her awake. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was or even who she was. And who had screamed? Surely that hadn’t been her voice.
For a long time she lay awake, trying to make sense of the recurring nightmare. The voice was becoming clearer. Someone was reaching out to her, and getting closer all the time.
“Two for me, one for the bowl.” Jasmine Steele knelt on the damp ground, happily picking her first crop of strawberries.
The strawberries had been her project right from the start. “You won’t have to do anything,” she promised, knowing how her parents hated gardening. “I’ll