Nathan Snake's Arc

Chapter 2 of 13

Nathan didn't make it to the church. The daughter from plot seven was waiting by the toolshed when he came back from filling the pauper's grave, and her eyes went straight to the diary tucked under his arm. She stood between him and the path out, arms crossed, and didn't move. She pointed at the diary, then at the stone bench beside her father's grave. The bench was old, settled into the earth, and covered in flowering vines she'd planted herself. "That book came from here," she said. "From this ground. And if it says something about my father's plot, I need to know." Her voice was steady, but her hands weren't. Nathan could see the flowers she'd brought lying on the grave marker behind her, fresh ones placed over the wilted stems from last week. He could have lied. Could have said it was church records, nothing that concerned her. But she'd been coming here for two years, tending that grave when no one else would, and she'd earned more than deflection. He opened the diary to the map and showed her the boundary line. "This land goes thirty feet past where the church says it ends," he said. "Your father's buried on ground that belongs to the graveyard, not the church. They can't sell what isn't theirs." She stared at the map, then at him. "So the promise you made him — that we'd always have a place here — you can actually keep it." It wasn't a question. Nathan nodded, and something shifted in her face. She reached into her coat and pulled out a folded envelope. "My brothers are coming back next month. They've been sleeping rough in the city, and they need somewhere safe." She held the envelope out. "This is what I've saved. It's not much, but if you're buying this place, I want in." Nathan took the envelope. Inside were coins and a few worn bills, maybe a tenth of what he had in his jar at home. It wasn't enough to change the math, but it changed everything else. He wasn't saving alone anymore. He wasn't the only one building toward this. He folded the envelope and slipped it into his pocket beside the diary. "I'll add it to the rest," he said. "And when your brothers come, they'll have ground to stand on." She nodded once, sharp and sure, and stepped aside. Nathan walked past her toward the church, the red key pressing cold against his ribs, and he knew he couldn't turn back now. Too many people were counting on what came next.