Logan stood in the dim pre-dawn light of his kitchen, his hands trembling as he stared at the photocopied pages of Hyacinth Harrow's diary. He hadn’t been able to sleep. The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing down with the weight of the words. Each line of the diary seared into his mind, tearing apart the fabric of the reality he had known his entire life.

He was Hyacinth Harrow's second grandson, the product of a hidden affair between Collette Harrow and a New Orleans priest that had been carefully concealed from the world—and from him. But now, all those barriers were shattered, and Logan felt as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice, looking down into an abyss of uncertainty and fear.

"How could she?" he muttered, his voice hoarse with anger and disbelief. He grabbed the pages, crumpling them into a tight ball, and chucking them at the garbage can. Vanessa had no right to dig up these secrets, to throw them in his face as if they were some kind of twisted gift. She had done this to manipulate him, to sow doubt and discord in his mind. But it wasn't just Vanessa who had wronged him—Hyacinth and his parents had kept this from him. They had to have known the details, didn’t they?

He talked a big game, didn’t he? Claiming to Anita to not place stock in where he came from, only in who raised him. His fists clenched, knuckles whitening as the fury coursed through him. Hyacinth had been the last living link to that part of his past, and now that she was gone, all he had left were these pages filled with confessions she had never intended for him to read. She’d had every opportunity to tell him these things, and she chose not to.

He had always felt a strange connection, a sense that he belonged to the grounds, to the earth that surrounded the old estate. It was a bond he had never fully understood, but now it made sense. It was in his blood and birth.

He cursed under his breath, pacing the kitchen as he tried to grapple with the flood of emotions surging through him. Anger at Vanessa for interfering, anger at Hyacinth for never telling him the truth—but more than anything, fear. The fear that now everything he had with Anita would be destroyed. How could he look her in the eyes and tell her what he had learned? How could he confess that he was Vance's half-brother, that he was connected to the Harrows in a way he had never imagined?

Would she run? Would she see him as a threat, someone who might challenge her for ownership of the Hall, or worse, someone who was only with her to get to the estate and the money? The very thought made his stomach churn. He loved Anita, truly and deeply, and the idea that she might think he was using her was unbearable.

Logan stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. He had to tell her, but how? How could he explain something so complicated, so tangled in the twisted history of the Harrow family, without driving her away? The last thing he wanted was to lose her, to see the love in her eyes turn to suspicion or fear.

He had never felt this way about anyone before. Anita was so different. She was real, honest, and he had fallen hard for her. The estate, the money—none of that mattered to him. What mattered was her smile, the way she laughed, the way she made him feel complete.

But how could he make her see that? How could he convince her that his feelings for her had nothing to do with Harrow Hall, that he would love her just as much if she were penniless and living in a tiny apartment somewhere far away from this cursed place?

***

Anita stood outside Logan’s house on the bright Sunday morning, her heart pounding with a mix of determination and trepidation. She was here to confront him, to get answers to the questions that had been gnawing at her all night. Between fitful stretches of sleep filled with the haunting presence of the four dolls, she couldn’t stop thinking about Vanessa and Logan in the booth at the cafe.

Anita took a deep breath and marched up the driveway, just as Logan stepped out the front door. He was dressed sharply, his usual casual attire replaced by a crisp button-down shirt and slacks. He looked up, surprised to see her, and she was startled to see circles under his eyes.

"Anita, hi." he greeted her cautiously. "What brings you here so early?"

"We need to talk," she said, her voice firm.

Logan nodded, fumbling with his keys and not meeting her gaze. "Sure, but can it wait until later? I’m on my way to meet my parents for church."

Anita blinked. She hadn’t expected that. She could count the number of times she’d been to church on one hand, and most of those were for weddings or funerals. "Church?" she repeated, trying to mask her discomfort.

"Yes, church," Logan said with a small smile. "Why don’t you come with me? We can talk on the way and afterward."

Anita hesitated. The idea of going to church made her uneasy, but she was determined to get her questions answered. "Alright," she agreed. "I’ll come."

Logan stifled a yawn. "Great. Let’s go."

