Page 20 of Silver Linings

Damn. I guessed it had been too much to hope for that he might have forgotten about those glittery little clues that this forest was different from any other on the face of the planet.

But I figured since I didn’t know much about them, either, I could tell him the few things I did know and make him think I was being utterly honest about the whole situation.

“They appear here and there,” I replied. “And they never seem to last very long. I don’t know if there’s something strange about the soil here that makes them glitter like that.”

Ben appeared to absorb that small piece of information. “I’m surprised this forest isn’t swarming with botanists trying to learn more about them.”

Good thing it wasn’t, or keeping the secret of the mysterious creatures who came and went here would have been even more difficult. To be honest, I knew the flowers were real because I’d seen them, and so had my mother and grandmother, but no one in Silver Hollow had ever mentioned the sparkling little bell-shaped blooms, which made me wonder if they also only appeared to the women in my family.

Which begged the question as to how Ben had managed to see one when nobody else had.

Just another mystery that might never be solved.

“They’re very elusive,” I said, which was only the truth. “You’re very lucky to have gotten a glimpse of one. I think any botanists who came out here to research those flowers would end up disappointed.”

Again, he was quiet, thinking over what I’d just said. I found that interesting about him, that he was okay with being silent for a moment as he processed a certain thought or concept. Was it something that was part of the territory when you were an archaeologist, or had he gravitated toward that field because his brain just happened to work that way?

Whatever the reason, I knew I liked that he wasn’t the kind of man to immediately break in with his own personal theory on a situation, unlike some of the guys I’d dated while I was in school.

Of course, he wasn’t some college kid, but someone who looked as if he was in his early thirties, old enough to have gotten a little better at interacting with those around him.

Then again, some people never achieved that sort of maturity, no matter how old they were.

He said, now looking almost rueful, “So elusive that they somehow didn’t register on my phone’s camera?”

“Maybe,” I hedged. I really didn’t know why those photos hadn’t turned out, since I’d never tried to take a picture of the flowers. To me, they were quicksilver, magical, just like the unicorn that came and went in these woods.

A few drops of rain began to fall then, and I looked up at the bits of the sky I could see through the heavy canopy of trees. It had been gray all morning, but it did seem a little darker now.

Damn it — I knew I should have put on a jacket before I left the house this morning. Usually, I always brought one along, even if it was just a water-repellent lightweight shell that I could tie around my waist and ignore until I needed it, but I’d been so preoccupied that I hadn’t even stopped to consider that the weather might take a turn for the worse.

The rain began in earnest, and I said, “I know a place where we can take shelter. Follow me.”

Ben didn’t argue, and only hurried along with me as I went as fast as I could to a spot a little ways off, where the forest floor rose and turned into a rocky overhang.

By the time we got there, my hair was pretty well soaked through, as well as the long-sleeved T-shirt I wore.

“Here,” Ben said, and unzipped the jacket he was wearing, one that looked suspiciously like an item I’d seen in the local outdoor shop.

“You don’t have to do that — ” I began, but he shook his head at once.

“You probably wouldn’t have even gone this deep into the woods if I hadn’t made you try to run away from me.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, since I often wandered pretty far before I turned around and headed back to the car. By that point, I’d made the trek so many times that I knew exactly how long it took to go in and get out so I wouldn’t be late for work.

Today, though, I’d been just a bit distracted.

He pulled off the jacket and handed it over to me. Knowing that any additional protests would fall on deaf ears, I shrugged into the jacket and pushed my wet hair out of the way. Because it had an insulated inner layer, I felt warmer at once.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome.”

We were both quiet for a moment as we watched the rain pattering down, turning the soil muddy. Good thing we were both wearing hiking boots, because slogging our way back after the downpour probably wasn’t going to be too much fun.

I probably should have just let it alone. But I hated it when people weren’t being entirely truthful with me, even people I barely knew, like Ben Sanders.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”

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