I sigh deep. “I think we should go back for Auntie. With the Sheriff dead, Clay’s got claim as leader of that town. The Warden won’t give up easily, but we can’t leave Auntie behind.”

Mama nods. Her eyes shine as she pats my hand. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, darling.”

Above the stars are a handful of sparkles tossed across the night sky. The fire pops and crackles. The night insects sing their shrill melody. Beside me Ethan hums a little tune under his breath. Even Rayburn’s shuffling and sniffing blends in until, if I closed my eyes, the scents and sounds could transport me home. With my eyes still closed, I lean in and rest my head on my mama’s shoulder and inhale her earthen scent.

For a moment I almost say, Let’s go home, but I stop myself. Here in the dark, with my family and Clay not too far, I realize home isn’t a building or a place we’ll travel.

I’m already home.

* * *

Three Weeks Later

“Get a move on, slow poke!” I yell down the hallway. Yelling in a church is probably a sin, but I’m not sure anyone’s up there counting. If they are, I owe them big time.

Ethan comes loping around the corner, carrying one of the hospital supply bags over his shoulder. It looks like it weighs more than he does. I grab it for him and heft it up. “Is this the last of it?”

He nods, his hair far too long now, brushing the bridge of his nose. He tosses his head to move it out of his eyes. “All the other supplies are in the van.”

Ethan and I walk out to the church’s dusty front lawn. Rayburn loads the gasoline he purchased in the closest town over. He won’t stop belly-aching about the sores on his heels from the six-mile walk, but I think he’s pleased with himself. He should be. It’s no slouch bartering in town when you look like a pudgy seventeen-year-old with glasses and loafers.