Chapter 1

The small airport was out of date compared to the gleaming terminals she was used to, though not many local airports could compete with Chicago O’Hare. Kara Mills paused when she passed a poster advertising her city.

“Get Away to Chicago! Budget Fares!”

I wish I could turn around and get away back home, she thought as she looked longingly at the photos that portrayed the familiar soaring skyscrapers of downtown. She already missed the energy and excitement—and she mourned the potential summer vacation she could have had with her friends. Yet here she stood, exiled to a sleepy southern town for the whole summer.

Kara forced herself to move along from the poster. Staring at it wasn’t doing her any favors.

She walked into the arrivals area and scanned the masses for her aunt’s face. Even though she’d only met Aunt Adrienne a handful of times growing up, it was impossible not to notice her in a crowd. Sure enough, Kara spotted Adrienne waving enthusiastically near the exit. Her flowing caftan and abundance of clinking bangle bracelets helped her stand out among the conservatively dressed people. Kara knew Aunt Adrienne was in her fifties, but the woman had a brightness about her that made her seem much younger.

As soon as Kara was close enough, Adrienne swept her up in an exuberant hug. “It’s so wonderful to finally have you here!”

“Hey, Aunt Adrienne,” Kara said, then squirmed out of the warm embrace. She forced a polite smile.

Adrienne grasped Kara’s shoulders and looked her up and down. “You’ve grown up.”

Kara only shrugged. “I guess.”

“How was the flight?”

“It was fine. Airport security though… I wasn’t expecting all of that. Way more intense than it used to be.”

“Well, I would think so,” Adrienne said. “But can you blame them? It’s only been a year since that horrible business in New York.” She grimaced. “Did you check a bag?”

“Yeah.”

As Kara waited beside the creaking baggage carousel, she subtly studied the other travelers. Everything about them seemed foreign. The men sported sturdy denim and worn leather boots that spoke of manual labor. Their hearty laughter rang loudly through the crowded space. The women wore modest sundresses with dainty floral prints, a far cry from the sleek blouses and power suits Kara was accustomed to, and their hair was almost uniformly swept into neat ponytails. There was an elderly woman in a wheelchair with immaculate curls clutching an expensive handbag. Despite her frailty, she still exuded an air that commanded respect from all around her—she’d deemed herself worthy simply because she was the eldest person in the room.

These are my people for the summer, Kara thought with a sigh.

Kara perked up as she recognized her black suitcase bumping along the carousel, right at the front of the rest. When she went to grab the handle, she was taken aback as a nearby man swooped in and grabbed it for her, yanking it off the belt and setting it upright in one swift motion. He nodded and smiled.

“Oh, thanks,” Kara said.

She wheeled the larger suitcase over to where her aunt waited. “You’re welcome for making your bag coming out first.”

“What do you mean?”

“I manifested it,” Adrienne said, as if it were obvious. “I focused my intention on your luggage being unloaded quickly from the plane. And it worked!”

“Ah.” Aunt Adrienne couldn’t be more different from Kara’s mother—or anyone she knew back home, really. Any of her friends would have laughed at such superstitious nonsense. “Or maybe it was just random luck.”

“No such thing as luck, my dear. We use our mental energy to shape outcomes.” She tapped her temple.

Better start getting used to the spiritual stuff now, Kara thought. “Well… thanks for the magical luggage help, I guess.”

***

As they drove from the airport in Adrienne’s battered sedan, Kara stared out the window as the scenery shifted from the outskirts of Jackson to the rural roads of central Mississippi. Old farmhouses, sprawling fields, and the occasional country store or gas station dotted the landscape.

Aunt Adrienne tried to make conversation, asking about school and Kara’s friends back in Chicago, but Kara could only summon up one-word answers and non-committal noises.

“So, tell me about this new man your mama’s dating,” Adrienne said. “What’s the deal with him?”

Kara shrugged. “I don’t know much. His name’s Robert. He’s a lawyer, and they met through work. They’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months.”

“And they’re already heading to Europe together?”

“Seems so.”

Kara had Robert to thank for her current predicament. She still remembered the evening her mom had revealed to her that Robert had invited her for a summer abroad in Europe. She’d listed out their itinerary with excitement: Rome, Paris, Athens. Kara had been excited because what she’d heard was that she was going to have a summer of freedom—sixteen years old and finally deemed mature enough to stay at home for three solid months on her own. She knew she could handle it.

