Chapter Twenty-Four

Tuggin' at Your Heartstrings

The gathering of birds begins as dusk rolls in. A black waterfall dribbles from the sky as hundreds of them settle in the trees.

The hour of crows.

When the day is no longer and the night is not yet.

Davis and I stand over Adaire's grave. The mounded soil already settled. Tiny violets carpet the top. I wedge the two records in front of her headstone. It's nothing too flashy, just a rectangle with her name and the dates framing her short life. I tuck a small crow feather in between.

Davis lays the daisies on the ground. "Give 'em hell, baby." He kisses his fingers, then presses his palm to the earth. "I'll let you say your goodbyes." Davis barely gets these words out before he excuses himself, somberly walking over to the edge of the woods. His shoulders shake as he tries to gather himself.

"I wouldn't insult you by bringing you roses." I hold up the thistle I found in the woods. "An homage to our Scottish roots." I lay the purple prickly flower at the head of her grave and sit crossed-legged on the grass.

"He looks good in a uniform, I have to admit," I say slyly to Adaire, looking over my shoulder at Davis. "He's moving to Galveston, it's way more metro than Black Fern. Mrs. Yancey sold the junkyard, and they have family down there. That's why they chose it. Don't be mad at him. It hurts, you know, staying here. Because everywhere we turn, we see you. He's gotta move on. We all do.

"I don't want to leave you," I whisper into my palm, the words rattling in my chest. "I can't say goodbye. Not to you. Never. But there's nothing keeping me here anymore." The house I've lived in my entire life looks tiny and frail now, empty. It's a reminder of all that happened—good and bad—to me in Black Fern, and that's not something I need anymore.

"Bone's sticking around, though, to make sure you and Papaw are never alone. I know, I know, he's not a prize to be won, but he's a good man...deep, deep, deep down under all that stoic silence. Plus, you have Papaw, right?

"I won't forget you. I can never forget you. Jesus, who could forget those freckles on your face, like dirt they were. I swear to God if my kids inherit that chicken-scratched hair of yours—" I laugh. "Oh, Aunt Violet cleared out your closet—a part of her get-sober-clean-up-my-life commitment. I think she means it this time. I might have rescued a piece or two for myself. Felt sorry for the church's free-clothes bin. Who knows, maybe I'll start a flannel plaid miniskirt trend down in Florida." I pull the little seashell out of my pocket and fiddle with it between my fingers.

"I'm going to the beach, like we always planned. I hear warm sand feels amazing under your bare feet. With nothing but water to see for miles." I set the seashell my mama gave me on the granite of her headstone. "It won't be the same without you." I let the weight of those words seep into the earth. "But I think you'll be pissed if I don't go—or that's the story I'm going to tell myself."

"Good lord," Raelean hollers from the car. "Are you saying goodbye or reciting the Declaration of Independence over there?"

"Oh, yeah." I wince at the grave. "I'm kind of taking Raelean with me. We've grown closer, but..." More words get clogged in my throat. "We all have a journey and ours just happens to be headed the same direction. She has a marine down in Destin she's been talking to," I say from the side of my mouth.

Davis begins to walk over, his fingers shuffling the rim of his new EMT hat, needing to get to work.

"Don't get yourself kicked out, okay?" I kiss the tips of my fingers and blow Adaire a kiss goodbye.

Davis dips his head to make contact with my glassy eyes. "Wherever we go, she will always be with us," he says. The soft sounds of the grass crunch under our feet as we walk toward the house.

"I know." A piece of her is within us all. Those she truly loved. A tear slips from my eye, but it has nothing to do with saying goodbye to Adaire.

"We'll be alright." Davis slips his arm around my shoulder, giving me a side hug.

We will.

I turn and grab both of his hands and squeeze them tight. "I need you to do something for me."

"Of course. Anything." But his expression goes wary as he realizes this isn't going to be a can-you-water-the-plants-while-I'm-away type of request.

"I feel like you're about to deliver some bad news," he says.

"I hope you don't think it's bad." A few more tears slip free. I feel silly for even letting myself be emotional, because I've never been more sure of anything in all my life. I think these tears are relief, relief of the burden I'm about to be free of.

"I want to give you something."

Davis's throat bobs as he swallows. The gravity of this moment dawning on him.

"I want to give you my gift."

"Oh, hey, wait up." He steps back a little unsure.

"Only if you want it," I reassure him.

"Well, yeah, who wouldn't? What you can do is incredible. Miraculous."

