Page 11 of Rainshadow

Flora forced a smile. “Absolutely.”

Sylvia took Flora to the closet where she stored the feed bin, and where a few other things might be. She was cool and terse, but polite, which Flora appreciated. Tour given, Sylvia left her to finish the evening’s work. Flora fed the horses, watered them, and went to get everyone but Bane, who was already in his stall.

“How long have you been here?” Sylvia asked, joining her to finish the evening’s work in the stable.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know, ten hours?”

Sylvia stared at her with irritated disbelief. “If I don’t tell you to leave, will you just stay and keep working?

“This is my favorite place in the world,” Flora said. She knew it sounded a little pathetic, but she didn’t care. Sylvia closed her eyes and breathed out slowly.

“I wouldn’t have bought this place if I knew it came with a stray. That’s what you are, aren’t you? From now on, leave by four thirty. Never stay past sunset. Never.”

Flora swallowed. “What time should I come tomorrow?”

Sylvia groaned. “I don’t care.” Then she seemed to change her mind. “Ten. I should be awake by then, but don’t come to the house. Let the horses out and keep Zeta back to work on a lead.”

“You want me to work her? I think I?—”

“No, of course not. Wait for me.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Sylvia only sighed, waved a hand over her head, and walked back to the house.

7

Flora walked a long way home and a long way back the next day.

She was so tired, even getting out of bed had been a chore, especially knowing that Sylvia probably didn’t care one way or another if she showed up, didn’t show up, or got hit by a bus.

But she did get up, got dressed, and walked, trudging miles to the rocky, cliffside estate. It was a dark, windy day, and Flora hugged her faded windbreaker to her body as she marched to work. It was only the beginning of the day and her feet already ached in her tight, cheap riding boots.

She let the horses out, but they barely seemed to want to leave the warm calm of their stable for the drizzle and bluster of the grazing paddock. They went, with some encouragement, and Flora got to work.

She spent almost an hour unpacking tack, organizing it, and polishing and conditioning leather bridles that were showing slight signs of cracking. Her hands froze as she handled the cold brass in the unheated barn, but most of the tack seemed in excellent condition and very expensive.

Sylvia, Flora realized, was probably born into wealth—it certainly didn’t seem like she worked, and it gave Flora ajolt to imagine someone like Sylvia, who seemed so mean and ungrateful, getting exactly what Flora had wanted. She imagined a real estate broker dropping the keys to Rainshadow into Sylvia’s outstretched hand. It reminded her of her mother, who had had one moment of good luck and never worked again, but still expected everyone else to.

It was as she was sitting, polishing, and thinking, that she heard a car coming up the long, winding driveway, a yellow VW Bug with a whining motor. It trundled up and parked in front of the barn. Flora instantly recognized it, and was unsurprised when Blythe stepped out, her silver hair whipping in the high wind.

“Blythe, hey!” Flora shouted, and it felt like the wind snatched her words as she jogged down to where the Bug was parked.

“Flora, what are you doing here?” Blythe asked, looking startled to see her.

“Oh, I got my old job back,” Flora said, catching her breath.

“What? What are you doing?”

“Groundskeeping and horse care, exactly like before.” Flora smiled, but Blythe’s face betrayed a confusing concern.

“Well,” Blythe said, pulling her hand-knitted forest green sweater tight, “you remember I used to come gather yarrow and lavender?”

“I remember.” Flora did indeed remember the sunny, pleasant days when Blythe would come and work in the gardens with Lisa, leaving with a bundle of stalks for whatever secret purposes she had.

“I guess I was hoping the new owners would let me continue.” Blythe was looking around uncertainly, and her voice was uneasy.

“You can go ask. I honestly don’t think they’ll care,” Flora said. “I’d go with you but I’m kind of afraid of the new owner. Her name is Sylvia.”

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