The distillery was turned over to the town—ownership shared among every citizen of Yarrow, with River splitting his time between the still and the grocery—while the cornfield was razed to the ground and the land was returned to its rightful caretakers, part of the shadow garden once more.

Now, the Haywoods set to making new traditions.

Irene and Kaden followed Addison into the backyard, where the garden stood as dark and beautiful as ever—healthy and strong and ready to accept whatever sorrow the people of Yarrow had to give. It had taken time for it to recover, but without the dark corn drawing more than its fair share, the roots found rest once more.

Addison and Quinn had spread out what appeared to be the Haywoods’ entire collection of quilts right at the edge of the brick patio, and in the center sat a basket of ripe blackberries fresh from the shadow garden. Sure, the garden had all sorts of fruit to offer, but this was the vessel it had chosen to give the town back its memories a year ago, so this was how they would honor it.

On one side of the garden, Clem and Taylor sat hand in hand, staring out at the setting sun. Beside them, Quinn lay with a hand on her swollen belly and her head in Harper’s lap, eyes closed as Harper ran her fingers through her hair. Addison ran to join River, sliding easily under his arm. Right in the middle, Maura sipped her julep, complete with muddled shadow mint—the amplified contentment clear on her face.

On the path in front of them, they’d lit a candle for Nolan. The loss of her brother still hit Irene sometimes, the memory only a year old even though he’d been gone for twenty-six. Kaden caught her staring at the flame and gave her hand a gentle squeeze before leading her to join the others.

Maura passed the basket of blackberries around, and they each took one, then placed that shadow fruit on their tongues and let both their happiness and their grief rise to the surface.

At the edge of the blanket, Irene blinked back tears. She rested a hand on the ground, then sank the tips of her fingers beneath the dirt. With the Bonner magic now in the earth, the garden had learned to ease her heartache—no longer only capable of taking the suffering the Haywoods had pulled from their neighbors’ hearts, but able to cull the pain from the Haywoods, too. And as the garden eased Irene’s grief, she knew that someday, her feelings would transform into something else entirely, something beautiful and strong, and the memories would still ache but with a sweet sort of sadness—the way sorrow often does, given enough time.

Chapter 48

The Shadow Garden