Chapter Three
Miranda stood behind the counter, wrapping silverware in paper napkins for the next day’s shifts and trying to steady her shaking hands.
Adrenaline is a harsh mistress…
She took a deep breath to try to calm her nerves. The bright scent of pine soothed her.
Glancing at the walls, she noticed that Jack had changed out the greens recently. He’d woven them into intricate patterns that she recognized from the fairy tales her dad would tell her when she was a child.
She didn’t have to worry about trolls, goblins, or ghosts hanging out in the diner with those things hanging on the walls. Birds and squirrels could be a problem, though. She snorted at the thought.
Jack went all-out with the old world theme in the place. Each door had a set of antique bells hanging above it made from bamboo, silver, gold, bronze, and other things she wasn’t quite sure about. He’d matched their timbre so that they could tell which door had been opened. The front door bells had high, tinkly sounds. The back door’s set were deeper, and the side door that led from the kitchen was kind of in between.
One of the bells above the front door rang. The dinner rush was well past over and the sky had turned dark. Since it was too early for Darren—if he was even coming in tonight—it was probably Eden. Miranda smiled as she turned to greet her best friend.
“Hi.” Eden waved across the empty space, then sat at her favorite booth. She was dressed in her usual landscaping clothes—jeans, a T-shirt, and boots. Her curly hair was held back in a messy ponytail, looking jet black against her almost colorless skin.
Miranda grabbed a glass of water before heading over.
Halfway there, Eden stood up. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” Miranda said.
“You’re walking funny.”
She shrugged. Eden had troubles of her own. Miranda didn’t want to add to them by telling her about the accident, even though Eden was the only person Miranda could speak with openly. At least for a little while.
Miranda fought back sudden tears. There was nothing she could do about Eden’s future, but she could at least try to make her present more pleasant.
When Miranda reached the table, she laughed. “Maybe I had a date last night.”
Eden took the water and set it down, then gently gripped Miranda’s elbow, guiding her to slide into the booth across from her at the two-seater table.
“Stop trying to protect me,” Eden said.
Miranda wiped at her eyes. “I thought I was the psychic.”
“I don’t need to be psychic. Anyone paying attention can see you’re hurting.”
“I’m fine.”
Eden cocked her head to the side. She scrutinized Miranda more closely, blue eyes sharp as a hawk’s.
“Forget about me,” Miranda said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
Eden crossed her arms and leaned back against the booth. She lifted both eyebrows as if to say, “Two can play at this game.”
Miranda shook her head. “Working all night on this garden doesn’t seem healthy. Are your doctors okay with you exerting yourself so much?”
“I can spend my last few months how I want to.”
“Months?” Miranda’s voice came out high and tight. She coughed to clear her throat.
Eden didn’t have months left. She had weeks—days, maybe.
It didn’t make sense. She seemed to be doing relatively well at the moment. How could her illness escalate so quickly?
Eden shook her head and smiled. “This is my last project. I’m giving it my all, and it’s turning out so beautiful.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Miranda said.
Eden was pouring her soul into it. How could it not be?
“The moonflowers started opening last night.” Her eyes brightened as she went on, the unhealthy pallor of her skin receding a bit. “The full moon is in a few days. The river stones and Artemisia stelleriana are already catching the moonbeams and glowing with this soft silver light.”
“Arte-what-now?”
“You probably know it better as Dusty Miller.”
“I don’t travel in those circles. The only plants I see are in the salad I bring you every night.”
Eden laughed. “I’m so lucky Shade is letting me take my time with it.”
“Shade?”
Her cheeks outright flushed and she looked away. “Mr. Reese.”
“I see.” Miranda grinned.
“I can ask him if you can visit some time,” Eden said. “I’d love for you to see it.”
“That would be nice. I’d never even heard of a moon garden till you started talking about this project.”
“It’s the first one I’ve worked on.” Eden’s smile grew huge.
Miranda had never met Shade, but she already loved the guy for making Eden so happy.
“I selected every plant based on its luminosity.” Eden became even more animated as she continued her description of the garden. “The leaves, flowers—even the rocks we used to make the paths—they’ll all catch and reflect the moonlight, glowing brighter as the moon grows full.”
“It sounds beautiful.”
“I have pictures!” Eden popped up in her seat. She pulled out her phone and messed with it for a moment, then turned it toward Miranda so she could see.
