We’re even working on something that resembles banter, though it’s harsh and sharp, and it cuts. It seems to make us both feel better.

And to her credit, though I hate to say it, Josie works hard to make amends for what she did.

“We could try to burn names into wooden markers,” she says, when she spreads new stones around after carefully cleaning them. “Crosses too, but I’m not sure everyone would be as comfortable with that.”

I would be. I would be okay without one too.

“Wouldn’t carving be easier?” I lean against the fence and watch her work. She tells me she hates how I watch, but the first few times when I tried to walk away, she halted me with a question. And a second. And a third.

“I don’t know if anyone knows woodwork. Luke did, but he left with Hunter.” She swallows. Awkward, like every time Hunter comes up in conversation. “And to that point, I don’t know if we have the tools for it.”

“Khalil may know.”

“I’ll ask him, but I think wood-burning is better.”

“I don’t think we have the tools for that.”

“Khalil may know.” She lobs the words back at me with ease, and I scowl.

She draws breath to speak when someone shouts her name. “Josie!”

We turn and find Grace walking up to us. I raise my hand in greeting. We haven’t really spoken since last night, but that tether is still present. Like with Josie, we’re connected, somehow. But this morning, she’s pale, and her eyes are distant. She acknowledges me with a slight nod before she turns to Josie.

And her shoulders drop.

We’ve been here before. I know what she’s come to tell us.

“I wanted you to hear from me,” she says. She clenches her hands at her side. “Saoirse died.”

Josie drops the rock she’s holding. She tenses all over. “No…”

“I know you were hoping she would pull through. We all were, but—”

“Were you?” Josie interrupts Grace, hard. Her voice has a razor-sharp edge to it. Anger. Grief. Hurt. “I’ve heard the others talk. The whispers that I’m a waste of resources, that I only made life harder for all of you.” Josie shakes her head. “Can you look at me and tell me that you spared us a moment of thought? Us, not what we did. Not the trouble we caused you. Can you tell me you ever saw us as part of your little community?”

Grace breathes out hard, like Josie punched her. “Of course…” she starts, but her voice trails off. Her mouth works, but no sound comes out.

And Josie does the worst thing she can do. She laughs. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“I do.” The words leave my mouth before I really think about it, but Josie turns to me with a hunger born from starvation. So I push through. “See you as part of our community. I won’t lie to you and tell you it’s easy. I’m still furious with you for what you did to me. But I understand it too. When you’re here with me, to tend the grave and the garden, I can forget it. I can look at this place and see that you made it better. I can’t speak for anyone else, but you belong here. I will help you dig a grave for Saoirse so she belongs here too.”