He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?”
“You’ll just have to see for yourself.”
He unlocked the barn door, the metal squealing. The smell hit me first—musty hay, oil, and something faintly sour, like spoiled food. The light flickered as he switched it on.
And then I saw her. She was sitting on a blanket near the back wall, wrapped in an old coat. Her hair was tangled, her face pale and thin.
She looked terrified the moment she saw me. “Who is she?” I breathed. Patrick stepped forward, hands raised.
“Please, don’t be scared,” he said to the woman. Then he turned to me. “Her name is Marisol.
She’s not… she’s not supposed to be here, but I couldn’t just turn her away.”
I blinked, my heart pounding. “Turn her away? Patrick, what are you talking about?”
“She showed up two months ago,” he said quickly.
I couldn’t call the police—she begged me not to. So I… let her stay here. Just until she got back on her feet.”
My mind spun.
“You’ve been hiding a woman in our barn for two months?”
“She’s harmless,” he said. “I bring her food, blankets. She helps with small things sometimes.
I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d worry—or think I was crazy. But I swear, there’s nothing between us.”
I looked at the woman. She kept her eyes down, trembling.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” I asked softly. “Because she’s scared,” he said. “She told me her husband’s been looking for her.
It was almost too much to process. Part of me wanted to believe him.
The other part screamed that this was wrong—so many lies, so much secrecy. “Marisol,” I said gently, “is that true?”Continue reading…
