Page 25 of The Premonition at Withers Farm
Sid waggled her eyebrows. “Probably frozen pizza and Coke, but hey, we’re simple folk.”
Molly couldn’t respond with any criticism. The last time she and Trent had gone out on a date was maybe two years ago? Like an actualdatenight. She didn’t count the endless evenings they had spent alone together and barely spoke.
Sid made a few adjustments to her detector and within seconds was waving it around the driveway. It beeped a steady cadence as she moved toward the barn and the shed out back. “Chicken coop time!” she announced.
Molly followed, hiding her hesitancy behind a smile. It was good to be outside. Good to do something other than unpack books and knickknacks, and wonder why on earth she’d bothered to pack a box of old ticket stubs and other sentimental paraphernalia from her youth.
The sun was already warming the air, sending waves of humidity thick with heat across her bare legs. She adjusted the waistband of her cutoff shorts and wondered for the thousandth time how the extra weight had crept up on her.
Sid was energetically sweeping the lawn, brushing the tips of the green grass with the detector. “I want to find a time capsule someday.”
“With a metal detector?” Molly challenged, grinning.
“If there’s metal in it, this will find it.” Sid touched the brim of her baseball cap, smashed over her burgundy curls that were pulled into a ponytail. “Hey. Don’t knock my motivation.”
The detector went off with a rapid series of beeps as Sid approached the dirt near the fence line of the chicken coop.
“Ooh!” Sid immediately dropped to her knees. She was wearing shorts as well but didn’t seem to mind the earth as it dug into her skin. “Help me,” she directed.
Molly followed suit, a bit more gingerly, but soon she too was fingering the ground, attempting to uncover whatever the detector had located. She tugged a spade from the small of her back, where she’d tucked it into her waistband.
Sid eyed it. “Packing a shovel, eh?”
“Better than a pistol,” Molly quipped. “And you can’t dig with a metal detector.”
“Truth!” Sid gave her an appreciative look as they settled into their familiar camaraderie. It was at least the millionth time Molly had issued a silent prayer of thanks for Sid’s friendship. Any other friend would have abandoned her by now. Her mood swings, her morose personality, her unpredictability ... instead, Sid brought normalcy into her life.
If one could call digging a hole behind a barn normal.
“Aha!” Molly’s spade hit something metallic. She pulled it out and dug deeper with her fingers into the hole.
“What is it?” Sid leaned forward eagerly as if Molly might bring up a Roman coin from the soil of a Michigan homestead.
“A button.” Molly rubbed the soil from the object, revealing a dirt-encrusted emblem of some sort. An American bald eagle with wings outstretched.
“I bet that’s a military uniform button.” Sid held out her hand with anticipation that Molly would share the intoxicating moment of unearthing a historical object.
“Is it worth anything?” Molly watched as Sid took the button and studied it. Her brows drawn, her eyes narrowed, she thumbed it for a moment.
“Probably not. Looks just like that other World War One button I found a few years ago. Standard military issue. It’s not uncommon to find them.”
“Why would it be in the yard behind a barn?” Something about the item gave Molly an unnerving jolt. A man had fingered the object many times, sliding it through a buttonhole, marching into war, diving into a foxhole. Somehow, it had ended up a relic with no remaining story to be told, buried in the dirt of a farm.
Sid shrugged. “My great-grandpa wore his old military jacket to do chores sometimes. My mom has pictures to prove it. People reused things back in the day. It was wasteful not to.”
“I suppose.” Molly eyed the button.
Sid held it out to her. “Want it? It’s your property.”
“No,” Molly answered, a bit too quickly. She didn’t want to explain to Sid that the button felt alive to her. That somehow the wearer’s spirit was attached to it, aching to be summoned, to tell his story, to be remembered. “You keep it,” Molly finished with a wobbly smile.
Sid pocketed the button. “Score! Thanks!”
Molly sprang to her feet, feigning anticipation. “What’s next?”
“The chicken coop.” Sid swung the metal detector around.
They headed for the outbuilding that was supposed to house chickens. Molly tamped down the memory of the vision of the little girl in the attic, smiling as if she knew some wicked little secret. Attempting to redirect her thoughts, Molly grasped on to the closest possible subject she could think of.
