Page 71 of Wildwood

“Elinor, listen to yourself,” Topher is whispering now. “You need help.”

“I found the wheat in your pocket. In the jacket you wore to the harvest festival.” I put my hands on my hips, trying to sound as collected as possible, though I can literally feel the insanity radiating from my face.

“What?”

“The wheat from Madeline’s crown. Did you sleep with her that night in the field? How else did it get there?”

“Oh my god!” It’s a yell and a laugh. “Do you hear yourself? A piece of wheat? Is this your fucking grand evidence? I have no idea how it got there. The place was literally filled with wheat and pine cones and apples and every other possible autumn . . . thing!” He casts about, hardly able to come up with the word. “You are crazy!”

“I’m not crazy!” I yell, feeling myself unraveling. “Something terrible happened here. I know you don’t believe me, but I’ve seen it in my dreams, and I’ve seen Lydia here. She’s here all the time. I can feel it. The Brooks killed her. They killed my grandmother—I mean, my ancestor—and then they covered it up. That’s why my uncle hated them. He was trying to prove—”

“NOTHING HAPPENED HERE! NOTHING IS HAPPENING HERE!” Topher explodes, with a wild look in his eyes. “You are creating stories in your head, and you don’t even realize it. I’m not sleeping with Madeline! I’m FRIENDS with Madeline. A ghost isn’t spiriting you through the woods at night. You were ACTUALLY lost in the woods at night. You aren’t seeing ghosts or witches. You are fucking tripping on MUSHROOMS!!”

“I’m not hallucinating!” I am begging now, I can hear that in my voice. “It’s Chaga, I was taking it for my migraines. Alice gave it to me.”

He laughs mirthlessly. “Who, the Goat Lady??”

I am finally stunned into silence. As tired and crazed as I am, I’m still smart enough to know how bad this all looks. The evidence against me. All the lies by omission.

“Do you hear yourself?” he says gently now.

I exhale slowly. This has all spiraled so wildly out of my control in this short time.

“I don’t know what to say. I . . . I know how it sounds and how it looks.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to worry you.”

“It’s too late for that, Elinor.” He takes a deep breath. I know what’s coming, before he says it. “I think we need to think about moving.”

“No!”

“It’s not what I would have wanted, either, but Elinor, this place isn’t good for you. Clearly. And no wonder. You experienced something incredibly traumatic as a child. Anyone would get messed up living in a place that had that history for them.” Topher’s face softens. “I’m not mad at you, for the record. I don’t blame you. But we need to think about our family. About the baby.”

There’s a wild desperation in my gut. The rational part of me knows he’s right. But the other part of me cannot give up now. And while he’d never understand it, part of me feels like I’m doing this for the baby, not in spite of the baby. I need to right whatever wrong has been done here, because I can’t bring a baby into the world otherwise. The world is so fucked-up as it is. Wildwood was supposed to be the safe place.

“Please,” I implore. “We don’t have to decide this now. I’ll see Dr. Prescott again. I’ll push her on the medication. Give me more time. I love this house. I just kind of lost it after Hugo went missing. I love him so much.” I’m crying now, not sobbing, but the tears are just rolling down my cheeks.

“I’m supposed to go away in two days. I don’t know that I can do that.” Topher is rubbing his forehead, staring at the floorboards. He looks so, so troubled, my heart breaks a little.

“Why are you going away?” I must have known this, but my brain is completely dead.

“The conference in LA. It’s supposed to be for a week.” He’s almost talking to himself at this point. “But you can’t be alone right now.”

“You should go!” I say it too forcefully.

He looks almost quizzically at me.

“I’ll go stay with Mia. She said I could stay with her any time.”

Topher considers this, still rubbing his forehead, looking years older than when we’d arrived in Newfield.

“You’d do that?”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “I can drive down the day you leave.”

He is staring at me, now rubbing at his stubble, his mouth open. “Okay. I’m going to be checking in on you. And with Mia. And we’ll talk about what to do when I get back.”

Relief floods through me, but it spreads shivers instead of warmth.

“Okay. That’s fair.”