Page 100 of We Already Dug the Grave

Looking closer, yes, the leaves were a deeper green. And maybe the roots were a little more jumbled, a little more risen. Nothing I’d have ever looked twice at.

“How can this be the rotting willow?” The childhood name slipped out.

Hattie-May wrinkled her nose. “Mourning willow, dearie. The rotting willow was you girls’ creation.”

“But this—”

“This is real.” She smiled. “Real and beautiful.”

I frowned. “How can you know? I mean, it’s not so different from any other weeping willow. And where did you find it? I thought there were no more.” I struggled to string together my thoughts, which was ridiculous, all things considered. It was only a tree, and out of everything I’d been through lately, a tree shouldn’t have left me speechless.

But the rotting willow had been such a mythical part of my childhood, I might as well have been standing in front of one of the cryptids Aunt Ruth claimed lived in the deep woods.

I blinked. Maybe Aunt Hattie was slipping.

What was I supposed to do? Go along with whatever she said? The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt my great-aunt.

“I always knew I’d see it again,” she said. “Felt it deep inside, a whisper from beneath the internal door urging me to keep looking looking looking.”

She patted my hand. “So that’s what I did. I kept looking for years. A lifetime. And then”—she shrugged—“the forest has a way of providing right on time.”

Right on time?

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Hattie-May chuckled. “It’s endangered, as you know. One of nine trees that are protected.” She paused, and when I said nothing, she pressed on. “A person can get in a whole lot of trouble if they dig it up or disturb the roots. Even the police would require special permission.”

“I am…I…” I shook my head, my fingers going to my temples. “I’m sorry. It’s been a wild twenty-four hours. Where did you find it?”

Hattie-May chuckled, then shrugged. “Out yonder ways.” She pointed in the direction from which we’d come. “Found it on one of my walks. It was only a hardheaded little sprout. Barely a stick with leaves, fighting its way through the dirt, about yea big.” She held the index fingers on each hand about four inches apart. “And like I said, it arrived right when it was needed.”

“What do you mean?” I still wasn’t following.

“Like I said. Not even the police can move it. Can you imagine? This tree’s above the law. The cops can’t dig it up.” My aunt’s gaze bored into me. “They can’t check its roots for secrets.”

My mouth turned to sandpaper. “This tree—this rotting willow—you said it arrived right on time. You found it…when?”

“Right after you left, dearie. One desperate sapling departs, another desperate sapling arrives.”

I blinked, and it was the night that changed my life. I could hear, in my mind, the whirring of the bone grinder cutting through the crickets and cicadas.

I’d always suspected they—Ruth and Hattie-May—had ground Shane to bits. I hadn’t been allowed to know what happened after. I’d figured they’d dumped him somewhere far away, but it was possible they’d buried him here, close to home. Was this tree his gravestone?

“Hattie-May…”

“Hush, dearie.” She pressed an arthritic finger over my lips. “We all have secrets. Secrets must stay buried.”

My heart sped. Aunt Hattie was often cryptic with her words, but usually not with me. “Why are you showing me this?”

“To remind you. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it. It’s what we do. This tree isn’t supposed to exist, but despite that, it’s thriving. All it needed was a little help.” She grinned.

I wasn’t sure if this was a real mourning willow, but I was certain my great-aunt believed it was, and that the Sight had delivered her to it after a lifetime of searching.

Before I could dwell on this, there was the sound of someone crashing down the path from the house.

Hattie-May sighed. “Come along. I reckon it’s time to get back.”

We rounded the corner of the greenhouse at the same moment Frances burst into the clearing. She ran toward us, and as she got closer, I saw the tears. All thoughts of the rotting willow, and even Casey, left my mind.