I thought of the sigil on Ephraim’s trunk and all the knowledge left behind in his journals and notes.
There’d been no time to retrieve the crate, to retrieve anything from home. Would we ever again go back? Would the farm still be there if we did? Would any of the Falls remain?
I pushed aside my bleak thoughts, focusing on the crooked path before us. It wound through the forest, tracking back and forth as we ascended higher and higher up the mountain. It took an experienced driver a week to reach the pass. With all the scavenged supplies my sisters had pieced together, we had enough rations for four days.
Out in the darkness, a branch snapped, drawing my attention to the left side of the cart. The horses’ ears instantly flicked toward the sound, their footfalls slowing till they plodded to a stop. I scanned the dark foliage, trying to pick out what had shifted there, but I couldn’t make out much past the light’s glow.
“Ellerie?” Merry asked, her voice low. “You heard that, didn’t you?”
Keeping my movements as small as possible, I nodded. Sadie grabbed my knee, her fingers sinking into the folds of my skirt. I wanted to wrap my hand around hers, to reassure her, but I had to keep hold of the reins. We needed to get moving.
Rustling sounded, and the horses nickered uneasily.
“Come on,” I encouraged, giving them a little start. They refused to budge. “Come on.”
Another snap, more rustles.
Sadie tried to hold back a sob through bitten lips, but it squeezed from her. “It’s the monsters, isn’t it?”
“No, it isn’t,” I promised. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to—” I slapped the reins across one of the mares’ rumps. “Go!”
She backed up, causing the tongue to twist and push the wheels over a tree root, so that we landed at a wretched angle. We lurched, and I had the terrible notion that one of the spokes had broken.
We had no replacements. No tools.
If we tried to continue, more spokes would fracture and we’d be stranded. Neither of the Fairhopes nor Rebecca was in any condition to hike over the pass.
“Take the reins,” I said, giving them to Sadie.
“What? No!” she protested even as I shoved them into her hands.
“I need to check the wheels.”
“But the monster—”
I grabbed the hatchet lying forgotten on the footboard and jumped down.
Footsteps—decidedly human—grew louder, grew closer.
My mouth dried as I pictured Simon Briard stalking through the trees, his hatchet still dripping with my brother’s blood.
I grabbed one of the lanterns and brandished it at the darkness. “Who’s there?” I demanded. “Show yourself!”
“Ellerie.”
I froze, the hairs on the back of my neck bristling as I heard the familiar tone.
A figure stepped into the circle of light, emerging out of the darkness. He had on his rucksack and travel hat. The brim’s shadows shrouded his face, covering his eyes.
Were they silver, or his friendly amber?
“Whitaker.”
His lips raised in a small half smile. “I suppose that name is as good as any.”
He took another step closer, and I raised the axe, half-heartedly threatening for him to stop. He did, raising his hands in supplication. The green rings of his tattoos were gone, completely vanished, without a trace left behind.
I recalled the look in Lyra’s eyes as I’d told her my ultimate demand—for them to flee Amity Falls and leave Whitaker free of the Kindred, his debts paid, his tenure broken. Disbelief mingled with such rage.
Seeing him here now—without her hold, without the weight of their claim—was a miracle.
“I don’t know how you…I never would have thought…” He shook his head, knocking back his hat to reveal amber eyes, full of wonder, glossy with impending tears.
“It’s done?” I clarified. “You’re truly free?”
He nodded.
“No more debts, no more claims?”
He pressed his lips together and shook his head.
“Good.”
There was so much more I wanted to say. So many questions I wanted to ask. Dreams I wanted to speak into existence.
But they weren’t mine to presume.
Whitaker was free.
Finally free.
Free to make his way in the world. Free to pursue his heart’s desires.
And though I hoped I’d be a part of them, I didn’t want to push. Didn’t want to assume.
He needed to make his own choices now. He alone.
And so I stayed silent, waiting, even as my heart split.
Whitaker looked away, studying the wagon behind me. “You’re leaving?”
“There’s nothing left of town. Maybe the farmhouse will still be standing, but…”
He nodded with understanding. “I was so scared for you when I heard the explosions, when I saw the flames.” His eyes drifted to the back of the cart, counting people. “Sam?”
I shook my head.
“I’m sorry.”
I raised my shoulders, shrugging. There would be tears—many, many tears—in the days to come, but for now, my focus needed to be kept on the trail ahead of us.
“What will you do next? Where will you go?” His voice was soft, his prying gentle.
“We’ll go to the city. Find Mama and Papa. And then…I don’t know.” I shifted, the weight of the hatchet making my forearms quiver.
“I can’t—I’ll never be able to thank you for what you’ve done for me, but I…I thought this might be…” He took off one of his bracelets and held it out. “It’s a hidden locket,” he explained. “My sister’s four-leaf clover is inside. I want you to have it.” He glanced at the axe, still raised, however tenuously.