The pictures were kind of hard to make out. It looked like the only lighting came from work lights driven into the ground around the site. She could still get a feel for what Eden had described, with the leaves and flower petals reflecting the light a surprising amount.
“Wait a minute,” Miranda said. “Back up.”
Eden scrolled back a picture and her face turned pink.
It was a selfie with Eden standing next to a hottie who seemed like he couldn’t get close enough to her. He had his arm around her shoulders and his head pressed tight to hers.
What really captured Miranda’s attention were the smiles on both of their faces, though. She’d never seen Eden smile like that.
Both of them had little crinkles at the corners of their eyes. The guy had deep dimples that made it seem like he laughed a lot. Miranda couldn’t make out the color of his eyes both from the weird flash lighting and how pinched they were from laughter. She could tell that he had straight teeth and a strong jaw and short brownish hair.
“Is that Shade?” Miranda asked.
“Yeah.”
There had been another picture of him in there, Miranda was sure. She reached across the table to scroll back to it. Shade was standing with one hand against his chin, like he was deep in thought. He stared into the distance, enhancing the seriousness of the pose. Except he was wearing a plastic pot on his head.
“Wow, he’s hot,” Miranda said. “Even with the weird lighting.”
Eden’s blush was adorable. The pair were undeniably in love. Miranda’s heart felt like it cracked a little, thinking of how little time they would have together.
“Shade has porphyria,” Eden said.
Miranda tried to mask her grief with a funny movie reference. “You keep using these words…”
Eden laughed, then said, “It’s a rare disease that makes him sensitive to light. That’s another reason I’ve been working on the garden at night—so he can join me. He has to avoid sunlight at all costs. It makes it a little hard to take pictures.”
Sounds like a vampire.
Miranda kept the thought to herself. She was trying to lighten the mood, not bring up horror movie monsters.
“And that’s why he commissioned you to make him a moon garden,” she said. “So he can enjoy it at night.”
“Exactly.”
Miranda grinned. “But how do you explain the pot on his head?”
“He’s a very free spirit.”
That’s one word for it.
They both laughed, and Miranda found herself liking Shade even more.
“He’s been more involved in the process than most clients,” Eden said. “He works with me in the garden every night. The company has been…nice.”
Eden’s smile dimmed and a tiny furrow appeared between her eyebrows. Miranda had seen that grim look before. She figured it meant Eden was thinking about her illness.
Usually, Miranda would try to distract Eden with a funny story when it showed up. Based on the picture of Shade in the plastic pot hat, it looked like he’d been doing something similar.
Miranda’s voice was low as she asked, “Does he know?”
Eden’s smile vanished completely and she looked away. “He doesn’t need to know. In a week, I’ll be gone from his life.”
Miranda bit her lip to hold back tears that yet again threatened to spill over. How soon would Eden be gone from Miranda’s life as well? She’d known Eden would live to see the garden finished—and not much past it. From how the garden looked in the pictures, the work was almost done.
Miranda had a sick feeling in her stomach. Coupled with the stress from the accident, she could barely keep a lid on her emotions.
When Eden reached out and gently touched Miranda’s hand, her future trickled into Miranda. Everything was gray. Eden’s future was shrouded in a thick fog that Miranda couldn’t see through.
The nausea increased. Her heart felt like her chest was collapsing in on it, the weight of her emotions crushing her. She had never known someone who was nearing death. She hated that it was Eden—one of the most beautiful people Miranda had ever met. Even more, she hated not being able to do anything about it.
Days. She only has days.
“It’s okay,” Eden said. “It really is okay.”
Miranda pulled her hand away. She couldn’t look at that fog any longer—couldn’t think about losing Eden so soon.
“I’ll call your order.” Miranda started to stand, hoping to have a moment to get ahold of herself, but her joints locked up, muscles still stiff from the accident. She tried not to wince as she sat back down.
“You are not fine,” Eden said. “I can tell you’re in pain.”
Thinking about her own troubles after Eden’s made them seem small in comparison. Miranda just needed to work extra shifts to buy a new car and pay for her ambulance trip. She’d have the time to do so. But she knew her friend wouldn’t stop until Miranda had explained what was wrong.
“Okay, I’m not fine,” she said. “I had a prophetic dream this morning. There was going to be a bad accident, and people…” She shook her head, willing the memory of the family’s original fate from her mind. “The only person who stood a chance of surviving was me, so I took their place.”
Eden inhaled sharply. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just a little banged up. I wish I could say the same for my car. It was totaled.”
