The sound of boots on the plank walkway called me back to the present. Big Tom, Hettie, and Lilah returned. My sister stepped between Abel and me, taking our hands in hers, lips pressed in a solemn line. Abel’s departure was a loss not only for his aunt and uncle and me, but also for my sister, who loved him nearly as much as I did.
Well, not nearly as much, but she did love him a good deal.
“You’ll be back, won’t you?” Lilah bit her lip, and I knew she was trying to hold in tears. It was a sadly familiar look.
Lilah’s memory of the night at the well was almost entirely missing due to the sleeping potion Miss Maeve gave her and the trauma of her near drowning. I’d filled in the gaps as gently as possible. Still, the reality of what Miss Maeve had tried to do to her, and of our father’s murder, affected Lilah to the core. My once optimistic, spirited sister was now prone to bouts of melancholy. For a time, her stories had a dark bent and dismal endings. Of late, they’d tipped toward the bittersweet. With time, I hoped she’d find her way back to happily-ever-afters.
“Of course I’ll be back,” Abel said. “And Mr. Johnson is only teaching in Wheeler until I have my degree, and then the school board has promised me the job.” He tweaked her nose. “You’ll have to practice calling me Mr. Atchley.”
The downcast look lingered for a few seconds before a small smile tilted her lips. “And you’ll have to practice calling me Sister Dearest.” In her estimation, my engagement to Abel would never have happened if she hadn’t given me solid advice regarding his merits. After all, she’d been the one to point out what nice teeth he had.
The screaming of a train’s whistle made us all jump. A deep bass chugging could be heard as the black engine came into view. We watched it grind to a halt with a shriek of brakes and a billowing cloud of coal smoke. Passengers began filing out of the depot, bags and trunks in tow.
Big Tom clasped his huge hand on Abel’s shoulder. His mustache trembled a little, and I thought for a moment he wouldn’t muster any words. “Make us proud. Like you always do.”
Abel nodded, swiping a hand across his eyes. They both knew Abel’s crushed arm would never be the same, and the intense labor of running a farm would be too much for him. The injury had been savage, but it had also given Abel a practical reason to further his education.
Hettie moved in to give Abel a quick hug. She stepped back hurriedly and set a hand on her hip. Her eyes were misty as she said, “Take care of yourself. Eat right. And don’t stay up all hours reading, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am. And please tell Mama I’ll write as soon as I get there.” Abel’s mother hadn’t been able to come see him off, as two of his siblings were sick. We were the only ones still on the platform now. The porter came to take Abel’s bag and reminded us all that the train was about to depart.
With no more goodbyes to say, Abel shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to go. Instinctively, I tried to follow. And I hit the end of my tether.
The pulling sensation in my chest was intense, as though my sternum were trying to collapse inward. I stumbled back a step. The feeling subsided. I’d encountered several points on the invisible boundary that kept me from leaving the area. Here, it seemed, was another. I could try to force myself forward, but I’d learned that would lead to crushing pain, and, if I persisted, falling unconscious for hours. Living with the confinement of the spell was at times mildly frustrating and, at others, nearly devastating.
The limits of the keeping spell seemed to stretch from Wheeler to Argenta, and that had proven helpful. I’d been able to answer Mrs. Mayhew’s invitations to dinner. And although I’d never be able to give her the joy of a reunion with her daughter, I thought in some small way my company made her happy.
A great gust of smoke blew from the stack as the train began to roll. Abel leaned out the window, one hand lifted in farewell. I blew him a kiss and was relieved to find I could smile.
Despite it all, I lived. In a world much smaller and simpler than I’d planned, but in one at the same time far fuller than I’d known before.
This afternoon, I’d check on Abel’s siblings; then Lilah and I would help Hettie stack more firewood for the approaching cold. Later, Della was coming over, set on another attempt to use the curling tongs on my unruly hair. I’d told her to bring Katherine along this time. My hard feelings toward the girl had softened when she’d come to the farm to offer a stiff, but sincere, apology for her role in helping Miss Maeve, and condolences on the loss of my father. Perhaps Della’s relentless quest to bring us all together as true friends would eventually win out.
Della had released Abel from their engagement with grace and, to my mind, an unimaginable lack of bitterness. She’d taken what came, unfair as it seemed, and carried on. Perhaps all the extra time she’d been spending with Jasper lately helped. He’d once said Della was a wonderful girl, but not wonderful for Abel. I strongly suspected now that Jasper’s childhood insistence that he’d be the one to end up with Della hadn’t only been boyish bragging.
