The day after the accident had been tough. Dallas, as promised, had woken Rosie up numerous times, never pressing for more details about the scratches on her throat. When she woke in the morning, he made coffee and sat with her outside, even bringing her a blanket.

“I’ll call Wendy and make sure she comes out to check on you later.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” she told him, searching for his aura. It struck her that it was nearly gone, nothing more than a wisp of smoky color around him. “I’m not exactly her favorite person right now and she’s got a lot on her plate.”

“You guys have a fight or something?” 

Turns out, Dallas wasn’t the clod she or his grandfather thought he was. Dallas was insightful and easy to talk to. He listened intently and had a way of asking questions that didn’t seem invasive. 

“Or something,” she agreed with a nod.

“Well, I’m sure she isn’t so pissed she wouldn’t come if she knew what happened.”

Rosie knew that, it just wasn’t what she wanted. “Just do me a favor and keep this to yourself. I don’t want her running out here because she feels sorry for me. I can take care of myself.”

Eventually he’d agreed and had gone on his way, though he’d also stopped by twice during the week to check on her, even bringing her a bunch of bandages from the drugstore. He never stayed long enough to get out of his car, just long enough to remind her he was around.

* * *

Rosie noticed in the days after the accident, things around her felt strange. There were times the back of her neck itched, like someone was watching her or there was another presence with her. When she was outside, it was almost as if the sounds in the woods were turned off, nature muted entirely. No leaves rustled in the trees, no critters moved on the ground.

She went back to work after one day off and even trying to hide the evidence of her accident was no use.

“Ouch, Miss Rosa. That hurt,” Marta commented at the end of their shift.

“It’s okay. Thanks.” She smiled at the other woman.

“You try putting honey on it,” the older woman told her, her accent melodic. “Heal fast.”

Gross. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

Thankfully, her bike had only sustained minor damage during her fall and she could still ride to and from the bus stop. On her way home that night, she was following her usual route home being more careful than the last time. She didn’t need to worry because the brown-haired woman appeared in the woods and not in the road.

Rosie pulled over and laid her bike on its side. The woman was standing in a copse of trees about fifty feet off the road and although it was dark outside, her spirit glowed. She raised her hand and held it out to Rosie.

Yeah, not happening.

“Can I help you with something?” She called to the woman, keeping her distance.

Rosie saw her lips moving, but all that reached her was a warm wind that rustled through the trees, the words lost.

“I can’t understand you,” she told the woman. “I’m sorry.”

Rosie made no mention of the woman’s horrific death. She couldn’t see that again. She couldn’t feel that again.

The woman opened her mouth and let out an angry scream. The wind howled through the surrounding trees and she held a hand up to block the swirling wind. When it passed, the woman was gone.

Uneasy, Rosie made her way home and fixed herself a snack, not quite ready to sleep. All her life people had been telling her she had a gift. She’d asked once if they knew where she could return it. There were times she didn’t want spirits wandering into her home or her head uninvited, times when she didn’t want their thoughts muddling her own so much she couldn’t even think. Her gift had brought nothing but destruction to her life.

She tossed and turned that morning before falling into a dream about the woman in the woods, except this time, she followed when the woman beckoned. She followed through the thick wood and through a small clear stream. Past an outcropping of rocks, covered with bright green moss, and down a steep embankment littered with roots and debris. She skirted what looked like a big clearing, possibly a farm, keeping to the wood line before following the woman down a small dirt path that led to a lake peppered with small tree filled islands. The spirit waded into the water and, without thought, Rosie followed. First rocks under her feet, then sand, soft between her toes. It was a compulsion to follow the spirit, she had to know where the woman was going.

It wasn’t until the water hit her chest that Rosie woke. A shocked squeak escaped her lips when she realized where she was. She turned around, searching for the woman but she wasn't there. 

Rosie’s heart raced. How far into the water would she have gone? How far from home was she?

Intense dreams were a regular occurrence. Scary dreams, prophetic dreams, confusing dreams were always on the menu but never something that effected her reality so acutely.

At the very least, it made her leery of sleeping for the rest of the week.

* * *

“I know,” Max told his sister again. “Wendy! I’ve got it."

He was proud of her. She’d shown how much backbone she had since Rosie dropped the bomb at dinner. Wendy had been working nonstop making sure her business would succeed. She’d hired forensic accountants, fired Lisa, and adopted a new filing system that had enough checks and balances she’d know the minute something wasn’t right. She’d called the police and was pressing charges against Lisa and suing to get her money back, which the accountants had totaled to over thirty thousand dollars.

He’d mentioned to her more than once that if Rosie had said nothing, she’d have never known, but Wendy wasn’t hearing it. She was hurt and angry that someone she trusted had been hiding something from her. He suspected that she’d get over it soon enough and in the meantime he knew Rosie was still showing up for work, if not avoiding Wendy while she was there. Wendy had at least mentioned that much.

“Are you listening?” Wendy’s voice sounded in his ear.

“I hear you,” he said as he rounded a corner. The roads were wet with rain and the heat was blasting to ward off fog on his windshield. “I’m on my way back to the house, like I told you. Later on, I’m coming to your office so I can help you move equipment around. I’ve got it. I promise.”

“Okay. I just need to make sure you’re coming. I can’t move the stuff from storage by myself and you’re cheap labor.”

He rounded a corner and his brow crinkled. There was no mistaking Rosie, her white hair was difficult to miss, but what the hell was she doing? It was freezing, not a day for a walk and certainly not dressed the way she was.

“I gotta go, Wend. I’ll see you later.” He hung up without hearing her response and pulled up behind Rosie. Jumping out of the pickup he jogged to her, calling her name.

“Rosie.”

