New faces rode into town every day, and Decker still searched them all, hoping to finally see familiarity.
“The girls are back!”
Laurie’s cry cut into Decker’s cleaning and he fumbled the glass onto the table to meet him on the veranda.
A woman in a lavender dress swung down from her horse and grinned at him. He crushed her in a hug, seven months melting away like she’d never been gone.
“I missed you, Safi,” he whispered.
“This is straight from the seamstress in New Orleans, don’t wreck it. I missed you too,” she muttered, a smile in her words and a lip-rouged kiss on his cheek.
“Nearly stranded us there with how much she spent.” Willa smiled, smoothing a hand over her tailored suit. The tattered red coat was gone, replaced with the deep burgundy of clean, fitted, lines. She was quiet—content—and in the moonlight Decker caught new strands of silver hair. Revenge no longer held her captive, and by Safine’s knowing smile, he guessed Sister Inez’s forgetfulness wasn’t the only reason they had to spend extra time in New Orleans.
“We have trunks coming soon, had to send them on a different stage,” Safine gushed, finally twisting away from Decker and throwing her arms around Laurie. “Haven’t changed a day,” she teased.
“Look what has.” Locking arms with her, Laurie steered her towards the chapel, the two chattering about the advancements being made in the artificial blood-making industry, and how he’d have to show her the improved blood-still in the saloon basement.
Willa slipped a brand new pistol from the holster at her side, falling into step as she spun the shined cylinder and said she’d already gotten to test it on the way back. Decker didn’t ask.
The chapel stretched above them like a path to heaven. The round, stained glass window arrived a week ago, along with the marble headstone for Cricket. They took it to Amaretto and shared a drink over the long-settled soil of their friend’s grave.
Once they fastened the last window in place, the white dove with an olive branch serenely guarded the chapel as the three worked tirelessly through the snow and into the mud of spring.
Sister Inez met them at the doors, and Willa and Decker fell silent.
I hope, for everyone, you’ve found something that works, Safine.
Her family roots ran deep in the craft, but Ender’s Blessing ran even more deeply. With a bit of Ender’s own magic, maybe it would be enough.
Safine’s face was stone, immovable as she slipped a fine gold necklace from her pocket and clasped it around Sister’s neck. The tiny amorite teardrop fell next to her cross, black and blood-webbed, glowing in the dim light from the chapel.
“I hope this shit works,” Safine whispered, teeth scraping off every layer of red on her lips.
Lined forehead pinched, then smoothed, and Sister Inez dragged in a deep, startled breath, her hand going to the pendant.
“Do you remember?” Safine clasped her arm, pressing a kiss to the scars. “You need to remember me, all of me, or I’ll—”
Like a flash of sunlight behind clouds, recognition dawned and Sister Inez kissed her desperately, elbow crooking around Safine, hands laced together.
Safine didn’t even seem to mind when her pins loosened and her hair sprang loose.
Decker grinned when Sister Inez finally pulled away, mouth stained red. Lip rouge didn’t help her stern demeanor, but it melted away when Willa tilted her chin up, pressing a long-overdue kiss to her lips.
Laurie bumped shoulders with Decker, angling his head at the chapel. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said. His relieved smile grew when Sister Inez gave them a knowing look and swept ahead of them, welcoming them to the chapel.
Lamps blazed at each polished pew and the chapel glowed with fresh pine boards.
Brilliant colors unfurled on the walls—tapestry-woven sarapes brought with the Castillo family, richly embroidered silk qipao from Lee’s hometown, pleated tartans belonging to the McKinneys. Carefully painted buffalo hide from Three Hawks and prayer mats from a passing man who remembered the warmth of India softened the once-harsh chapel until it was a sanctuary.
Carved symbols of protection edged the doorways, waiting expectantly for Safine’s finishing touch.
Blood would never again be shed inside the doors of the chapel at Ender’s Ridge. It would be a place of peace, and hope. Remembrance, for the survivors. Candles flickered in their stands, one lit for each friend they’d lost. There were too many, but because of them, Ender’s Ridge was a bustling town again and more arrived daily seeking a safe haven.
“You finished.” Safine’s gaze flickered across the interior before they rested on Decker. “It’s beautiful.”
“It was remade. Sometimes that makes things more beautiful,” he murmured.
“Time hasn’t ruined your sentimental ass.” She rolled her eyes and followed Sister Inez, who laced her hands with the others.