I rubbed at the bracelet that I, like Miss Maeve, could never remove. Granny Ardith said that when I grew old and full of years, I could return to the Hollow and use the shears to cut the bracelet for the final time. Because I’d had them with me when I died, they’d stayed in the Hollow. Waiting for me. But unlike Miss Maeve, I wasn’t going to try and escape my uncanny half life for a long while. I had things left to do, and people left to love.
I squared my shoulders. “We should go,” I said to Lilah. “We’ve got another calf to raise on a bottle, and it’s nearly feeding time. I’ll show you the trick for getting him to drink.”
She slid her hand in mine and we started back toward the buckboard. Big Tom and Hettie followed, Hettie sniffling slightly behind a smile, and Big Tom standing straight and tall with pride for his nephew.
“I’ve got a new story to read you,” Lilah said. “I’m not done with it, but I think it’s going to be my best yet.”
“What’s it about?”
“Two sisters who have to save each other from a wicked witch,” she said. I cut a sidelong look at her. “The younger sister does the saving,” she added.
“Obviously she does.”
We climbed into the wagon and I looked back at the station. It seemed an entire lifetime ago when Lilah and I first came here, unaware that we’d be torn apart, and that we’d lose our father once and for all in this tiny town. I was sure that I’d never stop missing him, or my mother. Their absence hung over me still, muting the happy days, taking a touch of their color away. But as time passed, I found my memories of them no longer held only pain. The ache of loss was still there, but somehow less acute, and mingled with gratitude for the life we’d shared together. Twilight faded from our spirits, and joy edged back into my life and Lilah’s like sun rays bursting through clouds.
I put my arm around Lilah’s shoulders. Against all odds, we were together. And this time, we would stay that way.
Big Tom eased into his seat beside Hettie. “Y’all ready?” he rumbled. I tugged off my hat, letting the brilliant sun shine down on my face. Lilah did the same, grinning.
“We’re ready,” I called. A welcome breeze slid over my skin. I breathed in, filling my lungs with the sweet, fresh air. “Let’s go home.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I owe more than I can express to my outstanding agent, Hannah Mann. Your ceaseless enthusiasm (and meticulous charts!) kept me sane throughout the submission process. There’s a reason my author friends are jealous that I get to work with such a rock star. And sincerest thanks to my editor, Melissa Frain, for taking a chance on a strange historical fantasy from a debut author, then helping me shape it into what I’d always hoped it could be. You deserve all the ice cream socials in the world.
My warmest appreciation to the team at Tor Teen: Matt Rusin, Lesley Worrell, Peter Lutjen, Laura Etzkorn, Melanie Sanders, Anthony Parisi, Isa Caban, Eileen Lawrence, Lucille Rettino, and Devi Pillai.
Thank you to Ev
a Fuell (my Senior Sister), Kristen Tinsley, Jenn Wojcik, and Jane Nickerson for the insightful beta reads, and to Jessica Lamb, whose sharp editorial eye helped get this book query-ready.
Small Town Café in Poyen, Arkansas: thanks for the endless tea and letting me hog the corner booth for hours.
For my parents, Jerry and Thelma Crutchfield. Remember how I talked for the entirety of my childhood, except when I was reading? Well, I finally put that wordiness to good use. And to my in-laws, Don and Deronda Goodman, who for twenty years have been nothing but wonderful to the odd girl their son married.
Lauren Allbright, my brain-twin/possibly me from the Berenstain timeline: I’m so glad you asked me where I got that Coke at DFWCon years ago.
To Dr. Johnny Wink, who once said if someone cut me, he believed I would bleed stories. That remains the most graphic and meaningful compliment I’ve ever received.
And to Hannah West Penick, who will be unsurprised to learn I’m typing this with teary eyes: I knew your writing was beautiful before I knew it flowed from an equally lovely soul. I could not have done this without you, CP.
AJ, Silas, and Caroline—y’all are my heart outside my body. I am fiercely and endlessly proud of you three.
And for Jeff. “Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away.” I love you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SARAH GOODMAN is a former newspaper writer who lives with her husband and three children in a town of 280 people and several thousand cows. Despite growing up on a farm, she remains leery of all barnyard fowl. When she’s not writing, Sarah enjoys going for runs with her dogs and drinking not-too-sweet tea. Eventide is her first novel. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
EVENTIDE
Copyright © 2020 by Sarah Goodman
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Kris Keller
Cover design by Lesley Worrell
A Tor Teen Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
120 Broadway
New York, NY 10271
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-22473-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-22471-2 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250224712
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: 2020
Eventide Page 28