Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

she settled more deeply into her chair and drank her tea. “I kept others safe for a long time by removing myself from the world, but even I cannot hide forever.”
    There was a scuffing noise outside the house. “Harlan’s emptied my traps. Would you like to stay for supper? If there’s quail, I can roast them on a spit and make you a bracelet from their bones. Or would you prefer fresh squirrel?” She cackled.
    “Thank you, but, no. Please go on. I’ve paid you,” Olivia reminded her. “I am waiting for my story.”
    Picking up the carving Olivia’s father had made, Munin studied it again. A flicker of sadness crossed her weathered face.
    “For your gift, I will tell you two things. The first is that I met Camille Limoges when she was carrying you.” She stopped suddenly and stared at Olivia. “Did you never wonder why such a woman—beautiful, kind, wise—would marry an uneducated fisherman who loved whiskey more than any living being?”
    “Of course I have!” Olivia snapped, growing tired of the witch’s enigmatic manner of speaking. “A million times over. My grandmother couldn’t explain it. No one could.”
    Munin looked exceedingly pleased. “But I can. She had no choice. Consider that, girl. The man who should have raised you couldn’t claim you. Couldn’t claim your mother either. Poor, sweet fool.” She slowly raised herself out of the chair. It creaked in protest until her weight was transferred to her dirty feet. “Soon, many paths will cross in this forest. People who have carried anger around with them too long will meet. People who have swept too many secrets into a dark corner will see them exposed to the light. Death is coming and you’ll be in the middle of it all. Again. Be wary. That is all I have to say.” She turned toward the door. “Harlan!”
    Harlan pushed open the metal door and poked his head inside. “You all set?”
    Olivia was on the verge of protesting when Munin said, “I am tired. The jug on the ground is ready to be mailed, Harlan.” She looked at Olivia. “The one by the foot of the bed is for you, girl. It holds all of the answers you seek as well as those you might not want to know. My gift can protect you in the days to come. It can also undo you. The truth waits inside.” She stroked Olivia’s carving, her eyes distant. “I do this for your mother. My debt to her is paid. Go now.”
    Suddenly, Olivia saw Munin not as a witch, a crazy hag, or a malicious crone, but as a tired, lonely old woman who’d lived without companionship, without laughter for far too long. When had she last shared a meal with another human being? When had she been given a scrap of comfort during times of sorrow or illness? Was Camille Limoges the only person to show her kindness?
    Shadows from the candle flame played across Munin’s face, and as Olivia studied the creases and the lines, mapping out the old woman’s solitary existence, she realized that it had either taken incredible strength or immense fear or a combination of both to live this woman’s life.
    Before she lost the courage to do so, Olivia reached both hands behind her neck and unclasped the gold chain holding her starfish pendant. She gently placed the treasure in Munin’s hand and closed the old woman’s fingers around it.
    “This is my most precious possession,” she said. “It always made me feel like my mother was near. Maybe you’ll feel her too.”
    Munin accepted the gift with a grave nod. “Thank you, child. I will be in need of comfort soon. I should have known that Camille’s daughter would be the one to offer it to me. I should have known that there is hope in the next generation . . .”
    And with that, she turned away.
    Olivia gathered the burlap sack containing her jug and stepped from the gloom of Munin’s home into the harsh midday light. She winced, her eyes filling with tears, and motioned for Haviland to heel.
    Harlan forged ahead, his walking stick brushing idly against the carpet of leaves until it gave way to the tall grass once again.
    “You did a good thing back there,” he said when the Whaler came into view again. “Will you come again?”
    Feeling the solid weight of the jug in her backpack, Olivia paused on the muddy bank, watching a cloud of gnats descend toward the water. “Maybe,” she said, but doubted it. There was something final about her parting with Munin.
    After helping her aboard, Harlan started the motor and coasted toward the mouth of the creek.