Then her mother had dropped the bomb. “I’ve already called your Aunt Adrienne and arranged things. You’ll be staying with her while I’m gone.”

And just like that, the summer of 2002 was ruined before it had even started.

“Well, I hope this one treats her right,” Adrienne said after a long bout of silence. “She deserves it after all she’s been through.”

Ramshackle houses dotted the roadside, porches sagging and paint peeling. Scruffy dogs dozed in the mottled shade of towering oak trees draped in wispy Spanish moss. Fields of tall grass rippled in the breeze. Everything moved at an unhurried pace. There were no blaring horns or crowded sidewalks. How can people stand living this… slow? Kara wondered. Yet another tide of homesickness washed over her.

The car trundled through the small downtown area of Silver Falls, passing by a row of low brick buildings: a barbershop with an old-fashioned striped pole, a hardware store, and a diner.

“That’s Barry’s Barbershop,” Adrienne said, apparently catching Kara looking at it. “He’s been cutting hair in this town for over fifty years. Knows everybody’s business too, so watch what you say around him.”

Kara nodded absently as she gazed out at the sleepy storefronts. A group of elderly men sat in tipped-back in chairs outside the hardware store. Kara couldn’t help but feel they regarded Adrienne’s car with suspicion as it passed by—which was strange, since her aunt had lived here for years.

“Oh, and there’s Belle’s Diner, best fried catfish around. I cook most of the time, but we’ll have to go there for dinner one night so you can try it.”

“Mmhmm,” Kara said, her mind drifting to the many new restaurants, cafés, delis, and bakeries that had just opened up near her neighborhood back home. She’d been looking forward to trying them out with her friends that summer. She could imagine all of them crowded around a table, talking and laughing over plates of avocado toast and matcha lattes. Silver Falls felt like another world entirely, and not in a good way.

They passed a trio of young girls clustered on bicycles in the street, long braids trailing behind them. Kara pictured her own friends again, wondering what they were up to. How Nina’s pool party had turned out. If Ben had worked up the nerve to ask out Jada yet. Her real life felt so far away.

Then something occurred to Kara. “Why is it called Silver Falls? Is there a waterfall here?”

Adrienne chucked. “There used to be a long time ago, apparently. It was near Lake Silver, which still exists, and is just outside of town. That whole area is said to have been considered a sacred place by the indigenous people who settled this region.”

“What about you? Do you believe the lake was sacred?”

“Of course! It was, and still is,” Adrienne answered, as if it were ridiculous to even ask.

Eventually they turned down a long gravel driveway that led to a large two-story house with a wraparound porch nestled among huge oak trees with thick trunks.

“Here we are,” Adrienne proclaimed, parking in the yard near the porch.

Kara stepped out, the humidity and loud buzzing of cicadas enveloping her immediately. The buzz of cicadas was jarringly loud.

Adrienne popped open the trunk and hoisted Kara’s luggage out, making it look even lighter than the man at the airport who’d taken it upon himself to assist Kara.

She’s pretty strong for her age, Kara realized.

“We’ll start with the tour,” Adrienne said as she led the way.

Kara followed Adrienne up the creaking steps onto a wide porch adorned with wind chimes and potted plants. Her aunt heaved open the warped screen door and gestured grandly. “Welcome to your new summer home.”

They entered a living room where old white curtains blocked the cloudy sunlight. A lumpy sofa and armchairs were pushed against the far wall facing a simple fireplace. Kara ran a finger across a side table, frowning at the thick coating of dust that came away. In Chicago, dust never had a chance to settle, since her mother was adamant about cleaners coming over once a week without fail.

“Over eighty years old, but full of character.” Adrienne said. “I hope it’ll feel like home for you this summer.”

“It’s nice.” Kara tried to make the compliment sound genuine. It seemed perfectly suited for her aunt, but Kara had always preferred newer-style homes.

“This is the dining room,” Adrienne said, leading them to a space opposite the living room on the other side of the house’s entrance area. It was mostly dominated by a massive table made of dark wood that looked more modern than any other piece of furniture Kara had seen inside. A cabinet flush against the wall presumably held dishes and china.

“And the kitchen is just off this way,” Adrienne said, walking through a threshold connected to the dining room. The kitchen showed similar signs of age—peeling wallpaper, chipped countertops, and cabinets on crooked hinges. She opened a narrow door to reveal a pantry. “What’s mine is yours. I wasn’t sure what you were eating these days, so I put off going shopping. We can do that later. Now, upstairs.”

