
They found me lying on the ground. I’m not ready to tell you the rest. I felt their fingers lightly caressing the wounds on my face. At first, I flinched, but then a soothing sensation spread across my skin.
A deep quiet replaced the fear and betrayal in my chest. The pain somehow became less. An invisible palm caressed my back as I stood, staring through the darkness. I was confused and dizzy. There was a tug in the center of my chest, like a hook in a fish’s mouth. I let myself be caught and lured forward.
The rest was a blur of tears, and every once in a while, invisible arms wrapped around me, a chin on my shoulder. I walked so long, I might have given up if they hadn’t kept urging me forward. I didn’t look back, but sometimes I looked down at my feet, bare and bloody.
When I reached my cabin, I locked the door. I might have started crying, but I’m also not sure I ever stopped. I turned on the shower and stepped in, fully clothed. I sank beneath the hot water and sobbed as though I might shatter, and I wanted to finally shatter.
“Don’t Go”
First, their arms wrapped around me, and then that same quiet came back.
I said, “Don’t go,” and the heat began to feel like them, soaking into my skin, heating my blood and bones. When I got out of the shower, all the cuts were gone.
It’s not like I expected. They weren’t confined to my house. They didn’t haunt me day and night. It was more like they returned to me. They didn’t possess me, but sometimes I let them in. They liked to be invited and allowed close.
For the next two days, I barely left my bed. Sometimes, the covers were too heavy to move. On the third morning, while sobbing into my pillows, their arms wrapped around me and then disappeared.
“Come back,” I whispered.
A soothing sensation spread across my back, and the heavy pain in my chest lifted. It was like remembering how to breathe again.
Slowly, things changed to a new normal. About a week later, I saw an article in the newspaper.
The remains of three men were found. A wild animal attack is suspected.
Shhh, they whispered, as a soothing touch ran down my back.
That was the first time they spoke to me, although it was more of a sound than a word. Sometimes, they used words to communicate as time passed, but other times, it was more like a feeling in my chest.
One night, while making dinner, I felt their arms reach around me, and I remember the relief. I’d been depressed all day.
I whispered, “Hello, sweetheart,” as I leaned into them, and an answering chuckle reverberated from my back through my chest.
They never make me do anything, but sometimes they give me advice. Maybe they aren’t a ghost. It’s not like the stories. It’s less like they haunt me and more like they adore me.
The songs that fit the vibe for this chapter (in order) are:
“Northern Light” by Penelope Trappes
“Seven Devils ” by Florence + the Machine
“Hurricane” by Fleurie
Adoration: A Ghost Story | Chapter 2
The first time I saw the mountains in the distance, they looked like something from a postcard. The cabin I’d rented was nestled in the forest at its base but not far from the nearest town by car. It was like driving toward a fairy tale.
I can’t reconcile what happened in the forest, and maybe I never will. I wish it hadn’t happened. It shouldn’t have happened.
I need you to understand that there weren’t any glaring red flags. I crossed paths with the men on a walking trail. All three were about my age, open, and friendly. We ran into each other on multiple occasions. I’d known them for a while when they invited me to go fishing for the first time.
Although the nearest town wasn’t far, homes were spaced farther apart than they were in the city. I’d met other people, but none that I saw as often as the three men. I stopped by their house sometimes. We built bonfires and drank while they told me stories about local folklore. They were my friends.
When they invited me to explore a new trail they’d found, there wasn’t anything strange about it. Something told me to stay home, but I thought I was being paranoid. There was no reason not to go. I wish I’d stayed home.
I also wish I’d turned around when my instincts told me to leave, but I didn’t. I couldn’t think of a good reason, and I used to think I needed one. I didn’t turn around, but now I wonder if it would have mattered.
Time is a funny thing. The past and future are never experienced, only imagined. Most of the time, I try not to think about that night, a blank space formed by the “before and after.” But it’s there waiting for me, a hole to fall into.
The three men don’t deserve to have their names spoken, and they can’t hurt anyone anymore — it was their idea to step off the path. It felt like a bad idea. The sun was setting soon, but they swore they’d found a shortcut on the way back.
