I saw that beating coming, I saw death leaning over her, and I saw what Patsy was wearing, I could have done something to save my best friend’s mother. I should have noticed her clothes that day, but I was too excited about the Halloween dance. I have never been able to get rid of that guilt. The guilt led to depression. Yes, I know I was only fourteen years old. Yes, I know that Gavin was responsible.

But the worst thing about having premonitions is that when you can prevent something bad from happening to someone, and you mess that up, you live with that guilt, as irrational as it sounds, for the rest of your life. I failed Emily and I failed Miss Patsy.

And because of my failure, Patsy could not mother Emily, and Emily got into drugs and disappeared. I didn’t even know if she was alive.

I drove by Emily’s house when I delivered books to Torrance, who was almost healed from his surgery. I stopped, backed up, then pulled into the driveway, the willow tree blowing in the wind.

I have always missed Emily, and I hoped that her life was happy and healthy. She deserved it. Her mother had deserved it, too.

* * *

Marco came over to my house on Sunday evening.

He had called first, asked if he could come over to talk, and I’d said yes. I couldn’t resist seeing him. I was miserable. My own loneliness was like a living, breathing tangle of pain.

“Thanks, Evie.” He sat at my table. I had made him hot chocolate and put a huge dollop of whipped cream on it, plus a stick of chocolate. And I’d given him a slice of peach pie. I was trying not to cry. Trying hard.

“Wow.” He actually smiled. “Now that’s dessert. Thank you.”

“There are peaches in the pie, which puts it in the fruit group,” I said, my voice cracking a tad because he is warm and loving and always looks at me as if I mean something to him. As if I’m important. He looks at me gently. And with lust. It’s a potent and near irresistible combination. “And the hot chocolate has milk in it, which puts it in the milk group.”

He nodded at me.

“It’s my best excuse.” Sundance tried to get in my lap, but I gently pushed him down. Ghost climbed up on the table, and I gently put her on the floor. I hoped the goats would not try to come in. I sniffled, tried to hide it by saying, “I think my cats are making me sneeze.”

“You don’t need an excuse to eat peach pie. Eat what you want.”