Adrienne hoisted Kara’s bag once again and started up the stairs nearby the front door.

“Aunt Adrienne, I can carry that—”

“Don’t be silly. You’re the guest here.”

Mom never would’ve carried my luggage, Kara thought. Tracey Mills was many things—driven, ambitious, independent—but she definitely wasn’t one to serve others.

On the second floor, Kara’s assigned bedroom featured a bare bulb overhead and slanted ceilings. The bed’s mattress visibly sank in the middle. Across from the bed was a wooden dresser, the top scarred with water rings. Kara couldn’t help but remember how, when she was younger, her mother had chastised her every time she’d forgotten to use a coaster.

By far the most striking thing in the room was a wall-mounted shelf laden with a collection of crystals, each one different in size, color, and shape.

“You won’t find these in a five-star hotel,” Adrienne said over Kara’s shoulder when she noticed her looking at the display. “I’ve arranged some protective stones to bring positive energy into your space. Rose quartz for love, citrine for healing, black tourmaline to absorb negative vibrations, and a few others.”

“It’s very nice. Thank you.” While Kara didn’t believe the “protective stones” had any of those effects, she could at least appreciate them as pretty decorations.

Adrienne beamed, then pointed down the upstairs hall. “The bathroom is that first door on the left. And the room at the end is me. Across from you is another bedroom, but I’m mostly using it for storage. And that pretty much wraps up the tour. I’ll let you freshen up a bit. Once you’re done, I have a surprise for you.”

Kara had no idea what kind of “surprise” to expect, but taking a shower did sound good right about then.

After Adrienne went back downstairs, Kara extracted her toiletry bag and a change of clothes from her tightly packed luggage and headed for the bathroom. Like the rest of the house, it was outdated but functional. An antique clawfoot tub took up most of the space, surrounded by a clouded plastic curtain that badly needed replacing. Kara turned the faucet handle and water sputtered out a few seconds later. As steam filled the room, she peeled off her travel-rumpled clothes. The pressure from the shower head was weak, but it was piping hot, just how Kara preferred it.

After toweling dry and slipping into comfy shorts and a tank top, Kara returned to the guest bedroom, where she put her suitcase on the bed, unzipped it, and flipped it open. She meticulously folded her clothes into piles before transferring them to the old dresser. The top drawer, which she’d planned for her socks and underwear, was stuck, not budging no matter how hard she yanked on it.

With a huff of frustration, Kara redistributed her belongings to the remaining functional drawers. As she tucked away the last of her toiletries in the bottom drawer, she wondered how long it would take before this place started to feel remotely like home.

Who am I kidding? she thought. It won’t.

Hearing noises from outside, Kara wandered across to the bedroom window, which looked out over a sizable bit of land. Off in the distance, she could make out a neighboring homestead. There was a fenced pasture beside the distant house which contained a small herd of goats grazing and bleating to each other—the zoo-like sound loud enough to come through the window. Kara had a chuckle. The sight of livestock just roaming a few hundred feet away was wholly foreign to her city upbringing.

I hope they aren’t this loud at night, Kara thought, realizing she didn’t know the first thing about goats.

Kara went back downstairs, feeling a bit more grounded now that she’d unpacked. She found her aunt in the living room, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Are you ready for your surprise?” Adrienne asked with a playful grin.

Kara shrugged. “Sure, what is it?”

“Well, it happens to be thrift-store day—a little ritual I’ve developed that I’m quite find of. I can’t wait to take you to this delightful shop in town so we can hunt for treasures.” Adrienne clasped her hands together.

Kara tried not to let her lack of enthusiasm show on her face. From what she had seen of Adrienne’s home decor, their ideas of “treasures” were vastly dissimilar. But Adrienne looked so eager that Kara didn’t have the heart to object. “That sounds… fun,” she said, hoping she came across as sincere.

Adrienne and Kara’s mother could not be any more different from each other. To Tracey Mills, shopping was a carefully planned expedition to department stores or boutiques, always with a specific purpose in mind. Going without a plan risked wasting both time and money. That, and Tracey wouldn’t be caught dead in a thrift store. And while Kara was definitely less rigid than her mother, she couldn’t deny that she took after Tracey more than Adrienne. Which meant she had a very long summer ahead of her.

