Eliza could not stop crying. Since the moment Theresa had wrapped her in her strong arms on the floor of her dormitory room, tears had been running down her face without pause. Even now, as she, Helen, and Theresa carried Catherine’s body through the woods for the second time, the flow was continuous. Tears sluiced down her cheeks and dripped onto the bodice of her dress. She hated appearing weak to Theresa and Helen, neither of whom had shed so much as one tear, but she couldn’t stop the flood.
She had no idea how her friends were so unaffected. How could they not be moved by the wretchedness of what had occurred? With every moment that passed, Eliza’s misery mounted—another recollection, another realization. She had thought she’d saved Catherine, but all she’d done was bring some fiend to life on Earth.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Eliza, please stop blubbering,” Theresa said through her teeth as they hobbled past the white rock with
Catherine’s sagging form between them. Theresa had been walking backward the entire way, craning her neck to see over her shoulder and keep from tripping. “It’s almost over.”
“No, it’s not,” Eliza replied, her voice thick with tears. Her throat throbbed mercilessly. Angry, purple, finger-shaped bruises had already begun to form on her neck before the girls had even left Crenshaw. But as unsightly and painful as they were, they were meager penance for everything she had done. “It will never be over. Catherine will always be dead.”
“This is not your fault, Eliza,” Helen said, running forward to hold a branch aside so that the girls could duck through. “You could not have known this would happen.”
But it is my fault that she died the first time. Theresa came after me, and Catherine went after her. If not for me, none of this would have happened,
Eliza thought, clenching her jaw. If she hadn’t been sneaking around with Harrison behind Theresa’s back, none of this would have happened.
That is the crime I will carry with me all my days.
“Be careful. We’re going down,” Theresa said.
She backed down the slope into the ravine, her feet sliding on the dry dirt, loosening a few rocks, which bounced down and splashed into the shallow water. Eliza held her breath and gritted her teeth, struggling to keep hold of Catherine’s ankles. Her fingers were slick with sweat, and every inch of her body itched from the exertion.
“Lay her here. This is where she first fell,” Theresa said.
Carefully, Theresa bent and laid Catherine’s head on the rock which had been her end. The jagged surface was still stained with
Catherine’s blood. Eliza placed Catherine’s feet down, then took a few steps back, trying to catch her breath.
“It’s no good,” Helen said, looking down at them from the top of the ravine. “She wouldn’t be lying so straight.”
Eliza gave a sob and turned away. Theresa clucked her tongue in frustration.
“If you want something done right, better to do it yourself,” she muttered.
Eliza could hear the girl’s feet slipping on the stones, splashing around as she rearranged Catherine’s body.
“There. Is that better?” she asked.
Eliza glanced over her shoulder. Theresa had arranged Catherine so that she was on her side, one arm flung behind her, her legs bent as if she was running.
“Yes. That should do it,” Helen said.
Eliza covered her eyes and cried. She said a silent prayer, pleading with God to forgive her for all she had done. Then she felt Theresa’s arm around her waist.
“It will be all right, Eliza,” Theresa whispered in her ear. “Our spell will have broken last night. Today Miss Almay and the instructors will realize Catherine is missing. They’ll send out a search party and when they find her, they’ll think she simply went for a walk alone and fell. Everything is going to be fine.”
Eliza sniffled, swallowed, and nodded, unable to form any words. Unable to understand how Theresa could possibly think anything would be fine ever again. Aside from everything else that had
happened, had the girl not heard that thing place a curse on all of them? Eliza knew she was going to live in fear of that curse for the rest of her life, never knowing exactly what it might mean.
“We should go,” Helen said.
Suddenly there was a loud crack, like a tree limb breaking nearby. Eliza gasped, and Theresa dragged her down to the ground, pulling them both into the ravine. Theresa’s breath was ragged with fear, and Eliza clung to her as if she would have drowned if she let go.
“What was that?” Eliza hissed.
“I don’t know,” Theresa replied.
“Who’s there?” Helen shouted, swinging around. “If you’re bold enough to follow us, you should be brave enough to show yourself!”
