Page 64 of The Woman I’ve Become

How sweet. She wants me to believe she understands and sympathizes with me. Yeah, right. “As long as you’re not reporting everything I say and do back to Phillip, I can get over all the questions.” No matter that they are monotonous and exasperating and totally motivated by betrayal, I don’t mention.

I stop as we reach the barn. Take a few breaths and force my mind away from the past. Focus. Pay attention to details, I remind myself.

Acacia opens the barn doors and finds the switch to turn on the lights. The place looks exactly the way it did the last time we tromped out here. Not one thing has changed. By the time we’ve gone through the building, I am exhausted.

“Do you want to check the cottages as well? Or maybe have a look in the woods again?”

Now she’s just being a bitch.

“I think we’ve seen enough.” Besides, the cottages are locked. As for the woods, the area is too big and full of hiding places to even begin.

The walk back to the house takes forever. At the side entrance, I stop and turn to the water. I’ve been here three-plus days, and I haven’t even taken a walk on the beach. The water soothes me, reminds me that not everything is chaos. Its placid surface is quieting today.

“I can make tea, and we can sit by the water, if you’d like.”

I start to resist, but I just don’t have the energy. “Sounds nice.”

She heads inside, and I walk to the row of chairs in the sandy area that is our private beach. Phillip added the sand once Olivia was walking. Before, it was all one long rocky shore. Pretty to look at but not so much to play on. There’s no need for an umbrella this afternoon. Overhead, the clouds are still ominous, blocking the sun as if preparing for the evil coming my way.

The enemy won’t be far away now. Acacia has likely warned that I’m growing more and more suspicious. This waiting game can’t go on much longer.

I lean my head back and watch the birds dip down toward the water. I listen to the calls and I smile. If Olivia were here, she would be at the water’s edge, tossing pebbles to make ripples.

Strange how a single tiny stone can disrupt so much of the surface. I had no idea when I made the choice I did twenty years ago that the ripples would span so wide and prove so damaging . . . so life altering.

I was young. Reacting impulsively.

I hear a soft laugh and turn.

She sits in the chair next to me, smiling that wicked smile that promised all sorts of fun.

My heart surges, and I barely resist the urge to reach for her. I remind myself that it’s only a memory. Nothing but my imagination.

“Here you go.” Acacia steps around the chair, and the image of her is gone. Acacia extends a mug to me, then takes a chair and cradles her own.

I cringe. Damn. I cannot drink this tea. What was I thinking? I watch as she takes a small sip, testing the temperature of her own tea. Then I have a thought and extend my cup toward her. “I’d prefer the one you’re drinking.”

She stares, mouth open at me.

“Can you blame me?”

“Fine.” She hands me her mug and accepts mine, then drinks deeply from it.

I relax and drink hers. It’s not nearly sweet enough, but I say nothing. We sit in silence until the sun is dipping below the trees. I can’t help but wonder what the night will bring.

I feel the tension building inside and around me.

On some level I will be grateful to have it over and done. I am so very tired of always looking back . . . always wondering.

Later, when the sun is slipping into the water, she stands and picks up our mugs. “Why don’t we go in?”

I rise from my chair and draw in another big breath of fresh air as I gaze across the water. I wonder if I will have this pleasure again or if it will all go away. I suppose I should be scared. But, really, I’m not. They can’t exactly kill me—at least not right away.

In the kitchen, we both remove our wet shoes. Acacia takes care of the mugs, and I slide onto a stool at the island.

“Would you like me to start dinner now?”

I study her and wonder what is going on inside her head. How can she suddenly pretend nothing has changed?