“Wonderful. Let’s head there now. The longer we wait, the greater the chance all the good stuff will be gone.”

Kara sighed as she resigned herself to an afternoon of sifting through other people’s cast-offs.

Chapter 2

Kara eyed her aunt as Adrienne wove through the aisles and racks of Thrift Love, eyes darting around as she scanned all the stuff, seeming equally enthusiastic about every single item in the place.

Kara wrinkled her nose, still a bit bothered by the stale aroma of dust and age. She tried to busy herself perusing the shop’s wares, just to give herself something to do, but she didn’t expect to see anything there that interested her.

Mismatched plates were stacked precariously on a shelf, faded patterns barely visible beneath cracked glaze. Racks of clothing sagged under the weight of jackets and dresses in long-outdated cuts and fabrics. Kara briefly examined an ancient radio that looked kind of neat—like something out of a historical black-and-white film—but when she turned the dials, the device gave no hints at life.

At the heart of the cluttered shop stood a large, circular table, its surface entirely obscured by the haphazard assortment of items piled upon it. Kara drifted closer, and to her surprise so did Adrienne, as if something there was calling out to both of them.

An antique typewriter with jammed keys nestled against a tarnished silver tea set. Stacked books spanning decades and genres. An old chessboard with missing pieces. To Kara, it looked as if the table was a catch-all for the shopkeeper, who had yet to sort the items into their respective categories. If a customer was willing to dig through the pile and found something they wanted, then great—one less thing that needed to be sorted.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Adrienne said as she held up a tangled necklace of wooden beads. She brought it closer to her neck so Kara could see how it looked on her.

Kara shrugged. “Yeah it’s… nice.” It seemed like something her aunt would wear.

Adrienne smiled and returned the beads to the table. She started sifting through things, hunting for more “treasure.”

Kara couldn’t even begin to fathom what would catch her aunt’s interest enough for her to buy it. She only saw junk: a taxidermy raven with beady glass eyes. A brass compass forever stuck pointing south. A chipped porcelain figurine of a ballerina.

Like some kind of purgatory of objects, Kara thought. “What are you looking for?”

Adrienne only smirked. “You’re missing the point. We aren’t looking for anything. We’re making ourselves available for whatever’s here that’s searching for us.”

“Oh.” Kara figured that made sense… in an “Adrienne” sort of way.

Adrienne continued sorting through the pile. She paused as she uncovered an old baseball, its once pristine white leather now yellowed with age. Tracing her fingers along the red seam, she murmured, “Oh, the stories this ball could tell.”

Kara watched her aunt turn the ball over and over, inspecting it closely as if hoping to find a faded autograph that increased its value.

Or maybe she thinks it’ll start talking to her.

“A young boy might’ve owned this ball and used it when he played with his friends. Or it was a home-run ball in a high-school game.”

 “Right…” To Kara, it was just an old, dirty baseball. She half expected her aunt to claim she could divine the ball’s history just by looking at it long enough or holding it in her hand.

“There’s definitely some positive energy inside this,” Adrienne said, nodding resolutely.

“Energy?” Kara asked.

Adrienne fixed her eyes on her niece from across the table. “Oh yes. This ball carries the memories of the good times it helped create. I can feel it.”

Kara only stared at her aunt, though Adrienne didn’t seem put off by her niece’s skepticism.

“Energy is everything and everything is energy, Kara. Remember that.”

“Sounds a bit too circular,” Kara said.

“Exactly. I’m glad you get it.”

“Maybe. They never taught that in science class.”

Adrienne scoffed. “Be careful about believing everything they teach you in school.” She set down the ball and moved on to a vintage ink pen. “This wrote letters that changed lives,” she declared, inspecting its chipped nib. “It sealed some important deals in its time too.”

Kara held her tongue. In her opinion, the history of everything on that table—and in that store—was likely far more ordinary than Adrienne imagined. Still, her aunt’s whims were oddly endearing… even if Kara herself was too pragmatic to share in them.

The bell above the door jangled as a stern-looking woman marched into the shop, lugging a large cardboard box.

“Oh!” Adrienne pulled herself away from the table and rushed to the woman. “Let me give you a hand with that, Debra.”

“I’ve got it,” Debra replied curtly, despite obviously struggling with the weight as she brushed past Adrienne. She heaved the box onto the central table with a thud that rattled everything else on the surface.

