Eureka flipped the page over. She hadn’t noticed the postscript.
P.S. About the thunderstone … Beneath the layer of gauze lies a worked-stone artifact shaped like a triangle. Some cultures call them elf-arrows; they are believed to ward off storms. Thunderstones are found among the remains of most ancient civilizations throughout the world. Remember the arrowheads we unearthed in India? Think of them as distant cousins. This particular thunderstone’s origin is unknown, which makes her all the more dear to those who give themselves permission to imagine the possibilities. I did. Will you?
P.P.S. Don’t unwrap the gauze until you need to. You’ll know when the time comes.
P.P.P.S. Always know I love you.
“Well, that explains the rock,” Cat said in a way that meant she was totally confused. “What’s the story with the book?”
They studied the fragile pages filled with line after handwritten line of an indecipherable language.
“What is this, medieval Martian?” Cat squinted, turned the book upside down. “It’s like my illiterate great-aunt Dessie finally wrote that romance novel she’s been yapping about.”
A rap on Eureka’s window made both girls jump.
Uncle Beau stood outside with one hand stuffed in his jeans pocket. Eureka had thought he’d already left; he didn’t like to linger in Lafayette. She glanced around for Aunt Maureen. Beau was alone. She rolled down the window.
Her uncle leaned in, elbows resting on the window frame. He pointed at the book.
“Your mom”—his voice was even quieter than normal—“she knew what that book said. She could read it.”
“What?” Eureka took the book from Cat and flipped through its pages.
“Don’t ask me how,” Beau said. “Saw her going through it once, taking notes.”
“Do you know where she learned—”
“Don’t know anything more than that. But what your dad said about no one being able to read it—I wanted to set you straight. It’s possible.”
Eureka leaned forward to kiss her uncle’s weathered cheek. “Thanks, Uncle Beau.”
He nodded. “Gotta get home, let the dogs out. Y’all come by the farm anytime, okay?” He gave the girls a small salute as he walked to his old truck.
Eureka turned to Cat, cradling the book against her chest. “So the question is—”
“How do we get it translated?” Cat rapped silver fingernails on the dash. “I had a date last week with a classicist-veterinarian double major at UL. He’s only a sophomore, but he might know.”
“Where’d you meet this Romeo?” Eureka asked. She couldn’t help but think of Ander, though nothing Ander had done in Eureka’s presence bore the vaguest semblance of romance.
“I have a method.” Cat smiled. “I go through my dad’s student rosters online, pick out the hotties, and then position myself strategically in the student union after class gets out.” Her dark eyes flicked up to Eureka and a rare self-consciousness displayed itself. “You will never tell anyone any of that. Rodney thinks our meeting was pure serendipity.” She grinned. “He’s got dreads down to here. Wanna see a picture?”
As Cat pulled out her phone and scrolled through her photos, Eureka looked back at the spot where Ander’s truck had been. She imagined it was still there, and that Ander had brought Magda back to her, only now the Jeep was painted with snakes and flames and asymmetrical emeralds.
“Cute, huh? Want me to call him? He speaks, like, fifty-seven languages. If your uncle’s telling the truth, we really should get it translated.”
“Maybe.” Eureka was distracted. She slung the book and the thunderstone and her mother’s letter into her backpack. “I don’t know if I’m up for this today.”
“Sure.” Cat nodded. “Your call.”