Chapter 132

Ava

I awoke to the sensation of the bright sun filtering in through the window and a distinct ache in my head. For a moment I just laid there, squinting my eyes against the brightness—and then the events of the night before hit me like a freight train.

The ball. The bachelorettes. Chris’s proposal. Elise’s threat. Degas’s collapse. The frantic rush to the clinic. Staying by his bedside as the Elder laid there, unconscious and hooked up to a thousand different machines…

And then there was the moment with Chris on my path; cupping his cheek in my hand, the soft, regretful look in his green eyes. Telling him about the potential drug deal.

And the feeling of being watched, followed by the face in my neighbor’s window.

It was all so much. And before I could even begin to parse through it all, a soft knock at the door pulled me out of my deep train of thought. Frowning, I pushed myself upright, clutching the sheets against my chest as I called out, “Come in.”

The door creaked open to reveal Ophelia’s beaming face peeking around the edge. “Good, you’re awake!” she said cheerfully, waltzing into my room with Princess on her hip. “I was just about to wake you myself.”

“Ophelia?” I murmured, squinting at the bright sunlight that suddenly flooded in as she flung the curtains open wide. “What time is it?”

“Nearly eleven o’clock, my dear,” she replied briskly as she made her way over to my dresser. “I’ve been puttering around your kitchen for the better part of the morning while waiting for you to finally drag yourself out of bed.”

I blinked owlishly at her as I sat up slowly and with some effort. My back ached from spending most of the night in the clinic, and I could hear it crack audibly as I stretched.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “I didn’t get back until four in the morning.”

“Well, luckily for you, I made coffee,” Ophelia said. She rifled through my dresser drawers for a few moments before she produced a pair of linen pants and a wrap top, which she tossed to me. “We’ve got to hurry, though. Leonard wanted us to be at his farm for a picnic by one o’clock.”

My brow furrowed as I clutched the clothes to my chest. “A picnic?” I echoed. “Today?”

Ophelia shot me an exasperated look over her shoulder as she began rummaging through my vanity for a hairbrush. “Yes, a picnic,” she repeated slowly, as if speaking to a child. “You know—that thing civilized people do where they eat food on a blanket outside and enjoy the fresh air?”

Despite my fatigue, I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. Leave it to Ophelia to try and shake me out of my melancholy with her plans. The woman was nothing if not relentless when she set her mind to something, and I appreciated that about her.

“Alright, alright,” I relented, sliding out of bed and padding toward the bathroom. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready, I suppose.”

…

By the time we reached the outer fences of Leonard’s property, I could already make out the farmer striding toward us from across one of the fields, a large wicker basket tucked under one arm. His salt-and-pepper hair was ruffled in the breeze as he crossed the field, and for a moment, I thought I heard Ophelia’s breath catch.

She likes him, I thought to myself with a smirk. Good. At least someone was happy lately.

“You two made it!” Leonard called out. “I was just about to send out a search party.”

Ophelia tsked and swatted playfully at his chest as we drew closer. “As if we would miss a chance to enjoy some of your farm-fresh food.” She paused, turning slowly to take in the surroundings. “This place is simply beautiful.”

Leonard chuckled, adjusting the picnic basket against his hip. “I’ll give you a tour later. For now, I’m starving.”

“Me, too,” I said with a grin.

Soon enough, the picnic was laid out beneath a large oak tree—homemade loaves of bread, wedges of sharp cheddar cheese, glistening berries spilling out of a large ceramic bowl, a bottle of fruit wine, and even an array of cold cut meats that made my mouth water just looking at them. Ophelia and I settled onto the blanket, Princess already running off across the field to chase a big blue butterfly.

As we ate and drank and laughed together, I felt the weight of the past few weeks beginning to bleed out of my shoulders. There was a glaring hole where Chris belonged next to me, but he was busy in the Packhouse today; and besides, maybe a little distance was a good thing. Something to keep my mind off of… well, everything.

After we had all practically stuffed ourselves, Ophelia sighed contentedly and flopped back onto the blanket with her arms stretched out wide. The sunlight filtering in through the leaves overhead created dapples on her bare arms and legs, a satisfied smile on her face.

“You know, I could stay here forever,” she murmured, resting her head on her arms. “If I’m being honest, I’m getting so tired of the human world. Perhaps I’ll consider buying a little property here and leaving that all behind, if you’ll have me.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “You really mean that?” I asked. “What about your job?”

Ophelia waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, please. I’ve saved enough money to live comfortably without working for the rest of my life, especially in a place like this. And besides, I bore of those old creeps who call themselves ‘photographers’ ogling my body during every photoshoot.”

I found myself grinning as I leaned back on one elbow beside her. “Well, who’s stopping you?” I teased lightly. “You’re always welcome here, Ophelia.”

There was a brief silence as Ophelia and I exchanged smiles. Then, to my surprise, it was Leonard who spoke up first.

“You know... I do have plenty of extra room on my property, if you ever fancied setting up your own little cottage.”

Ophelia shot upright so quickly I nearly got clocked in the face by her elbow, staring at the farmer with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Really?” she breathed. “Leonard, you would really…?”

Leonard simply smiled, the tips of his ears burning red beneath his mop of salt-and-pepper hair. With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and extended a hand down to help Ophelia up.

“I’ll show you,” he said.

A few minutes later, the three of us were standing at the far end of Leonard’s property—a small outcrop of flat land right next to the line of trees where the forest began, overlooking the cow pasture.

“This whole area back here is just empty space,” he explained, gesturing at the land as we walked around. “I’ve always thought it would make a nice spot to have a little cottage or two tucked away. Plenty of privacy, but close enough to the main property. But I’ve never found any interest in renting to people I don’t know.”

Ophelia pressed her hands to her mouth, turning slowly to take in the scenery. I could practically hear the gears whirring in her head, no doubt already considering which color to paint her shutters and what sort of flowers she would want in the front garden.

While they chatted about design ideas, I decided to wander a bit—if only to give them some space and have some space for myself as well.

It was as I was wandering the small stretch of land, however, that something caught my eye: something small and black, glistening from beneath a rock right at the edge of the treeline.

With my brow furrowed, I walked over to the rock and crouched down, carefully lifting and overturning it. Instantly, I felt a gasp escape my lips and I fell backwards, my eyes widening into saucers.

There, beneath the rock, was an entire infestation of pitch black fungus.