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Averie sat up, unaided and unencumbered. She was still very confused. Her eyes watched Lydia's face, but her thoughts were not behind them. She grazed on the early morning snacks Lydia and Ethan scrounged up for her.
Ethan took Averie’s phone from Lydia and informed her that Averie had been asking for her.
“Me?”
“Not by name, but she said to see if the singing lady would come and talk with her. My bet is that is you.”
Lydia frowned, her worry lines deepening. There was an age implication in Averie's request that Lydia found distasteful. Mrs. Everett wasn't old, but she wasn't young. Her age plagued her like her less than toned belly and increasingly flabby underarms. She swallowed her distress and followed Ethan to Averie's room.
"Tread lightly and don't tell her about Shane. I don't want to cause her any more stress. I will take this phone to Ashton station, and then I'll come to get you."
He hugged Lydia. She resisted the desire to drift to sleep right there in the hallway. Late night/early mornings were one thing she liked leaving in her past. She'd take being older if she didn't have to relive 3 am panic attacks and nightmare duty. Lydia wasn't sure her brain would survive another 4 am bedtime.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Ethan shifted from husband to cop and went about his business. He left her standing outside Averie’s door.
Averie munched on almonds and sipped at a bottle of iced tea. “I’m worried about Maven.” She sliced the silence with gut honesty. Lydia appreciated the lack of small talk.
“Why are you worried?”
Averie stared at her left palm and rubbed its ring finger with the fingers of her right hand. She seemed close to tears, gasping short puffs of air and trembling. "She doesn't understand my need for a life without her."
Lydia reminded herself of her stolen text readings and forced herself not to let her feelings show. She locked eyes with the green-eyed whisperer. Averie was so young. Darkness decorated Averie’s eyelids. Sorrow sucked in her cheeks. There was still joy tucked behind her expression, but Lydia wondered how long Averie would hold on to her happiness once she knew about Shane Mons.
“Life without her?” Lydia forced her words out mechanically. She tried to keep all her theories and half discoveries from domineering the moment.
"Not completely. Maven's my cousin, almost my sister, and my best friend. I don't want to lose her. But I need time to myself. I need to find something that's mine, alone. Maven can't wrap her heart around that. Every time I mention anything other than the two of us together forever, she gets stormy and mean." Averie patted her blankets down around her thighs and straightened out their wrinkles while she thought over her words. "You saw that. Remember? The night before the festival.”
It seemed years ago instead of hours. Lydia had to tug her mind back to her first meeting with Maven. "Yes, she was having an allergy attack."
Averie almost laughed in her remembrance. “Poor Maven. That’s one reason I visited Honey Pot. Isn’t that cruel? I didn’t intend it to be cruel. But I wanted to try a weekend without her. I never dreamed she’d follow me out to the country.”
Lydia walked across the room to her purse and retrieved a bottle of water. She popped the cap and took a deep drink. Averie drank from her bottle at the suggestion. "Why did you run away from Maven?"
"As I said, she's in everything I do. The videos? She shoots them or edits them. The email inbox? She sends the replies. The comments? She approves or deletes. And that's just our work. If I want a haircut, she books us corresponding appointments. If I want to go to a movie, she comes with me or rents it for us. When I tried to take classes in psychology and anxiety, she tried to talk me out of it. When she couldn't, she hired a tutor to teach me online. Even then, she took the class too.
I know it sounds like I'm whining. I guess, I am. Maven's good to me. After the accident, I had nothing. Not even my memories and she helped me heal, stayed with me. She's involved in everything I do. We live together, eat together, share clothes. There’s no me and no her. Just us. It’s smothering.”
“Has she always been that way?” Lydia asked and rolled her neck trying to stretch out the knots of worry.
Averie shook her head. “No. Not at all.” Pushing her snack tray aside, Averie fluffed her pillows. “You could use a good long yoga session.”
“I could use a good long sleep. But that’s another story.”
Averie smiled. “Yes, I remember Ivy told me. She lives with you, right?” Lydia replied with a reflective grin. “Ivy and her little girl, Sprout.”
“Scout.”
“Yes, that’s it. She’s still a baby, isn’t she?”
"Yes, ma'am. Six months and teething.”
Averie spent a few moments in silence. Lydia averted her eyes, giving the girl privacy in her contemplation. "I want a Scout of my own. If I never get out of the house, never have time to be alone, I’ll never be able to find someone to share her with.”
“You said Maven wasn’t always so controlling and nervous.”