It wasn’t long after that I felt a peculiar pressure behind my sternum. The air got too thick, making me sluggish, and I paused several times to catch my breath. When they were impatient, I blamed myself.
Eventually, we reached an empty clearing surrounded by a ring of stones. There was a fresh stack of wood in the center, but I didn’t see any tents. It was wrong somehow.
“Maybe we should go back?” I finally suggested, as I paused in front of the campsite.
“We’re nearly there.” One of them called over his shoulder.
“Come on, Cassie.” Another laughed and tugged my arm. I stepped over a line of sticks and stones.
The sun hadn’t set yet, but the sky darkened suddenly. I don’t know if clouds blocked the sun, but it was almost as dark as night. “I wanna go back to the trail,” I said more forcefully, stepping backward.
I bumped into the third one, his chest broad and hard as stone. When I turned and met his eyes, all the kindness bled away, leaving only a sinister gaze promising violence. Fear ran through my body, both hot and cold at once. I tried to run then, but he grabbed me, and my world went black.
I woke to true night, tied up in the middle of the circle. My head was pounding, and I felt the warmth of the fire before I could make sense of the shifting shadows playing across the ground. My adrenaline surged when my brain finally caught up with the present.
I cried, struggling with my bindings. I couldn’t understand what had happened, what had changed. As if I could have possibly done anything to deserve this.
One crouched down and met my gaze. It could have been the light, but I couldn’t see the whites of the man’s eyes anymore, black pupils seemingly stretched from lid to lid. Distantly, I was aware of someone pacing and noted the direction. I didn’t know where the third man was until he handed the crouching one a large knife.
“No. No, no, no, please don’t do this.” I pleaded. I didn’t know everything that would come next, but I knew it wouldn’t be good.
What happened next, I can only remember in flashes. I think I fought, and I think they kicked me some. Cuts in my skin. Blood — theirs and mine. They held me down. Sometimes, I have nightmares about what might have happened next. Other times, I have nightmares about what did happen.
I was intimately aware of the arms holding me down by my shoulders and legs because, somehow, the ropes had come loose. Of course, I couldn’t fight them off forever. The knife slid home suddenly and swiftly. I remember a flash of heat and indescribable pain. The metal ripped through me and tore a scream from my body.
The excruciating pain knocked the air from my lungs. I desperately sucked in a breath of air, my chest constricting, as something inside me stretched taut like a cord, anchoring me to the spot.
I was drowning in my blood, struggling to breathe as I grew steadily colder despite the warm night. The invisible cord shuddered, and then, seemingly out of nothing but wind, firelight, and flickering shadows, a figure rippled into existence beside the bonfire.
The creature was something out of a nightmare, a being of twisting, swirling darkness. It was a living shadow of a person, faceless except for eyes like burning embers.
The one that stabbed me, twisted a pale, bloody fist, and the creature turned toward me, stepping disjointedly. It jerked unwillingly and tried to anchor itself in place. However different we were, the entity and I were both trapped, held hostage by violence and death.
I should have been more scared, but I was dying and so tired. I hoped the entity would make it quick. I was ready to be dead, to escape whatever the men would do if I lived. As the creature neared, the men released me, moving to the edge of the circle. This was clearly the next step of the ritual, and the men knew that there was no escape for us.
Maybe I should have wanted to live, but I was drowning in regret as well as blood. As the entity crouched down beside me, its eyes focused on mine, glowing so brightly.
Instantly, the invisible cord inside me tugged and reverberated throughout my body. Reality seemed to ripple, the shadowy being shuddering with it and echoing the vibrations back to me. The creature’s golden eyes grew wider, and it stumbled backward. It smoothly twisted its head toward the men, and my eyes followed.
The men stood still as statues, while the fire and smoke only shifted infinitesimally, sluggishly forming and reforming in the air. When the creature turned back to me, it held up its palms as you would for a scared animal.
“Make it stop,” I sobbed.
