Lass handed Irréelle a damp cloth and took one for herself. Together they wiped down the dining room table as Guy brought the bread from the oven.
Irréelle looked at Lass as she cleaned, considering her friend’s face. “You look like you’re our age.”
“Maybe. She never said for sure. Only that she thought I looked to be a girl older than either of those pig-snouted girls next door.”
“You mean pigtailed?” Irréelle asked. How long ago it seemed since she had spied the sisters through the fence.
“Miss Vesper most definitely said pig-snouted. And you know she always said what she meant.”
Irréelle could not argue with that. The story made her smile.
They set the dining room table with the very best dishes, the bone china plates with the N.M.H. monogram, and the narrow glasses with the tall stems. They used the silverware with the curlicue pattern on the handle, and although the metal had lost its shine, Guy told them it was real silver and only needed a little polishing to look like new again.
In the cabinet, they found place mats and selected the white ones edged with lace. Although they were impractical, they matched the white hawthorn and complemented the sprig of lilac Irréelle had placed in a vase in the center of the table. (She had left daffodils on the unmarked grave as well.)
They carried platters and bowls from the kitchen to the dining room and filled each of their glasses with water. Guy and Lass sat at opposite ends of the long table and Irréelle took a seat in a chair between them. They piled their plates with bread and potatoes.
“Nothing has ever tasted better,” Guy said around a mouthful of food.
“That’s because all you had to eat was worms.” But Irréelle could not deny how good everything tasted. A small smile danced on her face. “Maybe you would like worms for dinner.”
Guy smacked his lips. “Oh, I much prefer them for breakfast.”
“Gross! Let me enjoy my meal without hearing anything more about worms.” Lass wrinkled her nose and took a sip of water.
“I could always scrounge them up for dessert.” Guy snickered.
The Hand carried a roll to Lass and passed the butter to Irréelle. Guy called for another potato potpie. The Hand went back and forth over the length of the table, delivering what was asked for, and then settled by Lass’s elbow. It picked up her fork and scooped a mound of mashed potatoes from the plate.
“I don’t think I want the Hand reattached after all.” She opened her mouth and accepted the bite the Hand offered. “I’ll never have to get up to fetch a glass of water again. Or carry a book from across the room or put out the light or…”
The Hand threw down the fork, and they all burst into laughter.
“Maybe,” Irréelle said thoughtfully. “Maybe you should come up with a name for the Hand.”
“Yes, yes!”
“How about Junior?” The Hand darted to the other end of the table, dipped its fingers into Guy’s glass, and flicked water onto his face.
Irréelle smiled. “I would guess that means no.”
“Absolutely not. It has to be a name pretty and sweet, or something French, like Irréelle.” Lass clapped her hand to her opposite arm. “I know. Lassette.”
Guy groaned. “I think it’s more like Sassette.” The Hand directed another splash of water at his face.
“But Lassette is perfect. It means Little Lass.”
“My name is French?” asked Irréelle. “How do you know?”
“My bones know French, so I know French. Your name means unreal. You know, because you’re strange and incredible.” Lass leaned her elbows on the table. “Come here, Lassette.” The Hand did not budge, and Lass frowned.
Irréelle absorbed the meaning of her name. She waited for the fear to strike again, but instead understanding settled in her bones. The tether had already been cut. She did not exist in someone else’s imagination and could not be extinguished with a single word. She had a heart and a brain and a will of her own. She would live just as any other girl might, with a fragile body that could be burned or buried, but not without a fight.
At the same time, she had always been right; she was unreal in a sense. And strange and incredible, and brave and stubborn too. Her life defied reason, built as it was from dust and bone and imagination.
It was a curious thing for her to accept, that no matter her origins, she was as fully real as any other creature in the world.
And so were her friends.
After they ate, they went into the study. Irréelle set to build a fire, and Guy and Lass helped stack the wood. The Hand, not to be left out, observed them from the mantel. Once they kindled the fire and it began to blaze bright, they stepped back to admire it.
Irréelle sat down on one of the big chairs, the same way Miss Vesper had perched, straight-backed and cross-legged.
“That’s not how you do it. Like this!” Guy flopped onto the other chair.
Lass leaned on the arm of Irréelle’s chair and collapsed backward on it. Her legs dangled over the side. “I’m never getting up again.”
