Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Harlow was glad it wouldn’t be her doing the explaining.
Chapter Eighteen
The evening was cool but clear. Harlow couldn’t see stars yet, it wasn’t quite dark enough, but she knew they were about to appear, and she wanted to witness that first showing. Wilder was on her mind, and even the thought of a blanket of stars overhead couldn’t remove the niggling worry that he was going to be very upset with her for violating the no trespassing signs on the property the women wanted to purchase.
She wished she felt more remorse; after all, her friends had been shot at. The shots were more of a warning—at least that was her take on it—but she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do, and there was satisfaction in that. She’d been trying to figure out what exactly she had been missing. The plowed-up ground, where it was, made no sense. No one would plant a crop in that location, not when they had so much land to plant on in direct sunlight away from the building. So why had they done it?
The urge to go to the studio and examine every photograph she had taken of the area directly in front of the barn was very strong. She resisted. She would go in a few minutes, after the stars had begun to show themselves. She always found serenity in that first revealing of an overhead wonder. She knew that across the United States, many places didn’t have the astonishing view of the night sky the way she did. Just as many never saw an ocean or incredible mountains, fewer and fewer were able to make out the beauty of the stars overhead. To her, that was such a tragedy.
She rocked gently, her mind turning back to the moments when the shots had rung out, thinking about the way Shabina’s dogs had herded her toward the Jeep to get her out of danger. Misha had come immediately at her whistle and jumped into the vehicle, but Zahra had instinctively run to save her dog. She could have been shot. Everyone was unpredictable in a crisis. It hadn’t been such a good idea to take her friends beyond the no trespassing sign. If she was going to take such a risk, she should have done it alone. Now remorse was setting in.
Harlow sighed and glanced up at the fading blue of the sky and then around her to the view of the Sierra. There was comfort in her surroundings but no real answers. The answers, she was certain, were in her studio. The questions would nag at her until she studied those photos. There really wasn’t a good reason to put it off.
“Let’s go, Misha,” she encouraged, rising. “We’ve got to do it, and sitting here wishing I knew answers without actually looking for them is silly.”
Misha, at the word go, immediately leapt up and began to race around in circles, running down the stairs and then back up, eager for action. Harlow found herself laughing at the dog’s antics. Misha loved her walks. She loved runs. She backpacked on very long trips with Harlow and always seemed as though she looked forward to the hikes.
“You really are the perfect dog for me,” she told the animal, following her down the stairs. “I don’t need protection dogs like Shabina has, or one I have to baby all the time. I’m lucky to have found you.”
Misha barked twice, the sound joyful. Clearly, she felt the same way. Harlow glanced at the sky, and to her satisfaction, the first stars and even the moon had appeared above her. She laughed. “That’s a good omen. We’re bound to find the answers, Misha.”
Misha seemed to agree with her, running in the direction of the studio and then rushing back to her as she often did. She knew the way. It was well traveled, a small trek Harlow took most evenings. The studio was one of her favorite places. Wilder had become used to her disappearing into her private space. Like Misha, he never seemed to mind; in fact, he often encouraged her to create when she became restless.
The studio was cool, the scents of paint, clay and vanilla spice familiar to her. She always found comfort there. Misha immediately ran over to the table where she had large bins, one of which held dog treats.
Harlow burst out laughing. “I haven’t even turned on the lights yet, you naughty dog. What exactly did you do to deserve a treat?”
She flipped on the lights in the studio and then crossed to the table. “I guess the cuteness factor deserves a treat.” Misha sat nicely and waited for her treat before taking it very gently on Harlow’s yes.
Harlow spent the next hour examining her photos of the area in front of the barn. The rocks and ground, both of which had been uneven and covered in years of debris, as well as the pieces of wood falling from the barn as it slowly collapsed.