Without a hint of hesitation, Eden said, “You can have my truck.”
“What?” The word came out as a gasp.
“The garden is pretty much done,” Eden said. “I’ll be walking Shade through it tomorrow night.” Her voice grew quieter. “I’ve wrapped up all my other business. If you’re okay driving me around every once in a while for the next month or so… I won’t need my truck after that.”
Miranda’s heart seemed to seize in her chest again.
“No.” She shook her head. “No way.”
“Why not? Please, Miranda. Let me do this for you.”
It seemed like too much. It would be a constant reminder of Eden. Of her absence.
Or of what it’s meant to have her in my life.
Miranda nodded, blinking away tears. Her throat was too thick to let words escape. She’d been driving her mother’s car for years—until today. Now she’d be driving Eden’s…
A shadow blocked out the lights above her. She looked over her shoulder. Jack was standing right next to her, leaning on the back of the booth and staring at her with his shielded obsidian eyes.
He was huge—tall and broad enough that his presence was like a cloud passing between the earth and the sun. His beard was decidedly salt-and-pepper, but the close-cut hair that hugged his scalp was still black. Lines were etched into his rich brown skin—some from age, and some scars that she had never worked up the courage to ask about, even though she’d known him for as long as she could remember.
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Did I hear you say you were in a car accident?”
“What? That’s…” Miranda let her voice trail off and laughed.
Jack had been close friends with her parents and was sort of looking after her, even though she was absolutely old enough to look after herself. He kept a strong emotional distance, but still wouldn’t be happy she hadn’t told him about the accident.
He worked every night shift with her. Since neither of them had any other family, they even spent holidays together at the restaurant, giving the other wait-staff as much time off as possible. He always said The Red Thread needed to stay open so that everyone would have a place to go.
“Miranda.” His voice was a low rumble, like thunder.
She sighed. “How could you possibly have heard me from the kitchen?”
“I keep up with what’s happening in my place,” he said. “And you haven’t answered my question.”
There was no point in trying to lie to him, even if she would have been comfortable with it—which she wasn’t. She just hoped that was all he’d heard.
“Yes, I was in an accident,” Miranda said. “But I’m fine. The hospital released me and everything.”
He leaned closer and tapped the side of his nose as he sniffed. “Bullshit.”
Eden snickered, picking up her napkin and covering her mouth as if that could mask the sound. Jack stood back up and shifted his hand so that it was on Miranda’s shoulder.
He had never touched Miranda before. Not once. Her stomach flipped like it was on a roller coaster as she felt his warmth and strength. Her eyes filled with tears again.
Darren rescuing her, Eden giving Miranda her truck, and now Jack’s supportive gesture… Miranda had forgotten what it was like to not feel isolated.
I shouldn’t let myself get used to it.
Jack’s deep voice was yet another comfort. “I see you most nights when Miranda calls in your order, but we haven’t been introduced.”
“I’m Eden.” Eden held out her hand and he shook it.
“Call me Jack. You want your usual?”
“Yes, please,” she said.
“I’ll have it right out.”
Miranda shook her head. “I’ll take care of it. I’m supposed to make the salads.” She tried to stand, but his grip on her shoulder didn’t budge.
“You forget, I’m the boss,” he said. “Right now, your job is to sit here and keep your friend company.”
“I can—”
“Miranda.”
He rarely used her name. There was a weird thrum of power to it, like her dad had described when fairies used people’s names to cast spells on them. A shiver passed through her at the thought.
“I work the night shifts because that’s when the really weird stuff usually goes down.” Jack’s gaze was mesmerizing, along with the low, smooth cadence of his speech. “I want to be here in case I’m needed. So I can help.”
She remembered the few times people had wandered in looking for trouble. All he had to do was walk out of the kitchen. Sometimes he’d be wiping his hands on a towel when he sensed trouble in the dining room, sometimes sharpening a knife.
Once he’d come out holding a heavy iron skillet filled with eggs and vegetables—the restaurant’s specialty. Somehow, that had actually been the most menacing she’d ever seen him. The people looking to make trouble had always turned around and left. Immediately.
“People like feeling needed,” Jack said. “They like to help others. Let me take a turn. Okay?”
She nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. Jack sauntered off, leaving her alone with Eden. Miranda had been so caught up in her own mission to help people, she hadn’t even noticed Jack and his.