It’s—no, their hand wrapped around the knife. The handle smoked and sizzled through their fingers. I don’t know how deep it was, but another scream was pulled from my body along with the knife. They tossed the blade beyond the barrier and leaned farther over me, their face coming closer as their large palm spread over my chest.
I gasped at the unexpected sensation, their shadows solid, heavy, and warm. Both darkness and glowing light spread through me, pushing away the intense pain and soothing me from the inside out.
All along, their eyes, only inches away, never strayed from mine. When the shadowy being finally pulled away, the fear returned. I didn’t want to die alone.
“Don’t go,” I pleaded. They leaned back toward me, their forehead pressing against mine. I sucked in first one breath and then another, my eyes locked with theirs. My body grew warmer, and for an instant, I imagined we were melting and melding together. I shuddered as the invisible cord vibrated through me again. The Shadow’s hands contracted around me as though they felt it, too.
The sudden sound of a gunshot sliced through the night. The Shadow flinched over me before they whipped around, revealing a large hole through their skull, the shadows quickly reforming around the gap.
They stood smoothly, holding an inferno in their eyes. The men shot again, bullets flying through their smoke-like form. When the men lunged, The Shadow attacked swiftly and viciously. The same fingers that had been soft and solid and comforting became knives and claws, ripping each of the men to shreds.
When it was over, all that remained of the men were chunks of flesh, splintered bones, and pools of blood. The Shadow looked back at me one last time, their firelight eyes locked with mine, before disappearing with the wind, blowing the bonfire out like a candle.
I rose to my knees, gripping my chest, but the stab wound was gone. All I found was one of many rips in my bloody clothes. I didn’t have the energy to take stock of the other cuts and bruises that littered my body, but I finally noticed I was barefoot. I couldn’t remember when that happened.
Alone, betrayed, damaged, but not dead, everything hit me at once. Collapsing back to the ground in gasps and tears and blood, I swam in and out of consciousness. At one point, I looked up and could have sworn that my shoes were tied, strung along a tree branch. Then I dreamed it was one of dozens covering the branches, rubber and fabric swinging in the air.
When I woke next, I felt fingers lightly caress the wounds on my face. At first, I flinched, a spike of fear running through me, but then a soothing sensation spread across my skin. It was solid and warm. You know what happened next.
I brought a ghost home from the forest— well, maybe they brought me home. The truth is too knotted to pull apart now. Maybe they aren’t a ghost, maybe they’re a shadow. All I know is I can’t see them, but I can feel them.
I pulled out of the memories and broke down over a sink of dishes. It was too much. I rubbed my chest, trying to dissolve the phantom pain of a knife stuck inside it. I was so tired.
“Make it stop,” I cried to the empty kitchen. No sooner had the words left my mouth than invisible fingertips brushed against my back, eliciting a memory of warm shadows.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I responded, my words the confirmation they needed before they soaked into me, spreading through my chest and my veins.
Something like joy filled my body, something like peace, like parts of me were dissolving. The intense emotional shift left me delirious as I spun across the wood floor, feeling like I was drowning in them and how I wanted to drown.
I wanted them to crawl deep inside me and never leave again. Adoration is worship. It felt like I was being worshiped, like we were worshiping each other. It felt like being in love.
You probably think I’m too trusting of the ghost, the way I was too trusting of the men. But the ghost led me home and stitched me back together in soft touches, a peace that spreads like water in the soil, and deliberate consent.
Healing is a strange thing. It moves in a circle, spirals, and layers, a bit like tunneling to the center of the earth, a bit like peeling away infected skin, a bit like a spider spinning a web.
When I collapsed against the wall, I laughed for the first time in days. Eventually, it faded, but not the memory. The memory of love was imprinted on my chest.
“Don’t go,” I whispered, trying to hold onto things I couldn’t touch. In answer, invisible arms wrapped around me, a forehead pressing gently against mine.
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*”Snowdrifts and Echoes” was written in response to a Reedsy.com prompt:
“Write about two people going sledding for the first time in many years.”
Authors note: As a writing exercise, I tried incorporating all five Reedsy Prompts for the week.
