Two mornings later Rosie woke up, let Gizmo out and found a note taped to the door of her camper.

She showered and dressed, picking out her favorite purple tights, long black t-shirt and grey cardigan. Without stopping to question why, she took care to braid her hair and wrapped it in a bun then fixed her makeup. She threw on her flowered combat boots, grabbed her bag and hopped on her bike.

The previous morning she'd woken up in her bed, thankfully, but her vision had been clouded. Like she was opening her eyes underwater.

She had to do something about this spirit. The constant barrage of dreams and sleepwalking on top of the ghostly visits were taking their toll. She was tired and edgy, wondering what might happen next. Though she wasn't ready to follow the spirit, afraid of where she might be led, she was ready to take control of the situation. She'd planned to head downtown, as it was her day off, and go to The Third Eye.

The Third Eye was a store she'd walked past a few times but had never actually gone into, though one day she'd been walking by when someone who worked there actually ran out of the store and chased her down the street.

"Hey!" The man had shouted. "Stop!"

She'd turned her head around to look at him but didn't stop.

"There's something following you! I can help!"

There was always something following her, she'd thought at the time.

Now though, was a different story. She couldn't risk drowning in her sleep just because she was too stubborn to ask for help. At least the people in that type of shop believed in the kind of stuff that happened to her. No one would call her a liar when she told them what she could see.

And therein laid another of her problems. Max's dog was the only spirit besides that damn woman she could see. Mrs. Murphy was gone. The little boy that sometimes followed Marta was gone. The man with Dallas' was gone. There were no spirits on the bus or the street. The auras were mostly gone except in the people she knew fairly well and even then, they were transparent and hard to read. It was as though the senses she'd relied on her entire life were gone. It was not an easy transition to try to make.

She rode to Max's without incident and parked her bike by his truck, near the garage. Peeking around she didn't see him in the yard so she went up the porch steps and knocked on the front door. After a minute, when no one answered, she made her way to the barn. She knocked and peeked her head in.

"Max?" She called.

She was met with the desperate sound of goats crying for her attention but no Max. Eventually, she made her way to the chicken coop. When she got there Florence, a gray and white hen with the cutest little pouf of feathers under her beak, squatted down at her feet as if to say 'you may pick me up now'. Rosie obliged and carried the bird while she checked the cow pasture for Max.

She was making her way to the sheep when he ended up finding her.

"Hey stranger.” He smiled a total megawatt smile that made her step falter a little.

She smiled back. "There you are. Florence and I weren't sure where to look if we didn't find you soon."

He shook his head and stepped closer, scratching the chicken under the beak. "I've been watching for you. I was hoping you'd come by."

"Well, I got your note," she shrugged. "I was heading to town today anyway."

"So, you would have stopped by?” He asked.

She shook her head. "Probably not. But I was riding by, kind of."

"Kind of," he agreed. "Come on.” He motioned with his hand for her to follow him.

After a few steps, he slowed so they could walk side by side. The air was cool but not nearly as cold as it would be in up north and she was still awestruck by how beautiful it was on Max's farm. The green pastures, abutting the forest that was still so full and lush with foliage, made such a gorgeous picture. The garden patches, long neat rows of thriving plants running through the center of everything, behind the bright white of Max's house and the deep red of the barn made such an intensely beautiful scene. She looked to Max. The farmer was pretty beautiful too.

"So, what is it you wanted to show me?” She asked.

"First," he held his hand out and pointed to his left. "Time to put the princess back in her run."

Rosie made a sad face at Florence and the nuzzled her head. He opened the little chicken door and she put the bird back.

"Okay.” Rosie told him. "Where to?"

"The sheep."

"I was headed there when I ran into you."

He nodded. "I've been working in the field most of the morning

"Oh."

They got to the little barn where Max's sheep were kept and he opened the gate, motioning for her to go first. He walked her to a giant wooden crate that looked like it was constructed out of pallets.

She sucked in a breath when she saw what was in the makeshift playpen and looked up quickly. Max was watching her with that huge smile on his face, hands in his pockets. She looked back at the fuzzy lump lying on a bed of straw.

"It's so tiny," she whispered, not wanting to disturb it.

"Only a few days old."

"Where's its mother?"

"She was the runt of a triplet birth. The mother abandoned her."

Rosie knew the feeling well. "What will happen to her?”

"We'll bottle feed her for a while and raise her here if she makes it."

"You can do that?” She asked before she leaned down to rub her hand along the tiny sheep's soft wool.

"We can.” His voice was soft. "Want to feed her?"

"Can I?"

"Sure. I'll get her milk all set up if you want to pick her up."

"Oh my God,” Rosie breathed. She leaned in and gently scooped the little sheep up. It made a few squeaking noises before trying to nuzzle up her body and into her neck.

"She's trying to eat," Max told her as he came back holding a bottle.

There was no way Rosie was going to pass up the chance to bottle feed a baby lamb. She sat on the floor and let Max show her how to hold everything. She just sat there, smiling, unable to help herself.

"This is amazing," she told him.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It is."

She looked up and found him watching her, thoughtful. His green aura had pink streaks pulsing through it like a gymnast's ribbons streaming through the air and she tilted her head to watch them.

"What do you see, Rosie?"

Her eyes snapped to meet his. "Nothing."

"You were looking behind me. Above me. What did you see?"

She looked back down at the suckling lamb.

"I'll believe you,” he told her quietly, his voice even and sure. "Whatever you tell me, I won't laugh and I'll believe you."

She shook her head. "I wasn't looking at anything.”

"I know when we went to the cove the other day there was something out there with us. I could feel it. I could see it in your eyes. I know it was there even if I don't know what it was and I know you can see it, Rosie."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "Yeah you do, but it's okay. I'll be here when you're ready."

