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“She’s a girl we used to know, a hundred years ago,” Cricket said quickly.
“She accused Mako of raping her,” Hannah said.
Cricket’s eyes went wide, as if she couldn’t believe Hannah would say it out loud. But it was public knowledge, out there for anyone who wanted to do a Google search.
“Shelied,” said Cricket. “Everybody knows she was a slut. She was trying to ruin his life because he rejected her.”
That was not the whole truth and Cricket knew it. Hannah would have thought her friend was above slut shaming; she’d have thought every educated woman was. Libby. The name had rung back to her many times over the years. Every time she felt a complicated wash of anger and shame.
“But that was before you could ruin someone’s life that way,” said Hannah. “In fact, that was back when if you accused someone of raping you, it ruinedyourlife.”
“Did he? Rape her?” asked Joshua. He seemed more alert now. And Hannah felt a rush of guilt, of protectiveness for her brother.
Hannah lifted her shoulders, shook her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t know.”
“Anyway,” said Cricket. “It was a hundred years ago, when we were kids.”
When we were kids. They hadn’t been kids really, but young adults. But yeah, better to leave the past where it belonged.
Hannah got up and found another flashlight in the kitchen.
“Can I check your eyes?” she said, walking over to Joshua. “To see if they dilate?”
He nodded. She shined the light on his face, and there it was again, that powerful feeling of recognition, of knowing him. His pupils grew tiny in the light, then expanded again when the beam was less direct.
“That’s good, right?” said Cricket.
“I think so,” said Hannah. “Any nausea, sleepiness, ringing in the ears?”
“I mean I don’t feel great. But no none of that. I think I’m okay.”
She inspected the cut. It looked was deep, gaping like a mouth. He needed stitches. She’d dig through her purse for some Band-Aids and try to butterfly it, at least.
She moved away from him, keeping her eyes on him. Cricket had her fingers laced through his. “I’ll get some more ice,” she said, rising.
“Did you lose consciousness at all?” asked Hannah. “Do you remember the accident?”
“I didn’t lose consciousness, I don’t think.”
“Tell me what happened exactly.”
“I was driving back from town, maybe a little too fast. I felt bad for leaving and I wanted to get back to Cricket. The roads were wet, already flooding in some places and I was worried about swamping the engine. It was storming pretty badly.”
He touched gingerly at the cut on his forehead. “Uh, I think—there was something on the road; it disappeared into the trees. At first I thought it was a person, there was like a flash of white. But maybe it was a deer. I veered to miss it. Then there was this huge bolt of lightning and the tree fell.”
“Wait,” said Hannah. “You saw someone on the road?”
That flash of white Hannah had seen came back to her. It sent a strange tingle through her, raising goose bumps.
Joshua frowned uncertainly. “I’m not sure. It was probably a deer.”
Or whoever it was by the lake? Or whoever had turned on the light in the cabin? What was going on here?
“No one would be out walking on the road in this storm,” said Cricket. “You’re right. It was probably a deer.”
“Could it have been Liza?” asked Hannah. She imagined her hurt, tiny sister-in-law walking up a deserted road in the storm. What could have inspired her to do that?
Then she thought again about the ghosts Chef Jeff had so creepily mentioned. The mother wandering the woods looking for her children.
