The Wishing Well

Chapter 9

Olivia tossed and turned that night for about an hour, but slept well afterward. She'd suspected that they could see each other's dreams, making it difficult to rest much. Instead, she slept the whole night through, not waking up once. She woke up close to noon, feeling more able to handle this, if not quite ready.

Ian had gotten back to his reading...editing...whatever it was. Olivia didn't want to bother him, so she kept her mind blank on the way to the kitchen. She turned on the stove, wanting breakfast to be something bigger than a bit of toast. Yesterday the world seemed to end when she started hearing the voice in her head, getting to the point where she couldn't make a coffee. Now she just regarded it with frustration, so her hands didn't shake as she cooked some eggs and bacon.

She was trying her hardest not to disturb Ian; he didn't speak to her, either. It felt strange to ignore him like this, as if they were standing right next to each other, but neither of them dared to speak. She could not think of what to say, but finally settled on the simplest of greetings. Good morning, Olivia thought, turning off the stove with a sigh.

She listened intently for him to speak. Finally, Morning.

How odd it was to carry on a conversation without speaking. It almost felt like she was talking to air—or as if he were still a voice in her head, proof of her insanity. It didn't make any sense.

Sleep well? she asked, after a pause.

Well enough.

Olivia ate slowly, trying to make the food last. But hunger made her dizzy, so she quickly gave up. Then she pushed away the empty plate and gazed at the table, trying to figure out what to do. Ian had started to read again. It was a clever, effective way to not think anything. Olivia longed to have a shortcut like that herself.

She decided to visit the schoolhouse and look at Elisabeth Wilder's painting. It might do some good to take a picture of it, so she could study it at home as well. She would search the bookshelves more thoroughly than last time, because there had to be something useful.

Somebody rang the doorbell, shattering her thoughts. Olivia frowned—Ian would have told her if he was coming, since it wasn't hard to communicate anymore. She cleared the table and hurried to answer it—but should have looked out the window first, because it was the last person she wanted to see.

Olivia went cold when she saw Shanna. The strange girl looked innocent enough, hands tucked into her pockets. There was still something strange in her eyes though, as she smiled in greeting.

“Hi,” Shanna said simply. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Olivia took a step back, searching wildly for an excuse to get rid of her. “What are you doing here?” she stuttered.

The girl frowned. “I just figured, it's a weekend and I've got free time. I don’t know much about you, so maybe we could possibly be friends.”

Olivia knew her position was defensive, blocking the way so Shanna couldn’t get in. There was no polite way to refuse her, so she stepped out herself, promptly closing the door. She could spare a minute or two, but nothing more.

“Right,” Olivia told her softly. “We could possibly be…friends.” Maybe online, but nothing more.

Shanna’s smile held; it wasn't dark, but nor was it friendly. “I was just wondering,” she continued, taking a few steps back (Olivia finally exhaled.) “Do you know your family history, Olivia?”

She frowned. “Why?”

Shanna shrugged, her smile finally faltering just a little. “I dunno. People here usually know their roots. I know mine. I’m sure if you asked around, we could gather a history book with everyone’s stories. I wondered if the same could be said about you.”