The afternoon had turned so dark it looked like evening had come early. Sadie only wanted to bury her head under the covers and let the misery consume her.
But giving in to her grief, letting her fears consume her, was what was ruining her life. And she’d finally had enough.
The house was filled with creaks and groans as though it missed the noise and was trying to make some of its own. Sadie moved around those sounds, finding her place between one creak and the next, lost in the way time seemed to drip slowly and pool at her feet, begging to be stepped in. But she kept her feet dry and refused to listen to the ever more insistent chiming of the grandfather clock. It had stayed mostly silent since Gigi’s death but now every day grew bolder. From rooster crows for vigilance and magpie chatter for luck to a crow’s caw, which made Sadie shiver because it meant time was running out, and even the clock knew it.
She ignored the screen door as it creaked open, and ignored Florence as her mother took the chair next to her, pulling out a long, brown cigarette.
Like the one the ghost was holding, Sadie thought. Or the spirit. Or whatever it was.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Sadie said, and her voice was scratchy from disuse.
“Bad habit left over from the old days. I started because it reminded me of Mom. I don’t do it often, and only when Sage is asleep. But …” She shrugged and lit her cigarette. “How are you doing?” she asked on an exhale.
Sadie gave her own shrug and watched the plume of smoke curl and dissipate, leaving the smell of sweet clove and tobacco.
“Listen, is there anything I can do for you, honey? I hate to see you like this.”
Her mother’s voice grated. Sadie wanted silence. Ached for it. When she didn’t answer, her mother continued.
“I know you’re worried. But nothing is going to happen to your brother. We’re going to figure this out.”
“How?” Sadie demanded, finally speaking. “How exactly are we going to figure it out?” Panic was making her chest tight, her rage boil to the surface like a cauldron full of bubbling potion, thick and acrid and threatening to spill over.
“I don’t know yet,” Florence answered.
“You seem to have an answer for everything. And yet this is all your fault in the first place! If you hadn’t gotten together with Julian, none of this would have happened. Gigi wouldn’t have been forced to tie the darkness to herself, and she wouldn’t have gotten cancer, and she wouldn’t have died.”
“If I hadn’t ‘gotten together with Julian,’” her mother quoted softly, “you and your brother would never have been conceived. And I will never, not for a second, regret that vile man coming into my life. Because beauty came from those ashes.”
Sadie didn’t have a response for that. She knew her mother was right. But fear makes sweet things bitter. There comes a savage kind of pleasure in making others hurt as much as you do. And Sadie felt like breaking bones.
“Beauty might come from ashes. But destruction does too. Maybe there was a reason you weren’t supposed to have kids.”
“Sadie,” Florence said, and her name was a gentle reproach.
“You should never have come back here.” The words rolled off smooth and landed hard and cold.
Florence left quietly after that, but not before pausing and briefly placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Sadie stayed and stared at the garden, at the charred ashes she’d created.
Chocolate Pecan Pie
They say pecans are good for healing strength and longevity, but really the family just loves this pie.
Ingredients
1 c. corn syrup （light or dark is fine）
3 eggs
1 c. granulated sugar
2 T. butter, melted
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1? c. coarsely chopped pecans
1 c. chocolate chips
1 pie crust—I don’t know the recipe; that’s Sadie’s domain. Buy it premade, or make her give you the recipe.
Directions
1.?Preheat oven to 350?F, and place a baking tray in the oven to preheat.
2.?Line the bottom of the pie crust with the chocolate chips.
3.?Mix corn syrup, eggs, sugar, butter, and vanilla. Stir in pecans, and pour mixture over chocolate chips.
4.?Bake for about an hour or until the pecans are toasty brown, or if you want to be precise about it, until the center is 200?F—that’s what Sadie tells me. It’s supposed to cool for 2 hours, but that girl can’t wait more than 15 minutes before biting into it, and she burns her damn mouth every time, that stinker.
??17??