“I left her up on the rise,” Lizzy said, not quite meeting her eyes. “I told her I’d be leaving in a few days.”
Evvie lowered her smudge stick and nodded mutely.
“I know you wanted this to end differently, Evvie. And for a while I think I lost sight of the promises I made when I decided to come. But now I’ve done what I came to do, and it’s time to go back. I wish you’d tell me what you plan to do, so I know you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m a grown woman. I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, all right. But I can’t help worrying. Will your car even make it to Texas?”
Evvie blinked at her. “Who said anything about Texas?”
“I just thought . . .”
“Nope. Not going to Texas. Or back to Baton Rouge either. I’ll be right here in Salem Creek if you must know.”
It was Lizzy’s turn to stare. “You’re staying here in town? I just assumed . . .”
Evvie resumed fiddling with the smudge stick, eyes carefully lowered. “I found myself a roommate.”
Lizzy narrowed her eyes, taking in the uncomfortable posture and averted gaze. She’d seen her like this before, sheepish and evasive, when she’d teased her about being sweet on Ben. “This roommate wouldn’t happen to own the local hardware store, by any chance?”
Evvie squared her shoulders, struggling to keep her face blank. “He might.”
Lizzy experienced a fierce stab of joy, the first she’d felt in a long time. “Oh, Evvie! I’m so happy to hear it. I had a feeling there might be something going on there, but I had no idea it was this serious. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Evvie offered one of her grunts. “Folks my age don’t run around bragging about shacking up.”
Lizzy barked out a laugh. “Shacking up?”
“That’s what we called it in my day. Anyway, that’s how it is. You’re looking at a lot of alone when you’re my age. No one to talk to you, or do for you—or remember you. We’re both on our own, and we get on. Makes sense to set up house together.”
“But you care for him?” Lizzy prodded, worried that circumstance and not genuine affection had pushed Evvie into accepting Ben’s offer.
Evvie smiled, eyes clouding. “My husband, Archie, was like a clap of thunder. Liked to knock me flat the first time he kissed me. Ben’s a warm blanket, a bit frayed at the edges, but cozy and safe, which is exactly what I want at this point in my life. Truth is, at my age a thunderbolt’s likely to kill me. I can help him in the store, and I’ll have a place for my bees and my vegetables. But yes, little girl. I care. He’s a good man.”
“He’d better be,” Lizzy said somberly. “You’ve been so kind to me, to Althea, and to Rhanna. You’ve become part of my family. I want you to be happy.”
“And Andrew?”
“What about Andrew?”
“Don’t you want him to be happy?”
“I do, Evvie. Which is why I can’t stay. He wouldn’t be happy with me, with what I wouldn’t be able to give him—he only thinks he would. But eventually he’d resent it. And me. And I won’t do that to either of us.”
Evvie let the subject drop. “When will you leave?”
“I’m not sure. A few days, maybe. As soon as I finish packing and tie up the loose ends.” She ducked her head, her throat suddenly tight. “I know you’re disappointed in me.”
Evvie’s face softened. “Not if this is truly what you want. And only you can decide that. You did good, little girl. What you did for your gran—for your family—it was good. Now it’s time to live your life. Even if that life isn’t here. Go on up now, and do what you need to.”
Upstairs, the aroma of white sage smoke still hung in the air, the telltale traces of Evvie’s smudging. Lizzy picked up a pair of empty boxes in the hall and carried them to Althea’s room, then crossed to the bookcase and dropped to her knees.
The key turned with a metallic snick, the brass hinges rasping dully as she pulled back the glass door. She slid the first book free—The Book of Sabine—and was briefly tempted to open it. Instead, she laid it in the bottom of the box, then removed the others, one at a time, and carefully packed them away. There were eight in all—not quite the full set. Althea’s book was still out in the shop. She would leave it with Rhanna for now, to use until she left the farm. But what about Rhanna? Would there ever be a book with her name on it? One filled with recipes and scraps of wisdom rather than macabre sketches?
And what of her own book?
She rose and retrieved her suitcase from the corner. The journal was still in the front compartment, untouched since her arrival. She pulled it out, thumbing briefly through the clean white pages—The Book of Elzibeth.
But was it really a book if its pages remained blank? The thought was strangely unsettling. Was that how her life would be remembered? As a blank? Come to that, would it be remembered at all? In the end, it really didn’t matter. There’d be no one to read it, no one to care what she’d done and not done. It was the necessary end to the bargain she’d made with herself, to leave behind a blank slate and end the Moon line once and for all.
She laid the empty journal in the box with the rest, then slid her gaze to The Book of Remembrances on the bedside table. What about it? Did it belong with the others, boxed up and forgotten at the back of some closet in her apartment? She knew the answer even as she asked the question—no. Althea might have shelved it beside the others, but it was different. It hadn’t been penned for future generations, but for her, and her alone.
And what about the
