He didn’t have much. Growing up sleeping on the sofa and sharing a wardrobe with his sister had given him no choice but to be content with little. But he did have a leather messenger bag at the foot of the bed.
With a sigh, Iris opened it.
She let the contents spill out over the mattress. She hated how it felt like she was snooping until a letter drifted from the bag, settling on the mattress. It was folded, written on yellow work paper. Little Flower, the outside read, in Forest’s messy handwriting.
Iris stared at the letter, thunder rumbling in the distance. When her heart finally quieted, she picked up the paper and sat on the floor to read it.
Dear Iris,
I have a confession: your friend Sarah has been visiting me. Or, I have been inviting her to stay for dinner. At first, I thought you had put her up to it, to check on me while you’re away. But then I realized that she is just as lonely as me. We both miss you, so, in a sense, you have brought us together.
I have another confession: I went to the doctor, like you asked me to. I realize now that I had no need to be afraid of my scars. There was no need for me to be afraid to tell the doctor the true story of what happened to me. I don’t know why it fills me with shame, but it still does. I’m hoping it fades in time.
Maybe one day I will write it all down. I think I’d like to tell you everything. But for now, I am content just to share these words with you. I hope you know how proud I am of you, and how I think you are brave, returning to the front. I want to tell everyone I pass on the street that you’re my sister. That Iris E. Winnow of the Inkridden Tribune is my sister.
Come home soon, Little Flower. I can’t wait to see you again.
Love, your brother,
Forest
She hadn’t understood why she had waited so long to spread Forest’s ashes, but now she did. She had been waiting for his words. For his letter to find its way into her hands.
Iris had given their mother’s ashes to the field of Avalon Bluff. And she decided somewhere in the east would be more fitting for her brother. A place that was green and promising, with hills that never seemed to end.
Tobias drove her, Attie, and Roman kilometers north of Oath. There was a hill, he told her, that made it seem like you were the only one in the world when you stood upon it.
Iris climbed it alone, carrying the urn with Forest’s ashes.
It wasn’t a steep hill, but the grass was long and verdant from summer storms, and wildflowers bloomed, thick and dusted with pollen. When Iris reached the crest, she was awed by the sight that unrolled before her. Valleys and sparkling creeks. Patches of evergreens and birch trees.
“I think I’ve been here before,” she whispered to the wind, remembering the place Enva had showed her in the dream. A goddess she might never see again, but who Iris knew still walked the streets of Oath in disguise.
Iris opened the urn.
She held it for a breath before turning it over. Eyes burning, she watched Forest’s ashes spill into the breeze, becoming part of the land. The pines and the grass, the vales and the streams. Iris would have been content for a while, standing in ankle-deep wildflowers, but then she felt the first drop of rain on her face, mingling with her tears.
Another summer storm was billowing in, and Iris hurried back down the path to the road, where Tobias, Attie, and Roman waited. The roadster shone bright as a newly minted coin, even with all its dents and marks and flecks of mud from the road.
Iris slid into the back seat with Roman, while Attie sat up front with Tobias.
“Where to next?” Tobias asked, cranking the motor.
“Where to?” Attie echoed. “It’s about to rain, Tobias.”
“This car has outlasted more storms and flat tires than I can count.” He met Iris’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “What do you say, Iris?”
Iris smiled. “To home.”
Tobias turned the motorcar around, shifting into second gear. They sped along the road, leaving thunder and swells of rain behind. Iris was tempted to glance back at the hill she had given to Forest, but a break in the clouds stopped her. A ray of sunlight pierced the gloam up ahead, promising a blue-skied afternoon.
Roman reached for her hand, weaving their fingers together.
Iris closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his palm against hers. The way the wind blew through her hair. The sunlight on her face. And for a moment, it almost felt like she had wings.
{55}
The Last Word
ONE YEAR LATER
Iris knelt in the garden.
Her flower beds were coming to life as the days grew warmer and longer, and the first green unfurling of vegetables was breaking the soil. She smiled as she plucked weeds from the aster and daisy patches, and then she shifted to the rows of dirt, feeling how dry the soil was.