Snowdrifts and Echoes
There is something about the snow here. It may come down softly at first, but it can transform into a full blizzard in little time at all. The last time I’d checked, the snow had been a speck on the horizon. Now the snowflakes looked closer to golf balls.
I glanced back at my computer screen. It had shut down 10 seconds ago with nearly everything else. I don’t know how it happened so fast. These buildings were set up to handle worse weather than this.
Looking around, I surveyed the empty offices. Of course, I’d decided to come in on my day off work. I did that a lot now. I vaguely remembered a different life that wasn’t all about my job. I shouldn’t have come in when snow was expected, but it was too quiet in my apartment, and there was a lot to do here. Well, there had been a lot to do.
I thought that I had more time. I sighed and picked up the phones to call security. There had to be a generator for this place. No dial tone. Great. I switched on the flashlight connected to my phone. There was still light filtering through the windows, but that wouldn’t reach far.
Sluggishly I stood and walked toward the exit. I’d either find someone to help or just go home. Well…if I wasn’t already trapped. The overhead lights flickered then flared back to life just as I passed The Door.
We didn’t go in there. None of us did. Some people said this was where they kept the prototype. All we knew was that we weren’t allowed inside. You needed better clearance than I had.
The lights flickered off again, and it was almost pitch black except for the cold illumination of my flashlight. I was sure it was locked, but curiosity was suddenly stronger than reason. I aimed my phone toward the doorframe, and its harsh blue light made the door seem more sinister than it was.
It was locked anyway. I was sure of it. My fingers tentatively pressed the handle, and it clicked open. I passed my light through the small room. It looked like a closet, but there was a darkness that my flashlight couldn’t penetrate.
This was the moment when you were supposed to leave or be the first to die in a bad horror film. Something tugged at me, though, irresistible. One step inside, and everything changed.
The darkness turned to bright sunshine, and I wasn’t in the closet anymore. I glanced behind me, but the door was gone. Instead, there were vast stretches of field, a lake, and a bare forest.
My breath quickened, and the fear rose, chilling my whole body. Then a real chill fell, and snowflakes began falling all around me. I held out my fingers and felt the cold drops tingling. It tasted like real snow too. The smell of it was in the air, mingling with something else…wood smoke.
I turned my head and saw the smoke puffing steadily from a small cabin in the distance. They’d have a phone, I was sure of it. However, as I got closer, the cabin looked more familiar, and my heart plummeted with the cold. I’d told myself I’d never come back.
Then I saw her. Alice. She stood on the porch, holding my heart, and I knew there was no phone. There was no electricity. There was just a wood stove, soft hands, and eyes that could melt chocolate with their warmth.
She waved at me, and I started sobbing as though I wasn’t standing in snowdrifts up to my knees now. I rushed toward her, and even when she was in my arms, I couldn’t make sense of such boundless joy and sorrow wrapped into one.
“You’re alive!”
“Of course, I am, sweetheart.” My heart was cracking, and I cried like I might never stop. When I finally calmed down, she took my hand and led me inside.
“Why’d you go outside, wearing that? Go change. I’ve been waiting to go sledding all day.”
I blinked, and a host of memories filled me in the quiet. I ran to change, but as I walked into our bedroom, I found myself outside again, although more suitably dressed.
“Come on.” Alice laughed, and its strange, beautiful music filled my whole chest.
As we loaded into the toboggan, her hands around my chest brought that familiar flip that I hadn’t felt in years. Even as we careened down the steep hill, the adrenaline was no match for that. As we stood unsteadily, I kissed her, and she laughed, clearly delighted.
I noticed the way her button nose was bright pink, and her eyes sparkled brightly like they had before she got sick. I was caught off guard when my arm jerked, and she pulled me up the hill.
I knew that I would sled all day if she asked me, and we almost did. When we finally headed inside, my toes felt frozen, and I was sure that hers did too. Her fingers and toes always got cold sooner than mine.
My fingers burned as we entered the warm cabin. We stripped off our coats and boots and hung them by the stove. Bits of ice turned to water and water to steam. Alice placed a mug in my hand before I knew what was happening. She’d always been that way, taking care of others before she took care of herself.
