He looked at the carved heart at the end of the chain and had a normal man’s reaction. “I appreciate that, Nell. Really I do. But that’s a girl thing.”

“Wear it under your shirt,” she said impatiently. “No one has to see it. I want you to wear it night and day.” She looped it over his head even as he grimaced. “I want you to promise me you will.”

Anticipating his next protest, Nell framed his face with her hands. “It belonged to my mother. It’s the only thing of hers I still have. The only thing I brought away with me. Please do this for me, Zack. Promise me you won’t take it off, not for any reason.”

“All right. I’ll promise that if you promise me you’ll eat something.”

“We’ll have pumpkin soup. You’ll like it.”

That night, while she slept, she ran wildly through the woods, unable to find her way in the dark of the moon.

The scent of blood and death chased her.

Sixteen

Nell put it all out of her mind, or tried to, and went to work. She served coffee and muffins, joked with regulars. She wore her new blue sweater and stirred the pumpkin soup she had simmering for the lunch crowd.

She replenished the stack of business cards Mia had suggested that she put beside the café’s cash register.

It was all so normal, almost breezy. Except she reached for the locket she no longer wore a dozen times through the morning. Each time she did, the image of Zack covered with blood flashed through her mind.

He’d had to go to the mainland that morning, and the idea of him being off-island was one more fear. He could be attacked on the street, mugged. Left to lie bleeding and dying.

By the end of her shift she’d concluded she hadn’t done enough, and needed help.

She found Mia helping a customer with a selection of children’s books. She waited, mentally wringing her hands, until the choices were made and the customer headed to checkout.

“I know you’re busy, but I need to talk to you.”

“All right. Let me get my jacket. We’ll take a walk.”

She was back moments later with a suede jacket tossed over her short dress. Both were the color of butternut squash that made her hair glint like a mane of fire.

She waved at Lulu as she walked out the front door. “Taking my lunch break. Great sweater,” she added as they stepped outside. “Lulu’s work, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve jumped a hurdle. She wouldn’t have made you something that fine if she hadn’t decided to accept you. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I . . . did you want to get some lunch?”