She looked at him through her eyelashes. "What if I'm never ready?"

"You will be."

The sound of air being sucked into the bottle surrounded them and the restless lamb began to squirm.

"I think she's ready to go in the pasture with the big girls. Hopefully one of them will take to her," Max said as he stood.

He took the lamb and walked it to the gate, Rosie standing and following.

"Is that likely?"

"Maybe.” He smiled as the little lamb inspected the pasture on wobbly legs. The other ewes watched from a distance.

"Should we stay?" Rosie ventured. "Make sure she's okay?"

"Nah. She's more likely to go exploring if we aren't here."

Rosie didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay in that barn, insulated from the world and enjoy the quiet that came from being around Max.

He walked the fence line and watched the lamb from afar.

"You have to work tonight?” He asked as he stopped and rested a foot on the bottom rung of the fence and leaned his forearms on the top. He looked like a real farmer. He could have been a cowboy if he had a big hat and an oversized belt buckle.

She leaned on the fence next to him and tried not to look at the thick layer of blonde hair on his forearms. He was tan underneath from long hours in the sun.

"No work tonight,” she said, her hands resting next to his on the fence as the sheep inspected each other. "Wendy changed my schedule around a little so I've got the night off."

"She changed your schedule? I thought you liked working nights."

"I do," she told him as one of the ewes, the skittish one, approached the lamb. "But she gave me a few things to do in the office so I have to be there more during regular hours."

"On top of all the cleaning jobs?" He sounded surprised.

"No, she's got me doing some cleaning in private homes. It's not my favorite but it'll do."

"What is your favorite?” He asked. "If you could do anything you wanted, I guess.”

She thought for a second. "I don't know.” She'd never really thought about, it had never been an option for her. She hadn't even graduated high school so a prosperous future seemed dim. She consciously chose not to dwell on the fact that she had little in the way of a future. It became depressing if she did. So, she told herself, when she got restless or bored, she'd move on and find a new place to live. She'd enjoy the routine of packing her things and finding somewhere else to move and building a new life. "I'm just exploring life for right now.” It was the only answer she knew how to give. It was the only way to explain drifting through life to someone who had it together.

Max was established in his life and she very much envied that. Not necessarily the farm or the business he'd built, but his drive and passion. Listening to him explain every little detail of soil components, it had become obvious he loved what he did. How could he not? He lived in this great place and cultivated things with his own hands.

“Wendy says you're the best she's got."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I can clean a toilet like a real champ."

He chuckled. "I think she meant you were thorough and reliable."

"So, I can clean the toilet really well and on time?"

His brows rose. "A joke. I like it."

The skittish brown ewe was standing stock still near the sheep barn, letting the little lamb nuzzle her wool.

"She looks like she might like the little one,” she mentioned to Max.

"Might be," he agreed.

She leaned back, still holding onto the railing. "Thanks for this. It’s definitely an experience I'll remember.”

"We'll have to feed her a couple times a day so you can come by anytime."

"I might take you up on that," she warned. "I might just take it home."

"Well, I know where you live in case she goes missing."

Rosie walked back toward the house and her bike, Max quickly falling in step beside her.

"Want me to give you a ride to town?"

She waved off his offer. "Nah. I've got my bike. I won't be long anyway so it's not a big deal."

"Where are you headed?” He didn't seem intensely interested, more just making conversation.

"A shop on Middle Street I haven't been in. I thought it looked cool but I haven't been by when it's open."

"Want to have lunch before you go?"

She stopped walking. They were almost to the back porch and she looked up at the door where Max's dog sat, wagging its tail.

“No, I’ll just get going.”

"You're sure you don't want a ride?"

She laughed at his persistence. "I'm fine."

"You ever think about getting a car?”

"God, no.” She straddled her bike. "I don't know how to drive. What would I do with a car?"

He looked flat out confused. "Wait. You don't know how to drive?"

"No. I never learned."

"That's…weird." He sounded like he was testing the word out. "How do you ever get anywhere?"

She walked. Rode a bike. Took the bus. Hitchhiked when times had been desperate.

"How did you get around before you drove?” She was trying to make a point, that you find a way when you need to.

"My parents drove me everywhere or I had Wendy to bug for a ride."

"It's the same for me. I do what I can when I can."

"You want to try for lunch tomorrow?"

She watched him carefully, his caramel eyes steady as he waited for her answer. She shielded her eyes from the sun that shone from behind him, trying to gauge his intent. He was showing interest in her but she wasn't sure how to handle it. As Wendy would say, she was "feeling the feelings" even if she didn't want to.

Maybe it was that his calming energy that attracted her. He had a gentleness that made him easy to be around. Strange, as she hadn't felt it for years, but there was also temptation to tell him her secret when he asked. He gave off the vibe that he would listen and try to understand what she was saying.

Nerves danced across her skin as she imagined the possibility of being in a relationship with a caring man that might just accept who she really was. Someone who might understand and not judge her.

Fear reared its ugly head, her mind conjuring Butch's face the last time she'd seen him. The look of regret on his face had haunted her for years, one that screamed I wish I'd never laid eyes on you. I wish I'd never listened to you. I wish I'd never let you into my home – into my life. It had all been right there for her to see, before he'd turned his back on her and walked out the door. She'd put all her trust in him like he'd asked, and that was what she'd gotten in return. There was no way she'd put her heart on the line like that again.

She shook her head, certain she knew what she was doing. "I can't."

He grabbed her handlebars before she could take off. "The day after?"

She looked him in the eye then, making sure he could see her resolve. "It's a bad idea, Max. I'll see you around."

She jerked the bike out of his grasp and rode away without looking back.