Benny is not there to greet her this time, as she had no way ofcommunicating their change in schedules. They must take a different carriage to Benny’s house and then pray he is still awake to lend them his boat.
When the carriage doors shut, Lottie grabs Marigold’s face and touches their foreheads together.
“Why won’t you speak to me?” Her green eyes are glassy with sadness and worry. Her eyes search Marigold’s face for any explanation. “Where did you go, Mari?”
It takes too long for Marigold to pull her gaze away, and Lottie knows that there is something on the tip of her tongue.
“Tell me what you are thinking.”
“I feel sick,” she finally says.
“What kind of sick?” Lottie asks as she gently releases her grip on Marigold’s chin. She slowly brings Marigold’s head to her lap and strokes her hair. “Just rest. We’ll be there soon.”
Lottie holds Marigold like that for the rest of the ride, until they arrive just outside of Mr. Benny’s cottage on the coast. They gather their things and stretch their legs before knocking on the door.
When Mr. Benny opens the door, it is clear he has not slept. He takes a moment to confirm what his eyes are seeing, and then he wraps Marigold in a relieved embrace.
“You are three days late,” he breathes. “I was so worried.”
“I’m so sorry, Benny,” Marigold says, her voice already heavy with impending tears.
“I had no idea if you were coming back, or what state you would be in when you got here. My mind went to the worst places.”
“I’m okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
He shakes his head. “Something is wrong on the isle, Miss Marigold. I saw smoke billowing from it last night. I should’ve gone to help, but I couldn’t leave here in case you needed me upon return.”
“What?” she yells.
“I do not know what we’re about to walk into,” he says.
Another disaster. Another tragedy that is all her fault. Another reason that she deserves the worst that life can give.
“Whatever it is, I will not leave your side. We’ll fix it together,” Lottie says. Her words rip Marigold into pieces because the truth is that this is the last time they will ever see each other.
This is where it ends.
Chapter Thirty-Five
As the boat swims through the lake, a thick, opaque fog surrounds them. Marigold can see nothing through it except a familiar flickering light, now stronger than ever.
“Is that a will-o’-the-wisp?” Mr. Benny says.
“You see it, too?” Marigold says, horrified.
“Of course. It’s shining clear as day.”
“What is a will-o’-the-wisp?” Lottie asks.
“It’s sometimes called a ghost light. It’s an old superstition,” Mr. Benny says.
Marigold and Lottie both stare, waiting for him to continue.
“Well, it’s an old folktale, really. Supposedly it is an omen of something sinister or strange. But it’s silly.”
Marigold looks at Lottie. “Do you see it, too?”
“That flickering light? Yes, of course I see it.”
