Chapter 15: Her Mother's Hand

The old dispensary smelled of dust and rubbing alcohol, and my mother's desk still stood against the back wall.

I had sat under it as a child, drawing on the underside of the drawer with a ballpoint pen.

Dane stood in the doorway with his arms folded, and he didn't come in. Carrie held the flashlight.

The false bottom came up with a screwdriver and a bad word.

Under it lay a green cloth notebook, soft at the corners, tied shut with a shoelace.

I knew the handwriting before I knew the words.

"Read it," Carrie said quietly.

I sat on the floor with my back against the desk and untied the lace.

Most of it was dosages and weather. Near the end the pages got shorter.

"Nan's test came back tonight," I read. "Silver. Strong, and early for twelve."

My voice cracked, and I waited for it to hold.

"The old signs say it answers to the Hargrove line. I've told no one except Ernest, who sat up with me and was so glad for her."

Carrie made a small sound.

I kept going.

"I've written to the Alpha to say it plainly. I can't walk to his house this week. Ernest offered to carry the letter. I trust him, he's family."

Nobody in the room spoke.

The next entry was two days later, and the writing was thinner.

"Ernest brought me his tea again. It tastes of something green and bitter. I told him so and he laughed and said I was being a doctor about it."

"Nan," Dane said from the door.

"There's one more."

"Tomorrow I'll be well enough to walk the letter over myself. Ernest says I should rest."

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