It feels like we walk for miles, but we eventually reach a cabin-style house exactly where Marie said it would be. It’s a little smaller than I thought, but it looks cozy. Moss and vines snake up the sides of the house, and a well-kept small garden encaged by a fence greets us when we open the squeaky gate.
I step up to the door, taking another look around our surroundings. It’s so quiet here. So still. There’s not even any indication that someone lives here beside the smoke coming out of the chimney.
I knock loudly three times, stepping back slightly and glancing at Evan. He’s got his head tilted to the sky, his Adam’s apple bopping with a swallow. I don’t know why I’m only just realizing that he . . . has a neck? It’s long and thick, and it leads to a strong, perfect jaw. Slight stubble that I hadn’t noticed before casts a shadow on his neck and I give myself ten seconds to look before I realize how ridiculous it is to even be looking at him.
“Hey,” I say, trying to get his attention. “You good?”
He nods, turning to look at me. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Stop being nervous, or you’ll make me nervous.”
He nods again. Twice. Three times.
He swallows and faces the door.
He needs to chill the fuck out before I start freaking out. This is fine. Normal, even. Just a casual catch-up with my estranged aunt in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. Completely fine.
The door swings open and a rush of heat meets us before my aunt comes into view. She’s a frail woman, probably about five-two. She has dark-brown hair like I do, but hers flows right down her back. She’s wearing a peach muumuu, fluffy slippers, and a silver chain with a cross on it hangs over her clothes.
Brown eyes meet mine. Or Ithinkthey meet mine. It seems like she’s looking at Evan and I at the same time, and I can’t remember if my dad ever mentioned anything about her losing her sight.
“Hi, Aunt Marie,” I say slowly, still testing the waters that thisisthe right mysterious house in the woods and not some other lady’s place.
Marie taps the side of her head twice like she’s knocking her eyes back into place. “Hello, yes, hi. Sorry. That’s just my lazy eye being extra lazy today.” I chuckle awkwardly, and this time both her eyes meet mine. They’re warm in an unexpected way. Like a campfire you want to be cozied up next to. It relaxes my shoulders a bit, and I smile.
“I’m Scarlett. It’s nice to meet you in person.” I hold out my hand to her, which is probably a dumb idea. We’re family, technically. We should probably hug. But she doesn’t take my hand or offer me a hug. She simply . . . looks at me. I clear my throat, gesturing to Evan instead. “This is Evan, my, uh, friend.”
The word feels weird on my tongue, but not entirely foreign. Evan and I are . . .becoming friends?I think. Evan’s chest puffs out proudly and he stands a little taller. He goes for the handshake again, but Marie either doesn’t see or doesn’t care.
“Come on in. It’s cold outside,” she says, opening the door wider and letting us in.
The house resembles every cottage I’ve seen in fairy tales and children’s stories. It’s snug and comfortable, with an earthy, woody smell that carries throughout the house. Every wall is full of pictures, a mixture of scenic shots and family photos that I recognize. There’s a slight chaos about it, like Marie has too much stuff to fit in the small place, but she makes it work. It’s wonderful.
She leads us into the living room, where there’s only one couch and an armchair, so Evan and I take the couch and Marie takes the chair. She holds a cushion across her stomach, gripping it tightly as she leans over like she wants to get a better look at the two of us.
She surveys my face, and I suddenly feel very out of place. Should I have dressed up more for the occasion? Should I look more professional rather than college-student-who-would-rather-be-at-home-in-her-PJs vibe? I mean, I am only wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, but I feel like I’m being scrutinized for not trying harder to impress her.
“Evan?” Marie calls, still looking at me.
Evan leans forward. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Make yourself at home. I’d like to speak to Scarlett alone,” she says, eyes still on mine. I glance over at Evan as his eyebrows furrow. He nods at Marie and stands. And then he sits back down.
Green eyes meet mine. “Are you—”
“Yes, I’m fine. Go . . . wander,” I say, even though I’m not sure I want him to leave just yet. He’s supposed to be my co-interviewer and help with any follow-up questions or keep us on topic. I don’t know how this is going to go and I should really use him for backup, but I also know I need to do this on my own. Evan must know that too because he gives us both a soft smile before slipping through the door that must connect to the kitchen.
As soon as Evan leaves the room, Marie’s shoulders drop and she slouches deeper into her chair, getting more comfortable.
“I know why you’re here,” she says, a haunting tone to her voice.
I swallow. “You . . . do?”
She makes a show of rolling her eyes and waving a hand around dramatically. “I’m sure your dad has told you some horrible stories about how I ruined our dad’s life and the family business.”
I shake my head. “He actually hasn’t told me much about you.”
Her eyes meet mine again, but the fire I saw in them a second ago has dimmed. “Oh, well, uh, he must have forgotten about me then.”
