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Tears push up. I turn away, keeping my head down and continue walking. It’s not much further to the wooden gateposts of the Carterfamily cemetery under the willow tree. The sun is setting, and gold filters through the trees. The grass is long.
My throat is tight.
The gate creaks, and I step through. It’s then I notice there’s a circle of grass stomped down outside the fence, like someone walks there and stands, waiting for something. It must be an animal, because I know David doesn’t visit.
I hold back my skirt and wade through the tall grass to Nana’s grave. So much of my life since her death has been spent in this little corner of the world. It’s such a simple existence. I feel it should be easier for me to get.
All I want is a home and a family. I want to sleep here when I’m gone.
It shouldn’t be so goddamn hard.
Tears in my eyes, I yank the grass up with my bare hands and kneel. Her headstone stares back at me, comforting in its familiarity. A sense of calm settles in me, and I find my body slowly relaxing. All the tension of the last few years eases.
“Hey, Nana,” I whisper.
My throat catches. I thought I would have a million things to say, but now that I’m here, I only have one thought in my head.
Get me out. Please, get me out.
I can’t break my deal with the Garrisons. This is my home. This is where my family’s souls rest. One day, I’ll sleep here too, with the stars bright overhead. The thought of their bodies being pulled from the ground, the fences knocked down, and the willow tree uprooted—it’s too much to even imagine.
I wipe my cheek. Between my finger and thumb, I rub the tears away until they’re gone.
Instead of speaking, I lie down and press my ear to the dirt.
And listen.
No words of wisdom seep up through the ground. Everything is so quiet. There’s no pain. I close my eyes and remember what it felt like to curl up in Nana’s arms. That was before the world was complicated and filled with men like the Garrisons.
Before I realized how incredibly vulnerable I am.
The sun goes lower. The gold turns to a dusky gray. I push myself up, grass sticking to my cheek, and stand. My unsteady legs tingle with pins and needles.
I have to go back and face reality.
Gathering my things, I leave the cemetery and loop the hook and eye lock down. I’m dreading having to walk back in the dark. Billie waits in the tall grass, but the expression on her face stops me in my tracks. She’s crouched, her ears flat, like she’s guilty. She’s got something in her mouth.
I crouch. “Spit it out, Billie.”
She obliges, and I frown, turning my head. It’s a half-chewed dog treat.
“Di-ane.”
I jump to my feet and whip around and my heart stops.
Standing tall and broad with his hat in his hand is Westin Quinn. He wears a worn shirt with the top buttons undone, showing a triangle of tanned skin and dark hair. Looped through his work pants is the same belt he used to tie me to the truck wheel.
My heart starts working again, picking up speed like a runaway train.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
My spine prickles. My body goes hot.
“Come here, Diane,” he says, his voice low.
