Chapter 4

Mom's fingers tightened around the half-blown balloon.

"Asleep," she said, not meeting Grandpa's eyes. "She wore herself out today. Fell asleep early."

Grandpa didn't respond. His gaze moved from Mom's face to the far end of the hallway, toward the cellar.

"Take me to see her."

"Dad, she's sleeping soundly, we shouldn't—"

"I said take me to see her."

Mom's hands stopped.

Dad stepped in from the side. "Dad, actually, we locked Emma in the cellar. She was acting out all day and we were worried she'd—"

He didn't finish.

Grandpa's hands, resting on his knees, clenched into fists. "Say that again."

He raised his head. The red in his eyes had doubled since he'd walked in. "You locked Emma where?"

"Dad, tomorrow is Elena's last—"

"I'm not deaf!"

Grandpa's palm came down on the coffee table. The cream mushroom soup splashed over the rim. His whole body was shaking, lips trembling.

"Elena is cursed. I know that. I feel every bit of it, and her grandmother died without being able to let her go. But you—" He stopped. "Open your eyes and look. Emma has lived her whole life in this house. What have you ever given her?"

Mom started to speak. He didn't let her.

"Moonflower tea, never hers. Winter blankets, never enough. That entire wall of photographs without a single face of hers. You think I don't see it every time I visit?"

His tears finally came down.

"I never said anything because Elena didn't have long, and I was afraid of making things harder for you. But this is too far. Is there heating in that cellar? Hot water? If something happens to her, won't you feel it? She's your daughter too!"

Mom curled into herself in the chair, both hands over her face, crying so hard her whole body shook.

"And have you thought about this—"

Grandpa pressed the heel of his hand against his face, and his voice dropped so low it was almost pleading. "Who does Elena love most? Who has she always protected, every single day? Emma. And you won't even let them see each other one last time. If Elena finds out, do you think she'll be able to leave in peace?"

"I just — I was afraid Emma would make a scene." Mom's words fell apart through her fingers. "I didn't want Elena's last day to be—"

Grandpa closed his eyes for a moment. "You're not just Elena's mother. You're Emma's mother too."

After that, no one spoke.

My spirit drifted beside Grandpa. I looked at the vine-woven shoes in front of him.

I had always loved that style, a silver vine-flower embroidered across the toe in silver thread. But I'd never be able to wear them now.

Grandma had always known what I liked. Mom and Dad always bought shoes that were Elena's style, but Grandma had made mine.

A dull ache settled in me. I wanted to cry, but a spirit doesn't have tears.

Elena's door stayed shut. From behind it came a faint, muffled cough, then silence.

Time passed. The darkness slowly softened.

Dad went to Elena's bedroom door and raised his hand to knock, then couldn't bring himself to.

"Elena." He'd been awake all night and his voice was gone. "It's morning."

Silence from inside for a few seconds. Then the latch turned, soft.

The door opened.

Elena stood in the doorway. No color in her face, lips dry and cracked. But she was standing, steady and sure.

She looked over at Grandpa and smiled. "Grandpa, I'm hungry."

Grandpa froze for a full second. Then his whole body went out from under him and he dropped to his knees on the floor.

"She made it—" He wrapped his arms around Elena's legs and sobbed. "My Elena made it—"

Mom launched herself off the sofa and threw her arms around Elena, pulling her in so hard it was like she was trying to press her daughter through her own ribs.

Dad stumbled forward too. The three of them tangled together, crying and laughing at the same time, the sounds mixing into something that wasn't quite either.

"The curse didn't take, she's alive!" Dad was shouting things that barely made sense.

Elena was being squeezed from every direction, struggling to breathe, but she kept laughing.

Then she pushed Mom's arms away.

"Where's Emma?"

Everyone went quiet at once.

"Right, Emma!" Dad smacked himself on the forehead. "She's still in the cellar, hurry, open the door!"

He ran for it and threw the bolt back. The moment the door opened, he froze.

The smile fell off his face, layer by layer, like ice cracking open.

"No... that's not right..."

He took a step back, his voice completely changed. "How... how is this..."