ELWYN TRUSTED HESTIA, and he was right. Within weeks, she had all the deeds turned back to the citizens of Badfish Creek, and a law enforcement officer was stationed in the town to ensure no developers came to work on the mine until Rhoad was tried and matters were settled.
Rhoad’s trial, like Aelred’s, was a constant feature in the newspapers. People were coming forward almost daily with new revelations of Rhoad’s transgressions: bribery, land-grabbing, coercion. As a result, they didn’t need Elwyn and Whim as witnesses. The trial went on smoothly without them, resulting in not only five years in jail for Rhoad, but also reparations to be paid to the people he had defrauded in the past. Hestia wrote that her mother was furiously funnelling funds into different accounts while their house in Liberty was being seized along with several other properties questionably obtained. Dealers spent the day taking down the mirrors and crystal lamps, wrapping up the gold-leaf tea sets. It would all be sold and the profits scattered. Letitia Rhoad left for St Louis as soon as she could, but Hestia stayed in the house while it was being emptied. It was the first time she enjoyed being there.
Elwyn and Whim were too busy to bother with the truck whose tyres had been slashed. It sat forgotten on the side of the road, Virginia creeper growing over its hood. A couple weeks after the trial, Hestia arrived. She spent two weeks visiting, helping raise the walls of the Alfin house and splitting logs for shingles. Teilo doted on her goat.
She spent some time helping Whim with the ongoing elderberry harvest as well, her hands purple from separating berries from the stems, but it was the rough work she liked best. And that was how Elwyn would remember her – tireless, wild-haired, swinging an axe. A dozen or so Badfishians walked with her to the truck when it was time to go (she had brought patches for the tyres with her). Dewey was irritated that an automobile had been there the whole time and no one had made use of it, but Mirth told him to hush. Hestia was sent on her way with one of Finchy’s bottles of mead, a bundle of dried venison, and a small pouch Elwyn had made with a letter inside. They all waved as she drove away.
‘Good riddance,’ Enid said as Hestia drove out of sight. ‘A person can only take being showed up by a bossy Hill girl for so long.’
‘Nonsense. She was a help to us,’ Mirth said. Teilo was next to her, laughing as Willoughby ate leaves out of his hand. Hestia had left her goat with him, knowing her pet would be appreciated and well cared for. She said she’d be back to visit him soon.
Long after the truck drove out of sight and everyone turned back to Badfish Creek, Elwyn still looked down the road after Hestia. Summer was over. His aunt had left the week before, the birds had finished their mating songs, and the last August storm had passed. The day suddenly felt very quiet, full of the smell of the nuts that fell from the trees.
Elwyn stayed there for some time. Then, instead of turning back towards town, Elwyn went off in the other direction. He wanted to be alone, and so he walked through the woods downstream along the creek, moving quickly but quietly, observed by the muskrats and cranes. There in the reeds along the bank, Elwyn saw something out of the corner of his eye: a bit of polished wood. He lifted it from the tangle of grasses, wiped mud from its belly. It was his box. The object that used to contain his most treasured things.
Inside it was just the same. There were the letters from his aunt, the arrowhead, the coin. It was like time hadn’t passed inside those small wooden walls. Elwyn looked at them, felt the surfaces cautiously. He palmed the coin, opened one of the letters. Then the wind picked up and sent an envelope flying. Elwyn chased after it, finally catching up when it got stuck in a wild raspberry patch. He put it back with the others and closed the lid.
When he got home, Elwyn knew he would clean the box and return it to its place under his bed. But this was only out of sentiment. The things inside no longer meant much to Elwyn. It was like they belonged to someone else, someone he had hardly known.
October was around the corner, and as always, change was in the air. The walnut trees were turning yellow. The sun, too, was yellowing, the acorns growing heavy. As Elwyn returned from his walk, he could hear Finchy humming as she tended her bees, his sisters laughing through the kitchen window of the Moone house by the creek as they set out breakfast.
Elwyn would wash the box and wash his hands. Then he would take his seat at the table.