Then Mariah Lazar stepped forward. She was holding Jayla on her hip, as big as she was, gripping her tightly with one hand. Her other hand, she held out, empty.

Wunder filled it with the flower.

“This is for Avery,” he said.

“Thank you, Wunder,” she said. “Thank you for everything.”

Then she and her husband and her children headed toward the grave topped with the white in-flight bird. They went together to the grave of the one they had loved, the one they still loved, the one they had lost, the one who was waiting to be found. They went to be with her for a while.

And then everyone came forward.

All that morning, they came, the people of Branch Hill, more and more and more of them. Eugenia Simone. Margot Arvid. Mateo Ramos and his wife. Susan Holt and her stepdaughters. Mason Nash with his uncle. Charlotte Atkins with her brother and sisters and parents and dog. All the people that Wunder and Faye had connected to, all the people that the witch had called to the hill.

At first, the newcomers would stand and gaze up at the tree, awed by its size and its beauty. Then Wunder and Faye would tell them about the DoorWay Tree and give them a flower, and they would feel it—the miracle feeling, their own heart-bird—as they realized they weren’t alone, as they realized their loved ones, alive and dead, were with them.

Some who came left and returned with urns or with heirlooms or with framed pictures. Their loved ones were not buried at the Branch Hill cemetery, but somehow they could feel them there just the same.

And some left and returned with elements of their own celebrations and rituals and rites, with marigolds, with lilies, with bowls of fruit and bowls of rice, with incense and candles, with brooms for sweeping and guitars for strumming and seeds for planting. There were many, many ways to think about death. There were many, many ways to connect with the dead.

Davy came, with Mrs. Baum. When he saw the tree, he couldn’t speak for a long time.

“That’s our branch?” he finally asked.

“That’s our branch,” Wunder said, smiling at his friend. “We did it.”

Davy smiled back at him, smiled so big and wide, bigger and wider than Wunder had ever seen. Then he went to the tree himself and plucked two flowers.

“My great-grandparents are buried here,” he told Wunder. “I never knew that. My mom told me this morning. These are for them.” He shrugged. “And for me too, I guess.”

The witch had given Faye a letter for her mother after all. Faye was sure she wouldn’t come to the cemetery, but Mrs. Lee appeared while it was still early morning, and so did Grace. Faye met them with three flowers in her hands. They each took one, and then they went to Faye’s grandfather’s grave. Wunder watched from the top of the hill as they stood together with their arms around one another.