The Last Writer by Adriane Leigh

The Last Writer by Adriane Leigh

Author:Adriane Leigh [Leigh, Adriane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-08T00:00:00+00:00


PAST

Zara - Fall 1964

The Indian summer sun warmed my bare skin as I sank the garden spade into the soft black dirt. Sweat tickled above my eyebrows as I worked at tilling the new garden area behind the greenhouse.

Two weeks ago, Nate had disappeared. Two weeks since I’d thrown all of my spare time forgetting him into making this garden perfect enough to grow a new life, when so much around it rotted with death.

I’d come to resent the note Nate had left between the cracks of the fountain. Why had he even bothered to say anything at all? I was convinced he’d known the night before, his plan crystal clear to leave Usher House, and me, in the dust. The worst part? I couldn’t blame him.

In fact, he’d planted the seed in my head to take action myself. Maybe not now, but soon.

My favorite pair of black birds tweeted in the apple trees above my head as I dug, tilling the warm ground before cold weather set in. Now that I’d been working in the garden, I’d grown more excited at the prospect of fresh food to feed the kids, considering broth was definitely not the elixir of life like Mother claimed.

I just had to shake off the guilt that I was breathing fresh air in the garden while nine little children rarely saw the light of day, their fingertips calloused and raw from pulling and packing lily bulbs eight hours a day.

I sank the spade deeper into my trench then, only to have it land on something unusual. I stabbed the dirt again, pushing the poles of earth away to find thick fabric, dark and dirty, less than ten inches down in the dirt. I swept the dirt off with the tip of the spade, finally bending and discarding the spade altogether to use my hands to wipe it off.

A bright green emblem peeked through the layers of dirt.

“Nate.” I curled my fingers round the fabric and yanked, Nate’s jacket easily coming free of its earthen grave.

I turned it in my hands, wondering why it was here and not with him if he’d run away.

I held the jacket to my chest, the collar at my nose smelled only of fresh dirt and not of the boy I’d grown fond of that had suddenly vanished into thin air.

“Nate, where are you?”

My eyes scanned the upturned dirt in search of more clues. A rush of crows flew above the fountain then, drawing my eyes to two chubby cheeks propped on the stone bench below it, huge round eyes on me.

“Hey there.” I cradled Nate’s jacket in my arms and walked closer to the small child.

He shook his head, lips clamped closed. His cheeks were round and rosy, despite the layer of dirt and soot that coated his skin.

“What’s your name?” His eyes flicked to the jacket in my hands, suspicion marring his features.

“I’m Jacob, what did you dig up?”

“This is my friend’s jacket.” I clutched it as I said the words, my last connection to Nate.



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