Eliza clenched her hands into fists, marveling at Helen’s courage. She bit down on her tongue and looked at Theresa, who widened her eyes. The venerable Miss Billings was impressed as well. For a long moment, all three girls were silent and the forest was still.
“It was nothing,” Helen called down to them. “No one’s here.”
“Are you sure?” Eliza asked weakly, detesting the tremor in her voice.
“I’m sure. But let’s go before someone realizes we’re all missing,” Helen replied.
Holding hands, Eliza and Theresa scrambled up the sloping bank of the ravine and joined Helen at the edge. All three of the girls looked down at their fallen friend. Eliza closed her eyes.
“Take her to Heaven, oh Lord. She was a good, pure soul,” she said.
“Not like the rest of us,” Theresa added seriously.
“No,” Helen said. “Indeed not.”
The forest was pitch-black as Eliza, Helen, and Theresa tromped through the underbrush in the dead of night for what Eliza hoped would be the final time. Helen and Theresa carried the heavy trunk full of books between them, while Eliza struggled with the three large, rusty shovels they had borrowed from the storage shed.
“Here,” Helen said suddenly, when the girls were about half a mile due north of the chapel. She pointed at a patch of clearing, which was covered over by fallen pine needles. “This spot should be big enough.”
“Thank goodness,” Theresa said, dropping her side of the trunk. The thud frightened some dozing birds from the trees above, sending them cawing off into the sky.
“Let’s get to work,” Eliza said sullenly. She shoved the tip of her shovel into the dirt and began to dig.
Together the three girls toiled away, clearing a hole that was about
four feet wide and at least six feet deep. The longer Eliza worked, the faster she went, feeling that with each jab of her shovel, each toss over her shoulder, she was somehow excising the horrible events of the past few weeks. Sweat prickled under her arms, above her lip, and along her brow, but she didn’t stop to rest or to clear it away. She only worked harder.
“I think that’s enough,” Helen said finally.
Eliza started. The three of them had been silent for so long, the sound of a voice seemed almost unnatural. She and Theresa were standing inside the hole, while Helen hovered above them. For the first time in more than an hour, Eliza really studied Theresa. She had a streak of dirt across her cheek, and her dark hair was matted with perspiration. The look that passed between them was one of wary respect. Suddenly, Eliza’s heart was full. She felt as if there was no malice left in her. She had no space left, no energy left, to harbor such things.
“You saved my life,” she said as Helen jumped down into the hole, leaving her shovel behind. Eliza looked from one to the other, her eyes shining with tears. “You both saved my life.”
Theresa reached for Eliza’s hand. “You would have done the same for me.”
“And me,” Helen added, taking Eliza’s other hand.
For a long moment the three of them stood there, holding on to one another, and Eliza could feel that none of them wanted to let go.
“It’s not your fault, Eliza, that he loves you,” Theresa said suddenly. She looked at the ground. “I know it’s not your fault.” She
looked up again and shrugged, though her eyes were full of tears. “No one ever loves me best.”
Eliza’s heart welled, but she found she couldn’t speak. How could she respond to that? How could she possibly make it all right?
She squeezed Theresa’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get on with it.”
The other girls nodded. Helen climbed back out of the hole and shoved the trunk toward the edge. Carefully, she lowered it down into the waiting arms of Eliza and Theresa. The trunk was heavy and awkward, with the books sliding and clunking around inside. Once the trunk had been placed squarely in the center of the hole, she and Theresa crawled out and took up their shovels.
“Wait,” Helen said, holding out a dirt-covered hand. “We must make a pact. We must swear right now that none of us will ever come looking for this trunk again. That none of us will ever tell anyone where to find it.”
“I swear,” Eliza said willingly, placing her hand above Helen’s.
“I swear,” Theresa said, adding her hand above Eliza’s.
“Good,” Helen said with a nod. “I’ve had enough witchcraft to last two lifetimes.” Then she pushed her shovel into the pile of dirt at her side, and made to cover the trunk.
“Wait!” Eliza said suddenly. “I almost forgot.”
She reached up, clasped the locket in her hand, and gave it one good yank, breaking the delicate gold chain that held it. Without a second thought, she tossed the trinket into the hole, where it bounced off the top of the trunk and came to rest on the ground.
