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Walking to town is unusually pleasant for a change. The myriad stars are a comfort after so many days washed out. And yet, it’s those same stars I’ll banish when I light up the City. It’s okay, though, I tell myself. The stars will be there no matter what. And we’ll have a mandatory day of darkness every month, just so we never forget. I’ll teach Mina all of Danny’s stupid made-up constellations: the Garbage Picker and the Spaghetti O. On the nights he taught them to me, he swore that someday things would make sense again. I hope he was right.

Maybe Cas is right. Maybe if I’m just a little bit less me, I can make things easier for myself, and better for everyone else.

The music for services is still playing, and I begin to jog, the bag of supplies hitting my leg as I go. I find the door to the social hall open and step inside. Flashlight beams shine from inside a doorway I’ll wager is the kitchen. I can hear the scrape of metal on metal and smell chili or the like.

“Hello,” I call, letting my eyes adjust. The flashlight beams converge and I feel a little like an interrogation subject from old TV shows. “Mind if I do some decorating out here?”

“Be our guest,” says one of the voices.

“Don’t see what good it’s gonna do,” says another, more dubious. “Doubt anyone will be by tonight anyway. And all this chili will go to waste . . .” There is a chorus of
tsks
. I don’t wait around for the rest of her predictions. I have work to do.

I skirt the room, setting and lighting the candles Doc packed, and I judiciously hauled. At their core, they’re just candles, but some onetime artists working at the candle factory had started to make decorative covers for them, so that the candle’s flicker is transformed into dancing patterns. I place small mirrors I found in the linen closet in the windowsills to catch the dancing lights. With a few volunteers, tables and chairs are rearranged in the front of the room to clear a half circle around the wooden parquet, restoring it to its rightful purpose as a dance floor.

Someone opens the door to the hall to peer inside. I can’t hear what is said, but the door opens wider and a trickle of people turns into a steadier stream. Cas pushes through them, Len right behind her, in voluminous white robes.

“Syd?” she asks, as if she can’t quite understand what she’s seeing. “What are you doing? It’s supposed to be coffee and chili in here, not candles and . . . whatever this is.”

“I know how to live in the dark, see. I can show everyone what it’s like to have fun again.”

“Did you make all this?”

“These are lights from the City. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Yes, but I don’t think . . .”

I tamp down the embers of my temper. “You are the one who told me to try harder. Besides, this is all really for you. So you can see the City’s full of people just like you. People finding the happiness in small things.”

“But the sober-in-countenance rule.”

“Brilliant idea!” I pump Cas’s hands. “Say, Len, is drinking expressly forbidden after services?”

“Nope,” he says, grinning wide. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Cas reaches for him. “Len, we’ll get in trouble!”

He starts a slow jog. “We only go through life’s beautiful field of meadow muffins once, Cas. Let’s make the most of it.”

“Great,” she says, pulling the robes over her head. Underneath she’s wearing the same clothes from this morning. I hand her the second-to-last bag from my arsenal. “What’s this?”

“I brought you a party dress.”

“Hasn’t this day been long enough for you, Syd?”

“Put it on. I guarantee you’ll feel better.”

“It’s not going to fit anyway.”

“Trust me.”

Cas snatches the bag from the table and disappears to the ladies’ room. I stop her and give her a candle so she can see herself in the mirror.

When I turn back around to see how attendance is faring, I find Pi standing there with a tense smile on his face. “Evening, Cressyda. What’s all this for?”

“Pi, I made a big mistake today.”

I feel even worse as his features curl into concern, leaning toward me in his discreet way. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. But. I’ve been thinking how there’s so much I don’t know about New Charity. And so much you all don’t know about the City. Will you help?”

“Me?” He lifts his hands in protest. “What do I know?”

“Remember the barn dances when I was young?”

The tension on his face breaks. “Your grandpapa knew how to throw a shindig. The music we could call up. Me and old Tess, we both had worked our air gifts into instruments. We were something.”

“In the City, we make do with a guitar. I know you know how to play, and I brought my dad’s fiddle.”

He frowns and drops his voice low. “I’m not sure that’s wise at such an hour, Syd.”

“Pi, look at them.” I gesture to the people around the room. They’re wide-eyed and lost without the light, quietly arm in arm and staring at Pi and me as if we’re a sideshow. “You always wanted to use your music to bring joy to people. Tonight will be special. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Len announces his arrival by throwing the door open with the nose of his wheelbarrow. “Spirit spirits, everyone!” A keg gleams in the low light.

The crowd titters nervously, and a few of the men move to find glasses and a tap. Len dusts his hands off. “What’s next, party planner?”

I turn to Pi. “Look, I’ll take all the blame.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Pi says with a sigh.

“Please?”

Pi closes his eyes and reaches toward the fiddle, unable to stop himself from touching the strings. “Oh, Syd.” He takes the instrument from its case and begins to tune. The room falls silent.

I grab Len’s hand and pull him to the center of the parquet floor. “Just follow my lead.”

And we are dancing. Reels and do-si-dos. Waltz steps and grapevines. Everyone has something to add. Makeshift glasses are found, flower vases and jars, everyone clinking happily. Bill from the mercantile joins Pi on the spoons and someone joins in with a horn. Windows are opened, it’s so warm from the candles and the body heat.

