until they could place Uncle Stuart. That could be any day. Alice had said that morning that he was on a waiting list for a hospice facility about a half hour south of Rockwell. To Hannah, this meant she had only days left.
If she could put together the pieces of this puzzle, she might be able to break it all down for Huck in a way that made sense. Her past was messy, immaterial to their future. She could see he was ready to box the whole dusty castle up and be on his way. Her insistence on following the leads around her aunt’s newly discovered complicated private life would try his restraint.
“Oh, I’ll come with you,” he offered gamely, but there was no enthusiasm in his voice.
“Please stay here. What if Wyatt comes by?” Another pang of guilt: she’d still never told him anything about Wyatt. Huck, sweet, trusting, took everything at face value. Or she hid her emotions well. Either was possible. If he noticed her fluster, her nerves around Wyatt, he was too polite to mention it. It was almost troubling, in a way. What kind of marriage would they have if she was too cowardly to broach tough subjects and he was too polite to question her?
Oh, for goodness’ sake, she had enough self-awareness to know that she was doing mental gymnastics to somehow blame Huck for her own silence.
“If you’re so worried about the investigation, why don’t you just call him?” Huck’s voice was muffled behind his book, and Hannah couldn’t tell if it was impatient.
“I have, a few times. I don’t want to keep bugging them.” Hannah paused. “Please, Huck.” She tried to keep the edge out of her voice.
“Okay. If he calls, I’ll call you, okay?” Huck was stretched out on the couch, his long legs folded at the ankle. Aunt Fae and Uncle Stuart had never had a television, which had always suited Hannah just fine, but a week in relative isolation from the rest of the world had to be making Huck restless. He was social, used to crowds and people.
Hannah paused in the doorway, turned back to Huck. “When I get back, can we talk?”
“Sure. Am I in trouble?” He dipped his book, smiled tentatively. A thaw.
“You? No. Never.” She laughed then, and meant it. “There’s just a lot you don’t know. About my childhood here, my life before you. I feel like I can—and I should—tell you all of it now. Before, I think I was just trying to . . . I don’t know, forget it, maybe? Pretend it never happened?” She was figuring out the truth as she spoke. “It was more than that, maybe. I wasn’t ready to think about it.” She still wasn’t, not 100 percent.
Hannah tried to remember her life in Virginia. Her planned days, with their predictable rhythms.
“Sure,” Huck said, a slow smile spreading. “I’d like to get to know my future wife.” He pushed up on his elbows, a hank of hair falling over his forehead. Hannah wanted to reach out and brush it away but stayed rooted to one spot. His earlier mood seemed to shake off. “I’d like to talk too. Get a bottle of wine—we’ll make it a date.”
The drive down was slow, Hannah averting her eyes at the splintered wooden guardrail. She hadn’t heard from Wyatt about the investigation into Fae’s accident at all. Maybe it was like Huck had said, just a standard investigation. But Wyatt had said a few things didn’t add up. She picked up her phone, almost texted him to ask, but then thought better of it. Chase down one thread at a time, she admonished herself. Was that what she was doing right now? Chasing down threads? Maybe. She just knew that Jinny knew everything about everyone. There was only one place to start.
Hannah parked next to the bank, fed the meter, and walked the block and a half. When she pushed open the heavy wooden door, she was met with a curtain of beads, which she moved aside.
“Jinny!” Hannah called, but the store was silent. Jinny owned a spiritual store: tarot cards and crystals, herbs for burning, plants and succulents that all had medicinal purposes, candles and beads and incense. “Jinny!” Hannah called again.
“I’m coming!” she yelled from the back, and when she emerged, she was fidgeting with a black velvet turban on her head, tied in a front knot, her hair poking out like straw. She looked electrified. Her lipstick was