“Good riddance,” she said.
As she gazed down at the locket, Eliza felt a momentary pang, remembering the day she’d first held it in her palm—that day in the sun with Catherine and Theresa and Alice—the last day of their innocence. But then the memory was gone, chased away by all the horror that had followed. Her lips set in a thin line, and she reached for the handle of her shovel.
“All right, girls,” she said. “Let’s finish this.”
Eliza stood in her black mourning dress, holding hands with Theresa, both of them still as stone. The sky was a blanket of dark gray clouds, and the air was thick with a humidity that seemed to mute every sound. Eliza stared at the gleaming brown wood of Catherine’s casket as it was carried by, feeling numb and exhausted. All her tears had been cried.
It had taken less than a day for the police search party to find Catherine in the woods. Hours of miserable anticipation that had felt like years to Eliza. But now it was over. She tried to take comfort in the fact that Catherine was going home.
“At least she’s at peace now,” Theresa whispered, squeezing Eliza’s fingers.
Eliza nodded mutely, her throat full of emotion. Theresa hadn’t left her side since the night of their pact. Theresa had spoken to Miss Almay, and had all of Eliza’s things—except for her bookshelf, as it
reminded her too much of Catherine—moved into her private room on the top floor of Crenshaw. That way, Eliza would no longer have to live in the room she’d shared with Catherine—the room in which she had almost met her end. And now here they were, roommates, clinging to each other as if they were old friends.
“Thank you, Theresa,” Eliza whispered. “For everything.”
Theresa simply nodded, giving Eliza a small smile, before returning her attention to the proceedings.
The eight pallbearers loaded the casket into a hearse—a long, black carriage draped with dark purple swaths of fabric—for transportation to the train station and then on to the Whites’ farm in Georgia. All of the Billings and Easton community had turned out to pay their respects and say good-bye to Catherine—students, teachers, and staff alike.
Catherine’s father and mother had made the trip up to Connecticut to squire their only daughter home. They stood across the dirt road, watching with red-rimmed eyes, as the pallbearers closed the solid black door on the back of the hearse. Catherine’s father’s hand rested on the shoulder of a small boy with blond hair, whose bottom lip had been quivering all morning. Eliza assumed this was Lincoln, Catherine’s younger brother. She could barely stand to look at him.
Finally, Miss Almay stepped forward to shake hands with the Whites and offer her condolences. The crowd along the side of the road stood in awkward silence for a moment before breaking up. Packs of boys turned their steps toward Easton’s campus, their hands in the pockets of their starched suits, their heads respectfully bowed.
Alice’s sobs grew louder, and Eliza found she could stand it no longer.
“Excuse me, Theresa,” she said furtively, releasing her friend’s hand. “I need to be alone. Just for a moment.”
Before Theresa could respond, Eliza turned and walked toward the elm tree next to Crenshaw House, striding as fast as she could. She paused near the outer branches, unwilling to duck under the canopy and be alone in the secluded spot where she and Catherine had so recently been together. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked up at the sky.
I just need a moment to myself,
she thought.
I just need a moment to breathe.
The other girls seemed to understand this. She saw them walking past her on their way into Crenshaw. Lavender and Clarissa shot her concerned looks, but no one stopped. Eliza breathed in and out, telling herself it was time to let Catherine go, time to let her guilt go, time to move on. She couldn’t go on feeling this weight in her chest. She simply could not live this way.
She just wished she could talk to Catherine one last time. She wished her friend could absolve her—tell her that it wasn’t her fault.
Her eyes fell on Harrison, and the moment he noticed her, his brow knit with concern. But Eliza couldn’t see him right now. She could not talk to him in this state. She covered her mouth to keep from crying and finally ducked under the thick branches of the elm.
Once inside the privacy of the leaves, Eliza walked over to the tree’s trunk, leaned against it, and cried. Her chest heaved as she bent her head forward, letting the rough bark cut into the skin of her forehead.
What had she been thinking? This guilt was never going to go away. Catherine was never going to come back and absolve her. Nothing was ever going to be right again. Nothing.