Celia Cook finished grading papers, cleaned off her desk and glanced around the room. All the desks were in straight rows and clear of debris. The clock on the wall read 5:30. It was beyond time to go home. She knew she was putting it off. Again. Since her husband had died two months ago, the house was so quiet. She didn’t know what to do with herself. She hated Fridays. The whole weekend, with no distractions to help her forget, loomed ahead of her.

One day at a time, she said to herself. What shall I have for supper? She decided to stop by Pat’s Home Cookin’ again. The food was always good, and it was better than eating alone at home. It had become a habit. Breakfast at Pat’s before school and supper on the way home. And why not? It was better than eating alone. I might as well not keep any food in the house.

In Memory Grove Guardian hummed as she prepared her supper. She grew a garden every summer and canned almost everything she needed for the winter. It was still early enough in autumn for late crops, and she picked her food just before preparing it. Home-canned food was good, but fresh from the garden was better.

When her meal was ready, she ate and then cleaned up the dishes. Just as she finished, she felt a pull from Remembering Rock. Okay, I’m coming.

She left the cabin, walked over to the rock, and sat in the grass. Running her hands gently over its surface, she leaned forward and placed her cheek against the stone, warmed by the sun. She remembered the night, so long ago, when the Purities—the chosen two—danced around the rock and sacrificed their futures for the futures of so many others.

“I am here, Purities. Who is summoned?” She let the answer fill her mind. She stayed where she was for a while. There was no hurry. She would summon Celia in the morning.

Celia had gotten in the habit of sleeping in a little on Saturday mornings. That way there was less time in the day. Less time to think, less time to miss Bryan, less time to avoid thinking about Tess.

This Saturday she slept in until eight o’clock. A new record. Should I be proud? If I had my way, I suppose I would sleep my life away. I might as well. I really have no purpose. She thought of her first graders. Well, except for my class.

She rose, showered, and dressed. She got to Pat’s at nine-thirty.

“Good morning, Celia.”

“Good morning, Ruth. What’s good this morning?”

“It’s all good. The usual?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Coming right up.”

In minutes she was back with coffee and juice. A few more minutes and she was back again with a poached egg and a bowl of oatmeal with raisins, cinnamon, and brown sugar.

“Thank you, Ruth.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy.”

Celia had just finished her food and Ruth was collecting the empty dishes when someone walked in.

“That’s Guardian,” Ruth said, as they both looked toward the door. “What would she be doing here? She only comes to summon someone, but there’s no one here but you.”

Guardian approached Celia’s table.

“Could she be coming for you?” Ruth said.

“Or you?”

They looked at each other before turning back to Guardian, who had now stopped at the table.

“Celia,” she chimed with her musical voice.

“What do you want with me?” Celia was surprised to hear her voice quaver.

“The Purities have called you, Dear.”

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered.

“I know you’re afraid, but I’ll be with you. Everything will be all right.”

Celia was more than dismayed. For most of her life she had always hoped she would be summoned. Those who were always returned different, better, happier. After her daughter married, though, she lost the desire.

“Why didn’t you come for me years ago, when I wanted to go?”

“You didn’t need us then.”

Celia sighed heavily. “What do I need to bring?”

“You already have all you need.”

Celia turned to pay for her breakfast. Ruth waved her away. “Don’t you worry about that. It’s on the house. In honor of your summons.”

Celia managed a small smile. “Thanks.