I knew before tasting that it was her home-brewed hot cider. The cinnamon filled the air, coating everything with sugar like it coated my tongue. I drank the cider, and my eyes drank her.
I tried not to think about when she passed, and I had passed along with her. I wasn’t ready to die again. I wanted to live today. I would worry about the consequences later.
At one point in the afternoon, I noticed her ice skates. Before, I’d never wanted to skate with her, and she was always asking. Now there was nothing I wanted more. I held up her skates. “Well?”
“Yes. Finally,” Alice squealed and kissed me fiercely. We twirled around for a second before she set to work on the laces. There was a pair beside my feet suddenly, though I was sure they hadn’t been there before. I didn’t care.
I looked up, and suddenly we were beside the cold frozen lake. Alice took my hands, leading me onto its still surface. Tentatively I stepped onto the slippery ice and predictably tripped over my own feet. But she caught me, and I marveled at how lovely it was to be out of control if she had it.
I didn’t improve, but after a time, we whirled together, her propelling us forward and me trying not to get underfoot. Sometimes it’s okay to just not get in the way.
As we spun around, I noticed the snow starting to fall again and snowdrifts gathering like memories in my mind, like echoes of reality. I wasn’t ready for the echoes to end. I wanted to let the memories crop up until I was buried beneath them.
But the evening was quickly falling, and I was a bit afraid that the dream would too. So I held Alice tighter, breathing in her scent and reveling in the cold of my nose against her neck.
We finally walked back to the cabin, stumbling, frozen, and happy. I hated the cold, but here with Alice, it was the most precious feeling in the world. But so was the heat as we walked into the warm cabin.
So were the warm blankets as we got ready for bed. So was Alice’s skin as we held each other tightly beneath the quilts. Throughout the night, I was unable to discern what was memory and what was a fresh experience. It was some strange amalgamation that was as good as any reality I’d ever had. I didn’t know if I’d ever been this present before, this desperate to experience everything.
As we fell asleep, I heard an owl hoot and the brush of branches against the windows. I noticed how hot Alice’s skin felt beneath mine. My legs wrapped around hers, like roots beneath the earth, like a poem about a snowy night. I almost laughed, but I didn’t want to wake her.
Eventually, I fell asleep too.
When I woke on the floor of the bare closet, it was like being ripped from the world and plucked in a cold approximation of life. I desperately wanted to wake whatever lived inside this room and go back to Alice, but something whispered to leave before I was caught.
I’d barely stepped into the hall and closed the door when the system restarted. I didn’t stay longer than it took to grab my stuff.
As I hit the elevator, the pain moved through me in waves. Years of built-up grief, snowdrifts of pain, echoes reverberating through my body. I pulled myself together as I crossed the lobby, but it was like trying to hold back a furious storm.
When I stepped outside, the snow had miraculously stopped, and all that remained was a thick quiet. Once in my car, I slammed the door hard, screaming loud enough to scare any passersby. I roared again, a roiling gale of anger and regret. Then I glanced at my dashboard.
Only a couple of minutes had passed since I’d gone in the room. It almost shocked me out of my fury. I drove home in silence until I felt a tug, like the one by The Door. There was somewhere I needed to go first. I didn’t want to, but I knew that I needed it. I can’t tell you why.
What might have been minutes or an hour later, I sat beside a cold ice rink. At first, my fingers fumbled with the laces, then I could have sworn I felt Alice’s fingers on mine. A calm swept through me in waves, quieting the pain.
I finished lacing up the skates and paused momentarily. I swear I felt Alice squeeze my hand, and then I stepped alone onto the rink’s frozen surface.
*“Souvenirs” is my entry for Challenge #2 in the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Contest 2020. My assignment prompts were the Thriller genre, a golf course, and a coupon. I hope you enjoy it!
Her body rocked against the inside of the trunk. She didn’t know how long her attacker had been driving, but her tears had dried on her face. The time for tears had passed, and her heart was beating like a drum.
The car came to an abrupt halt, and her face slammed against something solid. She could taste the iron of her blood. Only the tape over her mouth kept it from smearing over her face.