Without lowering my weapon, I took the little strap of leather. As I rubbed at the tarnished metal disk woven onto it, I felt the trace of an inscription.
I squinted at the spidery copperplate, surprised. “Josiah White.”
It was so simple.
So plain.
So wholly not him.
He scratched his head. “I’ve not been that name for many, many years. I don’t know who I am anymore. Not truly. Perhaps I’ll stay as ‘Whitaker.’ Nothing else has ever fit so well.”
He looked so uncertain, so young and yearning. His unflagging, otherworldly confidence was gone, replaced with a painful vulnerability that called out to me.
He looked human.
I lowered the hatchet, let it drop to the ground between us. “We could find out who you are…together.”
“Together,” he repeated earnestly. “I wasn’t sure if you—”
I took the final step, filling the space that separated us, and pulled him into an embrace before he could finish the thought.
“Together,” I insisted.
For a moment he remained still, too surprised to respond. But then his hands moved, drawing me closer as he pressed one soft kiss into my hair.
“You’ll come with us?” I asked pulling away, keenly aware of Sadie’s rapt attention.
“There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be, Ellerie Downing.”
His fingers slipped over mine and held on tight as they formed a promise.
I thought of the Buhrmans’ tavern, the McClearys’ store, Matthias’s livery. The Gathering House and the church. The Founder Tree. The Rules. The whole of Amity Falls. All those buildings, those shops, those homes had once held such promise. Such expectation. Such dreams.
Gone now, all of it.
So I held fast to Whitaker’s hand, letting my thoughts soften.
I almost felt cheerful.
Whitaker steadied me as I hoisted myself up and settled in beside Sadie, taking the re
ins. I waited until he was next to me before clicking my tongue at the horses. After a beat, they plodded forward, straightening out the wagon and leading us deeper into the forest, away from the smoke of Amity Falls and into the echoing chimes of the Bells.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, always. Grace. There’s no one in the world I’d rather have pressed against my side as I work. Thank you for your patience, your excitement, and your love. I’m so proud to be your mama. “One more chapter!”
Sarah Landis, I’m still pinching myself in wonder. Your sharp insights and understanding helped turn a whole lot of straw into the best pile of gold! You are incredible, and I’m so, so lucky you’re my agent.
To Wendy Loggia and the entire dream team at Delacorte—Beverly Horowitz, Hannah Allaman, Alison Romig, Noreen Herits, Alex Hess, Casey Moses, Kate Sullivan, Bara MacNeill, Sean Freeman—I would not be here without your care and love. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe each and every one of you a four-leaf clover and a generous slice of honey cake!
Writing is never a solitary act, and I’m so grateful to have an amazing group of friends, family, and agency siblings at my back. Your early reads, laughter, and support mean everything to me. Thank you so much to Erin Hahn, Sara Flannery Murphy, Kim Liggett, Alexis Henderson, Danielle Trussoni, Shelby Mahurin, Jeannie Hilderbrand, Elizabeth Tankard, Phoebe Booker, Peter Diseth, Kate Costello, Sarah Squire, Jonathan Ealy, Sona Amroyan-Peric, Kaylan Luber, Charlene Honeycutt, Carol Craig, Josh Coleman, Chelsea Chandler, Adler Morgan, Melanie Shurtz, Ekpe Udoh and his most amazing book club, Scott Kennedy, Meredith Tate, Jess Rubinkowski, Jennifer Adams, Jennie K. Brown, Elizabeth Unseth, Lyudmyla Hoffman, and all of #TeamLandis.
Hannah Whitten, you have no idea how happy I am you tweeted out a call for fairy-tale-retelling critique partners. Gosh, what a difference 180 characters can make to a life! I’m so blessed to have you in mine! We may not have chocolate chip cookies or winged love interests, but we have each other. Love you so.
Mama and Daddy, Tara, Elias, and Ori…“thank you” is too small a phrase. I love you all and am so wildly glad to have you and your love supporting me every day. Thank you for trips to the library; for flashlights, and covers to read under; for endless reading, rereading, and re-rereading(!); and for never thinking my dreams were too big.
And for Paul, always. I love our life, our daughter, our home full of typewriters and mismatched chairs, and so, so, so many shelves of books. But most of all, I love you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Erin A. Craig has always loved telling stories. After getting her BFA in Theatre Design and Production from the University of Michigan, she stage-managed tragic operas with hunchbacks, séances, and murderous clowns, then decided she wanted to write books that were just as spooky. An avid reader, an enthusiastic embroiderer, a rabid basketball fan, and a collector of typewriters, Erin makes her home in West Michigan with her husband and daughter. Small Favors is her second novel. Her debut, House of Salt and Sorrows, was a New York Times bestseller.
erinacraig.com
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.
Small Favors Page 42