He told himself that twice more on the walk back to the barn, and almost believed it.
7
CHLOE
The house was quiet when Chloe got home.
She'd been renting the little place on Maple Lane since she'd arrived in Hollow Oak, a two-room cabin with creaky floors and a wood-burning stove that ate through logs like candy. It wasn't much, but it was hers. Or hers enough, anyway.
She kicked off her muddy boots by the door, peeled off her layers, and padded to the kitchen in wool socks to put the kettle on. Her muscles ached from crouching in cold mud all morning. Good ache, though. The kind that came from useful work.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen and sighed.
Wendy.
She answered anyway. "Hey."
"You sound tired." Her sister's voice was distant, crackling faintly like she was calling from the other side of the world. Which, knowing Wendy, she might be.
"Long day. I was out at an orchard checking soil samples."
"Find anything?"
"Something's wrong with the land. Plants dying, bees acting strange. No one can figure out why."
A pause. Then, in that maddening cryptic tone Wendy always used when she knew more than she was saying: "The land speaks to those who listen. Are you listening?"
Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm trying to. It's not exactly coming through clearly."
"It will. Give it time."
"You could just tell me what I'm supposed to be looking for."
"I could." Another pause. "But then you wouldn't learn to trust yourself."
"That's not helpful, Wendy."
"I know." Her sister's voice softened, just slightly. "How are you, really? Beyond the soil problems."
Chloe hesitated. The kettle started to whistle, and she turned off the burner, grateful for the distraction. "I'm fine. Settling in. Making friends."
"Anyone interesting?"
The image of Corin rose unbidden. Broad shoulders, patient hands, that almost-smile he'd given her when she'd rattled off her phone number like it was nothing.
"Not really," she said.
"Liar."
"Goodbye, Wendy."
Her sister laughed, a rare sound. "Call me when you figure out what the land is trying to tell you. I'll be here."
The line went dead.
Chloe stared at her phone for a moment, then shoved it in her pocket and made her tea. Chamomile with honey. She'd bought a jar from Freya last week, made from Corin's bees. The amber sweetness coated her tongue as she drank, warming her from the inside out.
She curled up on the worn couch by the stove, mug in hand, and let her thoughts drift.
