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“Have you talked to Birdie about any of this yet? Mason?”

“No,” I answered.

“Okay, well, we’ve known for years that if the time came, you’d have a strong, stable support system in place. That’s still true. And you’ll need to tell them. Soon.”

I’d spent the majority of the last twelve years as varying degrees of Gran’s caretaker while Birdie took over things at the shop and Mason took over the farm. The thing was, I was happy to do it because I loved her. She’d taken me in and been everything to me. The center of my very small world in Jasper had always been my grandmother. Now someone would have to becomemycaretaker. It wasn’t a job that Birdie could do for very long. That left only Mason.

The thought made me feel weak. Fragile. Those two words had never been familiar to me before, but now they felt intimate. So close that there wasn’t air to breathe around them.

“It’s important that you continue to document things as accurately as possible so that we can keep looking for patterns and triggers,” Dr. Jennings continued.

“Gran never had patterns and triggers,” I reminded him. That had been the most frustrating part.

He frowned, flipping through the pages of the notebook again. “That’s not true. Some of these hallucinations are repetitive. The horse, the door, the voice.”

The tingle of that touch reignited on my skin where I’d felt it when I woke that morning. He was right. Therewerepatterns. I’d seen thechestnut horse four times now. A red door twice. The man’s voice I’d heard countless times.

“The main thing to look out for is any sign of paranoia or delusions,” he continued. “You see any sign of that, you call me right away, no matter the time.”

“I will.” I slid off the table, taking my bag from the chair. I wanted this conversation to be over.

“And you’ll need to start thinking about power of attorney.”

“What?” The word came out panicked.

Dr. Jennings’s hand splayed in the air between us in a gesture that was meant to calm me. “No rush. Just something to consider. Have you thought about who you’ll appoint?”

I couldn’t pretend that I hadn’t. “Mason.” I shrugged. “He’s already the sole beneficiary of everything, anyway.”

“Well, I’d like for you to prioritize rest over the next week. Limit stimulation, maybe take some time off from the farm.”

“I can’t just stop living my life. Not when there might not be much of it left.”

He gave me a sympathetic look, setting a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get these blood tests done and compare them to the baseline. You know the drill. Regular checkups mean regular data. Might give us some insight.”

“I don’t want anyone to know,” I reminded him.

“Of course. Not until you’re ready.” He nodded. “Completely confidential.”

“From everyone?” I lifted my eyebrows, glancing at the door. Dr. Jennings’s nurse Camille was Rhett Miller’s wife. He was the owner of Edison’s Cafe, and that was the worst possible place this information could exist.

“Everyone.No one knows what we talk about between these walls unless you tell them, June. We can even switch to house calls, like we did with your grandmother, if you like.”

“Thanks.”

His hand dropped from my shoulder, and I took a step toward the door, pausing just long enough for him to give me a concerned look.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“Sure.”

“Did you ever see my mother? When she was pregnant with me, I mean?”

His head tilted a little, as if the question perplexed him. “Well, yes. Margaret brought Susanna in a few times, and I did her prenatal care until…” The words sputtered out. “Until she was gone.”

“Do you remember anything unusual about it? Anything that you thought could have been connected to her disappearance?”

“Nothing in particular. Mentally, she was struggling, of course. But overall she was healthy. She seemed to be taking care of herself.”