He stopped.
His jaw worked.
“Earl met me at the end of the drive.”
My stomach dropped.
“Earl?”
“He was waiting for me, Nora. Like he knew.”
“He put his arm around my shoulders. He walked me away from the house. Kind as anything.”
“And he told me you were de.ad.”
The hall tilted.
I put my hand on the wall.
“He told you what?”
“He said you got sick the winter after they declared me missing.”
“He said you never got over it. He said you faded. He said you passed in the spring.”
“He even walked me to a gra.ve.”
“A headstone with your name on it, Nora. Nora Mercer. He paid for that stone so I’d believe it.”
I thought I might be sick.
There was a stone with my name on it.
Somewhere in this town.
My brother had carved me de.ad.
“I stood at that stone and I broke apart,” Walt said.
“I didn’t want to live. I’d come twelve thousand miles for a gra.ve.”
“Earl held me up. He said, ‘Go. Start fresh. Nora would want that. Staying here will only ki.ll you.'”
“So I went.”
He laughed.
It was a terrible sound.
“I thanked him,” Walt said.
“I shook his hand and I thanked him for lying me out of my own life.”
Out in the driveway, the car door shut.
Hard.
Footsteps on the walk.
Heavy ones.
Walt grabbed my arm again.
“How many know you’re home tonight?” he asked.
“Nobody,” I said. “Why?”
“Because Earl can’t let this stand.”
“Because if you and I are both alive and both talking, he’s finished.”
The footsteps reached the porch.
The boards creaked under weight.
Then a fist hammered my door.
“Aunt Nora!”
Dale.
Earl’s son.
My nephew.
“Aunt Nora, open up. It’s Dale. Dad sent me.”
Walt’s face went to stone.
“Don’t,” he breathed.
“He’s my nephew,” I whispered.
“He’s here for me, Nora.”
Another hammer on the door.
“Aunt Nora, I can see the light. Open the door. We need to talk about the old man that’s been poking around town.”
