Even the meds didn’t seem so terrible now. They might be temporary—a bridge until I could finally wade through the trauma.
“Can you tell Daniel that I’m waiting for him in the garden?” I asked.
The sun was setting, and I wanted to feel the warmth of those last rays across my skin. I needed to feel something real.
“Of course,” Hudson said.
I’d barely made it outside when I saw the helicopter approaching. Dust kicked up, whipping across the yard, and the roar of the blades drowned out everything else.
I ignored the sound and stepped toward the stretch of fading sunlight, letting it brush across my face and arms. The breeze stirred the edges of my sleeves.
The thrum grew louder, then dipped. I turned in time to see the helicopter begin its descent onto the pad beside the gravel driveway.
Briefcase in hand, Daniel stepped out, spoke quickly with the pilot, then ducked low and hurried toward the house.
He didn’t see me at first.
But when I stepped out to meet him, his eyes found me, and he smiled. It was the kind of smile that told me the meeting must have gone well. His white shirt caught the sun, glowing faintly against his tanned skin. His brown hair was tousled just enough to still look perfect. His eyes lit up like they always did.
But when I stared back at him with a serious look, it all shifted. His joy vanished. I watched it unravel in slow motion as his smile crumpled, pulled down into something heavy.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, barely audible over the roar of the helicopter blades. His eyes scanned me as he stepped closer.
The wind kicked up around us, tossing the ends of his shirt and ruffling my hair. I didn’t speak until the helicopter had lifted and the sound began to fade.
I turned and led Daniel through the garden to one of the benches tucked beside the lavender bushes. I sat down and waited for him to follow. He did, lowering himself beside me, his briefcase resting against the leg of the bench.
“Emily, what happened? Are Hudson and Tara okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah, they’re fine. But . . .”
“But what?”
Using the tip of my shoe, I nudged a loose rock along the white gravel path. “I-I had another episode while you were gone.”
His jaw tightened. His shoulders locked. “What kind of episode?”
I tilted my head back, staring at the soft-pink clouds melting across the sky.
His hand slid over mine. Warm. Steady. “Emily, what kind of episode?”
The silence stretched. A dog barked in the distance. “I saw a woman in the basement.”
“What?” His whole body jolted, and he jumped to his feet like the bench had shocked him. “Emily—”
I rose quickly and took his hands. “It’s okay. It was just a trauma-induced hallucination. That’s what the psychiatrist and therapist said.”
“A what?” His voice pitched up. “Emily, what do you mean yousawa woman in the basement?”
“I went down there.”
“But the stairs aren’t safe!”
“I know, but Mochi kept saying it. ‘Woman in the basement.’ He wouldn’t stop.”
His expression darkened. “You endangered your life on those stairs because a bird told you about a woman in a basement?”
When he put it like that, God!