"When she was singing, she was away all the time. I followed her for a while, on tour and such. I was her assistant for years. Those days I remember.
I also remember, taking care of Granny. Those were hard months. Maven never visited. She didn't make the memorial. We even did the will reading through video chat.” Averie’s breath grew labored and choppy. She couldn’t inhale past the clump of anxiety and sadness pressing on her windpipe.
"Why are only the bad memories the ones I can remember? After the accident, it took two months to remember Granny had died. It felt like she died, all over again. Maven was there. Much more than she was when Granny had passed. It was kind, but it stung. Like a two-edged sword. Why hadn’t she been there before was all I could think. And then I was smattered with guilt for thinking things like that.
I can remember all the horrible things that happened in my life for two months before the crash."
“Can you remember the crash at all?” Averie shook her head and then placed her palms against her temples.
“I only remember waking up to Maven sitting next to me. She told me it had been six months since the accident. She told me it was my fault.”
“Why would she tell you that? You were still in the hospital. Couldn’t she have waited?”
"I guess that is weird. I'd never thought of it before. But no, Maven needed me to sign something so she could use Granny's money to pay the medical bills."
“Why Granny’s money?”
"Well, it was my fault. It wouldn't be right for Maven to use her singing money especially after her last tour was a bust. We used the money Granny left me to pay the hospital, get our apartment, and start the ASMR business."
“Why not split the costs? Using the money Granny left you and the money she left Maven?”
“She left none to Maven. Just her antique scarves. At the time Maven was nowhere around and hadn't been for years. I guess Granny was trying to make sure someone took care of me after I'd been taking care of her"
Averie cried. Lydia dug in her bag for a tissue and went to hand it over when something stabbed the arch of her foot. “Yeow!” She hobbled to her chair.
“Are you okay?” Averie’s tears stopped to help Lydia.
"Yes, I'm fine. I have something in my shoe, and I keep forgetting it's there."
“Well, take it out.”
Lydia obeyed, frustrated with herself for not removing the pebble beforehand. She turned her running shoe upside down, thrilled that it didn’t smell up the small room, and tapped on its heel. A bright orange chunk of plastic clicked onto the linoleum.
“Is that a Lego?”
✽✽✽
Berna stayed at the horrible hospital just long enough to tell the Ashton police all she had seen. She described Mr. Mon's body on the roadside until she was almost sick to her stomach. There was no chance of her forgetting a single detail of the mangled man. Not when she relived it over and over for an hour.
She peeped at Henry, who was snoring. An IV fed him fluids, and the doctors assured Berna he’d be back at work in only a few days. Berna didn't worry about him returning to work. Her concern was that he'd learn nothing from the ordeal and repeat the same stupid mistake.
"Datura poisoning is usually caused by an oral overdose. Not from smoking." They told her. She made it all the way home thinking no more about it. When she pulled up her gravel parking lot and saw Olive crying on the porch swing reality hit her in my face.
"Dandelion is dead." Doctor Barnes stood on the stoop. "I had hoped he'd pull through after administering charcoal, but he was too far gone before you found him."
“Crazy cat! He must have jumped over the porch door right after we'd left. I didn't know gingersnaps were bad for animals."
Doctor Barnes laughed and ran a tired hand through his gray hair. "Well, they're not too bad, but Jimson weed is." He led Berna toward the backside of the building, leaving Olive alone to mourn over her pet. His voice went from drained and humorous to grave and low.
"Now, Ms. Berna I know the festival must be all kinds of stressful on you and running this inn alone isn't a picnic. But I never imagined you'd resort to drinking hallucinogens. You know better than that. I thought nothing of it when you brought me, Peabody. Goats can be greedy, stupid animals. I did not assume you were growing the weed for your pleasure. It's not illegal, so there's nothing I can do. However, I thought you were a smarter woman than that!"
Berna leaned her fanny against the porch rail and allowed the wooden beam to absorb all her weight. Her mouth gaped open with the heaviness of her thoughts. “Is Jimson weed the same thing as Datura?”
The vet watched his friend, concerned over her sudden change in pallor and strength. “It’s a particular breed of Datura, yes. Why?”
"Oh nothing. One of my guests was trying to poison me. That’s all.”
✽✽✽
Lydia brought the plastic chunk up for Averie’s inspection. “That looks like one of Maven’s EpiPen caps. Well, what’s left of one. How did you get one in your shoe?”