When the trunk opened, a flashlight shone in her eyes, revealing a dark silhouette above her. There was no doubt that she looked like a pathetic mess. Her dress was ripped, her makeup smeared, and long streaks of mascara streamed down her face.
He pulled her roughly out of the trunk and began dragging her across soft grass. She took in her surroundings. She saw a sandpit and a small pond glinting beneath the bright full moon. The golf course seemed somewhat neglected. The disrepair was evident in the untrimmed grass and bits of trash scattered around.
They reached the edge of a wood on the property, and he shoved her beneath its shadows. Millie’s knees bit the earth and gravel hard.
He grabbed her long blonde hair and yanked her across the ground, pulling her farther into the dark wood along the golf course. Millie struggled and pulled away, digging trenches in the dirt with her heels.
When he finally came to a stop, he pinned her to the ground and ripped the tape from her face. She screamed loudly, and he didn’t even try to clamp her mouth. He laughed sickeningly and pulled something from his pocket. Millie heard the click of the switchblade, as a flash of moonlight glinted off its edge.
“Scream all you want. That’s why I brought you here. This golf course has been out of business for a while. No one is coming here to save you, and no one will find you. You’ll be gone. You will be nothing, except for this little souvenir.” In a single swift movement, he cut a swatch of her hair.
“Why me?”
“Doesn’t matter. You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last.”
“You’re a bit sloppy for someone that’s done this before.” She shot back at him. He swiftly punched her in the ribs. As they cracked, a bark of pain left her mouth.
It occurred to her that this might be the way it ended, painfully, at the hands of this predator. It was the way that it ended for so many women. Calm swept over her then, where there should have been fear. But then there had never been fear, only that killing calm waiting in the wings. She’d been out of commission for a long time, and she’d become complacent.
“Personally, I don’t like to be this sloppy, but I needed time. It turns out that anyone can get caught off guard.” A deep growl escaped her throat, and she felt the familiar adrenaline course through her body.
Millie snapped through her restraints like they were made of paper. Of course, she’d been working through them while they struggled, and he babbled. With a twist of her body, Millie expertly flipped him over and trapped him beneath her.
“What are you?” Her attacker gasped when he realized he couldn’t escape.
“A woman tired of monsters.” She grabbed his switchblade and stabbed him, seemingly at random and yet effectively.
Millie stood momentarily to observe the wreckage, taking in the evidence from here to his car. She knew what she needed to do.
When she’d been an agent, Millie hadn’t been this disorganized with her kills. When she’d woken up in the trunk, Millie had known that she needed time to get loose, and she needed to cover her tracks.
Crouching down, she rifled through his pockets and found his cell phone. Hitting the emergency function, she made her report to the operator. Millie cried hysterically, and it was only partially an act. She was also crying for the women that hadn’t escaped.
After Millie hung up, she rifled through his coat. There were more people like him, and she was sick of it. Out of an inside pocket, she pulled a crumpled coupon for free ice cream.
Resolve settled down around her. Millie smoothed it reverently and tucked it inside her bra. She liked souvenirs too, and she thought she might like some more.
*My entry for Challenge 1 in the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Contest 2020. My assignment prompts were Romantic Comedy, Farmer’s Market, An Eraser. I hope that you enjoy!
Claudia double-checked her sister’s list. Two people had called in sick, leaving both the bakery and the Farmers’ Market booth short. So here she was, late and rushing to open “Kerry’s Kreations Bakery” with an insanely detailed prep list.
Everything was done except the sign. Claudia grabbed the large board and chalk markers. She checked the cheat sheet that Kerry had given her and found the specials for the day.
People were already perusing the stalls, so she periodically glanced toward the passing crowd as she wrote. She didn’t have the best handwriting, but she tried. Kerry would expect pictures of everything. Claudia didn’t blame her. Everything here was representative of her brand. Davy was the one with the excellent handwriting, but he was sick.
A lady in her forties paused by the tarts before moving down the line. Another stopped by with questions about the bakery and said she’d return. Refocusing on the sign, Claudia went back to work on the daily specials.