Cas emerges from the bathroom like she’s stepped into a dream. She’s completely forgotten herself, and she’s as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her. My mother’s old purple party dress swirls around her calves and she’s let her long blonde hair hang loose around her shoulders. She’s smiling at the hem in the candlelight, spinning in small circles and laughing at nothing, everything.

A half hour later and three quarters of the town—maybe two hundred people—fill the hall. Among them, I’m surprised to see Becky Purcell. Even more surprised when she sidles up to me. “You did all this with nothing?”

I’m still seething about the backpack, but this is my party for peace, so I smile as best I can. “We’ve got a lot of nothing back in the City. Nothing’s my specialty.”

“Mine too,” she says. She doesn’t apologize for taking my pack, or even compliment me. But she gives a short nod of approval and then disappears into the long line for beer.

Cas catches my eye and smiles. I give her a wink.

It’s a near-perfect moment. At least I can give her this one. Because as quickly as we realize its existence, we watch it whirl into chaos.

I’m so busy observing the contagion of happiness around the room that I don’t even realize Troy is standing beside me. “You’re beautiful tonight,” he says. “Can I kiss your hand?”

I put my palm in his. “Having a good time?”

He nods. “You know, I think it’s one of those things where you don’t know how much you need something until you stumble onto it.”

“I hope everyone else feels that way,” I say.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen everyone this happy. The Spirit is here, Syd, don’t you worry.” He uses the hand he has taken to twirl me in a circle. “Fancy a dance?”

I fan my face with my hand. I’m sure I’ve long since sweated through my dress. “If you want to dance with all this, it’s your funeral.”

Our voices are drowned out by applause. Pi’s got three lines of Virginia reel going, the hall shaking with the stomping and sashaying. Troy and I link elbows and spin our way down the line.

The dance finally ends and we clap and holler with everyone else. I think Troy is pulling me in for a hug and so I return the gesture. My face is in his hands and he is kissing me and at that moment, I want to be kissed. I want to be loved and be important and be making a difference, and I’ve done all these things tonight, after making such a mess of the day, and so I kiss him back. The room spins around me, Len’s sour whiskey, hot air, beer, the scent of hay in the sun.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, pulling back. I nod, though I don’t really need one. I feel like I could fly. So much so that I climb a chair onto a table next to the kitchen wall.

Pi borrows a spoon to chime against his jar of beer. Soon everyone follows, and all eyes are on me.

I clear my throat. Though small, here is my spotlight. As good as it’s going to get. “Good evening, New Charitans. I just want to thank you all for your hospitality over these last few days. I know you were good to my dad, and I thank you for that. I also know that not having power is, well, inconvenient. So I wanted to share how we celebrate when the City has occasion to do so. Raise your glasses with me: inside the gates or out, here’s to joy.”

Mugs rise along with a cheer from the crowd. There’s clapping and stomping and Pi launches the little band into a syncopated number. “Ladies and gents, ‘The New Charity Blues,’” he yells. The crowd keeps time. Women have let their hair down and pinned it back up again. Loose ties and jackets lay discarded on tables and chairs.

There is a sound like thunder and the fiddle screeches, spoons stutter, and everyone turns. In the big double doorway, the Bishop stands next to Governor Willis, who holds a smoking, sawed-off shotgun.

“Those were just blanks to get everyone’s attention,” Troy whispers, as he helps me down from the table. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” But I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince me or himself. His eyes are on his father, and his hand around mine is shaking, afraid.

I am anything but. I’m ready to defend my actions, detangling my fingers from Troy’s, when Perry squeezes through the doorway. When he turns to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Governor, he reveals a woman on his arm. Nelle Harris Mangold.

“Everybody listen up,” says the Governor. “Quiet down now.”

The Bishop clears his throat. “While I’m delighted to see how invigorating tonight’s services were, this sort of revelry verges upon that which is displeasing to the Spirit, and certainly does not align with our striving toward a sober countenance.”

Feet shuffle on the floor. Whispers here and there. My eyes are on Nelle. She’s tapping her throat, asking Perry to get her some water. He looks to the Governor and the Governor nods. Perry steers Nelle through the edge of the crowd and into the kitchen. Nelle’s skin gleams, and while she’s not in a party dress, she’s clean and unbound and dressed in a bright teal pantsuit that has Beah Willis written all over it.

“I thought she was locked . . .” I don’t finish my thought. I try to move to keep her in sight, but Troy is holding on to my arm. I don’t think he means to hold me back; he’s merely enrapt at the tableau unfolding at the other end of the hall.

“My friends, there was a small incident with the sprinklers down at the power station today.” The Governor’s eyes skim the crowd, though he stops at Cas and gives her a hard stare. “We are most fortunate that my son Perry has invited an old friend to spend some time here in New Charity. She happens to be a very talented electrical engineer, and was kind enough to offer to fix our power for us, even increase our capacity a bit. We’ll have you back up and running just as soon as we can.”

A smatter of clapping passes through the crowd, but everyone looks confused. Everyone
is
confused. I certainly am.

“Now I know you’re probably all a bit disappointed that we’ve ended your unauthorized fun here. But before we head off to the power station to get a look at what’s wrong, I’d like to introduce you to our visitor. Now where did those two get off to?” The Governor beams, but his hands are clenched into fists.