✽✽✽
An unrelenting knocking woke Flora from her slumber. She took a moment to realize she was at Lydia’s house and not her own home. She struggled to break free from the recliner but couldn’t reach the lever and didn’t have the leg strength to force the feet down without it.
The beating at the door increased. Flora floundered, her arms and legs pumping in the air straining to stand. Forcing her torso out first, and landing on all fours, Flora escaped the wretchedness of the recliner. Her back was screaming at her efforts. She stayed in crawl position until her breathing regulated and she could cruise to the couch.
Again, the banging exploded. Lydia never acted so impatiently before. Then again, it was nearing three am. Pulling herself up to standing, Flora started her waddle run to the front door.
Ivy skidded into her path. She held a finger to her lips and shook her head. "Don't. It's not Lydia." Ivy's eyes were fuller than dessert plates and far less inviting. They induced Flora's inner panic, and her pregnant breathing responded in harsh gasps.
✽✽✽
Lydia couldn't drive fast enough. She had to get to Berna's. With no cell phone to alert her friend, Lydia worried. Berna was host to a terrifying lady if not a repeat killer.
From her conversation with Averie, Lydia was positive Maven tried to kill Averie in the accident. When that failed, she blamed the entire morbid mess on her helpless cousin. Lydia still didn’t understand why Maven hung around and followed Averie everywhere. Or why she’d “nursed” her cousin back to health and ditched her career. She could only guess it had something to do with their grandmother’s money.
Lydia also guessed that Shane Mons knew of Maven’s plotting. She believed he was trying to rescue Averie from her domineering cousin. He wasn't a stalker but a hero. He encouraged Averie to leave Maven and retreat to Honey Pot. There Averie was safely out of Maven's grasp, for a time.
Maven couldn't have that. She followed Averie and made Mr. Mon's pay for his interference with his life. Greed made people do unfathomable things. Lydia had to make it to Berna's before Berna got in Maven's way.
✽✽✽
Ivy pulled Flora away from the door and led her to the Everett staircase. She left her there, puffing on the stairs and ducked in her bedroom. The pounding on the door went silent. Ivy returned to the hallway cradling Scout in her arms, with her cellphone in her mouth. She used her head to nod toward the second floor.
Once the dizzying panic subsided, allowing Flora to take a full breath, she began the careful ascent. Another round of knocking shattered the quiet morning. This time it came from the kitchen slider. “Hurry!” Ivy encouraged Flora her teeth still clamped on her phone and passed her on the stairs. “Into Lydia’s room.”
Flora obeyed. Ivy settled Scout onto Lydia's bed and returned to the door slamming it. She bolted it and dragged a bedside table to barricade it. "What else?" She asked Flora. The startled woman pointed to another end table. Ivy dragged it beside the other one. "Get in the bathroom. It has another two doors." She handed Flora the sleeping baby.
From downstairs the sound of fragmenting glass rattled the upstairs bedroom. Flora stifled a scream. Behind the locked bathroom door Flora huddled with Scout. Ivy sat on the toilet and forced her trembling fingers to dial Ethan Everett.
No answer. Ivy left a panicked message and dialed Gus. She followed the same procedure. After trying to alert police, she called Lydia. The phone rang through to voicemail. She tried again, and on the third ring, the sound of Lydia's ringtone ricocheted from the upstairs hallway.
✽✽✽
Kat tried all the Everett phone lines, save the house phone. She knew it was a landline and didn’t believe her call justified waking up a six-month-old baby. She called Flora, but her phone went unanswered. Kat couldn’t sit still. Her news had her ready to burst. She decided to drive over to Lydia's and hoped Lydia would open the door.
✽✽✽
Flora shuddered, her spine aching with the weight of her baby and the heaviness of her predicament. Her phone was downstairs in her purse. Ivy rapid dialed with no success, and now Lydia was out in the hall with the intruder. She wanted to scream but daren't give up their hiding spot.
“What’s happening?” She asked the teenager beside her.
Ivy’s phone rang. Lydia was calling. Flora saw the screen light up with her name.
“Thank you, Jesus.” She whispered.
“Lydia, get out of the house, I think...” There was a snarky laugh, subtle and soft from the other line.
“C’mon Ivy, tell me what you think. Where is your Ms. Lydia, the do-gooder sheriff’s wife?”
“I don’t know, Maven. But she’s onto you.”
Another laugh echoed. “No doubt my cousin has been talking. Though nothing she says will be any help. I’m just here for her phone. I know Lydia has it.”
