Chapter 6: Her Mother's House

Dessa pulled up the Cinder Creek road in the clinic van with six boxes and a cat carrier.

"Torin said your things stayed in the house," she said, hopping down.

"So I packed them while he was in a meeting."

She opened the van's back doors.

My winter boots were on top.

Under them were my mother's quilt, my laptop and the framed photo of the two of us at the river.

I stood there with my hand over my mouth.

"The cat," she said, "I took without anyone's permission."

My grey cat climbed out of the carrier, stretched, and walked straight into Kurt's lodge like she'd paid the rent.

We carried boxes up to the guest room while the cook hovered and pretended she wasn't listening.

Dessa dropped onto the bed and looked at me hard.

"You look better," she said. "Thinner. But better."

"I'm sleeping."

"I want to scan you again today. I need to be sure you're clear."

"I'm clear. It's over, Dess."

"Then I'll check anyway."

She did it in the guest room, with a portable machine and a lot of silence.

She printed the strip and folded it into my hand.

"All clear," she said, and her voice cracked.

I held the paper and didn't look at it.

"Tell me about the house," I said. "Everyone at Harrow Ridge. What are they saying?"

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