Rafe didn’t want to talk about this, not to anyone but especially not to Jeremy and this woman he barely knew. Still, he knew it was easier to answer and get it over with than to argue.
“Four years ago, I was out here with Dad, helping him clear some vines. Porcelain berry. Pretty, but it’s invasive.”
He remembered piling all the vines into the clearing and creating a giant glowing bonfire. He could still smell the acrid scent of the burning bushes. His dad looked haggard, more than usual.
Can’t let stuff like this take root, his father had said to him. It’ll take over the whole damn woods if you don’t get it out.
I think we got it all, Rafe said because he had to say something.
His dad was quiet before saying, It’s good to have your help out here. Sometimes, I forget I almost didn’t have a son.
I’m right here, Dad.
And the fire popped, and the acrid smoke rose, and maybe something in the air made his father brave enough to say it…
“That day, Dad said, ‘I want you to know, son, I regret the things that happened before you got lost.’ I said I appreciated that. Then he said, ‘Did you ever get around to forgiving me for that?’ ”
“What did you say?” Jeremy asked.
“I said, ‘Not yet.’ You can guess what happened next.”
Emilie said, “He died.”
“My last chance to forgive him, and I didn’t do it. Now you two are sitting there asking me to break the promise I made him. The one thing he asked me was that I never go back to the Crow. That place was cursed ground to him.”
Rafe waited for Jeremy to make his argument. He knew it was coming. He knew it would be a good one, but before Jeremy could say a word, Emilie spoke up.
“If you heard Jeremy was lost in the Crow again, and no one else could find him, you’d go then, right?”
“That was a low blow,” Rafe said.
“Would you like some frozen peas?” Emilie asked.
He laughed softly. The kid was all right. “I’ll make you both a deal. If Mom is okay with it, I’ll go.”
“That’s fair,” Emilie said. “Yes?” She looked to Jeremy.
Jeremy shook his head. “Complete waste of time.”
“It’s his mom, Jeremy,” Emilie said. “Do you even have a heart?”
“Not at the moment,” he said, his tone steely. “What if your mother says no?”
“Mom has all of Dad’s old maps of the Crow. Even if Mom says she doesn’t want me to go, they might help you all navigate the park. Best I can offer.”
“All right, we’ll go to your mom’s house right now,” Jeremy said. “You can get her blessing—which she’ll give you—then we’ll all head out in the morning. Yes? Yes. Everyone say yes.”
“Yes,” Emilie said.
“No,” Rafe said.
Jeremy glared at him. “No? Wrong answer. Try again.”
“She won’t let me in the house. I told you I’m banned from the house until I shave and get a haircut. And don’t think I’m joking. I’m not joking.”
“Then maybe—here’s an idea—shave and get a haircut,” Jeremy said with a nuclear blast of sarcasm that nearly peeled the paint off the walls. “The world will thank you. I will thank you.”
Rafe had no desire to shave, no desire to get a haircut. “I can shave tonight, but the haircut might have to wait until tomorrow. It’s already—”
“I can cut hair,” Emilie said.
“You can cut hair?” Rafe asked.
“Back at the vet’s office where I worked, I did some dog grooming. Human hair isn’t much different, right? Oh, forgot to ask—is it okay that I have my rat with me?” She reached into her hoodie pouch and produced a small white rat with gray spots.
“His name is Fritz,” Jeremy said. “That was Stevie Nicks’s first band.”
Rafe looked at Jeremy, at Emilie, back at Jeremy.
“I never should’ve let you two in my house.”
Chapter Eight
Nervously, but pretending not to be nervous, Emilie laid out her comb, her shears, and a couple of hair clips on the counter in Rafe’s tiny bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching her warily.
“You brought hair-cutting scissors with you?” he asked. He didn’t bother to keep the confused amusement out of his voice. Frankly, she didn’t blame him.
“You see these?” She pointed at her bangs. “These require constant upkeep. Constant. I keep a good pair of scissors in my glove box.”