Ivy's shoulders relaxed. Maven hadn't found Lydia. Lydia must have found a safe spot to hide. If Maven was raging at her for the phone, Lydia was safe.
Ivy’s eyes watered, tearing without her permission. Flora reached a hand out to touch Ivy. She wanted to comfort the young lady and needed comforting herself. She settled her hand on Ivy’s knee. It shuddered out of control. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play stupid!” Maven’s screaming ricocheted from the hallway, not just over the receiver. “I know you know. I’ve got Lydia’s phone.”
Flora gasped and squeezed Ivy’s knee. Her long nails dug through Ivy’s sweatpants.
“Your friend Kat has been texting Lydia all night. It seems she’s found things I’d prefer remained hidden.”
“That’s too bad, Maven. We have you on video, the day you attacked your cousin.”
“No, you don’t. You have a video of Averie tripping out and running after a hallucination.”
"If she has Lydia's phone, she has the video," Flora commented.
Maven's laugh roared into a raging wail, and the sound of wood colliding with wood racked from the bedroom door. Flora screamed without a sound. Her lips parted, and her face grew red and anguished. Ivy patted her hand and continued talking to Maven in her sternest, steadiest voice.
“That’s not all we have. Lydia found the sound pack.” Ivy couldn’t think of any other option. She prayed God would forgive this little lie and would protect the three ladies hiding in the tiny bathroom.
The animalistic screaming and cursing grew louder. The battering of the door increased. A light shone through the small window in the shower stall. Brakes screeched to a stop, and a door slammed. Flora and Ivy hoped it was help. They also dreaded it was Lydia coming home unprotected and unaware.
The pummeling ceased and abrupt footsteps hurried down the stairs. The phone beeped. The call disconnected. Again, Flora screamed without noise. Her fingernails wedged into Ivy's skin.
“I think she’s leaving.” Hesitant relief fluttered in Ivy’s voice.
“That’s good. Because, I think I’m in transition.” Sweat cascaded down Flora’s face and her hair stuck to her forehead in wild waves. Ivy scooped up Scout.
“What can I do?”
“Help me into the shower.” Ivy did, as best as possible. Flora made it to the tiny glass stall right in time to vomit over the drain.
✽✽✽
Lydia sat with Berna in the living room. Doctor Barnes helped Olive part with her dead pet before driving back to town. Olive wept on the porch swing.
“I don’t know what I did?” Berna struggled to sip her chamomile tea. It reminded her too much of Maven’s poison tincture. She drank out of a paper cup, leaving the original teacup resting askew on the coffee table. The spilled tea created white damage on the antique wood. Berna wanted only one thing more than to restore her beautiful table. She wanted to catch the woman who had tried to kill her.
“You said you made her breakfast and lunch.”
“Yes, I even brought her lunch up to her room.”
“Did you go inside her room?”
“Yes, but only for a minute.” Berna gasped, “I dumped her trash.”
✽✽✽
The stillness was more frightening than comforting. At least, when Maven was trying to force her way through to Lydia’s room, Ivy and Flora knew what was happening. Since the arrival of the second pair of headlights, three minutes ticked by. There was no more creaking from the rest of the house.
Flora stopped vomiting and stood in her tank top in the shower. She wished she could have the water running down her back.
Ivy made a bed for Scout, who slept unaware, in the bathtub covered with a decorative towel. The baby snuggled up with a rolled terry cloth robe and sucked her thumb.
A voice called from the living room. Ivy and Flora froze until Flora’s next contraction. “Hold my hand.” Ivy gladly obeyed.
“Hello?” The voice was frantic but familiar. It came closer and closer to the master bedroom.
Outside, car tires ripped through the Everett front lawn and squawked down the street. Ivy's phone rang from atop the toilet lid. It vibrated itself onto the floor and bounced closer to the bathtub. Ivy waited for Flora's grasp to loosen before retrieving it.
“Kat?” She managed before sobbing.
"Ivy! Ivy! Where are you? Where's Lydia? What's going on?" Kat's voice was a salve.
Ivy squeezed herself around a panting Flora and stood on point to look out the shower window. Only Kat’s van graced the street and driveway. Maven's car was gone.
The sound of Kat shoving the master bedroom door bounced through the hallway and the cell phone. “Let me in.”
“Lord, thank you!” Flora offered up tearful prayers and turned on the shower. “Call Kevin,” She huffed before clawing for Ivy’s hand once more.