Page 9 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
Despite the fresh, piney air, Skye could only notice perfume assaulting her senses. Sharp and complex, strongly hinting at ginger. She established herself as the prey, shrinking. “I can show, uh, show—” Skye kicked a stone with the back of her shoe in her haste to get this hunt going. “This way.”
“Walk ahead of me.”
Covered in goosebumps, Skye leapt at the chance to turn away from her. Jesus, how else to describe this woman than…arresting. There were people who looked likethaton any given day? Even in the dark, where nobody else would see?
Maybe Skye was still dreaming.
The obscured terrain, the acidity of her glare, the mutual discomfort—the embodiment of a reluctant hike. Pausing at the overgrowth, Skye must’ve puzzled for a few seconds too long.
“I have a taser. No games.” Pure distrust laced the woman’s warning.
Skye was ninety-eight percent sure that was a bluff, but she wouldn’t take any chances. “I’m sufficiently scared. You win.”
She passed from behind Skye, shining her light to the grass with what sounded like a hint of a laugh. “Who would I be to pass you sleeping alone in the middle of the night? That’s dangerous. And rather odd.”
Listening for anything metal, Skye kicked through the grass. Something about her counterpart determined her to impress her, to find the keys first. “I’m from Yielding. It’s generally safe. No murders in twelve years.”
“That’s a suspicious fact to know off the top of your head.”
Thank goodness for the darkness as Skye grinned like she’d lost her mind. She swallowed, burning for a sip from the water bottle locked out of her reach. “Tourists visit my job regularly. You’d be shocked what they ask about our town.”
If Skye had expected a follow-up, more back and forth about her position at the artist collective and any other antics from her customers, she’d be gravely disappointed. The search resumed—more sifting around, shadows bending from the flashlight. For once, she wished she’d left her twine on a tree to show how far she’d gone. After so long, everything looked the same.
Just as she’d lost hope and feared going the opposite direction, the gorgeous sound of metal jingled from the city woman’s hand. She held Skye’s keyring out on a pointer finger. “Let this be a lesson to you.”
Skye could hug her. Instead, she spoke her gratitude as appropriate for a stranger search party of two. “Thank you, I can’t believe—thank you. You’re my savior.”
The face Skye received hadn’t been smiling all that much, though it’d turned hostile within seconds, half-concealed by shadows and jet-black hair. It implored forgiveness, but for what?
Walking back grew uncomfortable, where Skye mentioned, “I lost my keys foraging for blueberries. That’s—that’s why I’d been out here.”
She answered in a vaguely agitated sigh. Pretty rude, though she owed Skye nothing. This had been out of a sort of arrogant altruism that saved Skye’s ass.
When they reached their vehicles, Skye sank her car key in, and the jolt of the unlocking mechanism was music to her ears. “There we go. And not a murderer in sight.”
The woman had already dipped into her car, equally sleek and flush with the darkness around them. “Stay safe.”
Something acute and troubling shallowed Skye’s breathing. Her heroine would tear off into the night, passing through to more exciting, cosmopolitan environments than Yielding with its old buildings and foraging patches. “May I have your name?”
The car started in a soft hum. Before drawing her window up, she replied, “Celene.”
Skye’s goosebumps made a comeback, and intrigued and energized alike, she threw her knapsack into the backseat and hit the ignition. Nothing stopped her from trailing Celene’s car, if only for a few minutes, until they diverged. She pulled longingly from her metal water tumbler. No music—just her breathing and the smooth engine’s hum.
Celine? No, Seline. Maybe Selene. The alternatives pooled in the mystique of her moody roadside savior. She’d encountered coworkers like that in New York and Philly before she’d moved back to her hometown. Some entitled, self-involved. Skye avoided them whenever possible.
Then, why was she reminding herself not to ride Celine(?)’s bumper?
Crossing into Yielding, she expected the car to zoom straight through. It didn’t. And soon, a fear of missing out turned into a fear of unintentionally following. Stalker territory. Her mind waged a war between praying for Seline(?) to go on a different path and needing to know her destination. However, as Selene(?) turned into Lake Harrier Reserve—Skye’scommunity—she chose to heed the growing curiosity.
OrCeline(?) could be trying to escape Skye and made that hard left to lose her. Shit, she didn’t mean for this to happen.
They passed old and new constructions. Lawns divided by Canadian hemlocks and vinyl fences. Toaster houses with their distinct pop-up structures, angular A-frame cabins, ranch-style homes like hers, and neat yet very suburban cookie-cutters. Regardless of this community’s size and variation, everyone could tell when something was out of place. Like Seline(?) pulling off onto Goldfinch Lane.
And that was when Skye’s heart stopped. As well as her SUV. Smack dab in the middle of the street.
She stared, almost wishing for a different outcome. In any case, the car went dark in a driveway Skye hadn’t set foot on in forever.
Celene. With a C and three Es.
