The Forest of Sleepers (Nowhere Book 2)

t w e n t y - e i g h t : t u r k ey

The authorities had said it would take about three weeks to repair the damage in the farmhouse.

After Evelyn had been cleared by the hospital, she and Wyatt moved into the Penny's guest room.

Evelyn was understandably sickly after the incidents of the fire and had spoken less than a handful of words in the few days that had passed since then. Her mental health was worse than it had been before, so whenever she was able to communicate it was either nonsense or obscure stories Wyatt wasn't even sure were true.

Rose took better care of her than Wyatt ever could have, giving her daily doses of medicine and applying Vicks rub to her chest to open up her lungs.

Wyatt spent most of his days in the greenhouse, making sure that none of the plants inside had been compromised by the smoke.

He hadn't told anyone about the match he'd found in Evelyn's hair. He'd wait until he could ask her what had happened himself before making his suspicions known.

Though his cough still lingered, he was beginning to feel more like himself.

In one sense, being away from the farmhouse, away from the responsibility of his mother, and away from Gwydyr had allowed him to take his first deep breath in a while.

He had time to think. To let everything that had happened since his trip to California sink in.

It wasn't exactly a vacation, certainly, but it had the effects of one.

On the Saturday after the fire, Wyatt was up in the loft of the Penny's barn, trying in vain to fix the pitchfork by using twine and a nail.

He heard the barn door open and peered over the ledge to see Birdie sneaking through, as silent as a whisper. Her trench coat was particularly bulky as she slunk across the hay and over to the stalls.

Wyatt, in turn, crept down the ladder and came up behind her. "Bernadette?"

She froze, her back rigid towards him. "Um, yes?"

"What do you have?"

"Nothing."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Then why don't you turn around?"

"Because...because I just can't stand to look at you in that outfit, that's why."

"What color am I wearing?"

"Something awful. Or pastel. Ugh, I hope it's not pastel."

Just then, something squawked inside Birdie's coat.

She swore at whatever it was and slowly turned to face Wyatt, looking particularly defeated.

Guiltily avoiding his eye, she opened her coat and a bizarre-looking bird flapped free in a blur of black feathers.

Wyatt instinctively flinched back. "What is that?"

"A Peruvian chicken," Birdie said.

Wyatt peered closer, noting the long, wrinkly neck and even longer, more wrinkly legs. "That's not a chicken, Bernadette."

"What are you talking about? The man at the auction last night said it was an exotic chicken from Peru."

Wyatt looked up at her. It took every muscle in his face not to laugh. "It's a turkey."

Birdie's eyes widened as she cast a look of betrayal at the bird. "What?!"

Just then, the barn door swung open and Ophelia came in with a basket full of eggs.