They climbed into his pickup, and as they drove toward town, Anita turned to him, her mind racing with questions. "Did you move those dolls out of the attic to scare me?" she asked, her voice tense.

Logan frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Dolls? The ones from the trunk with the hinges I replaced?"

"Yes," Anita pressed. "They were moved all over the house and arranged in creepy ways like someone was trying to scare the crap out of me. And it worked."

Logan shook his head. "I swear I wouldn’t do that kind of thing. Anita, that sounds awful. "

“What about Vanessa? Did you tell her about the dolls?”

“No, I haven't mentioned the dolls to anyone. And why would Vanessa do something like that?"

Anita's frustration bubbled to the surface. "She's been scheming against me, threatening me, delaying my access to the Legacy accounts, intimidating the local contractors. And that horrifying trick with the dolls. It has to stop."

Logan sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. "Anita, I knew about the contractors. I heard it from one over in Marionville, and I’ve brought it to Charlton and Dodd’s attention. But I had no idea Vanessa might be pulling other crap like that."

Anita studied his face, looking for any sign of deception, but he seemed sincere. "What about your meeting with her? I saw you with her yesterday at the cafe."

Logan frowned, his expression troubled. "Vanessa was trying to convince me of some ridiculous story. She wants to interfere with my life, and I told her I wanted nothing to do with her anymore. I promise you, Anita, there’s nothing going on between us. She and I are done."

Anita felt a mix of relief and uncertainty. She wanted to believe him, but there was still a nagging doubt in her mind. She felt there was something Logan was holding back. Before she could say anything else, they arrived at the church. It was a beautiful stone building with intricate, bright stained glass windows that gleamed in the morning sunlight.

Logan’s parents were waiting outside, and they greeted Anita warmly. She was glad she had opted for a sundress this morning with a warm sweater buttoned overtop. Though nervousness clawed at her stomach as they made their way inside, Logan’s reassuring presence beside her helped to calm her nerves. The Emmerichs walked to a pew near the front where Susan, her husband Brad, and Grace were already sitting. Anita glanced around, taking in the serene atmosphere.

The service began, and Anita was surprised to find herself enjoying it. The congregation was friendly and welcoming, and the church itself was stunning. The stained glass windows cast colorful patterns of light across the pews, and the priest’s low, quiet voice was soothing. When the homily began, Anita found herself drawn into his words. His message was one of hope and kindness, and there was a sincerity in his voice that resonated with her. She glanced at Logan, who was listening intently, and she felt a warmth spread through her.

Anita felt a sense of peace. The questions that had plagued her seemed to fade away, replaced by a quiet contentment. As the priest continued his homily, she closed her eyes for a moment, letting his words wash over her. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, she felt a renewed sense of hope and possibility.

Anita opened her eyes as the priest stopped speaking and moved to sit in his chair. The deep tones of an organ began to fill the sanctuary. Anita sighed and was surprised to see her breath puff in a cloudy pocket of steam as the air chilled around her. The organ ground to a halt, and everyone and everything around her froze.

The world darkened and the people in the pews faded until they were there but weren’t at the same time, degrading to shimmering mists that only formed when the light, fading fast through the windows, hit them just right. A younger version of the priest stood from his chair beside the altar and moved forward. The door of the sanctuary flung open wide, revealing night outside, and Anita watched a young woman in a 1940s dress with a matching clutch run up the center aisle. The hard heels of her shoes beat against the stone floor.

Her entry drew the attention of the young priest as well. He met the woman, who moved with a familiar stride Anita thought.

“Father, please!” the woman gasped. “Please you have to stop them. They’re at it again.” She fell to her knees on the steps to the chancel.

The priest looked concerned, but slightly irritated as well, Anita thought.

“Melusine,” he said calmly, “We’ve been through this before. These visions that plague you are not real. Your brother and sister-in-law are good people. They—”

Melusine sobbed at his feet. “No! It’s the widow Carson and her son this time. They are the pawns the Covenant demands. You have to help me stop them!”

The priest knelt next to Melusine, patting her head. “I wonder if my lack of action on this has been detrimental to you. I thought allowing you to confess your demons would be enough to open them to the action of prayer and the Almighty.”

