Hunter jumped to his feet, adrenaline rushing through him as he kept his eyes down at the glowing map on his phone. He stepped over the creek and kept going, slightly out of breath.
The boys went back. They circled around you somehow.
When he finally stepped out of the trees, he realized he’d gotten completely turned around, now on the opposite side of the manor.
He stared up at the building, perfectly curated, the brick darker, hidden in a winter shadow. Barren rose bushes with threatening thorns formed a fence, a barrier.
Sarah had loved those rose bushes. She used to gush over them in summer, shooing people away if they tried to pick one. “Let them grow,” she’d say. “They want to be beautiful.”
Hunter knew the group was likely near the back gardens. He shivered and began walking, his boots squelching in the wet, muddy grass.
“Mr. Gunnam,” Sadie shouted as he came around the corner. “I was about to send security to find you.”
Hunter walked up to the fence, tall black metal poles connected to a decorated, pointed top.
“Walk around; the entrance is just over there,” Sadie pointed.
“Did the boys come back?” he asked.
“Boys?” Sadie blinked.
“The ones I went after.”
“Yeah, those boys never even went in. They jumped out from behind a gargoyle or something and scared a group of girls.”
Hunter clenched his jaw.
“Of course,” he muttered, throwing his hands up. “You really should pay attention to these tours more. There are no gargoyles.”
“Whatever it was, it was ugly,” she said.
Hunter watched the group behind her move further away, crossing a particularly run-down-looking fountain.
“Uh oh, on the move again,” she said, pointing behind her with her thumbs. “Let’s go, teach. You ditching students now?”
Hunter marched around the fence, finding the gate.
This garden used to be filled with life and color; he had photos of it with her in it. He’d worn a deep blue suit and a brown tie and had been made to press his lips to the underside of Sarah’s jaw in that pose.
When she laughed, he was supposed to throw her veil behind her to create more movement in the picture. He had to hold his lips there, to her skin, and he tickled her with his stubble for several minutes, the photographer’s camera clicking at a rapid pace.
He kept that picture on his desk at the school, framed in gold. Their smiles were both infectious. A year after her death, however, he’d put the photo in the second drawer. It was still there, untouched. That drawer never opened.
Hunter’s heart was somewhere else, with someone else. He had resigned himself never to recover, living as a ghost of his former self. He drifted behind the group, his laughter and smile forced, still tangled in a past he hadn’t moved on from.
The natural light of the day was already fading as he ushered kids and volunteers back on the buses. He sat in the front this time, Sadie next to him, taking out her crochet the moment she saw him pull out a book.
Safety announcements were made, and the bus drove on until they were back at the elementary school parking lot thirty-seven minutes later. The moment the doors folded open, the kids burst out, feral with freedom.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sadie said. “Do you need anything?”
“Need anything?” Hunter smiled.
“Oh, you know, you seemed sad. I’m just trying not to be a terrible person.”
Hunter shook his head.
“Thanks, Sadie, I’ll see you tomorrow.”