"Sadie has powers none of us understand." I steal a bite of pancake from her plate. "She just keeps talking until he agrees. I think it's a survival mechanism. Give her what she wants or drown in words."
Natalie laughs, and the sound settles into my bones.
"I want to take you somewhere today," I say. "If you're up for it."
"Where?"
"Farmers market in town. You've been stuck here all week. Might be good to get out, see some new faces." I watch her reaction carefully. "We don't have to if you're not ready. But I'll be right there with you the whole time."
She's quiet for a moment, processing.
"Okay." She nods, more to herself than me. "Okay, yes. I want to go."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Her chin lifts with determination. "I'm tired of hiding. I want to feel like a person again, not a ghost."
I lean over and kiss her. Soft, quick, just enough to let her know how proud I am. "Then let's make you feel like a person."
The Whisper Vale farmers market takes over Main Street every Saturday morning. Local vendors selling produce, crafts, baked goods. Mountain honey and handmade soaps and jars of preserves. It's small-town America at its finest, and I've been coming here once a month since I moved to the mountains.
Natalie's hand finds mine as we walk from the truck. Her fingers are cold despite the warm September day, and I squeeze gently.
"I've got you."
She squeezes back. "I know."
The first few minutes are tense. She's hyperaware of everyone around us, scanning faces. But nobody here is a threat. Just Martha from the bakery, who waves and offers us a sample of her apple fritter. Just Old Pete selling vegetables from his farm. Just the usual crowd of locals enjoying a Saturday morning.
By the time we reach the book booth, Natalie's grip has loosened. She's actually looking at the displays instead of the people, her eyes lighting up at a table covered in vintage children's books.
"Oh my God." She picks up a worn copy of The Secret Garden. "This was my favorite when I was little. I must have read it a hundred times."
"Then you should have it."
"Cade, I can't just buy things. I need to save what money I have."
I take the book from her hands and carry it to the woman running the booth. "How much?"
"Three dollars, hon."
I hand over a five and tell her to keep the change. When I turn back, Natalie is staring at me with an expression I can't read.
"What?"
"You just... bought me a book."
"It's three dollars."
"It's not about the money." She takes the book when I offer it, holding it against her chest. "Kevin never bought me anything unless it served him. Jewelry to show off to his friends. Clothes he picked out to dress me the way he wanted. He never just... saw something I loved and got it for me because it would make me happy."
"Get used to it," I tell her. "I plan on buying you a lot of things that make you happy."
Her eyes are bright. "You're too good to be real."
"I'm extremely real." I take her free hand and pull her toward the produce section. "Come on. I need tomatoes for the week, and Vivian requested fresh basil for tomorrow's lasagna."
We spend the next hour wandering the market. I introduce her to people I know, keep my hand on the small of her back, watch her slowly unfurl. She laughs at Martha's jokes. She asks Old Pete about his prize-winning squash. She samples three different kinds of honey before declaring the wildflower her favorite.