“New donations?” Adrienne asked, peering eagerly at the box.

Debra gave a brisk nod. “Just dropped off this morning.” She went behind the nearby counter that sported the cash register and started flipping through some paperwork, keeping her back to Adrienne.

Speaking of energy, Kara thought as she glanced back and forth between the two women. There was near-palpable tension coming from Debra. This woman is not fond of my aunt. Debra was thin with shoulder-length, straight chestnut hair with a few strands of grey that stood out; her mouth seemed perpetually stuck in a frown.

Adrienne started sifting through the box of new donations, outwardly oblivious to how the other woman felt about her. Though Kara had a feeling Adrienne knew.

If she’s so perceptive about the energy from a baseball, then she should be able to sense that.

The bell jingled again as a teenage boy pushed himself into the store, also carrying a box, larger and bulkier than Debra’s.

“Over there, Cole!” Debra called out sharply from behind the counter. She gestured to an empty space on the floor near the entrance. “Put it right there.”

Cole shuffled over and set the box down heavily where the woman had indicated. He straightened up, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension from carrying the awkward load.

He had a lean, athletic build, evident even beneath his loose-fitting plaid shirt. His unkempt, dirty-blond hair fell across his forehead. He turned, then seemed to notice for the first time that there were customers in the store. When his eyes landed on Kara, he appeared transfixed, unable to peel his gaze away. Kara saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously.

The moment was broken by Debra’s sharp voice. “Cole! I need you to unpack and sort those donated clothes from yesterday.”

Cole jumped, as if snapped out of a trance. “Y-yes, ma’am,” he stammered. He disappeared into a nearby side room, turning on a light as he went inside.

Kara watched him go, amused by the encounter. She could tell instantly that the country boy had been intrigued by her presence. It probably wasn’t often that there was a new face around Silver Falls.

Kara was surprised to find herself equally intrigued. You rarely meet guys like him in Chicago, she thought. At first glance, he seemed rugged and fashioned by manual work—unlike the boys in her high school who were more polished and refined. To her, boys like him existed mainly in pop-country songs and movies, not in her daily life. And she didn’t even like country music. Still, she couldn’t deny her curiosity.

Lost in her own world, Adrienne hadn’t seemed to notice the exchanged glances between Cole and her niece. She only continued rummaging enthusiastically through the donation box.

“Oh my,” Adrienne said, eyes wide with delight. “Kara, you must come see this.”

Kara shuffled over to her aunt, expecting another mundane item deemed as treasure. Instead, she recoiled.

Adrienne held a foot-tall statue. The figure’s body was so thin that it was nearly skeletal. Its bony arms hung rigidly at its sides, hands curled into gnarled claws. Most striking was the mask—its leering grin stretched unnaturally wide, and slanted eyes seemed to peer out with malicious glee.

“Ugh,” Kara said, unable to help herself.

“This has a very old energy,” Adrienne muttered to herself, staring at the thing with wonder.

Debra closed a filing cabinet drawer with a metallic scrape. As she turned, her gaze fell upon the leering statue and she let out a shriek—the papers in her hands dropped to the tiled floor, scattering.

“It’s okay, Debra,” Adrienne said, the other woman’s reaction finally taking her attention from her discovery. “It’s just a statue.”

Debra’s face contorted in revulsion as she gaped at the idol. “What is that thing? Was it donated?” Despite her horror, it seemed some morbid fascination prevented her from looking away completely.

“He’s cute,” Adrienne said.

“He is not,” Debra spat. “He looks like the devil.”

Adrienne cast a knowing glance to Kara that Kara felt she was expected to decipher. Perhaps Adrienne was amused at Debra’s immediate assumption that anything remotely from another culture was of the devil. To Kara, that made sense. If the number of churches they’d passed on their way from the airport was any indication, the general population of Silver Falls was probably a God-fearing bunch.

“Well, someone in this town must’ve owned him at one point,” Adrienne replied. “I’m guessing the stuff in this thrift store is dropped off locally, right?”

Debra scowled. She didn’t seem to like the thought that anyone in her town would ever keep such a thing inside their home.

“How much?” Adrienne asked.

“You want it?” Debra asked, her eyebrows shooting upwards. “Just take it. Get it out of here.”

Adrienne shot her niece a look, one that seemed to say they’d just gotten themselves a great deal.