“Let’s give you some nutrients so you can grow big and strong,” Fern murmured to a row of geraniums that were looking a little droopy for this early in the season.
Holding a watering can with a mixture of water and plant food, she drifted down the greenhouse row, giving each plant a nice soaking. On Saturdays, the shop was only open until noon, but this morning was particularly slow, which meant she’d gotten a lot of other small tasks done.
After the first hour, Marla left to meet a friend, which left Fern alone to close. While she loved talking to her boss, she enjoyed the slow times when the sun shone through the greenhouse walls and could let her thoughts roam.
Sometimes her mind bounced between boring things—shopping lists and chores to do at home. Other times, she pondered a book she was reading or the deeper themes of a TV show she’d watched.
Or she found her mind wandering to a rugged, handsome vet whose smile did things to her insides that she couldn’t remember feeling before.
She stopped midway through watering the last geranium and stared down at the floor. A push broom was laying there like someone dropped it right in the middle of sweeping.
Only she hadn’t.
It wasn’t there earlier. When she dipped her fingers into the dirt of the pots to test how dry they were, she’dlookeddown the row between the geraniums and marigolds. That broom definitely was not there.
Her heart giving a hard, pulsing thump, she swept a look around the greenhouse.
No one was here. She was alone.
But now, her thoughts were turning to something heavier. Darker.
She picked up the broom and carried it to the closet in the very back of the greenhouse. After she resumed feeding the geraniums, she tried to push away the feeling that someone was watching her.
Scanning the area, she called out, “Hello? Anybody there?”
Nobody answered.
She shook her head and went back to her task. After she finished the geraniums, she washed out the watering can in the big sink. When she turned, she remembered she needed to put away the plant food she left out.
When she reached the spot she left it, the bag wasn’t there.
Was she losing her mind?
She looked on the low shelf where it belonged, and sure enough, the bag was sitting there. Did she forget that she already put it away?
She started toward the front of the shop to begin the closing jobs. First, the task of winding up the hoses. As she neared the first one, she saw it wasn’t unwound. It was already in a neat coil.
Her stomach bottomed out.
Oh god. No. It couldn’t be.
This was too much like her past, when Chris would come home and yell at her for leaving things laying around, but assoon as she went to tidy up, she’d find that he already put everything away.
She raked her fingers through her hair. “I’m just tired…” Her voice trailed off, because she knew she’d gotten eight restful hours of sleep and didn’t have a taxing day at work.
Pulling out her phone, she sent a text to her boss.
Thanks for cleaning up the hose and putting away the fertilizer. Sorry I didn’t get to them sooner.
Marla replied a moment later.I didn’t put them away. Actually, I left a few things undone. I was in hurry to meet my friend.
Fern stared at the screen, panic rising inside her.
Think, she urged herself. She was distracted while watering the plants, and the memory of Crew’s muscled arms scattered her mind like petals on the mountain wind.
But she wasn’t so distracted that she would forget she left out a broom or that she’d already put away the plant food and coiled the hose.
Again came that lurch in her stomach that she associated with Chris.
