Wunder had. He had thought about it a lot.

But if the witch was who Faye was hinting she was, if the witch was who Wunder sometimes almost let himself think she could be, then that would be the biggest miracle of all. And after so much anger and sadness, Wunder knew he wasn’t ready to think about that.

Because if he believed that his sister had come back to life and then it wasn’t true, he didn’t think he would ever, ever recover.

And yet, here he was, delivering letters. Here he was, looking forward to returning to the DoorWay House to tell the witch that he’d done it, to ask her what she wanted him to do next.

“I know what you think,” he said. “But we don’t know anything yet.”

Faye rolled her smudge-rimmed eyes. “Wundie. Come on. We know a lot of things. We know that the witch showed up the day of your sister’s funeral. We know the witch wants you to hand out these crazy miracle-survivor letters. We know she lives in a magic house covered in spinny, spirally circles. Et cetera. That’s a lot of things we know.”

“But it’s not enough,” Wunder replied. “Those things could be coincidences.”

“What about the memorial stone?” Faye said. “You’ve never asked why she did that, why she used your sister’s name.”

“You’re right,” Wunder said. “We should at least ask about that. We will ask about that. Soon.”

Chapter 26

They went to the DoorWay House the very next day. The witch was on her porch. She didn’t ask them to come inside. She didn’t ask them to have tea with her. Instead, she held out a stack of letters.

“I think you are ready for these now,” she said. “Am I right?”

Wunder glanced over at Faye. She nodded. “Are ours in here?” he asked.

The witch raised her eyebrows and studied them with her black eyes.

“Not yet,” she said finally. “Soon, I think. Yes, soon, soon, soon. But deliver these first, then come back for more. I have many, many more. And I am running out of time.”

Wunder and Faye took the letters and The Miraculous and set off. They didn’t have to discuss where they were headed. They both knew that the cemetery was the only place to do this work.

“There may be quicker ways to find these names,” Wunder said, opening The Miraculous on the bristly brown grass at the top of the hill, next to the memorial stone. “But if they’re in here, then I want to know about it.”

And they were. As the afternoon wore on, Faye and Wunder found that every name on every letter had a corresponding entry. Every person was connected, somehow, to a miracle. And, Wunder was sure, every person had also lost someone, someone they loved.

Wunder cut the entries out of The Miraculous, and Faye stapled them to the envelopes. Then they delivered the letters, the entire stack, that day.