Claudia glanced up, dutifully again and saw her. Her skin drank the light that reflected off her dark curls. She looked momentarily sad, but then laughed at something the guy beside her said.
“Of course, she’s straight.” Claudia shook her head but didn’t take her eyes away from the woman’s broad lips, or the way that her eyes crinkled as she laughed. Taking a deep breath, Claudia tried to release the tension in her chest.
Looking back at her work, she saw that she’d drawn one long line where a small dash should have been. She cursed quietly and grabbed the eraser that her sister had packed for the board. Rubbing out the mark, she stared resolutely at the sign until she’d finished it. Claudia finally placed it on the ground, and looking up came face to face with her.
*
When Gary had insisted she go with him to the Farmer’s Market, Lilly had been secretly grateful. She’d complained, but they both knew that a change of scenery would do her good.
Since Sharon had left, he’d given her space. Gary had been her best friend for a long time, and he knew that she needed time to let go of people.
“There might be some cute girls there,” Gary had mentioned, brows wagging, as a means of incentive. Lilly wanted to move on, and he knew that. Getting out of the house was the first step. She’d grieved long enough. He wasn’t wrong, even if she still struggled with comparing other women to Sharon.
“Pistachio alert,” he said at one point. She looked at him, confused. He subtly nodded to his right. A particularly cute girl stood behind the booth. “That looks like a snack.”
“She’s really adorable, but that’s a bit objectifying.”
“What?” He paused in confusion before his eyes grew wide with realization. “Oh! No, they’re selling pistachios. I just meant that we should get some for a snack.”
Lilly started laughing to the point that she was bent over. “I should have known better.”
“Where is your head at?” It quickly became an ongoing joke throughout the morning.
Lilly found herself stuck in her thoughts again when Gary said, “I bet they have pistachio cupcakes over there.”
She started laughing abruptly, and for a moment, she’d forgotten about Sharon again. To patronize him, Lilly looked over at the bakery stall. That was when she saw her.
Long swaths of dark hair fell over her face, but it couldn’t hide her high cheekbones or the intense concentration that she held over the chalkboard in her lap. Lilly watched her long legs as she walked confidently to place the sign down on the ground. For almost no reason at all, Lilly felt a strange flickering in her chest.
Then she saw the sign. “Pistachio Cupcakes – $2 each.” Something came over her, and Lilly didn’t hesitate to walk over to that sign and that girl. For the first time since Sharon had left, Lilly was oddly grateful and hopeful. She didn’t know why.
The girl looked up, and Lilly came face to face with the most astonishing brown eyes she’d ever seen. They pulled her in, and her breath caught in her throat.
“Hi,” the woman said, slightly startled.
“Hey.”
“I’m Claudia.”
“Lilly.”
“Lilly,” She breathed the name like it was a prayer, then glanced around like she was looking for someone.
“Could I have two of your pistachio cupcakes?”
“Of course.” Claudia’s eyes shifted. Lilly recognized customer service mode when she saw it. “I hope you and your boyfriend like them!”
“Boyfriend?”
“Yeah, the guy you were with, earlier.”
Lilly laughed loudly. “Gary? No. Though I’m sure, he would find that funny. He’s my best friend, but he’s not my type.” Lilly paid her and watched her making change. “Keep it.”
“Thanks.” Claudia smiled again, this time a real one.
“Do you like pistachios? Well, I guess you must, it’s your shop.”
“It’s my sister’s actually, but I do like pistachios.”
Lilly held out one of the plastic containers. “Would you like the other?”
“Oh no, that’s okay. I would hate to get between a beautiful woman and her desserts,” Claudia laughed, and her whole face lit up with it.
“But I bought it for you.” Claudia gaped at her, and Lilly just smiled. “Pistachios are my type, and so are you,” Lilly said it a bit too fast and almost cringed at her joke but held steady, smiling as confidently as she could.
Returning her smile, Claudia accepted the cupcake and offered Lilly a seat in the shade. Two years later, they served Kerry’s pistachio cupcakes at their wedding.
You can also read my entry for Challenge #2, “Souvenirs.”
