It was strange climbing up to the red hut again. It was just a tiny, rickety box, but it felt like her and X's home somehow. She knew that was stupid. Still, he had brought her breakfast here-breakfast in bed, kind of. And she'd kissed him as he slept. Just ducking into the hut now made her crazy with longing. And there was a surprise, because X's presence-his magic, or whatever it was-hadn't yet faded. The place was still warm.
Zoe sat in the hut with her back to the wall. She listened for footsteps on the rocks. She waited. Once, X had told her that he tried not to turn his memories of her over and over in his head because he was afraid they'd fray and fade if he did-and then he couldn't keep them forever. It was excruciating not to think of him, but she tried. She focused all her energy on listening. In the end, it wasn't much different from thinking of X because what she was listening for was him. The warmth in the room was like his breath somehow. It made her feel loved. It made her certain that he'd return from her house with Ripper, even if it was only to say good-bye.
Sleep took her by surprise, and she had an intense dream about watching X bathe in the stream.
She woke up an hour later to the sound of barking.
The hut was deathly cold.
All evidence of X was gone. Zoe tried to remember her dream-she grabbed at its receding tendrils-and held it close for a second before letting it go.
She saw her mother and brother trekking down the dimly lit beach with Ripper, Spock, and Uhura leading the way. Her mother ran to her the moment she saw her standing by the hut. Ripper was in no rush. She was carrying Jonah. His arms and legs were wrapped around her like a koala bear, and she was whispering in his ear and making him squeal with laughter.
Zoe scanned the darkness for X-and kept looking for him long past the point where it was clear that he wasn't there. She felt as if she were watching his absence walk toward her. She felt sadness hollowing out her heart so it could lie down for a while.
Within moments, everyone had fallen into everyone else's arms. Jonah asked if they could stay for five minutes so he could throw rocks into the ocean. His mother said, "Okay, but just five minutes," and Jonah said, "I can have five? What about ten? No? What about seven-what about eight?"
He hadn't been outside in so long.
Ripper ran ahead with Jonah, and Zoe and her mother drifted behind, walking arm in arm. There was too much to say. Where would they even start?
Zoe could barely see her mother's face in the dark, but it seemed like she didn't know the truth about her father. Should she tell her that he was alive-that he had abandoned them all? She didn't want to. She wanted to protect her mother from the facts.
But the truth rose up out of her. She couldn't keep it in.
"Dad didn't kill himself like you thought," she blurted. "That's not what happened."
Her mother stared at her, confused and waiting.
And there on the beach, as quietly as she could so that Jonah couldn't hear, she told her mother everything. The ocean was noisy and black. It nearly swallowed the words.
Up ahead, Jonah was looking at Ripper's hands and saying, "You chew your fingernails like I do!" Ripper was saying, "Something like that, yes. But I will stop if you will stop. Have we a bargain?"
Finally, they left the beach, and walked off in search of somewhere warm to make a plan for getting back to Montana. Spock whimpered the whole way. Uhura looked back and barked at him, as if to say, Man up! Zoe's mother was so shocked that her dead husband was still alive, so lost in her own head, that Zoe had to walk beside her and steer her around the bends in the road.
Zoe's own head felt clearer somehow, like the box at the back of her brain had sprung open and a lot of old, unhappy thoughts had drifted out over the ocean, like that plastic bag.
After two cold, meandering miles through the woods, they found a diner glowing in the darkness. It must have been the place where X had bought breakfast. On the door, there was a laminated picture of cinnamon French toast and bacon. Zoe touched it with her fingertips as everybody else rushed inside.
While they waited for a table, diners began noticing Ripper-her shredded golden dress, her bloodied arms and legs, her tall black leather boots. A ripple of curiosity, then alarm, went through the place. Ripper announced quietly that it was time for her to leave.
Zoe walked outside with her and hugged her a long time. Somehow, saying good-bye to the only person who understood X the way she herself did was too much. She started crying, and couldn't stop.
"He said he'd come back," she sobbed. "He said he'd come back unless-unless two worlds conspired against him."
Ripper held her.
"But two worlds did conspire, dear girl," she said. "Two worlds threw everything they had between you. The Lowlands cannot keep X from you for long, however. He bid me tell you that he will find his parents and then return to you. And I believe he will, for I taught him myself and I am a marvelous teacher. The last thing he said to me was that he wants to be worthy of you, Zoe-because you have taught him what worthiness is."
Zoe smiled.
"Well, that's a little over-the-top," she said.
Ripper released her from her arms, and dried a tear coursing down Zoe's face.
"When you see him," said Zoe, "please tell him that I love him, and that I remember every, every, every time he touched me."
"I will," said Ripper.
"Also?" said Zoe. "Help him figure out where his parents are? He's right-he needs to know who they were. He deserves to, even if it hurts him like finding out about my dad hurt me."
"I will," said Ripper.
"And please tell him to clean his clothes," said Zoe. "They're getting gross."
Ripper laughed.
"I will tell him everything you ask when I return to the Lowlands," she said. "Yet I must tell you that I am in no hurry to see that fetid place again." She paused, and her eyes shone mischievously. "I have decided not to return just yet. I have decided to run."
"Really?" said Zoe. She had stopped crying and was staring at Ripper with wonder. "You are so badass."
"I suppose I am," said Ripper. "X once asked if I had ever visited my children when I was a bounty hunter-if I had ever stood across the street just to gaze at them."
"I asked Banger the same thing," said Zoe.
"I am ashamed to say that I never did," said Ripper. "The pain kept me from it. But Jonah has put me in mind of Alfie and Belinda, my own little boy and girl. They were so, so lovely, and deserved so much better than me. I should like to go to New England and find their graves. It might heal me a little to lay some flowers there, and water the grass with my tears."
"I think that's a cool idea," said Zoe.
"Thank you," said Ripper. "The lords no doubt expect me to flee-and they'll find a way to haul me back soon enough-but at least there's no one left on earth they can punish for my misbehavior. It appears there are advantages to having been dead since 1832."
Ripper was quiet now. She slipped a hand down the neckline of her dress, and withdrew a tightly folded piece of paper she had hidden there.
"X wanted to write you a letter," she said, "just as you wrote one to him."
She handed it to Zoe. It was written on a blank page torn from a book in Zoe's house.
"He begs your forgiveness for the letter being so brief," said Ripper. "He says that you taught him how to write it-and that you taught him what it means."
Zoe knew then exactly what the letter would say. She stared at the ratty piece of folded paper. To her eyes, it looked like a flower preparing to open. Her hand trembled just holding it.
She didn't want to read the letter in front of Ripper. She wanted to be alone. So they said their good-byes, and she watched her new friend stroll down the road in her torn but still glittering dress. There was a light rain falling now, although Zoe couldn't detect any clouds overhead-the drops seemed to leak down out of the stars.
She didn't see the exact moment when Ripper disappeared. Suddenly, she was just gone. She must have vanished while walking between one streetlight and the next.
Zoe unfolded the letter, and felt her heart unfold with it.
It was written in pencil, and the point had been pressed down so hard it had nearly torn through the paper.
It was a beautiful letter, as she knew it would be.
It just said: "X."