Her feet were bare and filthy and there was a big brown spot marring her leg. She was walking away from him, almost staggering and she had what looked like a scarf tied around her wrist.

“Rosie,” he called again, catching up with her. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

She stopped then but didn’t turn around, just looked around, searching.

A chill ran up his spine. She hadn’t heard him. She was acting like he wasn’t even there.

“Rosie!” He said louder this time, grabbing her arm. When he turned her to face him, her cheek was the first thing he noticed, angry scabs ran from her eye to her jaw.

“Rosie.” He touched the uninjured side of her face to get her full attention.

Her head swung around, still searching, those mysterious eyes blind. Her pupils were so big he could barely see any of the blue he’d tried so hard to match.

“There,” she whispered and slipped away from his grasp. She hurried off, into the woods, heedless of her bare feet or the branches slapping against her.

There was no way he was letting this happen, he thought to himself. Not a goddamn chance. He reached her in a few long strides and without hesitation grabbed her around the waist, stopping her forward motion. She struggled, reaching for something that wasn’t there, her feet moving as though she could walk on air. The crazy part was, he knew she wasn’t awake. In her mind, she was somewhere different. Knowing it and experiencing it were two different things.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured as he turned them back toward his truck. “Come on, Rosie. Come back to me.”

Her feet were still moving, but she wasn’t struggling against him as much.

“What the hell were you doing out here?” He asked, knowing she couldn’t hear him.

When he finally slogged them out of the wet undergrowth, he put Rosie down enough that her feet touched the ground. Max shifted her so she was facing him and her body shook, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the experience or the cold.

“Rosie?” He asked. “You with me?”

He heard her swallow, her hands fisting against his chest. “Yeah. I think so.” Her voice was shaky.

“Good. That’s good.” He reached down and without asking, scooped her up into his arms. He thought she might have protested, but he ignored it. “I’m putting you in my truck.”

He slid her in, and she huddled against the seat, holding her knees to her chest. He jogged around to the driver’s side and got in, then jammed the truck in gear and took off for his house.

“How’re you doing, Rosie?” He asked, looking in her direction.

“I-I-I-I’m oh-oh-okay,” she stuttered through her clacking teeth.

Was there ever a time she didn’t say she was okay or fine?

“Just hang on, okay. We’re almost there. Before you know it, you’ll be under ten blankets and sweating.”

He’d never taken the corner to his driveway so fast and he pulled right up to the front porch. He carried her up the walk and through the front door. The living room was to his left, and he laid her on the couch, pulling the blanket off the armrest and covering her with it.

“I’ll be right back,” he told her.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he pulled the down comforter and pillow off his bed then charged back to the living room. He laid the comforter on top of the blanket already covering her and squeezed the pillow behind her head.

“Coffee.” The thought struck him, she should drink something warm. “Tea.” He looked at her in question.

Her eyes were half lidded but her pupils were back to normal, the black half of her left eye darker than ever.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “I feel so stupid.”

He sat on the edge of the couch by her feet. “You scared the crap out of me. What the hell happened to your face?”

She turned, hiding what he’d already seen, making him feel like shit for asking.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I'm not trying to be rude. Did you have an accident or something?"

"Last week," she nodded. "Fell off my bike."

"Some fall," he commented. “Do you sleep walk a lot?” He changed the subject.

“Not usually no, just this week." She shivered and then let out a huge yawn, wincing and pressing a hand to her cheek. “I ended up chest deep in a lake or something.”

Max sat up straighter. “You what?”

“It’s salt water.” She yawned again. “Must be an inlet.”

“You sleep walked...into water?”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled her eyes sliding closed.

Max ran his hands through his hair. He'd already felt like crap about blowing her off this past week but between the door she slammed in his face and the Wendy situation, he figured it was easier to check in with her when things cooled down. Maybe when she and Wendy made up, or he figured out what he’d said to piss her off so much.

Well, he knew what he said. He’d said something about her not understanding how hard Wendy worked and she’d shut him down. Closed up and locked him out, end of story. Obviously, that was the wrong call. He and Wendy had come from an upper middle class family and had never struggled financially, but it didn’t negate how hard he and Wendy had worked for what they had. Their parents had paid for their educations but they had both started businesses on their own. That was the point he’d been trying to make about Wendy working to make her business run when he’d made the comment about her not understanding.

He’d always thought as he got older, he’d learn more about women. That they’d be magically easier to understand, but they just got more confusing and complicated.

He watched Rosie sleep, contemplating the angry scab on her cheek before pulling out his cell phone.

“Hey,” Wendy said when she answered. “Don’t tell me you aren’t coming.”

Max hesitated. Driving into town to move office and cleaning supplies seemed unimportant when compared to staying with Rosie while she slept on the couch.

“Silence? That’s your answer?” she screeched.

“No, it’s not that,” he told her. “I ran into Rosie.”

He was greeted with silence. This had been a touchy subject with Wendy.

“And?”

“And I found her wandering down the side of the road, disoriented. She's pretty beat up, says she fell off her bike last week.”

“What do you mean, disoriented?” She at least sounded concerned.

“She said she was sleep walking."

"Sleep walking?" Wendy sounded doubtful

"I believe her. She said the last time it happened she woke up chest deep in what I can only assume is Smith’s Cove. She’s asleep on my couch right now."

“What?” Wendy breathed. She interrupted before he could say another word. “Keep her there. I’m on my way.”

He didn’t think keeping her there would be a problem, she was out like a light, head back and sleeping deeply. He took the quiet moment to watch her and give himself some small peace of mind that she was okay. Her hair was messy, half out of its pony tail and his gaze homed in on her neck and the handful of vertical white lines, like healed cuts.

What the hell had she been doing this week?