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My thumb pressed the button to disconnect before the call went through.
Again I started to dial, not Nick but Harry. But I stopped. I could tell him where he could find Malachi later. I could ask him later, if he’d make some kind of arrangements for him. Maybe Eliza should get her way after all. I had no idea what my brother’s last wishes might have been, but at least one person wanted him to come home, and it was a wish I could conceivably honor.
And where else could I take him? What else could I do but send him home?
What the hell. Heaven was watching, and the rest, well. . . call it water under the bridge. I didn’t have the energy to float all that hatred anymore.
I hit the lime-colored button again and let the line die. There was no rush. God only knew when the authorities would get around to finding the rest of the bodies.
Through the door and down the hall the television was still rattling off local news, twenty-four hours a day—which, given the circumstances, wasn’t so surprising. It was still that female anchor I didn’t recognize, she was the one doing all the talking.
3:52 said the clock. A funny hour—either very late or very early, depending.
I wondered what time it was in North Carolina, and then I realized what a stupid thought that was, since we were both on Eastern Time. I dialed ten digits from memory and let the phone ring and ring and ring.
“This had better be important,” the answerer slurred and growled.
“No caller ID? Or do I get special dispensation for shit like this?”
“Eden?”
“Hey Dana. ”
She dropped the phone, or maybe adjusted it. I heard her shifting her body in bed, maybe sitting up or rolling over. “Holy shit, yeah. I called. I guess they gave you the message? Fuck the hour. Glad to hear from you. ”
“I haven’t checked my messages, exactly. It’s been a busy couple of days. But I’m here now, home. I’m back at Signal Mountain. But I wanted to call you. I think I need to talk to you. ”
“You okay? And I ask that from a relative standpoint, you know. ”
I smiled into the phone. She understood best; she always did. Better than Harry, even. “From a relative standpoint, I’m okay but not quite fine. I’m sorry, I know it’s late. But there was no one else whose voice I really wanted to hear. It’s been bad. ”
“I hear. What I hear, though—that wasn’t a fraction of it, was it?”
“It’ll take some time to tell. It might not all fit into a phone call. ”
“I understand,” she said, because she did. “Maybe it’s time for you to take a road trip. A little vacation. ”
“I might need more than a vacation,” I confessed. “Things are different here now. ”
“Naw. You’re just seeing things differently now. ”
“Whichever. Whatever. Same end result. ”
“Eden, sweetheart. Give yourself a few days to rest up, then come out here. Road trip. Vacation. ”
“No, I don’t need a vacation. I actually feel pretty good for the first time in days. Something has been wrong for a while; you know that better than anyone. Ever since Avery died I’ve felt so much stronger, but every time I’ve used that strength it’s taxed me. And now Malachi’s dead, too, and I don’t know how these curse things work—but maybe things will be better now, or different. And even if things get worse, I’m not going to learn how fix them by staying here. ”
“But you’ve made plans there in Tennessee. What about school? What about getting your own place?”
“The place I planned to claim is underwater, and it will probably be condemned once it dries out. The school, hell. Half of that probably went under water too. Everything’s broken and shut down. If I stay, I’ll just stay broken and shut down with it. ”
She breathed quietly for a few seconds before she responded. “It’s going to take time to recover. It takes people time, and it’ll take Chattanooga time. You could always make that your new direction, if you think you need a change in plans. You could stick around and become part of the recovery effort. It’ll never get better if people don’t work towards making it better. Even after what happened in New Orleans, the city’s still alive, and it’s coming back a little more every day. ”
“Ah,” I smiled, but there wasn’t any joy in it, “but this isn’t New Orleans, and people here—they don’t love this place, not the way natives of New Orleans love their home. Here, if people get out of town and find success, they keep their mouths shut about it. They don’t tell anyone, and if they come home, they keep it short and sweet. There’s a jinx on the place; there’s this current that sucks everything down if you wade here long enough. This isn’t New Orleans. No one wants to be from here. No one ever loves this place except for out-of-towners who move here, settle down, and mistake it for something it isn’t. ”
A pause hung between us. “That’s a little harsh,” Dana finally said.
“No. I’m just tired of romanticizing the place. I never hated this town enough to want to destroy it; but it turns out I don’t love it enough to try and save it, either. ” I stopped talking and snuggled back against the pillow, trying to think of something else to say. “Why do you think Benny left? Talk to him, if you think I’m overreacting. He’s a prime example of what I mean. The moment you gave him a lifeline out of the valley, he hopped all over it. How’s he doing, anyway? Is he okay?”
