She tried to calm her thoughts, to stay focused. What was it she most wanted to know?
“Is the treasure real?”
Yes.
Olive laughed out loud. “I knew it!” she said.
“Can you show me where it is?”
Counterclockwise this time:No.
“Did my mother find it?”
Yes.
“Did she take it with her when she left?”
No.
“Did my mother leave? Did she run off with a man?”
No.
Olive held her breath, eyes on the necklace, which was now slowing to a stop.
“Do you know where she is?”
Yes.
“Can you help me find her?”
The silver charm hesitated, then swung clockwise.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
CHAPTER 26
Helen
AUGUST 19, 2015
Helen was in the new house, curled up on the floor in the living room. The framed walls were stuffed full of fluffy pink insulation. With the windows and doors closed and insulation in, it was much quieter. She and Nate finished the insulation this afternoon and had even gotten started with the drywall. Hanging the drywall had been a slow, cumbersome project—maneuvering the heavy four-by-eight sheets into the house, making the necessary cuts, and then Nate holding the pieces in place while Helen screwed them to the walls with the cordless drill. The downstairs bathroom was covered in grayish drywall screwed to the studs and was ready to tape, compound, and prime. It felt good to have one room with solid walls instead of the cage of two-by-fours.
Now she blinked in the dark. Her head felt heavy, her thoughts slow. She’d gone to bed in the trailer next to Nate. It had been raining out, absolutely pouring, and the roof was leaking again. They’d put cooking pots and bowls around to catch the drips, and Helen had tossed and turned while listening to the percussion of water hitting metal pots, empty tin cans, plastic bowls. That, combined with the rain pounding down on the metal roof, created a taunting, angry symphony of rain, with the occasional rumble of thunder thrown in. She hadn’t been able to sleep, so she’d gotten up, gone into the kitchen, and readCommunicating with the Spirit Worldagain. She’d been through it several times but kept going back to it.
At onea.m., Helen had given up on the idea of going back to bed, slipped on her sneakers and a sweatshirt, and headed down to the bog. Back at the beginning of the summer, she wouldn’t have dared go out walking through the woods at night and would have jumped at every noise. But she’d grown more comfortable with her surroundings, with the nighttime noises. She was nervous still, yes, but the feeling of being drawn to Hattie overpowered that fear. And she had this sense, irrational as it may have been, that Hattie wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Hattie would protect her.
The rain had let up from the downpour to fine sprinkles. She’d made her way across the yard, feet squishing in puddles as she left the shadowy house and trailer behind. She’d descended the path through the little stretch of woods, listening to the noises around her: raindrops on leaves, frogs calling, a splash from the bog. The path had opened up and the bog had come into view. There had been a pale mist over the water that seemed to waver and shift as if it were trying to take form.
“Hattie?” she’d called quietly. The only answer she’d received was the dull croaking of a lone frog. She’d stood watching the water, thinking about what might be underneath. The rain had picked up, soaking through her sweatshirt. She’d gone back up to the unfinished house. She’d sat on the floor, beside the mantel, waiting, hoping. But nothing had happened. And she’d fallen asleep.
She sat up now, stretched. It was still raining. Helen could hear it upstairs, hitting the roof of the new house, the roof that had been covered in tar paper roofing material but had not yet been shingled.
(Because you haven’t found roofing materials. You’ve been going off to get haunted bricks and a mantel, to learn about Hattie and her family, instead of bringing home something you actually need to finish your house.)
She heard Nate’s voice in her head:I’m worried about you, Helen.
She looked at the mantel—her latest victory. They’d placed it inside on the floor, wrapped up in a tarp to keep it protected until the walls were done and they could hang it. She peeled back the tarp now and looked at it.