Melusine looked up at him sharply. “My demons?”

The priest was no longer listening to her. He took her upper arm firmly in his grasp. “Come now. Let’s find a comfortable place for you to rest, and we’ll get this whole matter settled.”

Melusine allowed herself to be drawn to her feet, but she resisted his pull away from the railing. “How are you planning to settle it?”

“Now don’t you worry. I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Harrow will choose an institution with the best psychiatrists and treatments available.”

Melusine attempted to wrench her arm from his grasp. “I am not crazy, Father. I am telling you the truth. The widow Carson and her little boy are in grave danger. We need to act now! Before the game steals their lives.”

“We’ve been through this, Melusine. It is not possible to steal life from someone and give it to another. Not even God himself—Oof!”

Melusine kicked the priest in the shin, and he released his grip on her. She backed away quickly, out of his reach. “Father, please. I know of no one else who could fight the evil behind this. You said you believed me! I’m begging you one last time.”

He lunged for her, and she dodged him. He landed face first into the side of a pew, and Melusine turned for the door. She sprinted away as quickly as she had come.

The strains of the organ returning to life made Anita jump in her seat. Logan gave her a glance and squeezed her hand. Anita looked frantically around, rubbing her eyes. She was back in the Sunday morning service, and the priest was back to his elderly self. He stood and with his hands, bid the congregation to stand as well. Dazedly, Anita rose. Melusine’s ghost or memory was gone as quickly as it had come. Anita’s heart raced in her chest and she gripped the back of the pew in front of her with white knuckles.

What had it all meant? Why had she been the one chosen to see the exchange between Melusine and the priest years ago? Obviously, Melusine had found no assistance. No one to help her fight against whatever it was that plagued her and the Hall. She had come to the church with high hopes. What had she expected the priest to do? An intervention with her brother and sister-in-law? An exorcism?

Anita finished the service in contemplative silence, only half listening and going through the motions. She had to find out more about Melusine, what exactly she had tried to fight back against, and if she had ever succeeded.

After the service, the priest stood on the steps, greeting the parishioners as they exited. “Good morning, Martha. George.” The elderly, white haired man shook their hands. “Good to see you, Logan. And who might this be?”

“Anita Miran. Anita, this is Father Shane Dougherty.” Logan introduced them.

“Uncle Logan, look at this!” Grace tugged Logan away from Anita’s side and down the steps.

Anita reached out and shook the priest’s proffered hand. As she did so, she felt a supernatural surge of anger. “I’ve inherited Harrow Hall,” Anita said.

“Is that so? Well, congratulations and welcome to our little community. Your predecessors certainly were great supporters of Our Lady of the Light. As a matter of fact, we wouldn’t have our fine facility here if it wasn’t for their generosity.”

Anita held tight to his hand. “You have a long history in Harrowsburg, Father Shane.”

“Yes, sixty-three years this November.” His gaze wandered nervously as he smiled at the last few passing parishioners, and Anita refused to let go of his hand.

“Do you remember Melusine Harrow?”

Father Shane’s gaze snapped back to hers, and she thought he paled a little. “That’s an unusual name. Hmm…let me think.”

Anita felt unnatural rage surging through her, and she cocked her head to one side, leaning forward, her voice dropping with an icy bite. “She begged you for help, Father. You were her last hope, and instead of giving her what she needed, you wanted to have her committed. Is that because you were afraid the ‘generosity’ would dry up?”

The priest stepped backwards and wrenched his grasp from Anita’s. With the loss of touch, she felt the rage drain from her body, leaving her unsteady, her head spinning. She pressed a palm to her temple.

Logan climbed back up the stairs, his smile fading as he took in the looks on Anita and the priest’s faces.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Anita leaned against the cool stone of the building.

“Yes, well, more things in heaven and earth, as they say.” The priest pushed passed her and reentered the church.

“That’s Shakespeare, not God,” Anita mumbled as her head spun. “Oh boy.”

Logan caught her as her knees buckled. “What happened?” he asked as he steadied her.

