Chapter 66
Chapter Sixty-Six
Honeysuckle House, Now
Honeysuckle House let out a low groan. The pipes rattled in the walls, and it lowered the lights.
It had spent one last day with the people it loved most, but that wasn’t enough.
Nothing would be. The house wanted years.
It wanted decades. It wanted to watch Clara grow up, to see Evie and Florence grow old, to welcome a new generation of Caldwells when the time came.
But all it had was this final moment.
“I can’t do it,” Clara said, shaking her head. “It can’t be me.”
The house stirred the nearby curtain, brushing up against Clara’s cheek. As she cried harder, condensation formed on the windows. Water dripped from the faucets, and the house wept alongside her.
“This is all wrong,” she wailed.
“It is.” Evie rested a hand on the wall.
“It should never have come to this.” Florence gripped the curtain gently, giving it a squeeze. The house squeezed back, and Florence’s voice broke on her next words. “This weight should never have been put on any of us, but least of all you, Clara.”
Evie crouched down in front of Clara, meeting her gaze. “But only you can set us free.”
She held out a match toward her. Clara took it and held it up in front of her, staring at the little white tip.
As her tears fell, splashing on the hardwood floor, the house wished more than anything that it could wipe them dry.
Instead, it sent a honeysuckle vine through the open window, one final goodbye.
The vine wound its way up the legs of the dresser, and its flowers bloomed.
Clara bit her lip. Then, with a heavy sigh and a lot more tears, she struck the match.