Her head nudged Irréelle’s leg, but there was plenty of room for them both. Irréelle scooted back and curled into the feather-stuffed cushions, just as she had always wanted to do. Only it was better, because she had her friends beside her. “I’m tired.” She yawned and then closed her eyes without hesitation.
The scent of lilacs blew through the window. Their bones creaked as they settled more comfortably into the cushions.
And so, after they had a proper bath and a proper meal, together, they fell improperly asleep in the overstuffed chairs before the fireplace.
34
The Deepest Slumber
Yes, Guy snored.
But Irréelle snored louder, wrapped in the deepest slumber.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am still dizzy from spinning this story and appreciate everyone who held my hand and spun with me.
Suzie Townsend, I am grateful for you beyond measure. With your steadfast agenting magic, you navigated my sometimes-unsteady feet so that I never worried about falling. Thanks for being so wonderful.
Brian Geffen, while my storytelling may sometimes be subtle, I’ll be more direct here. I am so, so thankful for you and your (very official!) editorial book sensing process—and more, for your kindness and support. Also, many thanks to Christian Trimmer, Rachel Murray, Katie (414) Klimowicz, Ilana Worrell, John Nora, Kelsey Marrujo, Madison Furr, Tom Mis, Kristin Dulaney and the subsidiary rights team, and everyone at Holt who was tethered to this book in one way or another. And of course, thanks to Matt Saunders, whose spooky illustrations gave my characters life, and Fiona Hardingham, whose lovely audio narration gave my characters a voice.
So many hugs for my dear friends, especially Kara (Melon!), and for my family—I love you all so much. Bill, you brought me notebooks that I filled with stories, and you melted my heart when I told you my book sold. Gram, you read me fairy tales over and over again, and you let me give you a villainous storybook name. Pop, you took me to the library and gifted me an antique desk and typewriter, as if you always knew I’d be a writer. Mom, you gave me your whole heart, you gave me the world—always and forever. You get my stories better than anyone, and it means everything to me. Cameron, you believed in me when I needed it most, and if not for you, this book would never exist. Nothing makes me happier than being with you (and I am keeping you evermore).
♥ C.N.S. + H.L.K. ♥
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Heather Kassner loves thunderstorms, hummingbirds, and books. She lives with her husband in Arizona, waiting (and waiting and waiting) for the rain, photographing hummingbirds, and reading and writing strange little stories. The Bone Garden is her debut novel. Follow her on Twitter @HeatherKassner. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
1. The Underside of the Graveyard
2. Miss Vesper
3. The Measure of a Girl
4. For Luster and Longevity
5. Breathe
6. The Dust-and-Bone Hand
7. Candlewicks, Firewood, and Bone
8. The Midnight Creatures
9. The Whispering Passageway
10. The Good-for-Almost-Nothing Boy
11. The Hollow
12. The Above Side of the Graveyard
13. Night Folds Close
14. Little Monsters
15. The Other Task
16. An Unmarked Grave
17. N.M.H.
18. The Girl with Dark, Dark Eyes
19. Reunions and Resurrections
20. The Watchman
21. Sneaking and Snooping
22. Punishment
23. A Gust of Wind and Dirt
24. A Terrible Mistake
25. A Good Cup of Tea
26. The Source of Magic
27. The Skeleton Key
28. The Shape of Things
29. Fire
30. Into the Grave
31. The Hawthorn
32. A True Heart
33. Strange and Incredible
34. The Deepest Slumber
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Text copyright © 2019 by Heather Kassner. Illustrations © 2019 by Matt Saunders.
Henry Holt and Company, Publishers since 1866
Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Kassner, Heather, author.
Title: The bone garden / Heather Kassner.
Description: First edition. | New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2019. | Summary: Made from bone dust and imagination, Irréelle accidentally destroys another of Miss Vesper’s creations and flees to the underside of the graveyard, seeking the magic that brings bones to life.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018039033 | ISBN 978-1-250-29689-4 (hardcover) | ISBN 978-1-250-21186-6 (audio book) | ISBN 978-1-250-29690-0 (ebook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Bones—Fiction. | Dead—Fiction. | Cemeteries—Fiction. | Magic—Fiction. | Supernatural—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.K3717 Bon 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018039033
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by email at [email protected].
First hardcover edition 2019
eBook edition August 2019
eISBN 978-1-250-29690-0
The Bone Garden Page 17