“I just need to sit down, I think.”

He helped her down the steps, and they made their way over to a stone bench on the path.

“I had the strangest vision…or memory…or something in the church during the service. Melusine Harrow was begging Father Shane for help—years and years ago when he was a young man.”

“Help for what?”

She looked pleadingly into Logan’s eyes. “I think she wanted to stop the Harrows from doing what I’ve seen in my nightmares.”

“Did he help her?”

Anita shook her head. “He thought she was crazy and wanted to help her brother and sister-in-law commit her to a mental institution.”

Susan and Grace approached the bench. “Let’s go, Uncle Logan!”

“All set?” Susan asked.

“No, uh…” Logan looked to Anita. “Susan and Brad are having their end of summer party this afternoon. It’s kind of become a yearly thing. Would you come with me? If you’re feeling up to it?”

Anita felt an urge to accompany Logan, to put herself far away from the strange anger that had infused her earlier and the odd occurrences at the Hall. She still wasn’t fully convinced that Vanessa would have had the means or opportunity to create the doll trick. If it hadn’t been her, and Anita was sure now that it was not Logan, what was the explanation? Or was there a good explanation? Maybe it was the same forces that had given her witness Melusine’s memory with the priest and that had brought her and Logan together that first night. She had to put more of the pieces together.

“I saw online that the historical society was open for a couple of hours on Sundays. I’d like to see what more I can find out about Melusine and the rest of the Harrows.”

Logan nodded. “I could come with you. That’s over in Marionville.”

“I don’t want to take you away from your family.” She cast an anxious glance at Susan and Grace. Logan definitely seemed torn, and that was the last position Anita wanted to put him in. “Why don’t I go by myself, and then as soon as the historical society building closes, I will come over to Susan and Brad’s.”

Logan looked unsure. He tossed a glance at the church, and Anita felt sure he was attempting to decide if she was safe from the strange power that had connected with her there. She was wondering the same thing, but to Logan, she said quietly, “Look, I’m fine now. No need to worry about me. Go with your family, and I promise I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay but keep me updated.” They stood from the bench. “I’ll give you a ride back to your car.”

On the ride back to Logan’s house, Anita explained everything she could remember from the vision in the church. He asked questions but never made her feel crazy, and for that she was extremely grateful. She couldn’t quite admit how real everything felt to her.

“So, this game Melusine told Father Shane about was some way to steal life from people?”

“That’s the impression I got. And it does fit with my nightmares. The people who seem to be the ones getting hurt are never the Harrows. They’re the ones rolling the dice—or the men are, at least. The women seem to be in some kind of command position.”

Logan parked next to Anita’s car and pulled out his phone. “I’m texting you the address for Brad and Susan’s. Promise me you’ll call me when you leave Marionville.”

“Yes, I will.”

He set his phone down on the dash and turned toward her, catching her hand. “Anita this is getting stranger and stranger. I don’t really want to believe in this supernatural covenant or demons or whatever seems to be going on with the Harrow history, but I don’t think we can deny any longer that there’s some kind of power underneath all this.”

“More things in heaven and earth, like the priest said.”

“Yes, and more dangerous things, I think. Maybe you shouldn’t be at the Hall alone.”

“I won’t be for much longer. Doreen flies in at the end of the week.”

“Until then, would you just maybe consider staying here with me instead? I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable spot, but I’m worried that, um—”

Anita watched a blush climb his neck.

“—I just want you to be safe is all. Or I could stay there with you. In one of the guest rooms.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair.

She felt a surge of joy. He really was worried about her, but he was doing his best not to push the boundary they’d placed. That had been the reason for his reticence lately. She, on the other hand, suddenly felt ready to shatter that damn boundary.

“Well, just how close would you say we need to be to keep me safe?” She asked, her tone slightly flirtatious. She slid a couple inches over on the bench seat. “Like this maybe?”

His brows rose with surprise, and a grin twitched at the corners of his mouth.

“Or this?” She slid closer until her left foot rested against the shifter case on the floor.

“Not quite close enough,” Logan said, and he edged over toward her.

