The raised letters on the marker, which was hardly more than a square of metal, were hard to make out in the shadow cast by the tree. Luckily, a flash of lightning brightened the words just long enough for me to make out some of the writing:

LILY COPELAND

BELOVED DAUGHTER AND SISTER

But that wasn’t the part that shocked me. What shocked me were the years printed below her name:

1971–1988

“What is it?” Barrett asked.

“It’s Lily,” I said, turning to look up at him. “I think she was your mom’s sister.”

WE WALKED TO the gate in silence, passing a few more scattered graves. Barrett seemed like he was turning something over in his head, and I didn’t want to disturb him. When Adam and Eve came into view, I felt a strange little flip-flop in my stomach. Why couldn’t I remember coming out here?

I silently shut the gate and removed the key. The raised pattern felt familiar under my fingertips.

“I had no idea this was here,” Barrett said, and he sounded almost hurt. “I had no idea Mom had a sister . . . Why would she keep that from us?”

“I kind of get it,” I said. “When you were little, it probably seemed too heavy. And then when you got older, she probably didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Lily’s grave site was so small and unassuming.

“She died really young,” I said. “Our age. I wonder what she died from?”

Barrett stared up at the gray expanse of the house’s walls looming over us. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, which hardly felt like anything on my already-wet face.

“I’m going to ask my mom about it tomorrow,” he said.

“No—” I said. “Please don’t.”

“There’s a graveyard on the property,” he said. “And she never even told me about it.”

“Sure, yes,” I said. “But—I don’t think we were supposed to find it.”

And then I explained—without mentioning the part about sneaking around at night—that the key had come from a secret bag of Agatha’s.

I half expected him to start demanding answers, but as soon as I mentioned his sister, he softened.

“Agatha gave it to you?” he asked. “I didn’t think she could do things like that.”

“I didn’t, either,” I said. “I mean, I know she’s not totally catatonic, but this was kind of next-level.”

“But you didn’t mention it to my parents?”

I thought of Agatha dragging me through the house, forcing herself to throw up to deflect Laura’s suspicion.

I shrugged. “I just . . . kind of got the idea that she wanted it to be our secret.”

“I didn’t know she had secrets,” he mused. “I didn’t know she was awake enough.”