Free Sweetly by Jackson Pearce

okay?” I ask as I pick up the lid and screw it back on to the peanut butter. Sophia’s eyes look distant, as if she’s not really looking at me.
    “Sophia?” Ansel asks.
    “Where is it?” she says faintly.
    “The shell? On the porch,” I say, taking the bread from her fingers and putting it on the counter. I’ve barely done so when Sophia brushes past me, pushing through the saloon doors and then the screen. Ansel and I follow.
    It takes Sophia only a heartbeat to see the new shell. She inhales slowly, then walks over to it, as though she’s afraid she might frighten it away. She lifts it delicately, running her fingers over the points and tracing the spiral with her nails.
    “Sophia, are you okay?” Ansel asks, voice strong, demanding an answer.
    “Oh.” Sophia snaps out of her daze, back to her happy version. She smiles and sets the shell down. “Yeah, I’m fine. Someone must have dropped this off… Guess they didn’t have enough time to come in.” She pulls her hair up as she holds the screen door open with her hip.
    “I didn’t see anyone pull up,” Ansel says as we head back inside.
    “Might have walked.”
    “Sophia, you live in the middle of nowhere—” I say.
    “Maybe they biked, then. People bike here sometimes,” Sophia snaps.
    My eyes widen and I take a step backward—she’s never used that tone before, and it startles me, scares me, almost. Ansel’s eyes flicker between me and Sophia, waiting for one of us to make the next move.
    “Sorry,” Sophia says, her voice sincere. She takes my hand. “Sorry. I’m just worried about the Fourth of July block party and the chocolate festival. It’s a lot to handle.”
    “It’s okay,” I say slowly. “Want me to make you a sandwich or something?” I add, nodding to the bread and peanut butter on the counter.
    “Yeah. Yeah, please. Thanks, Gretchen,” Sophia says, and gives me an apologetic look. “I’m going to go get some fresh air. Maybe have a drink and some of those hazelnut pralines… I’m sorry, seriously.”
    “It’s okay,” I say, shaking my head. Sophia nods; as she passes Ansel, she lets her hand rest on his shoulder for a moment, then folds her arms over her stomach and continues on outside.
    “What was that all about?” I mumble when she’s out of earshot.
    “I don’t know,” Ansel says, popping his knuckles. “Maybe she’s just mad whoever left that thing didn’t come in to buy something? Should I look around, make sure no one is here, hiding or something?” His eyes scan the yard.
    “Maybe…” I hesitate. “You haven’t heard or seen… anything? ” I ask cautiously.
    Ansel gives me a hard look. “Nothing. Did you?”
    I shake my head quickly. “No.”
    If Ansel isn’t afraid, I don’t need to be afraid. I glance out the back door, to where Sophia rocks back and forth on the bench swing, biting into a praline. I can almost see the relief flooding through her as she swallows it, as if it’s calming her. I should have one too.
    Anything to make the fear fade.

CHAPTER FIVE

     
    A week later, I take my books out of my suitcase. I slowly, carefully line them up on top of the dresser, putting them in order by the cover colors. I handle them delicately, as if they’re photos or mementos instead of paper and cloth. When I finish, I step back and stare at them for a moment. They look as though they belong here. I spend a few minutes arranging and rearranging them, flipping some on their side, remembering the first time I read them. Thinking about how I’ll read them again in this beautiful new place.
    I smile and walk to the bedroom door, then gently open it.
    I yelp and clasp a hand over my mouth.
    “Sorry, sorry!” Ansel says quickly, trying to hush me. I groan and shake off the surprise.
    “Why are you lurking outside my bedroom?” I grumble at him, embarrassed at shouting.
    “Um, well… I’m going to…” Ansel shuffles his feet on the hardwood. I raise my eyebrows and fold my arms.