Chapter 86

No, I’m not ready to forgive yet. But not Dan—myself.

The boxes I’ve filled are still by the door to the back room. One by one I carry them through the kitchen and down the hall, out onto the front porch where other boxes have been stacked into pyramids waiting to be hauled away. Oversized bags full of old clothes and bedding hem in the piles like sandbags to hold back a rising tide, and kids crawl over everything, scavengers digging for treasure in all this trash. Most of them are my cousins but a few I’m not so sure about—Sugar Creek is small enough that the news of Aunt Evie’s passing has spread like wildfire, and some of the children going through the boxes of books and toys are definitely no relation to us. I have half a mind to shoo them away, but I suspect they’ll just run out of reach, hover around like gulls until I disappear inside, then circle back again for more. The only thing that keeps me quiet is the thought that Evie would have let them stay.