“Ah,” she said. “I think I understand now.” She eased herself toward him, twisting her torso against his and slid her free hand across his chest. “Yes, this does feel safer. Definitely.”

He drew a deep breath. “Are you sure?” His breath was husky.

She nodded, gazing into his eyes. “How about you?”

His answer was in the press of his lips against hers, and the firm grasp of his arms around her body. She sighed as he trailed his kisses over her jaw and down her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair. Logan’s phone rang, and she pulled away slightly.

“Nope.” He caught her hips and hooked a hand around the back of her thigh, lifting her onto his lap, facing him. She laughed, and he continued kissing her. The phone kept ringing. She glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of Susan’s name on the caller ID. “It’s your sister.” As soon as the ringing ended, two texts came through.

Anita adjusted and bumped the small of her back against the steering wheel. “Oof.” Logan moved and his elbow hit the horn. She laughed again. “I don’t think this is going work right now.”

Logan’s phone started ringing again.

He buried his forehead against her collarbone with a heavy sigh. She reached behind her to the dash and grabbed his phone. He answered it.

“Hello.”

Anita eased back over to the middle of the bench seat.

“Yes, I can…Okay, I’ll tell her…No…Twenty minutes…Okay. Bye.” He jabbed the end call button. “She desperately needs ice. Brad’s handling a grill emergency. And she wanted me to tell you to bring a swimsuit.”

Anita perked up. “They have a pool?”

“Yes, and we usually play water volleyball.”

“My suits are still in California,” she said with disappointment. She sincerely missed the water. “But maybe I can find somewhere open in Harrowsburg or Marionville to get one.”

Logan scrunched his face. “Doubtful on a Sunday.”

“Well, I can help Brad with the grilling then. I’ve been known to wield a mean set of tongs.” Anita slid to the passenger door and opened it.

Logan laughed as he got out of the pickup as well. “I’ll bet.”

She dug in her purse and came up with her keys.

He eased her back against her car, hands firmly on her hips.

“Logan,” she murmured as he kissed her some more with a smile. He ignored her, and she shivered at the full press of his body against hers. “You told your sister 20 minutes,” she said.

He sighed and eased back, but still held her tightly. “Are you sure you have to go to Marionville today?”

She nodded. “I really feel like I should for some reason.”

“Okay.”

His last kiss sincerely made her want to change her mind. He paused for a moment, a smug look on his face as if he knew it. She playfully punched his arm. “Ice,” she said breathlessly. “Your sister is desperate for ice.”

He finally released her. “That may be my only solution for the moment, too,” he grumbled with a grin. She laughed, and he opened her car door.

“Call me,” he insisted.

She nodded, and he closed her door, sauntering back to his pickup. With a wave, she drove away. Butterflies tickled her stomach, high on hope and happiness that she had feared she might never feel again.

***

Much of the local history that Anita had perused at the library had been published by the area historical society. The group was headquartered two towns over, about a 45-minute drive and housed in a small, unassuming building near the center of Marionville. Anita entered, greeted by the musty scent of old books and documents. An elderly woman behind the front desk looked up and smiled.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m looking for information about Harrow Hall and the Harrow family,” Anita said. “Anything you have would be helpful.”

The woman’s smile faded slightly. “Harrow Hall, you say? That place has quite a history. Follow me.”

She led Anita to a back room filled with filing cabinets and shelves lined with binders. “We have a lot of records here. Feel free to take your time. If you have any questions, just let me know.”

Anita thanked her and began to sift through the documents. She found old photographs, newspaper clippings, and personal letters, all painting a picture of the Harrow family’s influence and notoriety. There were mentions of Oswald and Victoria Harrow, their descendants, and the various enterprises that had contributed to the family’s wealth—and infamy.

As she delved deeper, Anita stumbled upon a journal that belonged to Melusine Harrow. It was filled with entries that ranged from mundane daily activities to cryptic references about the house and its secrets. One passage in particular caught her eye. “Look at this,” she muttered to herself, holding the book close so she could read the entry clearly.

“June 12, 1932—The dolls are restless tonight. I can hear them moving, whispering secrets I can barely understand. There is power in them, a connection to something ancient and unfathomable. I fear what they might do, what they might reveal.”

