Oliver nodded. “It didn’t feel right to leave it behind. I kept hoping to find some pretty spot where I could ask him, and I finally found it. They must have bloomed after the rain.” Oliver’s heart sank at the realization that Felipe was still in no shape to schlep down the road in the cold, no matter how pretty the view was. “Do you think the flowers will still be like this tomorrow?”
“I’m sure they will be. There’s a whole field of them, and it doesn’t feel like it’s going to frost tonight.”
“Good. Then, I’m going to do it tomorrow as long as Felipe’s up to it.” Oliver bit his lip in anticipation. It wasn’t the trip to the botanical gardens and evening out he had initially planned, but the meadow was secluded and more beautiful than the manicured parks they had in Manhattan. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
“I think he will, though you know Felipe would love anything you planned for him.” Bumping his arm, Gwen nudged him back toward town. “You know, that would be a pretty place for a picnic. You could always pick up some treats while we’re in town or make some sandwiches ahead of time. That way, you have everything ready to go tomorrow, and you have an excuse to get him out of the house besides going on a walk.”
“So it will be a double surprise, a picnic and a proposal. Felipe will love that,” Oliver said, ignoring his quickening pulse.
The thought of going into a bunch of stores and diverting from the plan was anxiety inducing, but for Felipe, Oliver would do it. He wasn’t sure what they sold in town or what people ate at picnics beyondsandwiches, but Gwen would know. While they couldn’t get bagels and lox or Chinese food here, he could probably pick up chocolate or some good bread and honey. A swell of warmth rose in Oliver’s breast at the thought of finally proposing to Felipe. He hoped the weather would hold, so everything would be perfect. No matter what, Felipe was getting food and flowers before Oliver asked him to spend the rest of his life at his side. He still wasn’t sure what had gone wrong with Felipe’s relationship with his parents, but Oliver wanted to make it clear that he would always be there for him and love him no matter what. If he could write it on his soul to always remind him he deserved love and comfort, he would.
Walking up the block toward Main Street, Oliver was surprised to see so many people out. It was Friday after all, but outside the butcher and the general store, there was a line a dozen people deep. For a moment, he thought he had forgotten a holiday until he saw the way they spoke a little louder and more strained than usual and how the people at the back of the line seemed to count those ahead of them with growing anxiety. Oliver’s chest tightened; they were already starting to panic. It had only been a day since the road closed, but they were already stocking up on food as if it never would. The barge was supposed to come into town in two days, but they didn’t know when food deliveries would start again. Oliver didn’t know how difficult or expensive it would be to get food in by boat. Suppliers might abandon them or charge more, and if the mill and ironworks were already struggling, it could get bad quickly. As they passed the crowds, Oliver kept his eyes low and tried to ignore the stares from the townspeople, which ranged from curious to almost hostile. Oliver drew in a fortifying breath. He, Gwen, and Felipe needed to figure out a plan for how they would deal with the Lady and the Dysterwood before the town destroyed itself or came after them.
Oliver was relieved to find the pharmacy empty as they slipped inside. The bell jangled overhead, and Oliver’s shoulders relaxed. He had like the pharmacy from the first time he entered, but now, he looked at it with a different eye. Even though his father had been deadfor thirty-seven years, he couldn’t help but wonder what touches of him remained. The wall colors had changed, displays and soda fountains had been added, but were there still labels written in his hand or jars he had chosen left on the shelf?
“I’ll be right with you, folks,” the younger Mr. Hughes called from the back.
“Take your time,” Gwen replied as she eyed a display of perfume.
Oliver drifted to Gwen’s side, his eyes running over the shelf of cosmetics, salves, and specialty medicines. At the top was a row of jars filled with brown paste. The handwritten ad above them proclaimed them to be peanut butter, a nutritious substitute for meat. Oliver frowned and turned a jar over in his hand. He had never heard of it, but it might be useful. An older man’s gruff voice came from the back of the building a second before Mr. Hughes swept out of the backroom in his white coat.
“Yes, Pops, I’ll take care of it as soon as I’m done with these folks,” Mr. Hughes called over his shoulder. His face brightened as he turned to Oliver and Gwen. “If you’re on the fence about the peanut butter, I highly recommend it. The peanuts are grown on my great uncle’s land, and it’s ground and jarred by my father according to Dr. Kellogg’s recipe. It’s supposed to be for people who struggle to eat enough meat, but I think it’s good on toast or straight from the jar.”
Oliver had many feelings about Dr. Kellogg, not all of which were good, but if the line at the butcher was any indication, Felipe might need it. “I’ll take two then.”
Mr. Hughes nodded as he took the jars from Oliver. “Anything else you two need?”
“Actually, I have a whole list,” Oliver replied, pulling it from his pocket.
“And here I thought you came for my sodas. Are you planning to stick around, Dr. Barlow? I speak for everyone when I say we could use a new— I mean,anotherdoctor.”
Gwen snickered and slid a vial of perfume onto Oliver’s pile on the counter.
“No, no, I unexpectedly went through a bunch of the supplies I brought, and I was hoping to replenish them just in case.”
“Read them off to me, and I’ll let you know if we have them.”
“I would like several tins of moist or dry gauze, both if you have them. I also need povidone iodine, carbolic acid, isopropyl alcohol,” Oliver began, rattling off half a dozen other things he might need when dealing with Felipe’s healing wounds.
As he reached the end of his list, the floor creaked in the back room, and an older Black man with salt and pepper hair and a drooping mustache stepped out. In the years since the two photographs in front of the pharmacy had been taken, Mr. Hughes Sr. hadn’t changed much. The lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened, but Oliver could still see the man his father had gone into business with. The older gentleman swept his gaze over the pharmacy with a thoughtful frown before landing on Oliver. The words died in his throat at the way Mr. Hughes Sr. looked at him as if he were all at once impossible and not what he had hoped to find.
“Pops, I said I’d get it in a second,” Mr. Hughes Jr. said under his breath as he tallied up the pile of supplies at the till.
His father waved him off and shook his head, his eyes never leaving Oliver. “I thought I heard someone I knew. Must have been a ghost.”
The younger pharmacist rolled his eyes, but Oliver swallowed hard. He had seen the way Mayor Stills reacted when he first heard him. “Did you think you heard Stephen?”
Mr. Hughes Sr. narrowed his eyes at Oliver. “Do I know you, young man?”
“No, but you knew my father. I’m Joanna and Stephen’s son.”
Mr. Hughes Jr. shot Gwen and his father a questioning look, but the other man drew closer to Oliver with a curious frown. As his gaze swept over him, things finally clicked into place.
“Well, I’ll be,” the man said with wonder. “You sound just like him. I had always hoped you made it, but— What are you doing here?”
“I’m here with my colleagues to investigate the rising dead,” Oliverreplied, gesturing to Gwen. The older Mr. Hughes knew about the Jarngrens, what Stephen had tried to stop, and what Oliver had to finish. “I’m also hoping to put things to right once and for all if I can.”
Mr. Hughes Sr. gave him a grave, knowing look and nodded. “Wait here. I have something for you.”