The Red Thread was one of the only all-night restaurants in town. People often showed up who were struggling and needed help. Miranda would bring them coffee, read their futures when her intuition told her to, and sit and help them work through things. Sure, she wasn’t using her powers to save the world, but—
Her stomach suddenly felt like the floor dropped out from under her. That…was a bad sign. She had a feeling that crashing her car was about to look like a walk in the park.
“It really is okay to let others help you,” Eden said. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
Another shiver passed through Miranda. This one wasn’t a chill, though. It felt more like a heavy weight falling away—like making room.
For what, she didn’t know.
“Something big is coming.” The words came out before Miranda realized she was speaking. She lowered her voice so Jack wouldn’t hear.
“Another vision?” Eden asked.
“Not exactly. It’s more a feeling.” Miranda shook her head. “It could be leftover nerves from the accident.”
“You would know if it was.” Eden reached across the table and took both of Miranda’s hands in hers. “Take a few deep breaths and relax. Close your eyes and let it come to you.”
Eden was a natural at coaching Miranda through visions. And with so little future left, Eden’s own fate didn’t tend to distract Miranda from whatever vision was trying to come through.
She pushed away the morbid thought and relaxed her mind. Eden’s future flitted on the outskirts of her awareness—the gray fog that was starting to feel familiar.
Whatever vision was trying to come through, it probably wasn’t attached to any one person’s future. It was too big for that. Maybe the biggest vision she’d ever had.
The fog wasn’t retreating like it usually did when Eden helped Miranda like this. Why couldn’t she see anything?
And then she felt it. Felt the fog touch her skin.
It caressed her, enveloped her—not cold, but warm.
She’d never had any physical sensations in a vision before. It wasn’t unpleasant…at first.
Then the fog started to burn. Pain seared its way into her awareness, flooding her body, consuming her.
Is this what death feels like?
The pain suddenly vanished. Miranda still couldn’t see anything past the gray, but she felt a sense of peace and belonging—like she was with family again.
Her eyes flew open and she jerked her hands back.
“What? What is it?” Eden’s eyes were wide.
“I’m going to die,” Miranda said.
“What? How?”
“I’m not sure.” She’d never had such an obscure vision—aside from the ones about Eden. Before Miranda could think better of it, she said, “Your illness isn’t contagious, is it?”
Eden’s face hardened. Miranda had never seen that happen before. She regretted her question immediately.
“I’m sorry,” Miranda said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It isn’t something you can catch.” Eden shook her head and let out a laugh. There was a trace of bitterness to it. “I’ve always trusted your visions. I believed you when you told me about what you saw and your abilities. But if you think I’m some sort of Typhoid Mary—”
“That’s not it at all. But whatever’s happening to you, it’s going to happen to me, too.”
“That’s not possible.”
“My visions are never wrong. I mean, sometimes I can change things, but I never figured out how with you. But now I see the fog coming for me as well.”
Eden shook her head. She grabbed her purse as she stood. Miranda tried to jump up to follow her, but her hips sent stabbing pain through her as she tried to force them into quick action. By the time she rose, Eden was halfway to the door.
“Eden, wait! I know why you’re not afraid now. The fog wasn’t scary. The other side of it felt more like… I don’t know, like home.” Miranda was desperate, grasping at straws. “It’s the same fog. I’m sure of it. If your illness isn’t contagious, maybe the gray doesn’t mean death after all. Maybe it means a cure. Maybe I can cure you somehow.”
Eden paused, her hand gripping the handle of the door. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I work really hard to be okay with what’s going to happen to me. Every minute of every day. It’s a struggle.”
Eden looked over at Miranda with an expression so bleak that it sent a chill through her. She’d never seen such hopelessness before.
“There is no cure,” Eden said. “There is no stopping this. And the only thing worse than that feeling of despair is false hope. I’ve been there before. I won’t do it again.”
“But my visions—”
Eden shook her head. “You aren’t always right. I am absolutely terrified.”
“Eden…”
“I can’t deal with this right now. I’m sorry.” One of the bells tinkled as she threw the door open and half-ran into the night.
Miranda wanted to run after her, but knew she couldn’t catch up. Even if she did, what could she say after that? She slumped back into the booth.
How could she have been so wrong? The pain in Eden’s face as she left would stay with Miranda until the day she died. Which, depending on what her vision really meant, might not be very long.
The gray that shrouded Eden was coming for Miranda, too. If it didn’t mean a cure for Eden…it meant death for Miranda as well.
She thought of the feeling of warmth and belonging that waited for her on the other side and tried not to be afraid.
She really tried.