Anita’s heart raced as she read the words. The dolls, the strange occurrences—they were not new. Melusine had experienced them too. She flipped the page and continued reading, hoping to find more clues.

“August 4, 1933—The bagpipes played again last night. The music is haunting, calling from the past. There is a spirit in this house that seeks to communicate through these objects.”

Anita felt a chill run down her spine. The nightmares, the dolls, the music—it was all connected. She was lost in a world of dusty tomes and yellowed photographs spread out before her on the long, wooden table of the local historical society. She searched for any documents that might shed more light on the dark past of Harrow Hall, her hands carefully turning each delicate page. The musty smell of aged paper filled the air, mingling with the scent of old wood that creaked softly underfoot.

As she sifted through another box of pictures, a voice startled her from her concentration. “I hear that you are our new Mrs. Harrow.”

Anita whirled around, slightly taken aback, to see an elderly man with a kind face and bright, curious eyes. He leaned on a wooden cane and regarded her with a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Well, I inherited and live at the Hall, but you don’t have to call me that. I’m Anita,” she replied, extending her hand in greeting.

The man shook her hand, his grip firm despite his age. “Samuel Prendergast,” he introduced himself. “I’ve lived here all my life. Never a dull moment with the Harrows.”

Anita chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “No, certainly not dull,” she agreed.

“I’m here trying to piece together some of the history,” she explained.

“Ah, a noble endeavor,” Samuel nodded sagely. “That place has a lot of history, much of it steeped in shadow. Not all are brave enough to stir those echoes.”

They shared a moment of understanding, the weight of the Hall’s history hanging between them. Samuel’s expression changed, and he leaned in slightly.

“You know, I have something that might interest you. When I was younger, I corresponded with one of the Harrows—Melusine. She was… different from the rest, to say the least. We were quite close.” His eyes clouded with memories. “I’ve kept a collection of her letters. Never felt quite right about donating them to the historical society. They’re quite personal, you see.”

Anita’s interest piqued immediately. “Melusine’s letters?” she repeated, her pulse quickening with excitement. “I’ve read about her in the family records. She seemed like a remarkable woman.”

“She was,” Samuel confirmed with a nod. “And misunderstood, I dare say. Those letters... they shed a different light on the Harrow family and the Hall. I think they could offer you some unique insights for your research.”

The prospect of gaining a new perspective on the enigmatic Melusine was intriguing. Anita knew any information could be crucial in unraveling the Hall’s mysteries. “I would very much like to see them, Mr. Prendergast,” she said earnestly.

Samuel’s face brightened. “Then it’s settled. Why don’t you come over to my house tomorrow? I’ll have the letters ready for you to look through.”

“Thank you, that would be wonderful,” Anita responded, her mind already racing with the possibilities of what the letters could reveal.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries and he explained how to get to his house. Then Anita watched as Samuel slowly walked away, his cane tapping rhythmically on the floor. She turned back to her research, thoughts now buzzing with anticipation for tomorrow's meeting. The possibility of unlocking more secrets of Harrow Hall through Melusine’s own words was an unexpected and thrilling prospect.

***

Anita stepped out of the historical society building in Marionville. She clutched a stack of photocopies to her chest. Melusine's diary entries had painted vivid pictures of the past, unveiling secrets and stories that had captivated Anita. Even more thrilling was the appointment she had set up with Mr. Samuel to read his letters, promising even deeper insights into the historical tapestry she was unraveling.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a clean warmth over the quaint streets of Marionville. As Anita walked to her car, her thoughts drifted to Logan. She couldn't help but smile, thinking about the party at his sister Susan's place. The idea of meeting Logan there filled her with a mix of anticipation and warmth.

Her car was parked just down the street. She walked briskly, eager to share her excitement with Logan. Reaching her car, she pulled out her keys and her phone simultaneously, intending to call Logan and tell him she was on her way. But in her excitement, she fumbled, dropping the keys. The phone slipped from her grasp too, bouncing once on the pavement.

