In a Handful of Dust (Not a Drop to Drink #2)

“You do it,” Lucy said, letting the edge in her voice cut through the air even though Lynn was asleep. “You wander around with no idea where to go without a second thought.”


“And beholden to none,” Fletcher added, weighting each word. “I can do it because there is no one who cares for me. Those who reap the blessings of freedom must undergo the fatigue of supporting it.”

Lucy could feel her jaw tightening into the stubborn set Carter had always teased her about, the tiniest flare of irritation firing along with it. “If I say I’ll do it, then I’ll do it.”

“No reason to get heated, though it’s refreshing to have a philosophical conversation,” he said.

Lucy let all her breath out in a rush. “Sorry. I didn’t know I had that in me.”

“I imagine there’s a lot of things you don’t know you have in you, little Lucy.”

Lucy shook her head. “You don’t know the half of it, Fletcher. My mom, my real mom, she killed herself rather than have to face her fears. That’s who I am. It’s in my blood.”

“Maybe. But Lynn’s been teaching you her ways, and I think one or two of them might’ve taken. It’s an old argument you’d know nothing about, but whether it’s the nature of your mother that wins out in the end, or the lessons of the one who’s nurtured you, the choices are your own.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “That I know.”

“The other side of the coin, my small friend, isn’t all that shiny either.”

“What’re you saying?”

“I’m saying Sand City has things to offer you haven’t even thought of yet, things you might not want to forsake in exchange for a long, hard road back to where you came from.”

“I grew up in a city,” Lucy said. “I remember electricity and bathrooms. It’s not like it’ll be all that much of a shock to me.”

“And people?” Fletcher said quietly. “You’ll be welcome in Sand City. A whole group of new people, kind ones, people who’ll take to you—and you to them. It’s apparent that you form attachments quickly. Will you walk out on a whole city of new friends for the sake of one old one?”

“Is it right for me to leave Carter alone forever because my grandma didn’t know the answer to a question? Is it right that he should be hated and feared if there’s really nothing wrong with him, and I’m too comfortable to come back?” Lucy’s voice was rising; Lynn twitched in her sleep, and Fletcher motioned to her to shush.

He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Don’t get all discombobulated, now. I’m just planting some thoughts in your head for you to ruminate on while we travel. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we’re into the work of the journey.”

“’Kay,” she said absently, but didn’t lie down. Long after Fletcher had drifted off, Lucy stared into the mesmerizing comfort of the flames.






Twenty-One


“I was not expecting that,” Lynn said, as she stared down the rock slide as if willpower could move it.

“What were you expecting? Smooth sailing?” Fletcher asked, as he slid off Terra Cotta’s saddle.

“I would’ve been content with smooth walking,” Lucy muttered, joining Fletcher on the road.

The pile of rocks, dirt, and twisted roots had been there awhile; Lucy could see fresh spikes of green growth emerging from the broken trees that had re-rooted themselves in the rubble heap. What she couldn’t see was the other side of the road. The heap was piled well over their heads, and a few rainfalls had settled the dirt solidly.

Lynn put one hand on her hip and surveyed the earthen wall. “Well, shit,” she said. “Now what?”

“Not a lot of options, ladies. We dig, or we go back.”

“Back how far?” Lucy asked.

Fletcher pushed his hat up off his forehead and scratched at his blond curls while he thought. “Last turnoff I remember would lead us too close to a little town I’m not entirely in favor of. One before that might take us where we need to go to get back on the highway, but I’ve not traveled it myself and don’t know who we might meet on the way.”

“Then we dig,” Lynn said.

“With what?” Lucy asked.

“You got hands?”

Lucy was doubtful their hands would do much damage, but going against Lynn when she used that tone of voice wasn’t in her best interest. Fletcher didn’t complain, digging in with a smart, “Yes, ma’am.”

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