I’ve only been sitting there a few minutes when the fog blows away again. The clearing only lasts a couple of seconds, but it’s long enough to watch a solitary dark-haired figure emerge from the tree line. My heart leaps into my throat, because I’m not ready to see Cole again yet.

Then I realize this isn’t Cole. It’s Willa.

I watch her walk up the lawn toward the sea porch. The fog is settling in behind her as she moves. Like it’s following her. It’s the long, dragging train on a gown made of night. And there’s something strange about the way Willa is moving. Something about her that looks like a ghost.

Or a memory.

She reaches the stone steps of the sea porch, and I can see that she’s real. Flesh and blood. So I say her name out loud. “Willa?”

Her eyes are open, but she walks right by me. Like I’m not even there.

I follow her in the back door of the farmhouse. Down the twisting hallways. Past Glory’s reception desk, where the only light comes from the glowing computer screen. We move through the empty cafeteria. But she stops in the library doorway. The room is dark.

“Willa.” She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t turn around to ask me what I’m doing out so late.

Nobody outside the cabins after eleven o’clock.

It’s hard to see. The lights are off, and fog presses against the windows from the outside. It blocks out the moon. But I can make out the shape of her as she moves to the shelf and begins to pull the books and scripts from their places. She’s digging through them. Knocking them to the ground. Like she’s looking for something she can’t find.

The lights suddenly flick on. It’s so bright. For a split second, I’m five again. Blinking. Blind. Then Cole is standing beside me. His hand is on the switch.

“She’s sleepwalking,” he tells me. But I already figured that out. “Mom.” His voice echoes loud in the empty library, but then it soaks into the long curtains. Gets absorbed into the pages littering the floor. “Mom!” he says again. Louder.

Willa turns around to stare at both of us. She blinks. Looks around the library. Takes in the pile of books at her feet. Then she sinks to her knees. She’s staring at the mess she made.

Cole and I move toward the bookshelf. We’re picking up the books. Putting them back on the shelves. Reorganizing and reordering.

But Willa is still slumped on the floor. She’s staring at her hands now. I see them shaking.

When we’re finished, Cole takes her by the arm and lifts her to her feet.