"Yes." I nod. "But I'm exhausted. There's a burden of duty that comes with it, I'm not going to lie." I explain to him how it eventually took Papaw and that he must pass it on to someone else before it does. This gift is truly just a gift now, without Grandmama manipulating people with my Sin Eater Oil. I gather up his hands in mine. "But with you becoming an EMT, you could save so many more lives than I ever could. You have such a passion for helping others. Think of all the good you could do."

The idea of what I'm saying to him slowly sinks in. His face lights up, marveling over the possibilities of it. He straightens a little taller, rising to the task. His eyes meet with mine. He looks at me, truly looks at me. I see the dead certainty of a yes before he even says it.

I don't tell him there's another reason for me wanting to give away my gift. I truly believe in my heart of hearts, that somewhere out there, Rook could exist as simply a human again. Free from the burden of the crow, no longer the walker of souls. But only if I were to pass on my gift. Even if he's just a figment of my imagination, at the very least it will help me let him go.

Davis releases a heavy breath. "Okay." He smarts a nod.

If it wasn't for how firm he says it, a declaration to do right by the miracle, I would press him to be sure. But I can see it in the way Davis pulls back his shoulders and grips my hands a little firmer, readying himself.

"Okay, then." I lightly smile at him. "There are a few rules..."

If you tell someone the secret scriptures, your gift is gone. You can only pass it to someone of the opposite sex. If you die with your gift, it disappears forever. You can't talk the death out of someone twice.

"And you can't save your kin."

Then I tell him what I can do. And how to use the secret Bible verses to do it.

The gift jumps out of me and into him.

"It's hotter than shit in this car!" Damn if Raelean doesn't get an A in timing. She sits on the passenger door, elbows propped on the roof. Her red bra glows under her white tank top. "You sure you fixed the AC, Davis? Because if we get down in Alabama and suffocate, I'll hold you personally responsible."

He chuckles. "AC is good...for at least a few hundred miles."

Raelean frowns. He winks at me.

He grabs my hand, his dark skin against my pale. We stand there quiet, the emotion too thick to speak. "We would have been family. You know that, right?" he says and I look up into his glassy eyes, a tear slivering down his cheek.

"We already are family." I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze.

I know we will call and write and visit when we can. But I'm scared time and life will dull our shared loss. He'll find another to love eventually. She'll never compare to Adaire; not many could. Maybe our kids will know each other. Or maybe time will fade our bond. But right here, right now in our goodbye, he is a brother. The one I never had and don't plan to let go of.

"You take care of yourself, you here?" I say as I pull away, wiping away the teardrops I left on his uniform.

"You, too, Weatherly." Davis steps back and opens the car door for me. He replaced the battery, fixed the starter and the clutch. A going-away gift, he said. I am ever grateful.

I glance over to the only house I've ever known to say goodbye. Sitting there on the one-room smokehouse porch, Bone Layer rocks slowly in that old rocking chair of his, standing guard over Papaw and Adaire. How many years has he done this? How many more does he have left to keep doing it? The toil of the last few months has aged him more than the years and time.

I lean into the car to tell Raelean to give me a minute, but before I can speak, she says, "Go on. I'll wait."

I run over to Bone Layer and throw my arms around his neck. Nothing is really said, just thoughts of love and regret for never understanding this silent dutiful man. Grandmama wasn't the kindest, but she always made a home for Bone. I never considered what losing her meant to him. I want to say I'll be back soon, but it's a I promise I can't guarantee. Something tells me he may not even be here when I return.

Bone Layer's large hand cups around mine, dwarfing it to a child's size. "He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart."

A loving expression warms my face. Psalms, one of the sacred Bible verses that only a Death Talker knows. I give him one more bear hug before heading back to the car.

As I walk over, a black crow feather quivers on the ground in the light breeze.

A wish on a crow feather.

"Hurry up and turn the AC on," Raelean says as I get in the car. "I'm going to have sweat rings under my titties if you don't."

I laugh. She digs the big atlas out from the back seat and cracks it open. "Where to first?"

I flip my visor down to tuck the feather underneath the rubber band and the Polaroid photo I found on the cave floor. The image is pretty dark. My hair and shoulder make up the majority of it. The camera captured a smattering of glowing blue speckles of light, like dust particles. But there's something more behind the tiny out-of-focus points of light. Right past my shoulder, a fanned blur, like the spreading of a wing.

And a ghostly face of a man floating behind it.

"We're going to Florida," I say to Raelean. "But first, I want to swing by Tennessee."

She watches me eyeing the photo. "Tennessee it is!"

I adjust my rearview mirror before setting the gear in Drive. I swear I can almost see ten-year-old Adaire there, standing next to my old pink pedal bike in the yard.

The faint sound of that bike's little bell chings goodbye.