She smiled. “That’s a good idea.”

She proceeded to watch me so closely that I lost my appetite and couldn’t finish my food. I excused myself and went upstairs, made my bed, and inspected the wall where the writing had been.

The obvious explanation was that Agatha had done it. She had the time, she had access to my room . . . Did she have a motive? It hurt to think that, after all the time we’d spent, after developing what seemed almost like an easy familiarity, she still wanted me to leave. Then again, who knew what simmered beneath her silent surface? Just because she’d given me a little break didn’t mean she had accepted me. Maybe all this time she’d been formulating a plan to chase me away.

I’d cast a couple of searching glances her way during breakfast, which she’d returned with blank neutrality.

And then there was the part of my thoughts that kept returning to Barrett. So slowly that I hardly even noticed it, his face and voice and the whole boyness of him would crowd everything else out.

It hardly seemed like the previous night had even happened, except that there were still wet clothes hanging behind the closed curtain of my shower. The whole thing was dreamlike—the rain, the graves, the sky lighting up around us. And especially the sudden, shocking feeling of being close to another human again—close like a friend, close in the sense of wanting to know what he was doing and what he was thinking about. I wanted to see him and be near him, and talk about life, and family, and whatever. I wanted to be near enough to speak in a low voice and say things only he could hear.

It was like my loneliness was an empty jar I’d been carrying around, and all at once the promise of Barrett’s friendship had rushed in and filled it.

Of course, there was still the mortifying question of whether he felt the same way. Maybe last night had been too weird. Or he found me annoying, or dull.

But I didn’t think so. A slideshow of images flicked by in my mind: his eyes, rimmed by dark lashes with drops of water balanced on them like tiny jewels. Water streaming down his face. And then, as if I’d seen it on a movie screen, him taking my hand as we ran for cover.

No, he didn’t think I was dull. I didn’t know what he thought.

I LAY IN my bed, eyes closed, and tried to make myself fall asleep. But I felt as if I’d chugged two cups of coffee; my heart was pounding and my thoughts raced. I knew Laura would send me back to bed if she found me wandering around, so I decided to be proactive and hope I would eventually fall asleep in spite of myself.