Elsa Crane's Arc

Chapter 35 of 66

That night Elsa could not sleep. Nora would be gone by tomorrow's dusk. Dahlia held the ledger key now, and Bodhi held the chalk, but neither could dig graves or write the names down as the bodies came. The ledger needed a hand at the shovel, a hand Elsa trusted, a hand that would not drift when she was in the ground beside Nora. She thought of the porcelain-faced girl who kept returning no matter where they left her. The girl in the white dress with buttons for eyes. Wren. At dawn Elsa sent word to the blackberry arch. She asked Nora to walk, though the walking cost her. She asked Dahlia to come from the passage. She asked Wren to come from wherever the girl slept now, which no one could say for certain. She went first herself and stood under the snow-heavy vines, waiting. Dahlia came first, hood drawn. Nora came slow, her yellow slicker open, the ledger against her ribs like a second lung. Wren was already inside the arch when Elsa turned. The girl had not walked up the path. She was simply there, small and stiff, black button eyes fixed on Nora's book. "Sit," Elsa said. They crouched in the snow under the berries. Elsa put her hand on Nora's ledger. "This needs a keeper after tomorrow. Dahlia reads the marks. Bodhi will grow into it. But someone has to carry the book to the grave and write the name while the dirt is fresh. Nora did that. I need it done the same way after her." Dahlia's jaw set. "Not me. I teach the boy. I don't dig." "I know," Elsa said. She looked at Wren. "You come back no matter where they leave you. That's what I need. A hand that stays." Wren said nothing. She reached out one small hand and laid it flat on the ledger's cover. Nora watched the girl. Her mouth twitched once. "She's cold," Nora said. "Cold like the book is cold. That's the right kind." "Will you teach her the shovel today?" Elsa asked. "The circle. The cross. The nineteen. She only needs to know where the pen goes and where the dirt goes." Nora nodded. "One day is enough for a hand that stays." Elsa turned to Dahlia. "You supervise every mark she makes, same as Bodhi. Wren does not choose. She records what you and the boy decide." Dahlia looked at Wren a long time. The girl did not blink. Dahlia said, "Agreed." Elsa took the teal journal from her coat and wrote it in: Wren keeps the ledger's hand. Dahlia holds the key. Bodhi inherits the choice. She passed it around. Each of them touched the page. By the time they stood, Wren already had the ledger tucked under her arm. She would not give it back. Elsa did not ask her to.