“What’s this got to do with us?” Lynn asked.
“When I explained to Monica why I suspected it was her son infecting the second wave of victims, she came to the same conclusion I had,” Vera said. “She knew you and Carter had been working together during the epidemic.”
“So she knows it could be Lucy,” Lynn said, guessing the end before Vera could come to it, “and she’s not likely to keep her mouth shut about it, with you two kicking her son out.”
Stebbs nodded. “Monica’s a coward, but not stupid.”
The warm spot the whiskey had formed in Lucy’s stomach had managed to calm her a little, and the exhaustion from hours of crying had lulled her into a stupor while the adults talked. But Lynn’s words brought a spike of cold fear bursting through the warmth.
“Is she telling people I’m sick too? Are you going to make us leave?”
“We don’t know what to do, honey,” Vera admitted. “But yes, it’s likely Monica will tell people you could have been the source. Which means a few things: people will expect us to treat you the same way as Carter, and if we don’t…”
“If we don’t, it’d stir up an already pissed-off hornet’s nest,” Stebbs finished. “Lots of people are mourning right now, and once that’s done, they’ll turn to wanting to know why their people died. They’ll need somebody to blame.”
“Even if we let you stay, you’d be in danger,” Vera said.
“They’d hurt me?”
“They would,” Lynn said. “Much as I don’t like agreeing. They would turn on you, if they thought it’d protect them from falling sick themselves, or losing more of their own. People are harsh animals. You’ve not had to see that firsthand in a long while.”
“Lynn’s right,” Stebbs said. “And Monica’s an injured animal, ready to bite at any threat. Right now, that’s us.”
Lynn’s hand went to her gun. “She can’t bite if I shut her mouth for her.”
“I won’t allow that, Lynn,” Vera said. “Killing her would only solve half your problem anyway.”
“What’s the other half?”
Stebbs gave Lynn a shrewd glance. “You’re not going to like what I have to say next, but don’t hit me, okay, kiddo?”
Lynn’s eyes narrowed, and Lucy noticed she made no promises.
“Abigail came down the hill today,” Stebbs said carefully, keeping an eye on Lynn.
“Oh crap,” Lucy said. “I forgot to tell you.”
Lynn’s eyebrows drew together. “Forgot to tell me what?”
Vera put a hand on Lynn’s taut shoulder. “It seems she believes you and Devon have, um…”
“Christ,” Stebbs broke in. “She thinks you’re sparking him.”
Lynn flushed a deep red. “She thinks I’m… with…” She trailed off, eyes wide. “Well, I’m not.”
“Much of a relief as that is to hear,” Stebbs said, “I don’t think she’s going to believe you.”
“Why not?”
“Lynn,” Vera said softly. “Sometimes when people are—”
“What she’s saying is that Abigail is cracked in the head,” Stebbs finished. “She’s convinced herself you’re sleeping with her man, and no amount of truth is going to sway her otherwise.”
“Have Devon set her straight,” Lucy said, seeing Lynn was beyond words. “She thinks the world of him. If he says it as well as Lynn, she’s bound to believe it.”
“Devon passed away this morning,” Vera said quietly.
“And with him dead, there’s no one to do the denying but the one she’s accusing, and Abigail half out of her head with grief—”
“And the other half of her head not being all that stable to begin with,” Lucy finished.
“She’ll be gunning for you,” Stebbs warned Lynn.
She shrugged. “I got a gun too.”
“And I bet Lynn’s a better shot,” Lucy said.
“Good shot or not, is that your plan?” Stebbs asked Lynn. “Climb up on the roof again and shoot anybody comes near? That the kind of life you want for Lucy? What you had? Skulking in the basement and sniping from the roof? Scared to talk to anybody for fear they’re gonna take something from you?”
Lynn swallowed hard, and Lucy could see the struggle tearing her in two. Lynn’s own mother had protected the pond against any who would take a drink from it, animal or human. The pond, and their home, had been the only world Lynn knew until she was Lucy’s age. Only her mother’s death and an injury had forced her to reach out to Stebbs for help; otherwise Lynn would’ve been content to remain as she had been. Alive, but alone.
“No,” Lynn said slowly. “I wouldn’t have that for you, Lucy. It’s no kind of life, and you’re not suited to it, anyway.”
“I can do it,” Lucy said, even though the thought of living in isolation made her skin grow cold. “You tell me and it’s done. I don’t want you to give up everything on account of me.”
“Little one,” Lynn said sadly, “that’s what a real mother does.”
The numbing effect of the alcohol had spread to her brain; it was the only way to explain the cool, calm way Lucy packed only the most essential things in a backpack. Her hand hovered over Red Dog, a stuffed animal Lynn had given her as the first indication her heart was softening toward the little girl she’d taken into her home.
“Probably shouldn’t,” a gruff voice came from her bedroom doorway, and Lucy turned to find Stebbs leaning there.
She clutched Red Dog to her chest. “He was Lynn’s when she was a kid too. Leaving him behind feels wrong.”
Stebbs shuffled into her room, gently taking Red Dog from her hands. He peered into the black button eyes, seeing something other than a stuffed animal there. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you leave him with me? I’ll keep him safe for you.”
Lucy nodded dumbly, knowing it was a false promise meant to console a child. “Yeah, okay,” she said, swiping at the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
“C’mere, girl,” Stebbs said, and folded her into his arms.
She could only cry and inhale the strong smell of him, the woods and the water, the dirt and the air, one last time.
Lucy found Lynn pondering the racks of purified water they kept in the basement, a grim expression on her face. She glanced up when she heard Lucy’s step.
“You ready?”
“I’m packed, yeah.”
“That’s not the same thing as ready.” Lynn looked back at the bottles of water. “The thing about water,” she said, almost to herself, “is that it’s so damn heavy.”
Years of hauling water from the pond to the holding tanks in the barn had taught that lesson to both of them. “Yeah,” Lucy agreed. “It is.”
“We can’t carry enough to get us far. And we can’t trust water we find along the way to be clean. And that’s assuming we can even get to any that hasn’t already been claimed.” Lynn’s voice drifted off, their problem evident.
“Want me to bring my witching stick?”
With her forked ash stick Lucy had found water for many of the families in their community, always in private, and always attributing the find to Stebbs. The ability to witch water was a blessing and a curse—it could save lives, or ensure the bearer was marked for life as a person of high value in a world where money no longer mattered. Those who could find water worked in secret for fear their ability would earn them a pair of chains, with a stern master on the end.
“Bring it,” Lynn decided. “I haven’t lived this long to die of thirst on the road.”
“We’d be stupid not to,” Lucy said.
“It’d be stupid to use it. That’s a last resort, and you remember it.”
Lucy nodded and sat down on the steps to watch Lynn, who couldn’t tear herself away from the water. She ran her fingers over the bottles and heaved a sigh.