Chapter Five Hundred Forty: The Constellation's Future
Elena was twenty-five years old when she became the sole keeper of the constellation.
Leo and Jamie had crossed together, on the same day, holding hands on the porch swing, watching the sunrise. They left the garden to her—the stones, the letters, the roses, the thousands of stories.
"I'm not ready," Elena said.
Marcus sat beside her. He was old now—ninety-two, his hair white, his hands shaking. But his eyes were still sharp, his smile still warm.
"Nobody's ever ready," Marcus said. "But you are. You've been ready for a long time."
Elena looked at the garden—at the stones, at the roses, at the glass cases full of letters.
"What if I forget something?" Elena asked. "What if I miss a story?"
Marcus took her hand.
"You will forget. You will miss. You're human. That's what humans do."
He paused.
"But you'll also remember. You'll also find. You'll also help people cross. That's also what humans do."
Elena leaned into him.
"I'll miss you," Elena said.
Marcus kissed her forehead.
"I'm not gone yet," Marcus said. "I'll be here. In the garden. In the stones. In the letters. In the stars."
---
Marcus crossed the following spring.
He was sitting on the porch swing, watching the roses bloom, when his heart simply stopped. Elena found him with a smile on his face, his notebook open in his lap.
On the last page, he had written:
Elena,
The garden is yours now. The stones. The letters. The roses. The constellation.
Take care of them. Take care of yourself. Take care of each other.
I love you. I've always loved you. I will always love you.
Cross the street. Keep the stories alive. Never stop.
Yours,
Marcus
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Elena added Marcus's stone that afternoon.
Marcus
2015–2060
He was the keeper. He crossed his own street.
Next to Leo and Jamie's stones. Next to Luna and Claire's. Next to August and Maya's. Next to Rosalind and Lina the New and Lina the Last and the first Lina.
Side by side. Together.
Elena knelt in front of the stones.
"You made it," Elena said. "All of you. You made it home."
---
That night, Elena sat on the porch swing alone.
The stars were out. The roses were blooming. The notebook was full of stories.
She looked up at the sky.
"I'll take care of it," Elena said. "The garden. The stones. The letters. The constellation. I'll keep it alive."
The stars twinkled.
The roses swayed.
And somewhere—in a garden beyond gardens—Marcus sat on a bench beneath an apple tree, surrounded by everyone he had ever loved.
"She's going to be okay," Marcus said.
Luna sat beside him.
"She's a keeper," Luna said.
The first Lina nodded.
"The best one yet," the first Lina said.
Margaret Thorne smiled.
"The constellation keeps growing," Margaret said.
Eleanor Whitmore nodded.
"It should never stop," Eleanor said.
Helena Brooks took the first Lina's hand.
"It won't," Helena said. "Not as long as there are keepers. Not as long as there are stories."
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End of Chapter Five Hundred Forty