"Great," she muttered, crouching down to retrieve them. She was picked up her phone, noticing the connected call behind the cracked screen, when she heard the unmistakable roar of an engine approaching at high speed.

Her heart leaped into her throat as she looked up. A white SUV with tinted windows was barreling toward her. Panic surged through her as the SUV showed no signs of slowing down. She froze for a split second, her mind racing to process what was happening.

Anita dropped everything and dove to the side, her body hitting the pavement hard. She winced as her elbow scraped against the rough ground, but adrenaline drowned out the pain. The SUV's tires screeched as the driver slammed on the brakes, the vehicle swerving violently at the last moment. The front bumper missed her car by inches, narrowly avoiding a collision.

Anita lay there for a moment as the photocopies skittered across the pavement in the breeze, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The SUV's engine revved, and then it sped off, disappearing down the street. Trembling, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and slid her phone with a splintered screen across the blacktop, praying it still worked.

She lifted it up to her ear.

“Anita!”

"Logan," she said, her voice still shaking.

"What happened?" Logan's voice was sharp with alarm. "Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm at the historical society building," Anita managed to say, looking around as if the SUV might suddenly reappear. "I was just about to call you when I think..." she paused, looking up and down the empty street. “…I think someone tried to run me over.”

"Stay there," Logan instructed. "I'm coming to get you. Get in your car and lock your door."

Anita took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "Logan, I'm okay," she said, her voice steadying. "I just got scraped up a bit. Maybe it was just a reckless driver."

"Are you sure?" Logan sounded doubtful.

"It didn’t feel random," Anita admitted, glancing down the empty street. "But I think I'll be alright to drive to your sister's house. I'll be careful."

"Anita, I don't like this," Logan protested.

"I know, but I don't want to make a big deal out of this if it's nothing," she replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "I'll drive slowly and keep an eye out. I'll see you at Susan's."

Logan hesitated, but finally sighed. "Please be careful."

"I will," Anita promised. "Give me some easy directions. My screen is all shattered, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get my phone to work again."

Logan talked her through the route to Walnut Grove, another small town near Harrowsburg. Luckily there weren’t many turns, and the drive should only take about thirty minutes. Logan insisted that if thirty-one passed, he was coming to look for her.

She took a moment to collect herself. Her hands were still trembling as she climbed into her car, but she forced herself to take deep, steady breaths. She couldn't shake the feeling that the incident was more than just a coincidence, but she pushed that thought aside for now. The important thing was to get to Logan and his family safely.

Anita started the engine and pulled out slowly, her eyes scanning the road for any sign of the SUV. The road to Walnut Grove seemed to stretch out endlessly as she drove more cautiously than ever before. Every car that approached made her heart skip a beat, but none of them matched the white, tinted-window SUV that had almost run her down.

She checked her mirrors constantly, half-expecting the SUV to reappear. The closer she got to Walnut Grove, the more her nerves began to settle. The beautiful scenery of the small town brought a sense of comfort, and she felt a little safer knowing she was nearing Logan's sister's house.

When she finally turned onto Susan's street at the far edge of town, she spotted Logan waiting outside, his expression a mix of relief and concern. He waved as she pulled into an enormous half-moon driveway, packed with parked cars, and she felt a rush of gratitude seeing him there.

Logan was at her door immediately, helping her out of the car. "Are you really okay?" he asked, his eyes scanning her for any signs of injury.

"I'm fine," Anita assured him, showing him her scraped elbow. "Just a little scrape. The driver swerved at the last moment."

Logan looked unconvinced but didn't press further. "Come on, let's get you inside."

They walked together to the front door, where Susan greeted them warmly. "Anita! I'm so glad you could make it. Come in, come in."

Anita smiled, appreciating the warmth and normalcy of Susan's welcome. Inside, the house was filled with laughter and friends and family having fun. It was exactly what she needed to calm her nerves.

Logan stayed close to her, his presence a steadying force. As they mingled with people, Anita felt her anxiety begin to fade. She still couldn't shake the feeling that the SUV incident was more than just bad luck, but for now, she focused on enjoying the afternoon with Logan and the people who mattered to him.