The Imposter by Suzanne Woods Fisher

cane for balance than on other days. But she rarely missed that morning walk.
    As they walked the dirt path that wound up the hill, Thelma would share stories of her life, and usually add a thought-provoking insight or two, something Katrina started to think of as coming across a blooming flower in the midst of a cornfield. “No one grows old by living, only by losing interest in living,” or “Keep the past in the past.”
    She couldn’t imagine Thelma Beiler ever being hearty and young the way, of course, she once had. The thought made her very sad. When she died, all this valuable knowledge would be lost.
    In the mornings, Katrina worked in the vegetable garden, or cleaned house for Thelma, and also helped Andy out when he brought sacks of moss from the hillside downto the greenhouse. He taught her how to lay the moss on a moist substrate, so that it had all the conditions it wanted to spread. Once she got the hang of it, he would just hand off a sack to her. It allowed him to spend more time on the hill.
    Each day, she tried to spend some time on the administrative side of Moss Hill—returning telephone messages, completing orders, coordinating deliveries. To her surprise, she enjoyed the work. Who would have thought? The most thought she’d ever given to moss was that it was soft to walk on in her bare feet.
    Today was a sunny morning promising to be hot later in the day, an Indian summer, as Katrina walked through Thelma’s vegetable garden, watching the bees gather pollen and nectar from the last tomato blossoms of the season. Bees were so certain of their place and purpose. Katrina envied them, then felt foolish for feeling envy for a bee.
    She stopped by the phone shanty, just to double-check and see if John might— might —have left a message. Lo and behold . . . there was a message waiting and it was from John! She listened to John’s message, then replayed it again and again, stunned.
    â€œKatrina, it’s John. Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t sell my dogs to you. It just wouldn’t be fair to Susie. She thinks you’re trying to finagle a way for us to get back together. I told her that you weren’t that kind of girl, and assured her that it’s completely over between us, but she’s still freaking out. I shouldn’t even be calling you. Look, I gotta go. Sorry about not being able to get you a dog. I’m sure you’ll find one.”
    Katrina hunched her shoulders, using an arm to cover her ribs. A hurricane of conflicting emotions sucked the air from her lungs. As she stood there, she couldn’t stop thetears from starting, then streaming down her face. Not noisy. Not dramatic. Just open faucets, pouring over her cheeks, dripping off her chin. She felt tears streaming, streaming, streaming down her face, and it suddenly made her furious. What had she done that was so wrong? Why had John stopped loving her?
    Aware that Thelma would be wondering what had happened to her, she hurried up the hill to the house. She slipped in the door as quietly as she could and went straight to the bathroom where she washed her face with cold water—very, very cold water—to ease the red around her eyes and mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror. “What is wrong with you?”
    Her sad eyes looked back at her. They’ve deserted you.
    John. Your mother.
    God.
    She squeezed her eyes tight. It all felt like death. It was all a tangle of loss.
    She blew out a puff of breath, squared her shoulders, and pulled open the door. Dishes. The sink was still full of breakfast dishes. Glad for the task to do while Thelma was reading, she cleaned up the kitchen. Then she went to find Andy.
    She practically bumped into him as he came out of the greenhouse. “I’m sorry, but the breeder doesn’t have any dogs to sell right now. Puppies or trained or anything in between.”
    Andy stood with his arms crossed against his narrow